BDSM Library - Mind Games

Mind Games

Provided By: BDSM Library
www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: A novel of dystopia.



Prologue:




       This close to Riviera the path was wide and well-kept enough to ride easily, but the stranger was on foot, leading a dappled gray horse by the harness.  The stranger walked slowly but with some purpose, his hat tilted so his eyes would be shaded and could seek out some distant goal.  The morning sun was strong and hot, and from time to time he wiped his face with a fraying handkerchief gray with dinge.




       A small breeze rose from the west.  The stranger halted his horse and listened for a moment to a sound beyond the rustling of the leaves.  He pushed his hat back on his head as if to give his ears more room.  The sound was almost like a coyote; no, it was the baying of dogs.  The stranger gave a small shrug and a half smile to his horse, and continued on his way.




       He took note of the changing landscape.  Several days ago he had left the old growth forest, with its redwoods that reached impossibly towards the sky and plenty of soft, loamy dirt between the trees.  The newer woods that he had passed through were full of undergrowth and tangled bushes that encroached upon the path, with acres of clearcut scattered here and there.  He had picked up the old road in those woods.  But now the forest began to have an air of planning about it; at spots old oaks and spruces lined the path on either side as if someone had deliberately put them there for shade.  He thought hopefully that he would reach Riviera very soon.




       The dog sounds came nearer, until the stranger could hear them quite plainly despite the plodding of his horse's hooves and his own footfall.  He did not hear the girl, however, until she stumbled out of the forest almost directly in front of him.  He involuntary jumped back, bumping lightly into his horse's nose.  The girl, too, jumped back, and for a heartbeat they stared at each other, each as if the other was an animal upon whose lair the other had encroached.




       Indeed, in that heartbeat the stranger felt an untameness about the girl.  He was jolted with a sick metallic taste in his mouth by the scars, cuts and bruises which riddled every visible inch of her body, save her face, before his mind even became aware of her nakedness.  




       The slight breeze lifted the girl's dark hair, matted and dotted with brambles.  Her eyes were green within green, and for that moment she looked at him as he felt a queen of old might have.  




       The heartbeat passed and in a fluid movement the girl fell to her knees before him, continuing down until her forehead touched the dirt of the path.  The baying of the dogs sounded again and he understood that she was the prey.




       "This slave begs your mercy," the girl said, her voice rough from the exertion of her running.  Although she cowered before him, he could see that her muscles strained.  She was poised to flee.  A dog barked close, too close.




       "I won't hurt you," the stranger said.  "I won't turn you in."  His voice was gravelly and rough, as if he was unused to speaking, and his words had an odd twang. 




       The girl looked up at him, for a moment, her face incredulous.  As quickly the light in her eyes dimmed, like a cloud moving over the sun.  "A mindgame," she said, breathless and bitter.  "You've caught me, master.  I won't play."  She again bowed her head until her forehead touched the path, and waited, motionless. 




       The dogs sounded closer.  The stranger looked towards them, and then back at the prostrate, scarred figure before him.  "Listen to me," he said urgently.  "A quarter mile back, just beyond where the path curves, there's a stream.  The dogs might lose your scent in the water."




       For precious moments the girl did not move.  Another dog bark.  "Go," the stranger urged her.  She raised her head again and looked at him until he was pierced by her gaze.  Then, quiet as thought, she was on her feet, running past him down the path and veering slightly into the woods on her right.




       For a moment the stranger stood motionless.  Then he continued forward, his face looking straight ahead but his eyes wandering as far as they could to his left.  Deliberately he counted to himself fifty paces, and then one hundred, before the dogs, a mass of squirming yellow, brown, and gray, broke out of the woods and were distracted by him from their chase.  They were curious and not unfriendly, and he reached out his wrist to be sniffed by one even as his horse touched noses with another.




       The five hunters were not far behind, nearly as dirty as the girl had been, their clothes wet with sweat.  Upon seeing the stranger they stopped short and looked at each other in surprise. "Greetings, brother," one said, uncertainly.




       "My greetings to you," he replied evenly.




       The hunters shifted uneasily at the sight of a man they did not know wearing odd, travelworn clothes.  After a moment one of them said, "Without meaning to be rude, you can see we are on a hunt.  Have you seen signs of an escaped cunt?  You've put our dogs off her scent."




       He regarded them for a moment.  "Aye, I saw her," he said slowly.  "She came out of the forest ahead of me on the path."  He squinted and tilted back his hat.  "I suggest you look in that direction," he said, pointing down the path in front of him and towards the right.




       "My thanks," the first hunter said, already beginning to jog on with the others.  He yelled over his shoulder, "The cunt's name is Mariah.  Be sure to come to her execution."  He whistled for the dogs.




       The stranger continued on the path, steadily leading his horse, until the hunters were out of sight.  He counted to a hundred to make certain they were not coming back.  Then, dropping his horse's reins, he walked off the path a few feet, leaned unsteadily against a tree, and vomited until there was nothing left but the green bile of his intestines.  He rested a moment, then retrieved a water bottle from his horse's pack, slowly swished his mouth, gargled, and spit.  He came around to the front of his horse and touched her forehead with his own.  "Ah, Peggy," he said, "Maybe this wasn't such a grand idea after all." 








Chapter 1: Entering the gates




       The stranger had tried to steel himself to the size of Riviera, or at least what its size had been two centuries ago.  The first time he looked at the maps in Harmony's library he assumed the scale must be wrong.  The elders assured him there was no error.  Harmony, with all its outlying farms and valleys, would fit into Riviera's walled land a hundred times or more.




       Nevertheless, when at late morning the old road broke out of the trees into a meadow, with a muted gasp the stranger pulled his horse up short.  The far side of the field ended at a ten foot high stone wall covered with barbed wire which seemed to curve around to either side into eternity.




       The path cut through the meadow at an angle to a gate about a quarter mile beyond.  This should be the Holden Outpost, the same gate by which Harmony's founders had left Riviera so many generations before.




       The loud caw of a crow from a tree above startled the stranger out of his reverie, and he clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward.  After days in the forest he felt nervous in the open field, and he kicked the horse into a trot until they were in the morning shadow of the wrought iron gate.  The stranger dismounted and peered through the bars. 




       Inside, the meadow continued, and so did the road.  To its right was a small house covered with yellow paint which in places was peeling.  The house had a sagging wraparound porch, and on it was a woman dressed in a green tunic and leggings, leaning her chair back on two legs until it rested against the wall.  Her face hung slack, and delicate snores escaped her mouth.  Her long strawberry blond hair hung in heavy braid over one shoulder, with wisps escaping here and there.  By her side, on the floor of the porch, also sleeping, curled up like a dog, was a naked man with dark curly hair and pinkish skin mottled by cuts and bruises.  His only covering was a metal collar, perhaps two inches wide, around his neck, attached by a long chain to a post of the porch.




       The stranger cleared his throat. Neither gatekeeper nor slave stirred.  He called out but they did not hear.  His horse came to his rescue, snorting impatiently.




       The slave awoke with a start, scrambling to his hands and knees and looking around in confusion.  The stranger cleared his throat again.  The slave, seeing him, bowed his head to the floor but overshot, hitting it with a bang.  Whimpering, he slid his entire torso back down to the ground and kissed the floor boards, pushing his mouth down until the stranger was certain he would get blisters on his lips.  By his side, the gatekeeper slept on.                  


       "Excuse me," the stranger said in the most courteous tone he could manage, although his voice croaked from lack of use.  The slave boy looked up again, and immediately lowered his head in a panic.  Slowly he looked up again, as if he were a small child playing peek-a-boo.  The stranger made no move.  After a moment of deliberation, the slave boy carefully wriggled up to where his mistress' boots touched the floor, and cautiously nuzzled their toes.




       The gatekeeper woke in an instant.  "You dare," she hissed, and kicked him, hard, in the throat.   




       "No, don't," the stranger cried out, involuntarily, from behind the gate.  The slave fell back and made a gurgling sound, but did not move his hands to his throat. 




       At the sound of the stranger's voice, the gatekeeper looked up, startled.  She had light blue eyes and a fine, aquiline nose just a touch too narrow.  The stranger realized the woman was younger then he had first assumed.  Her mouth opened and closed in surprise, and then she broke into an easy laugh.  "Whyever not?" she said.  Absently she took the whip from her belt, doubled it over, and smashed it into the slave's lower back, marking a half circle in his skin.   The slave keened through closed lips but did not move.  The stranger grasped the wrought iron of the gate tightly, and looked away.




       The gatekeeper took no further notice of the slave, but arose from her chair and descended down the two or three steps of the porch.  Lazily, as if stretching, she pulled from her tunic and then overhead a leather string with a large metal key attached.  Turning the key in the gate's lock, she pulled back and the gate opened easily.  She stood aside and let the stranger lead his horse through.  "You didn't leave by this gate or I'd have been expecting you back," she remarked defensively.




       "I'm sorry," said the stranger, embarrassed.  "I didn't mean to put you out.  Or cause trouble for him," he added indicating the slave with a jerk of his head.




       The gatekeeper laughed in a puzzled way.  "You're an odd one, aren't you?" she said.  She reached up tentatively and touched Pegasus' long snout, smiling when she softly snorted.  "Say, this is a fine beast.  What stable is she from?  She could use some water, I bet."  She gave him a friendly, expectant smile, while at the same time yanking on the chain attached to the slave's collar, causing him to slide headfirst down the porch steps.




       The sick metallic feeling flooded the stranger's limbs.  He shook his head to clear his mind.  Misunderstanding him, the gatekeeper frowned.  "You should mind your horse better," she said. "You can't always put your needs above the beast's."   For emphasis she kicked the naked slave who had come to stand on his hands and knees at her side.  The slave gave a short keening through closed lips but made no other sign.




       Recklessly the stranger grabbed at the gatekeeper's arm.




       "I mean no disrespect to you," he said in a strained voice. "But maybe out of hospitality to a visitor to your land you could be kinder to the fellow." 




       The gatekeeper started and stared, and then laughed a low laugh.  "A visitor!  To Riviera!" she exclaimed.  "Well, I'll be."  She looked at him closely for the first time, taking in his odd clothes.  "Say, you're not from Alphronsia, are you?  I had an aunt who went visiting there once.  Never came back."




       The stranger shook his head.  "No, not from so far.  I come from Harmony."




       "Harmony!" The gatekeeper looked him up and down, slowly, and then over to his horse.  "You don't look like much of a rebel, but you never can tell, my Da says.  Are you the healer that was sent for, then?  I thought it would be an elder that would come."  She frowned at him.




       "I am the healer.  I finished my apprenticeship these two years past."  A little embarrassed, he held out his hand for her to shake, and added, "I am called Gabriel." 




       "I am Tanya," she said, taking his hand limply.  She continued formally, "I welcome you to Riviera."  Then she smiled as if amused by her own words.




       Gabriel looked down at the slave who continued to cower on hands and knees by Tanya's side, again feeling the green, sick feeling.  The slave was a grown man, or nearly so.  His dark, curly hair hung over his face, hiding it, and his limbs were so thin that they put Gabriel in mind of coyote's.  The slave's shoulders trembled, but whether from fear or exertion Gabriel could not tell.  If he was aware of Gabriel's scrutiny he gave no sign.




       Tanya, seeing Gabriel's intense observation of the slave, said, "Griley's not much good that way.  No more energy than a snake in the shade.  But if you've the need and inclination after your journey, one slave kneeling over is pretty much like another.  You're welcome to him."




       Gabriel looked at her in complete bafflement, until he realized with a shock what she meant.  "Oh, no," he said, involuntarily taking a step back from her and the slave. 




       Tanya furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance.  "Which side you favor is nothing to me," she said. "We've no superstitions here." Griley remained silent and motionless, except for the tremors in his shoulders, which seemed to be increasing.




       Gabriel forced himself to take a deep, slow breath into his diaphragm, sending the air to find his center of gravity.  The green feeling subsided slightly.  "You've misunderstood me," he said.  "I was looking at him only because I am a healer.  Some of his cuts are infected, and I see can see from here he's feverish. I'd like to try to make him more comfortable."




       Tanya frowned, deeply and angrily.  Gabriel hoped the expression on his own face was pleasant, even as he determined to himself that he would treat the man whatever Tanya said, and whatever the consequences.  He hoped to reach the Bearer's daughter, and to acquit himself well, but he could not put that purpose above the man who cowered before him.  He had taken the healer's oath and he would uphold it.




       Tanya contemplated his countenance.  After a moment she stepped aside, stiffly and grudgingly, her shoulders taut with anger that belied her staccato words. "In Riviera we believe in hospitality to strangers.  You can do with him as you like while I send a homing pigeon ahead with news of your arrival.  His key is in his collar."  She turned on her heel and walked purposefully around the far side of the house, not looking back.




       As Gabriel approached the groveling figure he saw that, indeed, the heavy metal collar that was locked around Griley's throat had a key in it.  In disbelief that Griley had not attempted to remove the collar, Gabriel swiftly bent to one knee in front of him, turned the key and took off the collar.  He flung it into the dirt some feet away.  The metal had left a red tattoo in Griley's neck.  Gabriel asked him softly, "Are you in pain?"




       "Yes, sir," Griley responded in a hushed, cracked voice.  He bowed his head down to the ground.




       "I am a healer," Gabriel said.  "Will you let me help you?"




       Griley did not lift his forehead from the ground.  "I am your vessel, master," he said raggedly.




       Gabriel shuddered and sat next to the man's bent over figure, looking at the bloody X cut in his back by Tanya's whip. He saw that Griley's entire back was covered with scars and whipmarks.  He touched gently next to where the X crossed.  "Is that where it hurts the most?" he said softly.




       "I am your vessel, master," Griley repeated.  He raised his head slightly and coughed, a dry rasping cough.  Then he quickly lowered his head again, banging his forehead on the ground without a whimper.




       Gabriel reached for his waterskin hanging at his waist and uncorked the top.  "Can you sit up?" he asked Griley. Griley instantly raised up his body and sat back on his knees, his head down, his eyes staring expressionless at the ground in front of him.  Gabriel pressed his waterskin into Griley's hand.  "Drink," he said, "It will make you feel better." 




       Griley obediently raised the water skin and squirted water into his mouth, swallowing it without expression.  Gabriel stood and went to Pegasus, who had wandered a few steps away, gently munching on a stray thistle at the side of the road.  Distractedly Gabriel petted her neck for a moment, and then retrieved a pack from the bags hanging on Pegasus' saddle.  He fiddled with various small, odd shaped paper and leather packets until he found the one he was looking for.  Taking out a cake of soap, he turned back to the slave, who was still pouring water into his mouth and swallowing robotically.  Gabriel gently took the skin from him.  "Easy," he said.  "You don't want to drown in that."  Griley kept his head tilted back, expressionless.




       Gabriel wet his hands with water from the skin, and washed with the soap.  Returning it to his pack, he again looked at various packets until he found a bunch of dried leaves, and, with more ease, a small clay bowl wrapped in leather.  He poured a few drops of water into the bowl and then crushed the leaves into dust over it, stirring the mixture into paste with his forefinger.




       Returning to Griley, Gabriel knelt in front of him and put the bowl on the ground between them.  Griley was still looking up to the heavens.  Gabriel sat motionless for several minutes, merely looking steadily at the slave, and breathing slowly and deeply.  At length, with a moan, the slave shivered and then looked at Gabriel full in the face, his pupils dilated with fear. He started to look up again, but Gabriel said, "It's all right.  I won't hurt you."  Griley's eyes widened but he looked down, towards Gabriel's knees, rather than up.  This seemed to be a much more comfortable stance.




       Gabriel continued to breathe deeply and slowly, almost ostentatiously, into his belly.  Slowly, subtly, Griley's own breathing slowed and became deeper, until the bellies of the two men rose and fell in sync.  They sat thus, otherwise motionless. The pupil's of Griley's eyes slowly returned to normal size, and the tremors in his shoulder calmed.




       Without interrupting the flow of his breathing, and moving so slowly that he barely seemed to moving at all, Gabriel dipped his finger into the paste he had made, and, ever so slowly, moved around to Griley's back.  Gently, he spread the paste over the X where the worst of Griley's cut's crossed.  Griley gave a start at his first touch, but then was still.




       "The cassia will help your wounds heal, and fight infection," Gabriel said to him softly.  "This concoction isn't very strong, but it should relieve some of your pain and make you more comfortable."




       To Gabriel's dismay, Griley began to cry, first a sniffle and then a sob.  "Not kindness, Master," he begged, and he threw his body to the ground and banged his forehead on the dirt.  "Not the kindness mindgame."  He stuck out his tongue and began to feverishly lick the ground in front of him.




       "It's not a game," Gabriel said desperately. "I want to help you.  I'm a healer."




       Griley looked up and made a sound between a croon and a groan.  "Master, they only sent me to the gatehouse because I'm ready to die," he pleaded.  "I've nothing left of any use.  No kindness.  No mindgames.  Please..."  Griley sobbed and banged his head into the dirt again. 




       Gabriel dove to the ground and put shoved his hands under Griley's forehead, shielding it from the hard dirt, desperately trying to stop the man from seriously injuring himself.  When his forehead touched Gabriel's soft palms, Griley stopped pounding his head, but he continued sobbing, on the verge of hyperventilating.  Gabriel gently extricated his hands and reached under Griley's shoulders, pulling gently until he sat up. With his arm still around Griley's shoulder, Gabriel pulled him close, like he would a scared child.  He searched for words to say to the man, but could find none.  Instead, he softly stroked Griley's head, crooning softly.  Griley began to relax and breathe more normally, and the danger of hyperventilation passed. Gabriel could still feel his pulse beating wildly, though, and he knew the man was terrified.  He closed his eyes, matching his breath to Griley's shallow breath, only ever so gently beginning to slow it down. 




       His meditation was interrupted by a whistle and Tanya's voice saying, "Well, I'll be." 




       Griley tried to escape from Gabriel's grip and bow down before her, but Gabriel placed his other arm in front of his body, keeping him upright and steadying him.  Griley began to shake uncontrollably and to cry again, and he muttered, "Mercy, mercy," whether to Tanya or to Gabriel himself, or to both, Gabriel did not know.  Griley tried again to bow down before Tanya, but Gabriel restrained him. 




       "Shsh," he said to the slave.  "Tanya won't hurt you again, will you, Tanya?" and he looked at her, pleading.




       Tanya pursed her lips together until they formed two thin whitish lines.  "You overreach yourself, Healer," she said.  "He is my slave."  




       Griley trembled and moaned, and hid his face in Gabriel's arm.  "Stop it!" Tanya hissed at him.  In terror Griley pulled himself away from Gabriel and threw himself to the ground in front of Tanya, completely prostrate, sniffling.  




       Tanya ignored him.  She spoke coldly to Gabriel.  "The Bearer sent for you.  I didn't.  If you've a mind to spoil and ruin his slaves, that's your business and his.  But I'll thank you to leave mine alone."  In her anger, Tanya's face had turned pale, save for two round red spots on each cheek and one at the tip of her nose. 




       Gabriel willed his heart to beat more slowly.  He took a breath so deep his lungs hurt, expelled it slowly, and said to her, "You call him a slave but he is a man.  You've no right to treat him so."




       Tanya's green eyes seemed to take on a yellow tint, and her pupils shrank to tiny specks.  "No right?" she shrieked.  "No right? I'll show you my rights."  She took her whip and began to slash at Griley's bare back with it.  Gabriel grabbed at her wrist, and the whip went wide, barely brushing Gabriel's side.  Tanya wrenched away and whipped at Griley again.  This time Gabriel grabbed the whip itself, which wrapped around his hand several times, cutting him.  Ignoring or oblivious to the pain, Gabriel pulled, and the handle came flying from Tanya's hand, hitting him smartly on the forehead.




       "How dare you?"  Tanya hissed.




       Before Gabriel could answer, a man's voice said from behind them, "Yes, how dare you?"




       Gabriel and Tanya both turned in surprise.  A tall, balding man with a belly that preceded him, held a great tan mare by the reins, and looked upon them with a stern face.  As neither Gabriel or Tanya said anything, the man's frown deepened.  "Perhaps you'd care to explain why you are interfering with Gatekeeper Tanya's oversight of her slave?"  he asked Gabriel in a slow, ponderous tone.




       The whip was still wrapped around Gabriel's hand, which was beginning to throb.  Ignoring it, Gabriel said, more heatedly than he would have liked, "I am interfering with senseless torture.  No creature should be treated in this manner."  His statement was punctuated by a deep sob from Griley.




       The man puckered his eyebrows in surprise and crossed his arms about his chest, scrutinizing Gabriel intensely.  He said, after a moment, with exaggerated courtesy, "Surely you do not say that Mistress Tanya has not complete dominion over her own slave?"




       Tanya broke in, angrily.  "He knows nothing, Jonquil.  He is a rebel come from Harmony."  She spat her words as if anxious to have them leave her mouth.




       Jonquil looked from Tanya to Gabriel and took a step back, as if to get a more complete view of him.  "Are you then the healer sent for by the Bearer to attend his daughter?"  Tanya scowled, but let Gabriel answer.




       "I am," he said simply.




       Jonquil bowed stiffly.  "On behalf of the Bearer and his daughter I thank you for answering the summons."  The corners of his mouth turned down, and his eyebrows frowned. "Being a guest and a stranger here, of course you do not know our ways.  If you will accompany me to the mansion, we will get you settled immediately."




       A low moan came from Griley.  Realizing he had made noise, he began to lick at the dirt beneath his face, frantically, his tongue making a circle.




       Gabriel clutched at the whip which was still wrapped around his hand.  "I'm sorry," he said, trying to match Jonquil's tone of polite aloofness.  "Griley is my patient now.  I cannot leave him while he suffers."




       Tanya gave an exasperated snort.  "He is a slave.  He lives only to suffer."  She looked petulantly at Jonquil.




       Jonquil nodded in agreement.  "The gatekeeper speaks the truth," he said.  "The creature is her slave.  If she wants him to suffer, no one may interfere."  Griley moaned again and stopped licking the dirt, but merely lay utterly motionless. 




       Gabriel took a step towards Griley, as if to protect him, and turned to face Jonquil and Tanya, legs firmly planted.  He crossed his arms, the whip handle dangling down. 




       Jonquil contemplated him for a moment, and then said, with the barest nervous crack in his polite facade, "Come, come, dwellers of Harmony and Riviera are cousins.  Surely we can find common ground here." 




       Tanya spat, "You can't be afraid of him, Jonquil.  Look at him.  He's bedraggled as a farm dick and has no more strength than one just out of the factory." 




       Jonquil enunciated, as if trying to overcome a lisp, "I am not afraid of the healer, gatekeeper Tanya.  I am considering the options."  He paused.  "A compromise must be reached," he declared.  "Tanya will agree not to punish the slave for today's events." 




       Gabriel interrupted, heatedly.  "Punish him! He's done nothing!"




       Jonquil held up his hand to silence Gabriel.  "She will agree not to punish him for today's events," he repeated, "And she will agree that if he does not misbehave she will neither beat nor torture him for two weeks."




       Tanya sputtered again, in protest, but Jonquil ignored her, speaking to Gabriel.  "That will give the creature time to heal his wounds and perhaps even to win his mistress's affections.  No more can be asked."




       Jonquil held Gabriel's gaze for a minute and then looked away, coloring slightly.  Gabriel's blood roared in his ears as he saw Griley, prostrate on the ground.  Deliberately he unwrapped the whip from his hand, resisting the urge to rub his cut hand. 




       A long, petrified groan came from Griley.  The knowledge broke like a dropped egg on Gabriel that he could not make a stand here.  Would he insist that Griley be set free?  The concept was meaningless.  Griley could not take care of himself, even if he were healthy, outside of these walls.  He would die of exposure in a day, or of hunger in a week at most.  Freedom within the walls for him was impossible.  He was one of--how many?  Tens of thousands of slaves, or more, for all Gabriel knew.  They would not be freed on account of one stranger asking for it. 




       Gabriel looked back at Jonquil and slowly nodded his acquiescence, bile building at the back of his throat.   Jonquil clasped his hands together.  He turned to Tanya and said, "I shall certainly convey your good grace in this matter, gatekeeper," he said.  "Your sacrifice will not go unnoted." 




       Tanya frowned angrily, but said nothing.  His face turned away from Gabriel, Jonquil winked at her, then turned back to Gabriel solemnly.  "If your horse does not require further rest," he said,  "I suggest we leave.  The mansion is two hours on the road, and there is no sense in delaying."  He looked hard at Gabriel, and his meaning was unmistakable.




       Nevertheless, Gabriel turned deliberately and strode to Griley, lowering himself to the ground beside the man.  Griley made no sound or indication that he was aware of his presence.  After a long moment, Gabriel reached out and smoothed the slave's hair.  Without moving, Griley said in a voice so low only Gabriel could hear him, "Not kindness, master.  Please not kindness." 




       Gabriel removed his hand.  "I'm sorry," he said in a whisper, and turned away.  





       Chapter 2: Toward the Mansion




       For a mile or more the path led through meadowland, lush and full of birds and mice.  Nervous in wide-open spaces after so long journeying through forest, Gabriel was relieved to enter what he thought was woods, but the stand of trees was no more than thirty feet wide.  On the other side was more meadow, and then the farmland began, spreading forward as far as his eye could see. 




       As they left the tree stand, Jonquil turned and looked back, as if to make sure they were alone.  "Don't judge Tanya too harshly," he said conversationally.  "The gatehouse is her first posting, and a punishment posting at that.  She is very young." 




       Gabriel began to reply, but his throat tightened.  When he was certain his voice would sound natural, he asked in imitation of idle curiosity, "What is she being punished for?"




       Jonquil gave a half laugh, half snort.  "She was too fond of a slave.  Got into a fight over him with some people who wanted to have fun with him.  Showed no respect for her betters."  He added, as an afterthought, "Not uncommon in the young.  Do her good to have some time to think and reflect on her priorities." 




       Gabriel looked at Jonquil in surprise, both at the content of what he said and the lack irony in his voice.  At length he asked, "What happened to the slave?"




       Jonquil gave a bark of laughter.  "Do us a world of good to have a rebel among us, I see.  The slave was sent to the exchange, I expect."  At Gabriel's puzzled look, he added, "A trading post, where those tired of their slaves leave them off, and those looking for new blood pick them up.  You'll see it, I'm sure." 




       As they spoke, they followed the road through a cultivated field.  By Gabriel's eye it was a full acre devoted to kale.  In Harmony the farmers tended to grow crops together, intensely cultivating the land and using the plants to fertilize and shade each other, and to stop pests from spreading.  Here, Gabriel noted, as they passed a boundary into an acre of tomatillos, each field was discrete. 




       In the distance farmers were assiduously picking peas whose tendrils twined around lengths of string stretching from stake to stake.  As they drew near, Gabriel realized with a jolt that the farmers were naught but children, naked and thin.  They paid Gabriel and Jonquil no mind, or deliberately ignored them, not even looking up when their horses passed near.  None seemed older than their early teens, and some were scarcely more than babes.  In the next field, Gabriel watched a little boy hoeing dirt into small hills the size to plant corn.  Gabriel wondered at the strange tattoos on the child's skin, until, his heart in his throat, he realized they were scars. 




       Occasionally Gabriel also saw an adult in the fields, clothed, clearly a "master or mistress", and if they happened to catch sight of the riders they nodded or tipped their hats.  Mostly they seemed to congregate in the shade of buildings in the middle of the fields in groups of two or three, but some walked around the fields, instructing the child-farmers, examining their work, or, two or three times, administering a beating.  The first time Gabriel saw this, a tall, slim woman was viciously kicking a very small boy, who, like Griley, lay on the ground without attempting to shield or defend himself.  Jonquil lifted his hand towards Gabriel warningly and said in a mocking voice, "Don't go trying to save that one too.  The walls’ll tumble before I'll live down interfering with Tanya and her beast." 




       They passed wagons, dragged by draft horses or slaves, empty going past them towards the outer fields, or full, going slowly the same direction as the travellers.  Some of the horses whickered at Pegasus or at Aphid, Jonquil's horse, but, like the farmmasters, the drivers of the wagons would nod politely and go about their business.        




       In an apple orchard, Gabriel's attention was drawn by the sound of shouting to his right.  Looking down a row of trees, he saw a man beating a naked girl of about thirteen with a heavy stick, surrounded by a half-circle of the ubiquitous naked children.  The man rained the blows mostly at the girl's chest, which had only the beginning of bumps on it.  The girl emitted shrill squeals through closed lips which were bleeding from her biting them.  The ends of her long hair were tied tightly to a tree bough a foot above her head, so that if she moved to avoid the blows she would be hanging from her hair.  Jonquil cleared his throat warningly.  Gabriel averted his eyes from the scene.




       In an apparent effort to distract Gabriel, Jonquil asked him general, polite questions about life in Harmony.  Gabriel was surprised at how little Jonquil was able to tell him in turn about basic facets of life in Riviera.  He was wholly ignorant about farming techniques, about how food was distributed, or even about who had woven the clothes he wore.  At last Jonquil threw up his hands, laughing.  "Ask me about border riding and I'll tell you all," he said.  "Or about where to find the softest, freshest, blondest slave cunt to warm your bed and prepare your food.  Or about the domestic travails of my good wife and her five wayward children.  As to all other things I live in blissful ignorance."  He kicked his horse into a trot to emphasize his point.




       They passed through several pastures, and then cropland again.  The road was more travelled here, and several times Jonquil stopped to have a brief conversation with a rider or driver, but never introduced Gabriel, and they showed no curiosity towards him. 




       Despite the signs of increasing civilization, Gabriel jolted with surprise when the road brought them through a few rows of pine trees into a huge expanse of lawn, so enormous that Gabriel could not make out the edges of it to either side of him.  Half a mile in front was the mansion itself.  The largest building in Gabriel's home, Harmony, was Centric Hall, where the whole community came together to break bread on feast days.  Gabriel could not even begin to calculate how many thousands of times the Hall would fit into this mansion.  As amazing to him as its expanse was its height, as it rose up four stories in places.  In Harmony many families had attics in their houses for storage, or lofts for sleeping, but to put a building on top of itself like this was a marvel unheard of.


       


       The lawn itself contained pockets of activity.  Here, a group of masters and mistresses catching the afternoon sun, sprawled on long, low divans, while slaves fanned them. There, a small group of children with an adult reading a book to them.  Here, a fierce faced mistress slapping a slave's bottom with a flyswatter as the slave leans over and touches her toes.  There, two slaves coupling as a mistress stands over them, watching them carefully.  Here, a slave mows the lawn while another rakes the leavings nearby.  There, a woman in a bright red tunic dozes as she leans against a gnarled oak tree.




       The lackadaisical, humdrum quality of the human torture that imbued this place was as horrifying to Gabriel as the acts themselves.  Already he could feel himself beginning to become inured to it, as he had seen patients get used to chronic pain until it was no more than background like the noise of crickets on a summer night.  He wondered despairingly how he could fight the numbness.  He wished Dalma, or any of the elders of Harmony, were here to advise him. 




       Jonquil impatiently shifted his corpulent body in his seat. Gaining Gabriel's attention, he reined his horse to the left, following a road that skirted the lawn.  Gabriel clucked to Pegasus to follow. 




       "Horses aren't allowed on the lawn itself," Jonquil explained conversationally.  "Some people are afraid of them, and they make a mess."  As they rode, Gabriel continued to look over his shoulder at the scenes of life, and death, on the lawn.  More than once he involuntarily tugged on the reins, as if stopping his horse would stop a stick from descending onto a slave's prostrate body, or stop a boot from reaching a slave's knee.  With disgust Gabriel realized that he had already started thinking of these people as "slaves."  He shook his head abruptly, trying to keep his thoughts clear.




       Watching the lawn intently, Gabriel had not noticed that they had ridden through the shadow of long, low barn on their left, and were now approaching a huge stable.  His attention was drawn by the snorting and stamping of horses, to Gabriel’s mind the first friendly sounds he had heard since passing through the gates hours earlier.  Pegasus seemed cheered as well, her ears pricking and her step livelier. 




       Jonquil turned left past the stable building, into a yard bordered by the stable on one side and another road opposite.  Gabriel was taken aback by the sheer size of the structure.  As they had ridden past the building Gabriel calculated fifty horses could be housed against the outer wall.  Entering the yard, he saw that there were ten doorways in a long row, each leading into its own massive stable.




       Like the much larger lawn, the stable yard contained flurries of discrete activity.  Horses, ridden and led by both slaves and masters and mistresses, crossed in various directions, stood for a brief grooming, or drank from a trough.  Masters and mistresses spoke with slaves, or beat them, or ignored them.  Where several bales of hay were stacked against one of the stable walls, a slave and his mistress quietly made love.


 


       Jonquil dismounted and stopped a slave who was hurrying towards the entrance with a curry brush in hand.  Placing both hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look him in the eye, Jonquil said clearly and slowly, "Do you know Master Darius?"  The girl's eyes widened and she nodded, slack jawed with fear.  Jonquil did not relax his grip on her.  "Go find him.  Tell him Master Jonquil has returned with a visitor."  The girl nodded again, but Jonquil did not release his grip.  "Master Jonquil, with a visitor.  Remember."  The girl nodded a third time.  Jonquil let her go.  She began to run, remembered she was carrying the brush, stopped, put it down, began to pick it up again in confusion, dropped it, and then, with a backward glance at Jonquil, sprinted away.




       Gabriel dismounted, feeling bereft at the thought of leaving his one friend in this strange place.  He walked around to Pegasus' nose, petting its softness. She whickered, blowing into his hand.  Gabriel felt she was as ill at ease as he.




       A shortish, pencil thin man dressed entirely in black came striding up to them.  He looked clearly annoyed, but relaxed when he saw Jonquil. "Ah, it's you,"  he said.  "Should've known.  Forget where you stable your horse?" 




       Jonquil sniffed.  "I would never bother the stable master for a matter such as that.  I bring important news and personage and horse."  He turned to Gabriel and said formally, "Darius, stable master, may I present you to Gabriel, traveling healer from Harmony." 




       Darius nodded curtly at Gabriel but showed more interest in Pegasus.  "That's not the horse the lad rode off on," he said in an offended tone.  His pencil thin mustache curved down in a sneer.  "And the lad's not with you," he added accusingly.




       Gabriel stuck out his hand to shake, and after a hesitation Darius took it, limply.  "My apologies, sir," Gabriel said.  "Neither the horse nor the lad were in condition to return immediately.  But both can be fairly expected before full harvest." 




       "Full harvest?"  Darius' sneer found its way into his voice. "Every day is full harvest here, sir.  We are men, not vagabonds."




       Jonquil intervened.  "Come, come, Darius," he said in his booming voice.  "You know right well the man means tenth month.  Let's get his horse to stable and us to dinner and we'll all be better men for it."  Jonquil gave Darius a look which said he'd better be.




       Darius held his hands up in limp surrender.  "No harm meant," he said.  "Take the horse to the third stable, along with your bay mare.  I guess Stefan will have that empty spot for a while longer," he added, sardonically.


       


       "Thank you," Gabriel said, following Jonquil as he crossed in front of the stables.




       In front of the third to last stable entrance, Jonquil stopped and peered into the dim light.  "Halloo," he boomed in, and stepped slightly into the entrance. 




       Almost immediately, a heavyset dark skinned man came running out and skidded to his knees in front of Jonquil, bringing his head towards the floor.  "Your servant, master," the slave said in a remarkably courteous tone for all that he was out of breath.




       The slave was plumper than any others Gabriel had seen, indeed leaning towards fat.  In addition, although he waited at obvious attention for orders, the slave's forehead did not quite touch the ground and he was not trembling.  His backside was, however, covered with scars both fresh and healing. 




       "Ah, good, good," Jonquil said to the slave.  "Find your master and tell him Jonquil is here with a stranger."




       The slave bowed lower and then immediately rose to his feet, hurrying down the long, narrow stable.  Gabriel saw that he was more muscle than fat, and he walked with both grace and confidence.  He also saw that the scars travelled from the man's neck to his ankles.




       "Fine slaves, these," Jonquil said to him.  "I'd take any one of them for my own, if Stefan would part with them.  He never will though.  Too fond of 'em, though he won't admit it.  Unnatural, almost."




       Jonquil interrupted himself as a man stepped out of a stable into which the slave had just disappeared.  Stefan was tall and slender, with gray eyes and light brown hair that needed a trim. Although he was dressed much like the other men in a somewhat faded green open necked tunic and tan riding pants, on him these clothes seemed only to accentuate his broad shoulders and fine physique.  Gabriel guessed the man to be about his own age.  As he strode towards the waiting group, Gabriel saw that the knees of Stefan's pants were covered with mud and straw, and dirt spattered about him.




       Stefan nodded politely.  "Jonquil," he said, "I trust the latest horse was satisfactory."  There was no questioning tone in Stefan's voice, and the right corner of his mouth turned up in a small sneer. 




       "Excellent horse, excellent," Jonquil boomed.  "Yours always are.  Not like some around here."  Stefan merely watched him, expressionless.  "So I've brought you one more."  At Stefan's look of surprise, Jonquil added, "Already spoke to Darius, it's all arranged.  Fine horse, shouldn't be no trouble to you." 




       Stefan's brow puckered with annoyance and consternation.  "Practically full up here," he said.  "Darius knows that."  Unconsciously his hand went to the whip hanging at his belt. 




       Jonquil held up both hands in mock surrender.  "My dear fellow," he said, "Most special circumstances here.  Wouldn't bother you for anything less."  He turned and beckoned to Gabriel, who stepped forward, shy at the trouble he was causing. Jonquil continued, "This young fellow is Gabriel.  Came here all the way from Harmony, just to look at the Bearer's daughter.  Came ahorseback of course.  The lad's not with him, nor his mount, so Darius knows you've a spare room."  He added ingratiatingly, "Horse needs the best care.  You can give it to her.  Fine horse, too."




       Stefan's lips formed a tight, white line for a moment, and his hand fondled the whip attached to his belt as he looked at Gabriel with cold eyes.  "Rudy is well?" he asked in a cold voice, implying that he had better like the answer.




       Gabriel nodded.  "The horse is better than the boy," he said.  "The boy had pneumonia, but Rudy just needs some time to get his legs back.  It was the horse's nose that brought them safely to Harmony at the end."   




       Stefan looked mollified.   As he glanced beyond to Pegasus, who Gabriel held loosely by the rein, his expression changed entirely.  He took a step towards the horse and then stopped abruptly.  "May I?"  he inquired of Gabriel, who, with a touch of misgiving, nodded assent and handed him the reins.  Standing about eighteen inches in front of the horse, Stefan held the reins for half a minute, motionless, staring into Pegasus eyes.  His hands moved minutely as he let the reins down, so they dangled from the horse's bit towards the ground.  After waiting half a minute longer he slowly raised his hand to the bridge of her nose and rubbed.  Pegasus pricked her ears forward but otherwise did not move. Stefan massaged her jaw then, softly.  Pegasus whickered softly and laid her chin on his shoulder, then backed up.




       As Stefan turned to him, Gabriel fought jealousy.  Stefan gave him a half smile that was almost sympathetic.  "I never saw a horse with a jaw  that shape," he said.  "Do you breed them that way on purpose?"




       Gabriel shook his head.  "We sometimes mix our horses with feral ones that run the plains a few days from Harmony.  Pegasus came out of a mare that was more pet than workhorse.  Her sire was a plains stallion.  She gets her temperament from her ma, and her stamina and her jaw line from the stallion."     


       


       Stefan frowned.  "Horses don't get their temperaments from their begetters," he said sharply.  "They get them from the people who raise them or break them."




       Jonquil stepped between the two men. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said.  "Very interesting debate, I'm sure.  You must continue it some other time.  But let's get this poor horse its supper, and ours as well."




       Stefan accorded the man his cool look.  Then he turned with considerable more warmth to Gabriel.  "You'll want to see her stable, and the slave who will care for her, I assume."




       "Oh, no," Gabriel said hastily, to which Stefan responded with a surprised frown.  "I mean," he said, "I take care of my own horse.  I appreciate your stable no end, but I've no use for your slave." 




       Jonquil sighed vehemently and tapped his foot.  Stefan turned to him.  After a moment he drawled, "No need to bore you. I've a chesty young thing from Cilla's in my office.  Help yourself, and I'll let you know when we're done here."




       Jonquil shrugged but looked cheered.  "Mighty hospitable of you," he said.  "Border riding's dry work."  Glancing in the office, he evidently approved of what he saw, for he hurried inside and closed the door with such eagerness that it slammed. 




       Stefan, turned to Gabriel with tiny, abashed smile.  "Let's get your horse to stable," he said.  "Couldn't be needier than Jonquil but some sweet cultivated oats after weeks of leaves and meadow grass would probably go down fast." 




       Turning into the dimming recesses of the stable, Stefan walked quickly and with perfect confidence that Gabriel and the horse would follow.




       Glancing curiously into the stalls as he passed, Gabriel saw that they were mostly occupied.  The horses ranged from little ponies to restless stallions, but all were well-tended, with clean, shiny coats and plenty of feed and clean water at hand. 




       "Ah, Jordan, a moment of your time if you please," Stefan said directly in front of Gabriel, who stopped short, realizing that he had been gawking rather than watching where he was going. 


       A pixie-like slave appeared at the entry of a stable to their right.  Little more than five feet tall, she had reddish brown hair cropped short which threatened to fly in all directions at once.  Taut muscles outlined her thin limbs.  Her downcast eyes were fixed on Stefan's boots, but she did not fall to her knees before him.  She stood quietly and without trembling. 




       Stefan looked at the girl, expressionless except for the slightest twitching of the right corner of his mouth, before saying, "Rudy's stall is clean?"  His tone indicated that it had better be.




       For an instant the girl looked up, a quick quiet smile flashing before she remembered herself and looked down again.  "Yes, my lord," she replied in a slightly breathless tone that sounded surprisingly like happiness to Gabriel. 




       Stefan blinked in surprise and then sighed rather than spoke a soft, "Oh."  He reached out slowly and raised the slave girl's chin until she was looking him in the eye again.  He lowered his hand but the girl's gaze did not waiver.  There was no fear in her eyes and she seemed to be fighting a smile.  "Rudy's not back yet," Stefan said gently.  "I'm putting another horse in his stable."  


       


       "Oh," Jordan breathed, unconsciously echoing her master.  Her smile faded and she looked down again and then back at Stefan.




       Stefan indicated Gabriel.  "This is Master Gabriel, and his horse, Pegasus," he said. 




       Jordan looked immediately to Gabriel's feet and bowed her head, showing humility and great dignity at the same time.  Then she looked up and beyond him to Pegasus.  The corners of her mouth twitched and when Pegasus stamped her foot and snorted, tossing her head, Jordan smiled.  "Taking care of your horse is an honor to me," she said to Gabriel, looking again at his feet. She said it with such feeling that Gabriel wondered if she might not actually mean it. 




       Stefan said quickly, "You are not to care for the horse, Jordan."  She looked him full in the face in surprise.  "Master Gabriel will care for the horse himself.  You will provide him with any assistance he needs, but you're not to go near the horse without his express permission." 




       Jordan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she frowned, but she said only, in a small, humble voice, "Of course, my lord."




       Gabriel was embarressed by the intimacy of the scene. Stefan opened his mouth as if to speak, and then closed it, swallowed, and said to the girl, "You are excused from the lottery tonight. See to Master Gabriel's needs and then to the loft."




       Jordan nodded.  "Yes, my lord.  Thank you, my lord," she said, in her quiet tone.




       Stefan stepped passed Jordan, half turning to Gabriel.  "The cunt will see to everything you need.  If you've any complaints, let me know."  His tone was harsh but, almost as if he did not realize it, as he walked by Jordan he squeezed her elbow softly with his hand.




       For a moment Gabriel watched Stefan's retreating figure walk towards to dim rear of the building, his footsteps padding on the packed dirt floor.  Jordan said, in her soft voice, "It would be my privilege to show you to the stall, my lord."  She looked at him briefly full in the face as he nodded assent, and then turned and slowly led him towards the middle of the stable building and into a stable on the right. 




       Gabriel led Pegasus into it, pleased to see a largish, clean space, with a trough for water and a nice size wind hole with a sliding panel so it could be opened or closed.  The side walls were shoulder high on Pegasus, so she could visit with her neighbors if she had a mind to. 




       Gabriel let Pegasus' reins drop, and he leaned his forehead against hers, breathing in her smell, softly rubbing her cheek.  He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted.




       Embarressed, Gabriel looked around to the slave girl, but she had disappeared.  Gabriel unloaded his saddle bags and placed them near the stall door, taking out only the curry brush.  He unsaddled the horse and removed the protective blanket, which was practically grimey.  Slowly, beginning with her forelock, he began to comb Pegasus.  She seemed to know that they were at journey's end, and stood quietly, as tired as he. 




       Gabriel took his time, checking carefully the various bramble scratches the horse had on her legs, and examining her hooves with great tenderness.  When he finished, he looked up to see the slave girl approaching the horse with a clean blanket, as if to throw it over her.  "Stop it," he said, much more harshly then he intended, his voice positively gravelly with fatigue.




       Jordan fell to her knees with a thud where she stood, holding the blanket in front of her like a platter.  "Forgive me, master," she said, and Gabriel heard fear in her voice for the first time.  Remorse filled him, as he quickly took the blanket from her.




       "I didn't mean to scare you," he said.  "I just don't want you to touch my horse." 




       The girl nodded, still on her knees.  "Only command me, my lord," she said, making a small gesture with her hand to indicate behind her.  Gabriel saw that while he had been tending Pegasus she had brought bales of hay, sacks of feed, and buckets of water, as well as clean grooming equipment.  Remorse again filled him as he thought of the small girl toting all these things for the comfort of his horse. 




       "Thank you," he said.  The girl rose to her feet and retreated to the entrance of the stall as Gabriel strew the hay about, filled the trough with the water which, he noticed with approval, was luke warm rather than cold, and the other with oats.  The girl had brought much too much feed for the horse, but Pegasus had the sense to stop eating when she had had enough.




       Suddenly, from the back of the stable, Gabriel heard the crack of a whip followed by the low grunt of a man.  Another whip crack, and another, and another, each followed by a groan or a whimper, smothered.  In all, there were fifteen, and then the unmistakeable murmur of Stefan's sardonic voice.  A short time later another round of whipping began, followed by a feminine voice, crying and pleading, but softly.  During it all, Jordan stood at attention, her eyes on the ground, motionless.




       Gabriel turned back to his horse and threw his arms around her neck, whether for comfort or to protect her he knew not.  Pegasus munched on her oats, oblivious.  Gabriel's eyes stung and he wished that he and Pegasus were back in the forest again, that this day had never begun, that he had never reached this place. 




       "The horse is nicely settled, nicely indeed!"  Jonquil's booming voice broke Gabriel's reverie.  Gabriel pretended to examine a spot on the horse's neck as he collected himself, then turned around to face his guide.




       Jonquil's corpulent figure almost filled the entry door to Pegasus' stable.  To the man's surprise, Gabriel shoved by him before he could get out of the way and turned to Jordan, standing nearby, still at humble attention.  He grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezing her naked flesh tight and shaking her a little.  "If anyone whips Pegasus, or touches her, I'll..."  He broke off, realizing he had nothing with which to threaten her.




       Jordan said in a gentle, soft voice that belied the hardness of her body and Gabriel's grip on it, "Nobody will, master.  She'll be fine here."   




       She looked as if she would go on, but Jonquil broke in with his loud voice, "Learning to talk to them already, good, good.  Glad to see it.  You'll fit in fine.  Horse is fine, too.  Nobody will molest her.  Plenty else to molest around here, much more interesting." 




       Gabriel looked with horror at Jonquil as he realized that, as Jonquil said, he had treated the girl as if she were his to command, his thing.  Slowly he relaxed his grip on the slave girl and removed his hands from her shoulders, backing away.  "I'm sorry," he muttered.




       Jonquil was tugging on Gabriel's sleeve in his hurry to get to supper.  Gabriel glanced back and saw Jordan, assuming her customary pose of head slightly bowed, looking at his feet. 



OT note by the author:  If you tried to email me any time in the last two years, I didn’t receive it.  My new email address is lovelyandsad (at) gmail (dot)com. 




       CHAPTER 3:  IN THE BEARER’S CHAMBERS




       Animal tried to look relaxed as he reclined in an overstuffed divan in the state room. Looking around the room, he saw that the other supplicants were as uncomfortable as he, all undoubtedly wishing, like he was, that their appointments with the Bearer had come on a night when His Eminence was in a better mood.  The Bearer was now roughly tongue-lashing a squabbling couple who came to him to determine which of them should get to keep their apartment, dog, slave, and antique oak table.  The Bearer leaned forward ferociously on his throne, gripping his scepter, spittle spraying from his mouth as he balled them out for wasting his time, for wasting the time of the other supplicants who waited to discuss matters worthy of him, for acting like slaves rather than human beings.  He paused for a breath and then looked at them both from his enormous gray eyebrows.  "Are you absolutely positive you want me to make this decision for you?" he asked.




       Interested and half amused despite his own concerns, Animal wondered if the feuders would have the sense to say no.  They stood uncertainly for a few seconds, and then the man crossed his arms about his chest and nodded.  A little slower the woman nodded as well.




       The Bearer snorted with disgust.  "Very well," he said, indicating with a toss of his chin that the scribe should take notes. "Jacques gets the dog and the apartment, Teena the cunt and the table." 




       Both of them looked at him wide eyed with horror.  "But, DeLarus," Teena shrieked, her voice verging on panic, "That's not fair."




       "SILENCE," the Bearer roared, pounding the bottom of his scepter on the floor.  "I have spoken."  He ignored the couple and glared around the room, at the dozen or so people waiting to be heard.  "If any of you have any idiotic disputes, I suggest you solve them yourselves."




       Animal again wished he could have seen the Bearer on a day when his mood did not vent quite so ragefully.  Nevertheless, as four people who had thought the better of things scurried out of the room, he had to admire the Bearer's tactics. 




       He was startled and unprepared when he heard his own name called by the scribe.  Damn it, the supplicants who had left had all been ahead of him on the roster, and he was caught off guard and in the brunt of the Bearer's ferocity.  Nevertheless he stood up with pretended nonchalance, and ambled to the hearing area.  The Bearer glowered at him.




       Animal bowed slightly from the waist, his uncharacteristically clean shirt crackling from the starch his slave had put in.  The movement was lost on the Bearer, who was flipping through the petition Animal had submitted.  At length he looked up and said, with an eyebrow raised, "You ask Riviera to cede you a wall in the Great Banquet Hall." 




       The other supplicants tittered, and Animal felt his face flush.  "I ask leave to paint a mural," and he added after a moment, "Sire."




       The Bearer leaned back in his velvet-covered throne and merely looked at Animal.  The other supplicants watched the scene, happy to be amused.  At last the Bearer said, harshly enunciating each word, "You ask to put the entire community at great inconvenience so that you can cover a wall with egg whites."




       The tittering broke into laughter, and Animal glared about him.  "I want to cover the wall with a great painting, Bearer," he said.  "The egg whites preserve the pigments."  Inwardly he raged against the cretins who surrounded him.


       


       The Bearer raised his hand for silence.  "Tell me," he said, "What will Riviera gain by giving this wall over to you, other than not being able to use its best revel room for who knows how many solstice celebrations to come?" 




       Animal realized that the Bearer was toying with him for the fun of it.  He also realized that there was nothing he could do about it.  He said, much more composedly than he felt, "Riviera gains a record of its civilization, which it will pass on to generations to come." 




       The Bearer pursed his lips. "Your petition would be best served without your sardonic tone, Supplicant."  Animal felt his face flush again.  The Bearer continued, more mildly, "I would like to preserve the record of my reign.  Tell me, what would you paint in this myoo-ral?" 




       Animal took a deep breath as he sought an answer than would convince the Bearer.  He said slowly, "I would paint scenes of our life, Bearer.  Families at the breakfast table, girls strolling in the early summer peony gardens, people picking slaves from the Exchange or attending revels; all that we do, I would capture it." 




       The Bearer drummed his fingers against his cheek.  Animal motioned to his slave girl.  "I have brought sketches with me, if you would let me demonstrate."




       The Bearer swirled his hand, indicating assent.  At a look from Animal, his slave girl, trembling violently, brought him two canvasses that had been leaning backwards against the wall.  Taking one from her, he carefully turned it around to face the Bearer.  Hearing a gasp from one of the supplicants, he allowed himself a tiny smile.  The watercolor was of the Bearer's mate, at a revel, perched on a chair, looking dreamily into a glass of sparkling wine.  Animal was grateful that it had the desired effect on at least one person in the room, as he had chosen it for the obvious reason.  The Bearer, however, gave no sign of being placated, merely continuing to drum his fingers against his cheek.  Animal gave the picture to one of the Bearer's own slaves to hold, and took the second painting from his slave.  This was one that Animal would have turned over to use the back side of the precious paper, except that it was the sort of thing the Bearer might admire.  It showed a pink and orange sunset over the fields.  When Animal made it he had hoped to paint into it the glimmer of peace that sometimes comes when viewing creation, but he had been unable to capture it on the canvass and the picture was merely a sentimental sunset. 




       The Bearer glanced at the painting.  "These pictures aren't bad," he said to Animal almost kindly.  "But," he continued, "Most people would rather have a living slave hanging on a wall than a picture."  He looked around the room and the supplicants laughed softly on cue.  "What practical value do these pictures serve?  Can you beat a slave into submission with them?"


       


       Animal felt the tip of his ears go red.  "A painting helps you see what is not in front of your nose, Bearer."




       Ignoring or unaware of the insult, the Bearer said drily, "Or they hide what is front of my nose with the smell of rotting eggs."




        In the laughter that followed Animal heard the door behind him open, and heavy footsteps came up behind him.  He ignored the distraction, concentrating on meeting the Bearer's gaze, until a man's excited, slightly breathless voice said, "Bearer, I bring the Healer come from Harmony."




       The Bearer leisurely looked at the interloper, and Animal released a short sigh of relief.  Jonquil, that fat turd, strode self-importantly forward, obviously delighted that he had a matter with which he could interrupt official proceedings.  Behind him, walking shyly, was a man about Animal's own age.  His clothes were oddly cut, and, where not covered with caked dirt, were sun-faded.  His hands and face, however, were meticulously clean, as was his hair, so black that it was almost blue and clearly self-cut without the aid of a mirror.  He was gaunt, his flesh as threadbare as his clothes.




       All this Animal's practiced eye noticed in a moment.  In the next moment he noticed the man's eyes, gray like deep fog, and flecked with yellow.  Immediately Animal began to imagine him as the subject of a painting.  A portrait, but not like he painted of the bored woman and men who posed for him for the sake of having something, anything, to do.  More like the sketches he kept in his studio, like his second, secret portrait of the Bearer's mate, towards the end of the revel, drunk and methodically torturing a stray slave, nothing but a hazy ennui showing on her face. 




       The man continued forward until he was standing near Animal, where he paused and addressed the Bearer.  "I am Gabriel," he said, in a tenor voice that sounded clear but bone-weary.  "I have answered the summons carried by your son, to try to heal the injured lass." 




       Jonquil did not care to have his thunder stolen.  He broke in excitedly, "That's right, DeLarus.  I found him at Holden's Gate, and thought it only proper to show him escort."




       The Bearer said drily, "Aye, brother, and to escape from boundary riding as well."  Jonquil sputtered for a moment and then fell silent.




       The Bearer turned to Gabriel.  He leaned his heavy frame on his tall scepter and stood heavily, and said in his deep formal voice with the almost rolling r's he reserved for ceremonial occasions, "Healer, you are most welcome here.  You have answered the summons to look at my daughter, and for that Riviera welcomes and thanks you."




       Gabriel nodded acknowledgement, and it seemed to Animal that for all the Healer's ragged appearance his dignity was equal to the Bearer's.  Looking at the tableau, Animal thought he had the subject for his painting.


 


       The Bearer sat down heavily in his throne, assisted by slaves on each side of him.  "I trust my son has not further disgraced himself," the Bearer said to the room in general.




       Gabriel took a step forward, eager to share his news.  "Your son did very well indeed, for a lad his age.  He arrived at Harmony two moons ago, ill with pneumonia, but he never wavered from his purpose.  By this time he is probably full well." 




       Animal was not the only person in the room to lift an eyebrow in surprise at the kindly respect in the healer's voice.  The Bearer, however, merely snorted.  "Foolish boy, foolish quest," he muttered, and then remembered himself. "No offense to you and your errand of mercy, sir.  But first the boy lames his sister playing too rough, and then rides off risking his own hide, and yours as well.  Girl don't need legs.  Plenty of slaves to fetch and carry for her."




       Gabriel looked around at Jonquil as if for a friend and then quickly away again.  "Indeed, sir," he said, "I do not know if I can help the child or not.  But surely if she can get her legs back she should have them."




       There was a shocked silence in the room.  Then, suddenly, the Bearer guffawed.  He laughed long and hard.  "That's the first time in a week I've been amused," he said at last, "and I thank you for that.  Hmm, hmm.  She should have her legs back indeed."




       The Healer stood with a quietness that seemed to come from his bones.  Animal felt sorry for him.  He didn't know offhand how far Harmony was from Riviera, but surely it was a great distance, and from the look of the man not an easy journey. 




       The Bearer must have had the same thought, for when he regained his composure he looked at Gabriel with some remorse.  "You must be tired," he said, "and in need of food and comfort."  He furrowed his eyebrows again, and Animal thought that it was amazing that he did not have permanent lines in his face from it being so often stretched into this position. 




       The Bearer motioned to one of his assistants, who had watched the scene while idly playing with a tassel that hung from his divan.  "The Healer will need lodging and slaves to see to his needs," he said.  "Have a runner sent to the exchange, with a note.  See if there's a decent cunt or two who know how to cook and fuck."  He looked over to Gabriel and added offhandedly, "Unless you prefer the boys, of course. It's all easily arranged."




       Gabriel opened his mouth but before sound could come out Jonquil stepped forward and said self-importantly, "He prefers neither, DeLarus.  In fact, he quite strongly disapproves of slavery and will have nothing to do with the whole thing."  Jonquil rubbed his hands together for emphasis, all too obviously enjoying being the bringer of this news.




       The Bearer sat back in his throne, perplexed, and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  "Hmm, hmm, of course," he said.  "Harmony, rebels, all that."




       Gabriel interrupted him.  "Sir, my errand is really the lass.  Perhaps if I could look in on her ..."




       The Bearer brushed him off.  "The girl is asleep, sir," he said.  "Still early for us, of course, but the children sleep all night so that they can squabble all day."  He thought for another minute.  "Best thing to do is to get you settled.  Tomorrow, or the next day, is plenty of time to look in on Trya.  She's not getting any better, but no worse either.  Day or two makes no difference."  He turned to Jonquil.  "You've cared for him thus far, Brother.  Take him home with you.  You've enough slaves to handle the task."




       Jonquil grimaced and turned red to the top of his bald head, raising his hands to ward off the suggestion. "Oh, no, DeLarus.  Makes no sense at all.  None at all.  My quarters are on the other side of the mansion from yours.  And the lad's got a horse he wants to visit, in the main stables. Much too far from there. Oh, no, not me."  Gabriel looked relieved to learn that parting company would be no more unpleasant to Jonquil than to himself.


       


       The Bearer frowned.  "He should stay with me, I suppose," he said mostly to himself.  "But I've eight brats running around, and dozens of slaves, and no room to think in my quarters as it is.  We need visitors more often.  No procedures in place."  He looked around the room at the various supplicants, who each in turn dropped their eyes.  At last the Bearer's baleful gaze landed on Animal.  They were both struck with the same thought. 




       "Well, Painter," the Bearer said gruffly, "You ask Riviera to inconvenience itself by giving over to you its best revel room.  What do you offer it in return?" 




       Animal swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned to the healer.  "There's an empty suite in my quad," he said, not quite managing to keep all the sourness out of his voice.  "It is near to the Bearer's quarters, and the front stables."  Seeing the Healer biting the inside of his cheeks, he added, gruffly, "You are most welcome." 




       The Bearer raised an eyebrow and nodded approvingly. "Nicely said, Painter," he said.  "I'm glad to see you've got some community spirit."  He stroked his chin, and added, "Tell me, how do you live?"




       Animal indicated the slave girl who had handed him the paintings a few minutes earlier, and now stood quietly except for the rattling of her knees. "I've had this cunt for nigh on two months now.  She is well-trained and obedient."




       As Animal spoke, the slave girl fell to her knees and put her forehead on the floor.  Her shaking knees gave way to great tremors throughout her body.  The Bearer looked down at her.  "Stand up, cunt. I want to see you." 




       In a clumsy movement the slave girl stood.  Animal saw that her face was positively green, and wondered if she might not throw up.  Serve the Bearer right to have to smell it for days to come. 




       "Hands behind your neck, and turn around slowly," the Bearer commanded the slave.  Animal rarely had his slaves assume the standard position, and she hesitated a moment before obeying.  She turned around slowly, her knees knocking so badly that she nearly lost her balance.  Animal was reminded of the day she had first come to serve him.  She was as frightened as today, but with only average patience on his part she had calmed down.  She was a good housekeeper, nice in bed, and a better than usual cook.  Truth be told, he realized with surprise, he was fond of her.




       When the slave had completed a full circle for the Bearer she again fell to her hands and knees, her forehead on the ground, still shaking.




       The Bearer said suspiciously to Animal, "The creature is practically unmarked."


         


       "I don't keep slaves who require beating," he responded, a little defensively. "She behaves well and I don't punish her."




       The Bearer tsked.  "A pansy, are you?" he said.  He turned to the prostrate figure before him.  "I didn't tell you to move," he said, annoyed.  "Stand up and speak to me."




       The girl tried to stand but her knees gave way and she would have fallen if Animal had not stepped forward to steady her.  "A cunt who cannot stand on her own two feet can scarcely take care of you, much less the erstwhile healer," the Bearer remarked.




       Animal tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.  "You've frightened her," he said, stating the obvious.  He added, after a moment's hesitation, "But if you prefer, I will trade her in."  Animal thought he heard the cunt make a guttural sound in her throat, almost a protest.  He was a lenient master.  All of his cunts hated to leave him.  He never kept them for more than a few months, on the theory that if they had not yet started to take advantage of his kindly nature they surely would soon.




       The Bearer ignored Animal.  "Slave, look at me," he said.  The girl slowly raised her eyes, filled with tears and fear, to his.  "How does your master call you?"




       In a small voice, strained with tears, she stammered, "Please, master, he calls me Rose." 




       The Bearer smirked a little and leaned back in his chair, evidently enjoying himself.  "Your master says he doesn't beat you," he said.  "Is that true?"




       Rose's knees buckled slightly, but she caught herself.  Rescuing her from the trap the Bearer had laid, Animal said, "I have beaten Rose occasionally, when she has deserved it. Lately she has been good."




       The Bearer looked annoyed. "My dear sir, if you can't allow your slave to stand by herself, at least allow her to answer for herself."  He turned back to Rose, and sternly ordered, "Turn and look at Master Gabriel." 




       Rose turned slowly to the stranger, and Animal saw that he gave the slave a tiny encouraging smile with the side of his mouth that was turned away from the Bearer.




       The Bearer continued, "Your master is kind, and Master Gabriel is a rebel who does not believe in slavery."  If Rose understood this, she gave no sign.  "But I am not kind, and I do believe in slavery." His voice was deep and stern. "Master Gabriel is a visitor here, and an honored guest.  You show your master every attention, accord him every courtesy, and obey his every whim, do you not?"




       Rose responded in a soft, quavering voice, "I try, my lord."




       The Bearer nodded.  "Well said, cunt.  All you do for your master, you must do ten times as well for Master Gabriel."  Animal fought the annoyance he suddenly felt.  "Repeat that back to me."




       Rose stammered, "All I do for my master, I must do ten times as well for Master Gabriel."  Her voice went up an octave towards the end, as Animal accidently painfully tightened his grip on her arm. 




       The Bearer continued, "Between your kind master and the rebel, you may think you can cut corners.  But I will be watching you, and hearing about you, and I will punish you if you do not obey.  Do you understand?"




       Rose managed to answer in a hoarse whisper, "Yes, my lord."




       The Bearer lowered his eyebrows at her, causing her to tremble even more.  "I am going to give you a small taste of my punishment now, as you have no doubt forgotten the kiss of the lash of late."  He turned to Animal.   "I assume your master does not dispute my jurisdiction over you?"  Animal gave a half shrug to indicate his assent, keeping his face carefully blank.   




       The Bearer leaned over to one of his attendants and whispered in his ear. The attendant strode out the back entrance of the throne room, and returned almost immediately with a largish tasseled pillow, covered with maroon velvet.  He placed it in front of Rose and said to her, "Lay your head on it."  Animal let go of the slave who, in her haste to obey, dove for the pillow and lay full out on the floor, her head on top of the pillow and her arms encircling it.  The attendant removed a long, narrow whip that was coiled on his belt.  He stood over the prostrate girl, his muscles rippling, and looked at the Bearer, who nodded at him.




       The attendant raised his arm and brought the whip down with a thunderous clap, leaving a huge red welt from Rose's left buttock to her right shoulderblade.  She shrieked through closed lips and clutched the pillow convulsively.  "One," the attendant said calmly.




       He raised his arm again and brought the whip crashing down, this time from one side of Rose's back to another.  Rose sobbed.  "Please," she cried, "please."  She was bleeding where the two welts crossed.




       "Two," the attendant said.  He moved around so that he was standing over Rose's shoulders, facing her feet.  "Spread your legs wider," he ordered. Rose complied in an instant.  The whip came down vertically across her buttock, curling around her thigh.  Rose bit the pillow to stifle her scream.




       "Three," the attendant said.




       As he raised his arm for another stroke, the Bearer stopped him. "That's enough," he said.  "The cunt has tender skin, and this is just a warning.  She must be able to care for our guest." He turned to Gabriel.  "You must consider this slave to be yours in all things."









CHAPTER 4:  TO ANIMAL’S LIVING QUARTERS




       Gabriel was too exhausted to pay much attention to the arrangements made in the throne room.  He vaguely understood from Jonquil that his baggage, which had been toted by a slave from the stables, would be delivered immediately to Animal's quarters. Gabriel carried only his medicine sack, slung across his shoulder.  He numbly followed Animal and the stumbling slave-girl Rose from the throne room.  Rose's back leaked blood in the places where the whip-marks crossed, and he wondered that she did not go into shock.  The clinical voice within him reported that the bleeding was not altogether bad, as it would save the cuts from becoming infected by her hair, which hung below her shoulders. 




       As they exited the throne room through the grand doorway, Animal stood formally aside and gestured him to proceed.  They went into a foyer, much larger than the throne room itself, and several people called out casual greetings to Animal, which he ignored.  He crossed the room with a gait that was brisk despite a studied laziness, opened a door and went through it, evidently expecting that both Rose and Gabriel would follow automatically. 


       When they crossed the threshold  Animal was already several feet ahead of them, striding quickly down a narrow, poorly lit corridor, pretense of laziness gone.  Rose stumbled.  She straightened up immediately but then stumbled again, this time falling and landing on her right knee with a quiet whimper.  Animal strode ahead, oblivious.  "Wait," Gabriel shouted after him, as he hurried towards the girl who was struggling to her feet again. Animal stopped and turned around. 




       Gabriel almost reached out to support Rose, but he stopped himself, looking at the man who in a less than enthusiastic way had offered him hospitality.  Animal was lanky and unkempt, with brown hair that straggled well past his shoulders and a beard that had been combed but not trimmed. He crossed his long, thin arms and tapped his foot, waiting for Gabriel to say why he had interrupted their progress.




       Gabriel took a deep breath.  He had used this method to try to calm himself so many times in the last hours that it was a wonder he was not hyperventilating, he thought.  He took another breath, slower, and said carefully, "The Bearer said I was to consider her mine," indicating the girl.  Animal nodded, his sour frown becoming more pronounced.  Gabriel continued, softly, as he might speak to an awakening watch dog, "If I look to her wounds, can I have your word then that you’ll not punish her for it?"




       Animal's sour frown slowly transformed into an even sourer grin.  "Weren't you paying attention back there, Healer?" His lips formed slowly around each word, as if Gabriel were simple. "I'm a pansy.  I don't beat my slaves enough.  That's why the Bearer took it upon himself to do it." 




       Gabriel looked uncertainly from Animal to Rose and back again.  Rose struggled to her feet and stumbled over to Animal, where she fell to her knees and rested on her haunches, her head down.  "Forgive me, master," she said in a low, frightened voice.




       To Gabriel's surprise, Animal lowered himself down until he was at the same level as Rose.  Almost tenderly he scooped the slave's hair from her back and pulled it over her right shoulder, removing it from contact with the whip marks.  "You're not hurt," he said with a gruffness belied by his actions.  "Get up and walk before I give you a real punishment."   




       Rose immediately stood up.  She swayed uncertainly.  Animal stood up and put out his arm, which she grasped.  "Okay, now,"  Animal said, and he began walking down the corridor, Rose clinging to him.  Gabriel followed a few feet behind, feeling lost and foolish.  Animal looked over his shoulder and said, in his sour voice, "The quarters aren't far.  You can numb her wounds to your heart's content there."  




       The corridor was long and narrow and lit only by a few scattered lanterns.  They passed several closed doors and a few hallways leading off to the right and left.  Some of the doorways had piles of rubbish near them. 




       The hallway ended at a door like the one they had originally entered.  The trio went through it and Gabriel found himself in a cavernous room.  He looked to his left.  A jolt of terror slashed through his body.  Three ghosts were crossing the room.  One of them stopped suddenly and Gabriel realized with foolish relief that he was looking at his own reflection.  The entire wall to his right, except for a set of doors, was a huge picture window, made into a ghoulish mirror by the darkness outside. His own image seemed to be all lines and shadows. 




       Animal, Rose still on his arm, turned back to Gabriel.  "Entrance hall," he informed the healer sourly.  He stalked towards a hallway, grander than the one they had just left, opposite the window wall.  Gabriel again followed behind.  He turned now and again in what seemed a maze, but always in a broad, well-lit, clean corridor.  A few slaves scurried by on solitary errands, keeping their heads carefully lowered as they passed. 




       Animal stopped before a door, fumbled for a key, and opened it.  With uncharacteristic politeness, he stood aside and motioned Gabriel to precede him. 




       Gabriel entered into a meticulously clean living area furnished with an overstuffed couch and a couple of chairs and footstools.  Behind it was a dining area, separated by a counter from a small kitchen.  The back wall, like the entrance hall, was made entirely of a picture window except for a door in its center. 




       Rose was lighting lamps throughout the room.  As she did so, Gabriel's attention was drawn to the wall to his right.  It was covered with a huge painting directly on the wall, a painting which exactly captured the great lawn Gabriel had seen on the way to the stable earlier that day.  Each tree was perfectly rendered and swaying in the breeze; each person's thoughts were revealed through their face or body position.  A woman reclined in relaxation; a man tiredly but happily threw a ball to a young girl; an older woman admired a rose bush, each thorn carefully drawn.  Gabriel's attention was particularly caught by a slave who pushed a lawnmower, his biceps hard and gleaming with sweat, his face showing focus and pride and fear. 




       Animal looked at him looking at the painting, the tiniest sour smile on the painter's lips.  He stood motionless, merely watching.  At last Gabriel looked over to Animal, and it seemed to him that in that instant, in this hellish land, he knew Animal's heart and all that was in it, and they passed from strangers to brothers.





CHAPTER 5:  HEALING ROSE


       As he had promised, Animal let Gabriel tend to Rose's wounds that night. At Gabriel's direction Rose lay nervously on the couch, trembling.  Just as Animal had intimated, her cuts were not as deep nor nearly as dangerous as Gabriel had thought, and, as the Bearer had remarked, except for same faded scars her skin was unmarked.

       

       "I'll need clean cotton cloth," he said.  Animal looked at him blankly for a minute, then gave a flashing grin and hastily strode through a door opposite the entrance they had come in.  When he left, Rose shrunk down to even an even smaller size and looked at Gabriel fearfully.  Gabriel tried to reach for words that might comfort her, but could think only of what he had said to Griley a lifetime ago, and regretted.


       Animal came back into the room carrying three folded tunics before him as if they were trays. He thrust them at Gabriel, and stood back gruffly. 


       The shirts looked clean enough, although certainly not sterile.  Gabriel set aside one dyed a deep purple with a concoction he could not guess, and tore the white one and the cream-colored one into strips with a practiced hand.  At each tear of the cloth Rose gave a stifled gasp.


       When he had made the bandages, Gabriel looked at Rose's back dispassionately.  The cuts had mostly clotted already, and the bleeding had slowed to an ooze.  Bandages and salve for a day or so would stop any infection, and then fresh air would do the rest.

       

       Gabriel sat on the floor next to the couch and slowly raised an ointment-soaked bandage to put on the deepest cut.  Rose breathed sharply and closed her eyes.  "I won't hurt you, Rose," Gabriel said to her softly, hoping again he would not regret these words.  He could feel Animal's heavy presence behind him. Rose opened her eyes, looked at Gabriel fleetingly, and gave him a smile so tiny Gabriel wondered if he had imagined it. Carefully he lay the bandages on her back.  The blood oozed through the first layer but not the second. 

       

       He turned to Animal, who still hovered beside him.  "Can you bring a cup of hot water?" he requested.  Animal looked confused and a little offended.  Rose moved as if she would get up, and Gabriel quickly put a warning hand on her shoulder, holding her down.  "You need to lay still, or you'll open the wounds and spoil my pretty bandages," he said.  For an instant Rose looked as if he had told her he was made of goat cheese, and then her face was carefully blank again.  


       Animal clanged and banged in the kitchen area, cursing more than once, but eventually carried from there, carefully, as if it were precious, a mug of hot water.  Gabriel took it with barely a nod of thanks, fishing through his medicine pouch for the proper herbs.  The miniscule amount of relaxants Gabriel put in the tea he concocted for Rose had a stronger effect on her than he expected, and she fell fast asleep on the couch a few minutes after fearfully sipping it down. 


       Animal looked at Rose's sleeping figure bemusedly, then shrugged and pressed a button by the door to the hallway.  A runner appeared a few minutes later, and Animal told him to bring supper. 


       When the runner brought the food, a savory meat stew that made Gabriel's mouth water, Animal unceremoniously put it on the table and banged around in the kitchen, looking for plates and utensils.  He brought them in and sat down at the table with another sour look to Gabriel.  Gabriel felt suddenly uncouth and embarrassed by his filthy clothes.  Animal, oblivious, piled  more meat on Gabriel's plate than he had ever seen not on a feast day, and a goodly helping of tender broccoli and cauliflower and baby potatoes. 


       Gabriel was suddenly ravenous.  However, after a few forkfuls he found it increasingly difficult to lift his fork or to keep his eyes open.  Animal, who had been eating unconcernedly, gave a soft snort when he looked up and saw Gabriel's chin in his chest.  He carried Rose from the couch to his bed, and helped Gabriel to the couch.  It took him a while to find a blanket for Gabriel but when his task done, he sat down again and finished his meal. 



CHAPTER 6:  TWO CONVERSATIONS




       Rose woke early the next morning, and scared.  She knew there was something she had been supposed to do the night before, and she had not done it.  What it was she could not recall, until she sat up and felt the odd numbness on her back where the bandages were.  Then it all came flooding back to her: the beating by the Bearer, the Bearer's order to take care of the strange new master who had been kind to her, and falling asleep on the couch before she had done any of the tasks she should have done.  Animal slept beside her, snoring softly, and she gave another start when she realized that she had not satisfied him last night. 




       She sat miserably on the edge of the bed, torn between waiting for Animal to wake to beg his forgiveness, or going to wait on the new master and to beg his forgiveness.  She heard a soft clang from the kitchen, and water running.  She turned and looked desperately at the sleeping figure beside her.  She knew that, as he had missed first light already, he might sleep for hours more. 




       Trembling, Rose opened the bedroom door quietly and peeked out.  With a gasp she saw that the new master was in the kitchen cubicle, washing dishes!  She started towards him, turned back and quietly closed the bedroom door, then almost ran across the living room and skidded to a stop on her knees in the kitchen doorway.  "Forgive me, master," she said in a voice so soft Gabriel barely heard her.




       He turned to her with a funny, apologetic smile.  "I hope I didn't wake you," he said, and turned back to finish the dish he was washing.  He had awoken that morning still heartsick from the events of the day before but also amazingly refreshed from having slept with a safe roof over his head and no need to keep an ear cocked for marauding raccoons and worse.  Without compunction he had raided the icebox of the food Animal had evidently dumped there the night before, on the plates they ate off.  Further, he was certain he remembered the way to the main entranceway, from where he could easily find the stable and Pegasus.




       "Please, master," Rose pleaded.  She started to cry, more certain than ever of punishment if a master was doing her own work.




       Gabriel turned to her again, distressed.  “Please don't cry," he asked, in the most gentle voice he could muster.




       Rose looked down, biting her lip.  His kind tone scared her more than his weird actions.  Masters were sometimes eccentric or lazy, like Animal.  That was dangerous but you could get used to it.  But kindness was always a mindgame.  A tear rolled down to the tip of Rose's nose and dropped with a tiny splotch to the floor.  She remained motionless.




       Gabriel watched her for a time, matching his breath to hers. Then he said, in a soft, conversational voice, "I never saw a faucet like this one, where endless hot water comes out."  This got Rose's attention, and she looked up at him, puzzled.  "Jonquil couldn't tell me yesterday about how anything around here works.  It seems like magic to me." 




       Rose took a deep breath, and said, "It comes from pipes from a boiler room, Master."  When Gabriel waited, she added, "The boiler broke once when I worked in the southern wing.  There was no hot water for two weeks.  Nobody knew how to fix it." 




       Rose turned bright red, as if embarrassed by the sound of her own voice.  Gabriel pretended he didn't notice, and asked, with genuine interest, "How does the boiler make the water hot?"




       Rose thought for a minute.  "My mistress brought me to see the public torturing after the boiler was fixed.  I think the Bearer ordered that all the houseslaves in that wing attend.  I remember the torturer saying the slaves were supposed to tend the fires which heated the water."  She looked at Gabriel almost angrily before she blankened her face. 




       Gabriel had seen the look.  "It wasn't their fault, Rose," he said softly.  Rose prostrated herself, her characteristic fear returning. 




       Gabriel mentally kicked himself for going too fast.  He tried to save the situation.  "That beautiful shower I took this morning," he said, "Does that water come from the same place?"




       Rose trembled.  Without looking up, she said, "Forgive me, Master. I don't know." 




       Gabriel leaned back against the counter, watching her.  He tried to think of a topic of conversation that would put her at ease, but seeing her taut posture he realized that he had pushed as far as she would go for now.  He chewed on his lip, wishing for a normal conversation with a friend.




       The thought made him remember Pegasus.  Was she as lonely, he wondered?  He would go and see her, and then the lass.  Quietly he put in the cabinet the dish he had been holding.  He turned briskly towards the doorway and almost tripped over Rose, still prostrate.  Unsure what else to do, he stepped over her.  Rose emitted a high whimper, which stopped when no blow landed.  Fearing that she would remain statue-still for hours if he said nothing, he told her that he was going to the stables.  Rose looked up and nodded, but said nothing, her cheeks wet with tears.




***




       It was not for nothing that Gabriel had spent so much of his youth wandering outside of Harmony's borders, seeking healing herbs.  The elders of Harmony had approved him for this journey partly because of his well-known woodsense, believing that he among all the young healers would not get lost on the way to Riviera, following a path scarcely used for generations.  Yet he found himself confused by the odd angles at which  the indoor corridors met, with neither sun nor breeze to guide him


       This early in the day only a few slaves were about.  He watched them go by, fearfully making obeisance, before he stopped one who, like Rose, was not heavily marked, and asked him the direction to the entrance hall. If the man thought it was an odd question he gave no sign, but answered courteously and clearly, on his knees, his eyes down.  Gabriel was quite close.


       The picture window faced south, and through it Gabriel saw the Lawn, still sparkling with dew, empty except for a few groundskeepers cleaning litter.  Gabriel pushed open the door, descended the steps of the grand stairway, and walked hurriedly across the grass towards the stable.  He wondered with a sudden pang whether these barbarians had mistreated his horse in the handful of hours since he had left her.  He remembered the pixie slave girl's face--what was her name?  Jordan--and her quiet, gentle voice promising the horse would be fine.  Despite common sense, he was calmed.


       Unlike the mansion, the stable was bustling when he arrived.  A little shyly, Gabriel peered into the third stable before entering it.  Throughout its length, slaves were grooming horses.  As he passed them, they nodded respectfully.  Jordan was currying a speckled white mare, talking softly to it.  When she saw Gabriel, she stepped just more than kicking distance away from the mare and fell gracefully to her knees, the rest of her body remaining firmly erect.  "Can I serve you, Master?" she asked.


       The ends of Jordan's flyaway hair wisped into her face as she kneeled perfectly still.  Unlike every other slave Gabriel had spoken with, Jordan neither shook nor trembled.  Suddenly he heard a sound as familiar to him as his own breathing:  Pegasus' whicker.  Swiftly stepping around the kneeling girl, Gabriel practically ran into his horse's stall.  Pegasus, as unused to being away from her friend as the reverse, gave a snort and a prance.  Gabriel crossed the few steps to the horse in a heartbeat and threw his arms around her neck, feeling that it had been years instead of hours since he had last seen her.


       A man cleared his throat.  Turning quickly, Gabriel saw Stefan in the doorway, a sardonic grin on his face.  "I see we managed not to kill your horse overnight," he said.


       Gabriel blushed, realizing that his comment to Jordan the night before must have gotten back to the stable's boss.  Stefan seemed to enjoy his discomfiture.  Lazily he said, "Hope you'll let the horse rest up a bit before riding her over tarnation."


       Gabriel bit down annoyance.  He no more needed advice on how to care for his own horse than he did on how to tie his shoes.  Seeing his reaction, Stefan looked, if possible, more smug than before.  "No insult intended," he drawled.


       "You have a pasture?" Gabriel asked coldly. 


       Stefan nodded.  "The cunt can show you which field," he said, indicating Jordan, who had stolen up behind her master and stood nearby, attentive.




       In a deliberate attempt to cut Stefan, Gabriel turned his back towards him and began currying Pegasus.  He felt warmth beside him, and turned, annoyed that the man had come back to laugh some more.  But it was Jordan, holding a clean curry brush in her hand.  Gabriel took it.  "Thank you," he said. 


       "Do all your horses have a jaw like that, Master?" Jordan asked in a shy, interested voice.


       Automatically Gabriel replied, "The shape comes from her sire, a mustang."  He suddenly realized that Stefan had asked him the same question the day before, and looked at the girl quizzically.  She, thinking she had offended, looked down and fell to her knees, where she awaited her punishment with seeming calm. 


       "Please don't do that," Gabriel said quietly.


       "Sir?"


       "Don't fear that I'll hurt you.  I wouldn't..."  Gabriel faltered.  He had been about to say that he wouldn't even know how, but he remembered his threat to this same slave girl the night before.  Of course he would know how.  How hard is it to punch a naked, defenseless child, or to use a whip on one? 


       "I know you wouldn't, Master," Jordan said softly.


       "You believe me?" Gabriel asked, so incredulous that tears stung his eyes.


       Jordan smiled up at him, and looked over at Pegasus.  "A cruel man couldn't train a horse like this," she said simply.


       "Maybe I didn't train him," he said perversely.


       Jordan just smiled.  "Shall I show you the pasture?" she asked.


       Gabriel nodded assent and put a harness on Pegasus.  As they exited the stable, Gabriel was aware that the slaves gave him covert glances, although whenever he looked straight at them they looked down and fell to their knees.  Several of them were badly whipped on their backsides, and all, including Jordan, had layers upon layers of scars like cobwebs.  None of her scars were infected though.  Gabriel shook the thought away, disgusted that he had come to so easily distinguish between gradations of torture.


       The sun was well up as they exited the stable.  Jordan walked swiftly in a direction leading away from the mansion, ignoring one or two fenced in pastures the size of a few acres, and stopping at the third.  A few horses grazed lazily.  Gabriel looked at them with trepidation, wondering how Pegasus would fit into their structure. 


       Jordan whistled low and steady, and one of the horses, a light tan mare, ambled over to her.  "This is Mercy," Jordan explained to Gabriel.  "She has the stall next to Pegasus.  They made friends last night."  To prove her right, the two horses touched noses.  Jordan giggled.  "Everyone loves Mercy," she said, and she affectionately and unselfconsciously kissed the mare's nose.  Mercy lay her head upon the girl's shoulder, and snorted.


       Gabriel left the pasture reluctantly, still nervous about leaving Pegasus behind and not wanting to go back to the mansion and the ugliness there.  He reminded himself sternly that he came to try to heal the Bearer's daughter.


       "Can I do anything for you, Master?" Jordan asked so kindly that Gabriel felt ashamed for feeling sorry for himself.  She added, "Master Stefan says you’ve been on your own for a long time.”


       When Gabriel merely looked at her, she added, “Before I came to the stables I was fully trained.  Whatever your taste.   Deep throat, buttfucking. I can do whatever you like. "


       Gabriel stopped her, touching her arm until she looked at him.  "I wouldn't ask you to do any of those things, Jordan," he said.


       She looked down.  “Plain sex,” she said, in a low voice.


       Gabriel looked at her silently.  "I told you I wouldn't hurt you, Jordan," he said.  "I wouldn't rape you either." 


       Jordan looked relieved, and puzzled.  "You're very kind, Sir," she said.  "Like Master Stefan."


       Gabriel frowned at being compared to the sardonic stable master.  "Is he kind?" he asked.


       "Oh, yes," Jordan said, her face lighting up.  "He is the kind of master you always hope for."


       "Last night I heard him whipping one of your friends," Gabriel said slowly.  "And by the scars on your back I'm sure he beats you as well."


       Jordan shrugged as if it was of no matter.  "He whips us when we deserve it," she said, "and he has the lottery, but he isn't cruel."


       "The lottery?" Gabriel asked.


       Jordan nodded.  "Every night we gather in the back of our building.  He whips those of us who deserve it according to what we have done.  And then he pulls a name out of a hat, and that person gets fifteen strokes."  Noting how shocked Gabriel looked, she added, "To keep us obedient, and remind us that no matter how free we feel, we must obey."


       Gabriel shook his head and sighed.  "Doesn't it hurt?" he asked. 


       "It does," Jordan said.  "One time my name was called in lottery five days running.  But they're good clean strokes.  It's just whipping, not torture," she added.


       They were approaching the stable building.  The yard was still full of slaves scurrying back and forth, but few masters.  Jordan turned to Gabriel again, repeating her words of last night.  "Pegasus will be fine.  You'll see."


       "Thank you," Gabriel whispered, his eyes stinging with tears at her kindness again, as he turned heavily to return to the mansion.



Two parts of the mansion




       Gabriel found his way back to Animal's suite, surprised again that the huge mansion seemed so empty of activity.  In the entrance hall, with the light streaming through the window, he saw that the whitewash on the walls and ceiling was badly peeling, and cracks seemed to go through the paint and into the walls themselves.




       Animal was eating breakfast when Gabriel entered the suite, steaming vegetable omelets that made Gabriel's mouth water despite his own breakfast.  Animal waved with his fork, his mouth too full to speak.  He swallowed ostentatiously.  "I’ll call for Rose if you want some," he said after wiping his mouth on his sleeve.  "She said you ate leftovers this morning."  He looked amused.  "Not her fault she overslept," he added, a trifle defensively.  "Those drugs you gave her knocked her out cold."



       "I know," Gabriel said nervously. He added, "I thought I'd see about the lass before the day gets too old."




       "The lass?"  Animal asked, puzzled.  Then he laughed.  "The Bearer's daughter.  Trust me, my friend, the Bearer will not welcome you to his quarters before high noon.  He's an old, fat man, and he needs his rest." 




       Gabriel smiled at Animal's characterization, although he was taken aback by his lack of respect.




       "Tell you what," Animal continued.  "I'll show you the mural walls you've bought me with your timely arrival." 




       “A wall?” Gabriel said, puzzled.  “I heard you discussing something about a room – in trade for your hospitality.”




       Animal nodded.  “I forgot that you missed the Bearer’s grand humiliation of me,” he said sourly.  “It’s not the room I want, but its wall for painting.  I’ll explain it all if you’ll come.” Although his tone was again desultory, he looked so hopeful that Gabriel was sure the man would be crushed if he refused.  He nodded. 




      Animal jumped up. "I bet Rose would like to see it, too," he said.  "You don't mind, do you?"  Without waiting for a reply, he went out the sliding glass door leading to a courtyard behind the living area and whistled shrilly. Rose appeared at once from an identical sliding glass door across the courtyard to the right, ran nimbly to her master, and fell to her knees.




       "Enough scrubbing!" Animal said. "We visit the revel hall!"




       Rose said in her small voice, "The suite is not ready, my lord."




       Animal laughed expansively.  "Gabriel doesn't mind," he said with great assurance.  "Probably prefer to clean it himself."  He glared at Gabriel. "Anyway, plenty of time for that when it's not morning light."  Without looking to see if either the slave girl or the man were following, Animal strode to the front door and down the corridor.  The other two hastened to catch up.




       Animal continued his quick pace, once in a while glancing back at Gabriel, the corners of his mouth, practically hidden by his unkempt beard and mustache, twitching in what Gabriel understood to be enthusiasm.  He walked so fast that the corridors went by as a blur for Gabriel, and he wondered if he would be able to find his way back without help. Unlike the night before, when Animal had followed service hallways from the Bearer's State Room to his own suite, today he kept to the main corridors.  For the third time that morning, Gabriel was struck by how empty they were.




       Animal entered a foyer similar to the entrance hallway, and came to a halt before a huge set of ornately carved wooden doors that were nearly two stories high.  He reverently touched one of the carvings on the door, a squatting gargoyle glaring out hostilely.  Animal turned to Gabriel.  "Can your carvers in Harmony make such things?"




       Gabriel stepped forward to examine the gargoyle more closely, and as he did so the gargoyle's eyes seemed to follow him, glittering.  With a forefinger he touched the creature's fur, in which every hair seemed outlined against the wood.   He answered slowly, "We have a woman, Tenanine, a furniture maker, who is known for her fine woodwork, so that a chest of drawers from her is considered a handsome joining present.  She decorates them with carvings – but I don’t think she could do anything near to this creature."




       Animal sighed.  "Then the art is lost forever," he said.  "No one in Riviera can match this ancient, either."  He pushed open the door, which gave a hideous groan, as if the hinges had not been oiled for an age or more.




       The room inside was enormous, with parquet floors covered here and there with groups of tables and chairs.  It jutted out like a peninsula onto the great lawn, and all three of those walls had large windows spaced throughout There were skylights in the ceiling.  Animal walked to the middle of the room and turned around slowly, lost in thought, his companions forgotten.  Gabriel followed him slowly, not anxious to disturb his reverie.




       "There," said Animal suddenly, jabbing his finger towards the middle of the far wall, "That’s where it will begin.  The first focal point will be just opposite the main door, capturing revelers as they enter.  Their eyes will be drawn by the lines from one scene to the next, inevitably, until the whole cycle is before them and they take it in as a whole."  Suddenly he laughed with pleasure.




       "But what will you paint?" Gabriel asked, mystified.




       Animal threw  his arms wide.  "What will I paint?   Everything!  The lifecycle will be on this wall.  Birth, here," and he pointed again opposite  the center wall, twirling his arm once more.  "Infancy, childhood, youth, all the way into dotage and death.  I told the Bearer, how we live will be recorded here.  The generations will know us!"  He turned suddenly to Gabriel.  "Tell me," he said, "Do your painters have permanent pigments, or do they fade after a few years?"




       Gabriel said uncertainly, "I have a picture of my grandfather as a young man, but it is faded and cracked."




       "Bah!" Animal replied.  "So much is lost." He shrugged.  "My mural will be so valued that youngsters will retouch it, year after year, just to learn the craft."  Then he laughed, sourly, so that Gabriel could not tell if he had spoken in jest. 




       While Gabriel and Animal were talking, Rose had walked to the wall where Animal indicated his mural would be, and touched it softly with her fingertip.  The two men walked towards her and she looked up.  "It's the same as the canvas you've been using, master," she said softly. 




       "Of course it is!" Animal boomed.  "This is what I've been practicing for!" 




       "When do you start?" Gabriel asked.




       Animal looked at him as if he were a stupid child. "Start?" he said.  "I just did."  He laughed again, less sourly than usual, and pulled a measuring tape out of a pocket Gabriel would have guessed was too threadbare to hold anything.  Yet, impossibly, from another pocket came a pad of paper and a sharp pencil. 




       Animal put both Gabriel and Rose to work, measuring from wall to wall, and window to window.  He sent Rose to fetch a ladder so he could measure floor to ceiling as well.  With a frown he looked down.  "I'll have to have the floor sanded and repolished before I begin," he said, mostly to himself.  "Otherwise some matron will insist on doing it in the middle of the mural for some solstice celebration.  Have to supervise the slaves myself or it'll never get done."  He frowned, and went back to his measurements.




       In the midst of his activity Animal stopped short.  "Well, Healer," he said, "It's past the noon hour and the light too bright for creativity.  Shall I take you to the Bearer's quarters, where you can face your own destiny?" He smiled his usual sour smile.




       Gabriel nodded, although his heart dropped at the thought that he would have to see the Bearer again along with his daughter.  They turned to leave.  Rose suddenly dropped to her knees before Animal.  "What is it?" he asked her, gruffly.




       "Master... this slave is happy for you."  She looked at the floor, her face red.




       Animal took her hand and raised her from the ground.  He growled, "You'll regret it enough when you have to help me grind the pigments," but he smiled at her at the same time.




****




       The Bearer's quarters were barely controlled chaos.  A baby squalled in the arms of a slave who ineffectually begged him to quiet; a couple of children played tag with a tawny-coated dog; and the woman in the picture Animal had shown the Bearer was whipping a kneeling slave on the chest, daring him to beg for mercy.  Rose instinctively stepped closer to Animal, and Gabriel wished that there was a place he could seek shelter as well.




       Animal, taking a deep breath, approached the Bearer's mate and waited politely until she had finished her beating.  "Lady Yesnid," he said.




       Winded, she looked up and frowned at Animal.  "You brought the Healer?" she asked curtly.




       Animal nodded.  "As you see," he said, and beckoned Gabriel forward. 




       The woman gave him a once-over.  "Animal couldn't supply you with a change of clothes?" she asked, and Gabriel realized with dismay that he was still wearing his riding clothes, which he had thrown on that morning when he went to the stables.  He blushed.




       The woman laughed, prettily.  "No matter.  My husband warned me you looked a sight."  She  tilted her head, coquettishly.  "Can you do anything for a horrible wart on my wrist?" she asked.




       Gabriel said, as politely as he could, "Perhaps, ma'am.  But first could I meet the young lady?"




       Yesnid laughed again.  "My husband spoke truth about you," she said.   With a toss of her head, she indicated a divan across the room.  "That's Carmen," she said.




       As Gabriel walked to where Yesnid had indicated, he saw a girl of about 16, smearing with a wooden stick what appeared to be honey into the crotch of a slave woman, who whimpered softly.  When Gabriel approached, the girl looked up with a pretty smile.  "Hello," she said.




       "Hello," Gabriel replied.




       "Are you my Healer?" the girl demanded.




       "I am," said Gabriel.




       "Just a minute," she said.  She pursed her lips and gave a long, low whistle, and the tawny dog that had been playing with the other children bounded over to her.  Carmen grabbed the dog's muzzle and led it into the slave woman's crotch.  The slave whimpered.  Carmen laughed.  "She hates that," she told Gabriel confidingly.




       "Then why do you do it?" Gabriel asked.




       Carmen looked taken aback by the question, like one of Gabriel's young cousins might have looked if he posed a math problem too difficult for them. Then she answered triumphantly, "Because I can!"




       Animal, who had followed Gabriel over, snorted with amusement.  "What say you finish torturing your cunt later?" he said in a surprisingly kind voice to the girl.  She shrugged and pulled the dog back. 




       "Go wash before you drip on the rug," she ordered the slave, who fell to her knees and crawled away backwards.  Carmen yelled after her, "And don't come, either, you slut!"  Then she turned her attention back to Gabriel.  "Heal me," she commanded.




       Gabriel took a deep breath to steady himself, and reminded himself she was very young, badly raised.  He sat down on the edge of the divan.  "Aren't you going to ask me how your brother fares?" he said.




       Carmen looked taken aback again, and then said, "My father told me already."




       "He couldn't have told you everything," Gabriel said, "because he didn't know."  Carmen looked offended, and then pleased.  "He couldn't have told you how bravely your brother rode for weeks on end over land he did not know, and how, when he arrived in Harmony, he begged me to come ahead and not wait for him, or how fine a young man we all thought him."




       Carmen thought for a moment.  "He stayed behind because he can't stand the sight of me," she pronounced, at last.




       "Oh, no," Gabriel declared solemnly.  "He wanted nothing more than to return, but he was ill from his journey.  And," he added with a conspiratorial wink, "some think he was slightly loathe to leave Bessna, the pretty girl who nursed him."




       "If he liked a slave so, why didn't your people give her to him?" Carmen asked peevishly.  "He is the Bearer's son and deserves respect."




       Gabriel smiled a little at the rote quality with which the girl spoke.  "We have no slaves in Harmony," he said quietly.  "Bessna is free to stay or go as her own will desires, the same as you."




       At this Carmen's face scrunched up as though she would cry, and closed her eyes tight.  "I can't go anywhere," she whined, "will it or no.  My legs don't work."




       Gabriel said nothing but silently observed her until curiosity got the better of her and she opened her eyes, completely tear free.  "Don't you feel sorry for me?" she demanded.




       "I don't know yet," Gabriel replied.




       "Are you going to heal me?" she asked.




       "I don't know that yet, either," he responded.




       Behind him, Carmen's mother tsked.  "Of course he'll heal you, Darling," she said soothingly.  "He hasn't travelled all this way for nothing."




       Gabriel reminded himself to be patient, and slowly turned to  Yesnid.  As politely as he could muster, he said, "Is there a private room where I can examine the child?"




       Yesnid looked offended but nodded, snapping her fingers for the slave she had been beating earlier.  "Carry Carmen to her bedroom," she ordered.  The slave bent over the girl, lifting her and her blankets easily and carrying her quickly across the living quarters and down a hallway.  Gabriel noted that he placed the child with great care on her bed, a large four poster affair, and tucked blankets in around her .  The girl ignored him as he bowed his way out of the room. Gabriel closed the door behind him, took another deep breath, and turned to the child.  "Why don't you know?" she demanded, as if her mother had not interrupted their conversation.




       "For one thing, I don't know what's wrong with you or if I can fix it," Gabriel said slowly.  "For another thing, I don't know if you want to be fixed."  He approached her bed.




       "I fell off a horse, that's what wrong with me," the girl exclaimed.  "I haven't walked since."  She gave a toss of her head, as if she were proud of this fact. 




       "According to Tobias, your accident was close to a year ago, is that right?"  Gabriel said, sitting on the bed next to her. 




       The girl nodded.  "It was Tobby's fault I fell.  He never should have dared me to take that jump."




       Gabriel watched her steadily.  "Seems to me a girl your age is old enough to know what she can or can't do on a horse," he said. 


       


       Carmen scrunched up her mouth in a pout, but when she saw this only made Gabriel smile, she shrugged.  "I'll tell my Da you're not nice," she said.




         "He didn't come all this way to be nice to you, Darling," the Bearer said, from the door which he had opened, unnoticed.  "But you must be nice to him." 




       Carmen's face scrunched into another pout again, and the Bearer laughed.  "She's her father's daughter, Healer," he said.  "You'll have your work cut out for you." 




       Gabriel noticed with annoyance that the Bearer, uninvited into the room, seemed to expand to fill all of its space.  Speaking as courteously as he could, he said, "With respect, Bearer, my examination of a patient must be private." 




       The Bearer guffawed.  "Courage, great courage!" he said. "Very well, I'll amuse myself until you finish."  He walked down the hallway without closing the door and, with some annoyance, Gabriel walked over and closed it himself.  He began his physical examination of the girl.  He was puzzled that when he unexpectedly ran a pointer up the sole of the child's left foot, her back arched in a perfect reflex.  Yet she denied all sensation, and when he did the same to the right foot as she watched him, there was no reflex whatsoever.




       As he worked with her on some basic physical therapy exercises, she acted bored, looking off into the middle distance and sighing.  Yet, when after an hour he got up to leave, she


called after him petulantly, "You're not leaving me here, are  you?  I want to go back to the living room!"




       Gabriel turned back to her.  "Have you a wheel contraption?" he asked her.  "I'll get it for you."




       "A what?" the child asked, her eyebrows puckering into a frown.




       "A chair, on wheels," Gabriel said.  "Surely you must have one.  How else can you get around?"




       Carmen tossed her head.  "Turbo carries me," she said.  "I want him.  TURBO," she shrieked, so shrilly and unexpectedly that Gabriel's ears rang.  The slave who had carried her into the room came running down the hall and skidded to his knees in front of the child.  "Carry me!" she commanded and he, as gently as before, lifted her and carried her to the living room.  Gabriel followed slowly behind.




       The living room was still a confusion of children and slaves.  In one corner, the Bearer sat on an armchair, a slave girl sitting on his lap, leaning back against him, as he reached around and toyed with one of her nipples.  Although her arms dangled by her side, and she made no move to resist, she looked ready to cry.  With  a shock Gabriel realized the child was Rose.  Animal, sitting on a sofa nearby, studiously watched the children squabble on the other side of the room. 




       Noticing Gabriel, the Bearer stood up unconcernedly, Rose tumbling to the floor in the process, where she stayed on her hands and knees, trembling.  "Just getting her warmed up for you," the Bearer said with a grin to Gabriel.  "Hard to find them so tender in these living quarters!"  He gestured to his two year old son, who was slapping the ass of a slave girl with his chubby hands.  Gabriel turned away in disgust.  Animal, meanwhile, had stood up precipitously.  Snapping his fingers for Rose, he nodded peremptorily to the room and made for the door, Rose crawling after him.  Gabriel stopped only long enough to arrange with the Bearer that he would return in two days to work with the girls again, and then stepped quickly after Animal.




       When he turned the first corner, Animal stopped and waited for the other two to catch up.  With a slight toss of his head he indicated to Rose to stand up.  She did so, sniffing.  "Did he hurt you?" Gabriel asked her softly. 




       Rose shook her head and said, after a moment with a trembling voice, "No, master." 




       Animal snorted.  "He honored her, Healer, by deigning to notice her."  If Gabriel had not looked at Animal at that moment, he would not have seen the hard, bitter look on his face as he turned and walked down the corridor.









CHAPTER 8:  Settling in




       When they returned to Animal's suite, Gabriel coaxed Rose out of her terror enough to let him help set up his own apartment, across the courtyard from Animal's.  The rooms were a mirror image to Animal's in layout, with a living and dining area, a small kitchen, a large and small bedroom, and a bathroom. The furniture was similar in style to Animal’s as well, but somewhat haphazard.  Gabriel could see brighter spots in the carpeting where the furniture must have sat before Rose rearranged it that morning.  When he asked her how she had managed to move it without help she merely looked down and said, “Forgive me, master.”  And then she unconsciously rubbed her bicep.




       There were four apartments that shared the courtyard.  One had been converted into Animal’s studio.  Its southern wall was the outside wall of the mansion, and it was lined with windows across its length. 




       The fourth suite was occupied by an ornery old man, Pieter, and his matronly slave who, Gabriel later observed, cared for him conscientiously.  Animal laughed when Gabriel mentioned this.  "Of course she does," he said.  "When the old man dies it's back to the exchange for her.  Bad enough for a young thing like Rose. At Chilla's age she'll be lucky if she gets sent back to the farms instead of turned into dogsport." 




       “Really?”  Gabriel said, shocked.  “Are there so many trained nurses that their talents can be wasted?” 




       “I’m not a trainer,” Animal responded with asperity.  “But even the old men prefer to have a fresh young thing to change their bedpans.”



       Yet Gabriel noticed that Animal was courteous to both the Pieter and his slave, sometimes offering to keep an eye on the man as he napped in his lounge chair in the courtyard while Chilla ran errands or went about her household tasks inside.  When he saw that Gabriel had overheard him making arrangements to do this one day, he shrugged.  "The cunt causes no trouble and keeps the old man out of my way," he said.




       However, Animal forbade Rose to approach Pieter, keeping her out of the courtyard when he was there.  Gabriel thought he understood the reason for this when one day, Chilla was carrying Pieter out to his lounge chair at the same time that Rose happened to be crossing the courtyard from Gabriel's suite to Animal's.  The old man's eyes lit up when he saw her, and he beckoned her over to the lounge chair and made her get on his hands and knees before him, using her as a footstool, insisting that she move her back up and down, as he began to put ice cubes into her asshole, chortling.  Unlike with the Bearer, Animal wasted no time in pulling Rose away, cursing under his breath, and neither he nor Rose said anything more about it. 




       Gabriel did what he could for the Pieter as well, giving Chilla teas that would ease his arthritis some and showing her a massage technique that would help his circulation.  She accepted his offerings with a quiet smile, but rarely responded to his attempts to make conversation.  She was more forthcoming with Animal, and once or twice even laughed at a joke he made. 




       To his pleasure, Rose slowly overcame her fear of Gabriel.  Although her timidity could make her appear quite dull-witted, Gabriel soon learned that she was both intelligent and a keen observer of all that went on around her.  Although Animal was clearly fond of her, Gabriel doubted that he noticed the care that she took of him in not just obeying his orders but anticipating his desires and quietly making his life pleasant.  Other suites that Gabriel visited did not have fresh flowers adorning their dining room tables; and the fact that the apartment was spotlessly clean despite Animal’s slovenly ways in everything but his art was testament to Rose’s energy. 




       The most Animal would say about Rose, in a growl, was that "She's a good cook and nice in bed."  Indeed, her cooking was excellent, all the more surprising to Gabriel as she was not allowed to sample what she cooked, but ate only a lumpy, porridge-like gruel.  Gabriel was tempted to taste it once, but Animal warned him away sharply, telling him to avoid slave food if he ever cared to have children. 




       Animal and Gabriel quarreled at first over whether Rose should be allowed to sit at the table with them, a serious breach of protocol, but Animal gave in suddenly with a shrug.  He allowed Gabriel to coax her to eat small bites of the food that she cooked.  One day, pretending disinterest as Rose and Gabriel compared the herbs she used in cooking with those in Gabriel's medicine bag, he suddenly jumped in when he spied leaves he used as pigments.  Even Rose laughed at his hypocrisy, stifling a further giggle when he glared at her.


       


       Gabriel visited Carmen frequently, setting her up with a regimen of physical therapy which she rarely followed unless he took her through it himself.  Like her father, Carmen appeared to care little whether the legs that carried her were her own or those of a slave.  Gabriel was convinced that what ailed them was nothing more than atrophy and a habit of thinking of herself as an invalid. At times when his path crossed the Bearer’s, the man would look at him as if about to speak, but he never said much more than a jovial greeting.




       The wart of the Bearer's wife was the first of many tiny grievances the people of Riviera brought to Gabriel, demanding his attention and sympathy.  At Animal’s suggestion, the Bearer set him up with a clinic not far from the suite where he patiently met with seemingly endless numbers of people, many of whom seemed to have made up ailments just to have a chance to speak with the outlander.  As Animal pointed out, at least he could keep regular hours, as short as he chose, and politely refuse to see people who simply accosted him as he walked through the corridors. 




       After Gabriel set a broken arm of a slave that had accompanied his mistress to the clinic for advice about her acne, word spread that he was also a vet, and a talented one at that.  Although Gabriel longed to turn away the masters and mistresses with their pretended ailments, he labored to ease the pain of the slaves, only to find that the same slaves often were brought in the next day by their masters or mistresses after they had been further abused or tortured.




       He had other visitors to his clinic as well: a handful of men and women who were healers or vets, or aspired to be, and wanted to learn his techniques.  Gabriel welcomed them openly, happy to share what he knew, frustrated only by how often they did not show up at their promised times.




       Gabriel found comfort in his time with Animal, who he considered a friend, and with Rose, who he hoped someday would be.  His other refuge was the stables, not just riding Pegasus, a little more and faster every day as she became rested after the journey, but in the company of Jordan and the other stable hands, and, to his surprise, Stefan.  On one morning's visit to the stable he watched as Stefan led a speckled mare out of the stable, followed by Jordan leading a huge black stallion. Jordan mounted the black beast with a mighty swing of her leg.  "You ride?" he asked, incredulously.




       "As you see, my lord," Jordan said, straight-faced.  Stefan, nearby, snorted his own amusement, but rather than the sarcastic statement Gabriel expected from him, invited him to come riding with them.  Hastily Gabriel saddled Pegasus.




       Neither Pegasus nor Stefan’s mount could keep up with Jordan's huge horse, Midnight, as he raced.  Jordan looked like freedom itself cantering through a meadow, her eyes alight with joy and adventure.  Stefan told Gabriel that Jordan had broken Midnight to the saddle herself, and no one else rode him. 




       Gabriel frequently rode with Jordan or Stefan, or both, and was learning the grounds and paths to the west of the mansion. He came to learn that the passage he and Jonquil had ridden through from Holden’s Gate was known as the Whelping Corridor because that was where the young slaves, after an age to be taken from their mothers but too young to be trained for the mansion, farmed.  The rest of the grounds was worked by grown slaves who were not considered attractive or useful or young enough for mansion work. 




       One afternoon, on a whim, Animal and Rose came with Gabriel to the stables.  After consultation, Rose was mounted on gentle Mercy and Animal on the friskier Argon.  To everyone's surprise, Rose rode calmly and confidently, while Animal could barely control his mount, talking to her, then cursing her, then flailing at her with his legs, but making little progress in speed or direction.  Disdainfully Stefan had him switch mounts with Rose, and she continued to ride Argon with aplomb, firmly holding the reins and keeping her ankles down, a prim smile on her face.  Animal made it back to the stables with the rest only because Mercy would docilely follow any lead.  




       Gabriel tried to be sympathetic on the walk back to the mansion, but Rose giggled when she saw him biting his cheeks to keep from laughing, and then he let out a guffaw.  Animal stalked disgustedly up the front steps, but stopped suddenly and waited for them when he saw the Bearer and his entourage coming in a path to intercept them.




       The Bearer ignored Animal altogether and greeted Gabriel heartily. "Healer!" he boomed, as Rose fell immediately to the ground, banging the funny bone of her knee on a stair and giving a stifled, close-lipped whimper as she prostrated herself.  The Bearer looked down on her scornfully and stepped heavily down the stairs, turning her over disdainfully with the toe of his boot.  Gabriel moved to intervene, pulling Rose to her feet and putting his arm around his shoulder as Animal stood passively by.




       "We need to get you a real slave, Healer," the Bearer said. "This rag can't be properly showing you the glories of our civilization."  He stepped toward them, but Gabriel quickly put himself between the Bearer and Rose.




       "You frighten her," Gabriel said. 




       The Bearer laughed. "Of course I frighten her.  That's the fun!"  He put his hands up to his ears, palms forward, waggled his fingers, and made a grotesque face, moving towards her.  Rose cowered back.  The Bearer laughed again, and reached his waggling fingers towards Rose's breasts.




       Gabriel again put himself between Rose and the Bearer. "You told her she was to serve me," he said.  "That puts her under my protection.  And I ask you to leave her alone."




       A man from the group the Bearer was with stepped forward. "The Bearer has jurisdiction over all slaves," he said angrily.




       The Bearer raised his hand for peace.  "The Healer is a guest,"  he said.  "I honor his request."  He paused and then added, "But really, Healer, you must pick a better slave.  Some of them are quite remarkable in what they can do."  Seeing Gabriel's disinterest, he added, "Any slave you see, even if it's one of my own household, you can have.  Just say the word."




       "You're very generous," Gabriel said.




       The Bearer gave him a searching look and then said, “Come. Accompany me on my rounds as I look over the disintegration of my kingdom.  Today I go to the vineyards to find why our wine is becoming as sour as my disposition."  Gabriel looked to his friends and the Bearer added, "Bring the painter and his rag if you want."


       


       Despite his bombast the Bearer seemed anxious for Gabriel to come, and Gabriel was curious about the winemaking process here. Riviera's methods of production of basic commodities remained a mystery to him, and Animal was almost as ignorant of its ways as Jonquil had been.  Although only vaguely familiar with the vineyards at Harmony, he was anxious to seize any opportunity to learn how Riviera ran.




       Seeing that he had Gabriel's assent, the Bearer continued his stride across the lawn.  As he walked the Bearer frequently stopped suddenly, motioning a slave from his entourage to dig up a clump of crab grass or glaring at a gaggle of young men and women picnicking beneath a tree.  Three open wagons awaited them at the driveway at the edge of the lawn. The Bearer lumbered into the top seat of the front one, next to a burly slave with a sprinkling of gray hair.  The Bearer indicated that Gabriel should join him in his seat, while Animal and Rose scrambled inside and the rest of the entourage spread out over the remaining two wagons.




       They headed north over an area of Riviera which Gabriel had not yet seen.  They made their way through the farmland, worked by the ubiquitous slaves and their keepers. Looking around to see Animal dozing in the back, the Bearer turned to Gabriel and said quietly, “Tell me about my son.”




       And so Gabriel told him in detail of his son’s arrival at Harmony, seriously ill but fully determined.  He told how by the time Gabriel had set out he was certain to recover.




       “Will he return, do you think?” the Bearer asked, looking straight ahead.  Before Gabriel could reply the Bearer said, “Never mind.  You have no crystal ball.”  And he sighed.        




       Then the Bearer questioned Gabriel at great length about life in Harmony.  He was especially interested in its governance, which was shared among many.  He was curious about how they lived without slaves to do the hard—or easy--labor, and wondered at men and women tilling their own fields.  As Gabriel struggled to explain the only life he had known, the Bearer interrupted him.  “Tell me, in Harmony, do things seem to get worse from year to year?”




       “Things?” Gabriel asked, uncertain.




       “Things,” the Bearer repeated.  “Does your wine become more sour?  Do your buildings fall into disrepair?  Does your food get blander?”




       Gabriel thought of the ancient works of art Animal had showed him, the techniques lost to both cultures now. He answered slowly.  “In some things we seem to lose our gifts.  When I was a boy we had a population of homing pigeons that would carry messages over long distances, and they were decimated by a plague of some sort.  Our animal healers could do nothing.”




       He continued, “But in some things we improve.  We put in a new irrigation system that allows us to cultivate land more intensely and work less hard at it.  And just a couple of years ago some children discovered a hot spring.  We have been building a pool around it, which will . . .”  He stopped, embarrassed.  A bathhouse paled in comparison to the comforts of Riviera, with its running hot water and machines that made unlimited ice.




       But the Bearer merely nodded.  “And the people who led these innovations,” he asked, “were they old or young?” 




       Gabriel thought.  “Both, I suppose,” he said.  “Maybe the ideas came from the younger men and women, but the elders supported them and assigned tasks so they could be done.”




       The Bearer leaned back in his seat and sighed.  “Our young have no ideas,” he said.  “No motivation.  No desires, except pleasure and inflicting pain.”  He looked back at Animal, who was now snoring softly in the wagon.  “I would have given the painter the revel room he asked for; that he gave you hospitality in exchange was merely lucky timing.  Any innovation, any effort, I support it.  But it becomes rarer and rarer.”  He looked hard at Gabriel.  “You rebels took the best of us when you left,” he said without rancor.




       “That was over 100 years ago,” said Gabriel.  “It was generations gone.”




       “No matter,” the Bearer shrugged.  “The rebels were the thinkers and the doers.  And when they left, it was as if Riviera was a man who had lost a limb.”  He sighed.  “Your ancestors left because they did not want to own slaves.  But within a matter of months after they left the treatment of slaves here became much worse.  There was no one left to temper the cruelty and to remind us that even animals are part of creation.” 




       Gabriel was surprised.  “Respectfully,” he said, “If you feel that way why do you treat slaves as you do?”




       The Bearer frowned.  “Don’t misunderstand me,” he said.  “I’m no pansy and I never will be.”  He turned to glare at Rose, who looked down as if she had not been listening.  “But we are out of balance.  We have lost all restraint.” 




       The carriage passed out of the farmland into an uncultivated area.  The Bearer’s despondent mood passed, and he pointed out to Gabriel streams which were home to certain kind of fish, and marshy areas where berries abounded.  Gabriel realized that the Bearer had an immense knowledge of the details of the land he coordinated.




       When the party arrived at the vineyards they clambered out of the three wagons, Animal stretching and yawning.  When Horace, the vineyard master, showed them the varieties of grapes with which he was working, Animal’s interest was piqued by their potential as pigments.  He stayed behind with Rose to examine them as the rest of the party walked through the grape press and bottling areas and the underground storage.




       When they left Gabriel was not sure if the Bearer had found the answer to why the wine was decreasing in quality.  Horace had insisted that they sample enough varieties that Gabriel's head was spinning and the tip of his nose was numb.   




       Rather than heading back to the mansion by the route they had come, the Bearer instructed the drivers to make a circle.  The Bearer continued his discourse on various items of interest as they passed, but Gabriel found him hard to follow. 




       When they made their way back into farmland, the Bearer was speaking of their fallow system.  Gabriel was trying to explain Harmony’s own system of crop rotation, the details of which he did not know, as his attention was drawn to a crowd gathered a few acres ahead.  As they drew closer, he realized a large number of field slaves were gathered around a spectacle he could not make out.  They were quite near when he saw it was a slave girl tied to two wooden poles in the form of a t.  Her arms were spread over and tied to the horizontal  pole.  The vertical pole was planted in the ground.  Her girl’s hair was matted and her head lolled forward, at times jerking up, as if she was trying to remain conscious. 




       Noticing his interest, the Bearer instructed the driver to pull up.  "This is how we make examples of our incorrigible slaves," he said.  "This one looks near the end, so she has no doubt been brought from one cohort to another for several days now." The girl looked up again, and Gabriel thought she looked familiar, but couldn't place her.  He had seen so many he couldn't help. 




       "Looks like the boundary riders caught this one," the Bearer added after a moment.  "HELMER," he boomed out suddenly, startling Animal out of his doze.  One of the men who had been idling near the spectacle came up.




       "Majesty," he said.




       "Is that the runaway?" the Bearer asked idly.




       Helmer nodded and glanced at Gabriel, then did a double take.  He squinted.  "This is the runaway, Majesty," he said, "And that's the man that caught her." 




       Gabriel looked around to see who Helmer was indicating, and then realized the man meant him.  A sick feeling flooded his body. 




       Helmer went on.  "The cunt was giving us the slip, and suddenly on the path there's an outlander who points us right to her.  Didn't take us but a few minutes to catch up to her."




       "That's not right," Gabriel whispered hoarsely.  He had pointed in the opposite direction.  The child must have doubled back. 




       Animal was staring at Gabriel in amazement, and Rose looking steadfastly down without blinking, her own sign of surprise.  The Bearer guffawed and slapped Gabriel on the back.  "Well


done!" he said.  "There's more to you than you let on."




       The girl's head jerked up again, and she looked straight at Gabriel.  Her eyes were green within green.  Her head jolted forward again.




       "It's death by suffocation," the Bearer explained conversationally.   "The rib cage collapses.  Quite exquisite, really, and rare to take the time."




       Bile rose up in Gabriel's throat.  "You said I could have any slave I wanted," he said.  "I want that one."




       The Bearer looked alarmed. "Oh, no, lad, no you don't.  Let me give you a good slave, well-trained.  This one will be dead by morning.  Too mangled even for necrophilia."




       "She's the one I want," Gabriel said firmly.  He added, "Surely you wouldn't go back on your word to me."




       The Bearer gave Gabriel a sharp look, then smiled and shrugged.  "You want her, she's yours." He stood up in the carriage and gave his orders.  "Take her down slowly, and load her in the wagon."





       CHAPTER 9:  Awakenings




       For days Mariah drifted in and out of consciousness.  When she awoke she would feel the pain, and then, somehow, blessed relief as the clouds surrounded her limbs.  There was a sound that could have been the wind in the trees outside the wall, or could have been the low murmuring of voices.  Sometimes, on the edge of awareness, she could hear the breeze whispering to her, "Strength.  Life.  Courage." 




       Once she woke up.  A master she did not know was sitting on the edge of her sleeping ledge.  He held her left hand.  It seemed his voice was the breeze, for he was saying those words.  Then she slept again. 




       The next time she awoke he was holding her hand again, or still.  But this time he was sitting on the floor next to her sleeping ledge, his head bowed against his chest, breathing deeply, only his arm reaching onto her sleeping ledge to hold her hand.  His hair was so black it was almost blue, and curly and shiny.  On an irresistible impulse, she took her hand from his and smoothed down his hair.  It was soft to touch, like the leaf of a violet. 




       Reluctantly she drew her hand away.  He awakened with a start and turned to her, a haggard, embarrassed smile beginning on his lips. "Hey, there," he said softly, with the voice of the breeze.




       She froze, chilled to her core.  On the path, leading the horse, the stranger.  It was this master who had assured her he was not playing a mindgame, and, what was worse, who she had believed.  She shut her eyes and wished they had carried out their promise to kill her, no matter how slowly, in the fields.




       "Mariah, I'll never hurt you,"  Gabriel said.  "You're safe now."  His voice was soft but gravelly with sleep. He took her hand again and she involuntarily drew it back.  She concentrated on keeping her eyes shut, although the tears that could not fall made them sting.   




       Gabriel stood up clumsily, his limbs stiff. "You need to rest," he said at length.  "We'll talk later."  Mariah heard him leave the room and quietly close the door behind him.  For a minute or more she kept her eyes closed, fearing a trick. Hearing no noise in the room, she opened her eyes and looked around.  The master had indeed left her alone.




       The tears overflowed her eyes and she lifted her hands to wipe her face, then gasped as sudden pain shattered her right elbow, spreading through her arm.  She dropped her hands and concentrated on breathing through the pain.  At length it subsided sufficiently for Mariah to hear her own thoughts.




       Looking around, she recognized that the room was a small bedroom of an outer courtyard suite.  The window looked out on the Great Lawn.  Mariah realized with a start that she was not on a sleeping ledge but in an actual bed, alone.  The room had only the standard furniture, a bureau, a small bedside table, a wooden chair.  A pitcher of water and a glass stood on the bedside table, water droplets on its outside.  On top of the bureau she spied some bottles and what appeared to be dried leaves.




       These mysteries would be solved or not, Mariah told herself, but they were not important.  What mattered was that she was alive.  In the middle of a mindgame, true, but alive nevertheless.  The slave woman Rolanda's words echoed in her head.  Mariah had been outside the gates.  She had been free.  The thought of it made her heart pound fiercely.  And she had one thing that had been taken from Rolanda: her life.  Mariah now needed to gather her strength and to overcome whatever mindgame this new master was playing.  Then, she would figure out how to be free again.  She slept.




******




       


       The corn was well-grown.  It was late afternoon in the season when the daylight was short.  Mariah was carefully choosing the properly ripe ears and laying them in her basket.  She was towards the end of a row and deciding about a particular ear, fat but not full grown, when the bell clanged.  She started at the unexpected sound and stood for a moment, unsure whether to bring with her the corn in her basket.  With no time to dawdle, she plucked the ear she had been considering and lifted her basket, leaving it at the end of the row. 




       A few rows to her left Samson also placed his basket down.  He was newer to the cohort than she and reminded her of her brother, left behind when she had been brought to the whelping corridor.  She kept an eye on him when she could.  She silently indicated with a nod that he should walk with her and he trotted over, his sandy hair falling in his eyes.  "What is it?" he said in a stage whisper.  "Why is Master ringing the bell now?  It's so early." 




       Mariah shushed him and led him by the hand down the next row.  "I don't know," she said in a considerably softer voice. 


"Let's hurry." 




       They ran to the circle of lean-tos near the road as the cohort slaves appeared from all directions.  In the center of the circle was a slave woman, full grown.  Her hair was dark with mud, and tangled and over her face.  For a moment Mariah thought the slave woman was flying, like a witch, but then she saw that her legs dangled down like a scarecrow's over a vertical wooden pole that was dug into the ground, wide at the bottom and narrowing as it went up.  With a gasp Mariah saw that the pole went into the slave woman's naughty place.  Her arms were stretched out lengthwise over another pole which was attached near her hands to two other poles which also led to the ground.  Her entire body from her neck to her ankles was covered with fresh whipmarks.  There was silence as all the cornfield slaves took in the horror of the sight.




       The woman slave moaned weakly and shook her head, vainly trying to get her hair out of her eyes.  Mariah's own eyes welled up with tears at the sight.  At her side Samson grasped her hand tightly, clinging on to it.




       As if on cue, Master Timon stepped out of the shadows of one of the lean-tos with a mistress who was a stranger.  They approached the slave woman and then turned and faced the cohort. 


       The strange mistress spoke.  She was about the same age as the slave woman, but tall and imperious, her blond hair pulled back in a neat braid, her body muscular under her knee length green tunic.  "This cunt's name was once Rolanda."  The mistress's voice was as proud and strong as her body.  She looked at each slave in turn as she spoke.  "I gave her that name, the same name I have given to each cunt who has been privileged to serve me.  Now she has no name."  Her voice dropped.  "You are all young and do not know what is to become of you, and I am not allowed to speak of it.  But I will tell you that some of you, if you are found worthy, will serve masters and mistresses.  The work is easy and good, and your master or mistress will love you, and you will love them."




       Mariah grasped hungrily at this bit of information.  On a clear day, when her work brought her to the top of the hillock, she could see the mansion.  She knew she would be going there soon but had never been told what would await her, aside from whispered tales at night that were just the nonsense of the ignorant.




       The mistress continued.  "Rolanda was found worthy, and she served me, and I loved her.  But Rolanda was deceitful.  She pretended to love me but she did not."  The mistress looked at them with glittering blue eyes.  "One day I took Rolanda on an outing, to a peaceful place by a river.  I did this for Rolanda because I loved her.  This place was also near the outer gates of Riviera.  I did not worry about this because I believed that Rolanda loved me.  But she did not!  When I rested Rolanda ran away.  She ran past the outer gates of Riviera and tried to escape." 




       Outside.  Some of the tales talked about outside.  There really was such a place, then. Riviera had a boundary just like her cohort's acres had a boundary.




       The mistress continued.  "Of course she was caught immediately.  No slave has ever escaped Riviera and no slave ever will."  Amusement sounded in her voice.  "But Rolanda lost her name, and she will also lose her life.  Not kindly, in the service of Riviera, but slowly, as an example to all of you, so that when you are grown, if you are ever tempted to disobey, for even a moment, you will remember the fate that will await you."   


       The mistress turned and touched her lips to the bound slave woman's lips, pressing them for a moment.  Mariah felt a strange tingling sensation as if she had to relieve herself.  The mistress's tongue flicked out and touched the corner of the slave girl's mouth.  The slave girl whimpered slightly, and weakly shook her head.   The mistress pulled back, and grasped the whip that was attached to the waist of her tunic. 




       The whip was light, lighter than the one Master Timon used. But as the mistress brought it down across the slave woman's stomach, it drew blood as it crossed the fresh wounds of the recent whipmarks.  At the very first blow the slave let out a half moan, half scream. 




       The second stroke of the whip landed directly on the slave woman's left breast, curling around it.  This time the slave shivered, and as she did so her body slid a fraction of the inch down the pole that was inserted into her sex.  This in turn caused her to wriggle again, moaning uncontrollably.




       Mariah watched with her cohort, horror struck. She knew that if she looked away she would certainly be punished. The mistress brought down the whip a third time, this time on the Rolanda’s behind.  She jerked forward, again sliding down the pole in her, and then jerking backwards as rapidly.  Tears streamed down her face and she made incoherent sounds.  The mistress paid no heed, but aimed the whip at the top of the slave's legs and struck her there, again, again, and again.  "Please," the slave begged hoarsely.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry."  This seemed only to enrage the mistress.  Her arm was a blur of action as the whip struck the slave, front, back, up, and down. 




       At last, worn out, the mistress paused and looked at the cohort slaves one by one.  When her eyes rested on Mariah, for a reason Mariah could not explain she blushed.  A smile played on the mistress's lips.  "This slave will be taken from one field to another and whipped until she finally dies," her voice rang out, breathless from her exertion.  "This is the fate that awaits each of you if you fail to obey."  The mistress turned then to Master Timon and said, not so softly that Mariah could not hear her, "She needs to be fed and watered.  May I?"  She tilted her head coquettishly.  Master Timon responded with a slow smile, "Surely. Pick any one you want."




       Premonition came to Mariah like a cold shadow.  She pried her hand away from Samson's despite his silent protest.  As if in a dream the mistress turned to her and beckoned.  Mariah dropped to her hands and knees and crawled towards the mistress, purposefully banging her knees on the ground to distract herself from her fear.  She stopped at the mistress's feet and touched her forehead to the ground.  She heard Master Timon dismiss the other slaves and saw them scuttle away towards the fields. 




       "Kneel up," the mistress commanded, and Mariah obeyed, humbly keeping her eyes down.  The mistress placed two fingers under Mariah's chin, forcing her to look her in the eye.


The mistress watched her dispassionately for a moment.  At length she said, "You are well grown.  You will be leaving the fields soon."  Mariah tried to look as humble as she could.  No answer was required or expected from her.  The mistress turned Mariah's head to the right and then to the left, looking her over critically.  Then she dropped her fingers from Mariah's chin.  "Look at that slave," she commanded.  Mariah obediently looked over to the slave who had been called Rolanda, fainting and held up by the poles.  The mistress contemplated her as well.  "She will be put to death for her disobedience and deceit," the mistress said, and there was something that sounded akin to sorrow in her voice.  "But her death will be by pain, not thirst and hunger.  Bring her water, and feed her."  When Mariah remained, unsure of the mistress's command, the mistress grasped at her whip handle.  "Go now," she said.  "I have no time for games." 




       Mariah touched her forehead to the ground.  "You honor me, mistress," she said automatically, and crawled away as quickly as she could to obtain water and gruel.  She heard Master Timon exchange low, laughing words with the mistress and the two of them slipped off together to his workday cabin.  When Mariah returned to Rolanda with the food and gruel, she was alone with her. 




       Rolanda appeared to be unconscious still.  With a quick glance around Mariah stood up and gingerly wiped the hair off Rolanda' face, as the slave woman had been trying to do by shaking her head when Mariah first saw her.  She had no cloth so Mariah dipped her hand in the bowl of water she had brought and wiped Rolanda' face with it.  Rolanda came to with a start, again sinking down on the pole in her sex and bouncing back up again.  She looked around for a moment, wild eyed.




       "Shsh," Mariah said in a low, soothing voice she might use with Samson or one of the other younger slaves.  "We're alone.  I have brought you food and water."




       Rolanda squinted her eyes shut for a moment and then opened them, focusing on Mariah.  "Water," she said, in a low, ragged voice.  Mariah brought the water dipper to the slave woman's mouth and poured slowly.  Rolanda swished it around in her mouth and spit it out, splashing Mariah's feet.  Mariah jumped back involuntarily.  A sound came from Rolanda mouth like laughter or grunting.  Mariah lifted the dipper again and Rolanda took a long drink.  Rolanda looked at Mariah again, then.  Echoing her mistress, Rolanda said, "You are well-grown.  You'll be leaving the fields soon."  Mariah nodded but did not reply.  She lifted the bowl of gruel she had brought and spoon fed the slave woman, one bite and then two.  Then Rolanda clamped her mouth shut and refused to be fed.  When Mariah lowered the spoon Rolanda said,  "No more of this slop."  Mariah's eyes widened at the slave woman's defiance.  Rolanda laughed again.  "You eat it," she said.  "No one will know that you haven’t obeyed."  Mariah looked at her fearfully.  "Go on," Rolanda urged her.  "This isn't a mindgame.  You eat."




       "No," Mariah said.  "You need to eat.  You need your strength." 




       Rolanda laughed again, harshly and quietly.  "You're sweet," she said in a ragged voice, "But aren't you paying attention?"  She stopped for breath and continued, "I'll be dead soon, and better sooner than later.  Look at me--fucked to death by a pole!" 




       Mariah looked at her blankly.  Rolanda snorted and then coughed weakly.  "Of course, you don't know what fucking is yet, do you?"  Mariah shook her head.




       "Eat the gruel," Rolanda said.  "And I'll give you some advice."




       Mariah looked around.  It was that part of dusk when it is difficult to distinguish shadows from reality.  Master Timon and Rolanda' mistress were in his cabin.  The other slaves would be emptying their baskets into the waiting wagons.  Mariah moved closer to Rolanda and quietly began to spoon the gruel into her own mouth.




       "Listen to me closely," Rolanda whispered.  "This will help you to survive. Your whole life," and with her head she managed to indicate all that surrounded them, "everything you have been taught, it is all a mindgame! Every word!  But remember, the only way to get through a mindgame is to play it to the end.




       "Soon they'll take you from here, to the factory.  Don't believe a word of what they tell you, not one of them.  They will try to take you from one mindgame to another.  They'll make your body betray you, and tell you it is proof that you deserve to be a slave.  It's not true.  It's not!"   The slave began to sputter and cough.




       Mariah gave her more water from the dipper.  "You don't understand what I'm saying, do you?"  Rolanda asked, and she seemed not to see Mariah.  "It doesn't matter.  Just remember!  They all lie.  None of them care for you.  None of them love you."  Rolanda was weeping now.  "I was outside the gates for an hour, maybe two.  She tries to tell me it never happened, but I remember.  For two hours I was free!  It was glorious!  I wish I could live, for the hope of another chance.  But I will die in peace.  Two hours of freedom."  Rolanda's voice trailed off, and Mariah knew she could not see her; but what vision Rolanda was having Mariah could not comprehend.  Gently she again brushed the hair of Rolanda's face and did what she could to bathe some of the dirt out of her wounds.  Rolanda merely muttered.  "Two hours.  I know it happened.  Two hours." 



Chapter 10:  Strange New Life




       "Two hours.  I know it happened.  Two hours."  Mariah was muttering to herself. 




       From the edge of sleep she heard a girl's voice, soft and young, asking, “Is she feverish again?"




       Gentle fingers moved hair off of her face, and a gentle hand pressed into her forehead.  "No," said the voice of the strange master.  "Not feverish.  Dreaming." 




       Mariah sprang to consciousness.  Although she kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, her every pore strained to understand this mindgame. 




       The master stroked Mariah's hair, in a manner Mariah felt was soft and strangely comforting.  Through her closed eyes she could sense the master staring at her face. Then he dragged the fingertips of one hand slowly down the side of her head to the left side of her neck, then her left shoulder, and down her arm until her reached her hand.  He gently massaged her fingertips and let go.  Mariah wondered that rather than becoming aroused by this touch, she felt the tension of her dream memory draining out of her body.  Her eyes wanted to open, but she fought them.




       She heard the master stand up and say softly, "She is awake."  There was a silence as he waited to see if she would open her eyes.  When she did not, he said, heavily, "Rose, I'll leave her to you."  His footsteps slowly led to the door, which he shut behind him.




       Mariah continued to keep her eyes shut.  She knew very well that as the mindgame played out she would be unable to resist it, but for now she would keep whatever advantage she had.




       For a moment there was silence in the room.  A finger touched the back of her hand, tentatively, and the girl's voice said, softly, scared, "Will you talk to me?"




       Mariah did not move or open her eyes.  The girl took Mariah's hand in hers and led it to her breast, which was naked.




       "You see," the girl said softly, "I am just a cunt.  They asked me to talk to you so you won't be afraid." 




       Mariah considered.  This girl was part of the mindgame, but it was possible she did not know it.  She sounded young.  It would not be fair for her to be punished because of Mariah's own stubbornness.  In any case, the mindgame would be played out sooner or later. 




       Mariah opened her eyes.  The girl could not be overly long out of the factory.  She had light brown hair set behind her ears. Her eyes were hazel with specks of yellow in them.  Her face was fair and she had a smattering of freckles across her nose.  Her body had some meat on it.  Although she bore typical marks and scars all over her body, none of them were new.  There was something calming about the girl, Mariah thought, like being alone in a room.



       The girl gave a tiny, uncertain smile.  "My name is Rose," she said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.




       Mariah did not reply.  The cunt already knew her name.  She merely looked at her, her face blank and expressionless, giving nothing away. Rose said, "They told me to feed you if you will eat.  Will you?"  She looked so pleading that Mariah felt ashamed.  She nodded her head.  The girl had been commanded to feed her and, after all, food was life.




       Rose smiled again, tentatively.  "I'll be right back," she said quickly, as if afraid Mariah would change her mind.  She almost ran out of the room. 




       When she left Mariah furtively checked out her limbs for usefulness, wiggling her toes and ankles, bending and straightening her knees, compacting her abdomen.  She ached all over but it was a dull pain, as if she were feeling it through a dream.  She bent her left arm and it was fine.  Her right elbow, though, again sent shot burning pain like lightning throughout her entire arm when she attempted to move it.  She gasped  and sank back into her pillow, holding herself still until Rose returned with a bowl of gruel.




       Finding a tray that Mariah had not seen attached to the side of the bed, Rose placed it over Mariah’s legs and put the bowl on it.  Timidly she said, "You are weak.  They told me to spoon feed you, if you will let me."  Mariah nodded and obediently opened her mouth as Rose lifted the spoon to it.




       It was the most delicious food Mariah had ever tasted, better even than the samples she was given in her housecunt class eons ago.  Panic.  "This is not gruel," she gasped, and with her good arm she swept the bowl off the tray, the liquid flying onto the bed, onto Rose, everywhere.  The bowl crashed to the floor and splintered into pieces.  Rose half whimpered, half screamed.




       The door flew open and a bearded master Mariah had not seen before strode into the room, taking in everything with his glance.  Rose immediately fell to her hands and knees before him, prostrating herself, crying.  The strange master, the breeze-voiced one, rushed in behind him, looking about in confusion and dismay.  "What happened?" he asked of all three.




       Mariah looked him straight in the eye but did not speak.  She had acted out of panic and instinct, and she would suffer for it, she knew.  Whatever punishment they gave her, however, would be better than this mindgame.  She would await their judgment.  Insolently she forced herself to continue meeting the master's eye.




       From the floor Rose lifted her head only slightly.  "Please, Master," she said in a rush, her body quivering.  "I didn't warn her it wouldn't be gruel.  She was...she was just scared."  She pressed her head back down onto the floor, kissing it, quivering.




       The bearded master took a step towards her, but Mariah noticed with some surprise that his hand did not go towards his whip.  He stopped short.  "Rose, you're bleeding," he said.  "You're hurt."  Rose did not raise her head.  The master sank beside her and examined her, and Mariah saw that blood was flowing from her forearm.  She must have been cut by a flying shard.  The two masters exchanged a glance, brief, intense.  Wordlessly the second master, the one with the breeze voice, bent and picked up Rose as if she were weightless, paying no heed to the blood that stained his tunic. 




       "Wait," Mariah called, compelled by her conscience as he carried Rose out the door.  He stopped and looked back.  "It's not her fault,"  Mariah said.  "It's only mine.  She did just as you told her.  Punish me, not her." The effort of speaking exhausted her and she coughed weakly.




       The master looked at her steadily, and then said in a patient, tired voice, "She is bleeding.  I am attending to her cut."  As he stood for another moment, Mariah noticed that Rose was relaxed in his arms, as if not afraid.  The master turned and left. 




       The bearded master remained in the room.  He said softly, as if to himself, "You'll make things complicated, that's certain." Then, briskly, he began to pick up the broken pieces of the bowl.  "If you don't want to eat, then you can drink," he said, and he held the glass to Mariah's lips and tilted it, forcing the liquid into her mouth.  As he did so, he said evenly, "Here are some things you need to know. My name is Animal, and Rose belongs to me.  I won't have you mistreating her.  You belong to Gabriel," and he indicated with a toss of his head the master who had carried out Rose.  "My assignment from the Bearer is to take care of Gabriel, and he, for some strange reason, has decided to take care of you."  Master Animal kept talking but his voice was replaced by a ringing in Mariah's ears.  She felt like she was floating on the bed, and she knew no more for a time.




*****




       One chill night a couple weeks after Rolanda has been tortured in front of them, the master gave the cohort permission to light a fire.  Most of the group gathered around it, warming their bare skin.  Mariah lay on her back outside the circle of light, mesmerized by the bright stars against the velvety sky.  With a general warning to be good or get a beating, the master withdrew to his cabin. 




       Mariah must have dozed off.  She awoke to the excited whisperings of several of the cohort gathered close to the fire, and a high-pitched squealing.  She rubbed her eyes and approached the group.  Samson held some wiggling thing over the fire.  It was a rabbit.




       "Stop it!" Mariah hissed, horrified. 




       Samson looked at her coolly.  "It's my rabbit," he said.  "I snared it."  The rabbit was wriggling frantically as Samson lowered its feet towards the flames.




       "Let it go!" Mariah ordered.




       "Shut up, Mariah," said Sefka, one of the older boys.  Although younger than Mariah, he was bigger than her, as were several of the other boys his age.  "You might be oldest, but you're not a mistress."




       Enraged, Mariah grabbed for Samson's arms.  Sefka stopped her, shoving her back.  Mariah fell, landing on her rear.  Samson giggled, continuing to hold the rabbit over the flame.  When Mariah stood again, several members of the cohort had joined Sefka in blocking her way to Samson, standing firmly against her. For a moment Mariah felt afraid.  Then she heard the rabbit squeal again.  She charged, aiming to go between two of the girls.  She broke through but the group tackled her, throwing her back down on the ground.  Sefka was on top of her.  "You'll be next in the fire, Mariah," he said in her ear.  "No one's for you."




       Mariah grabbed Sefka’s hair and yanked with all her might, pulling his head to the side.  He howled with pain.  Mariah took advantage of his lost balance, rolling over and making him fall off of her.  With a twist she was on her feet, through the crowd, and next to Samson.  She grabbed the rabbit from him, saw with a glance how badly burned it was, and broke its neck.  She threw the carcass into the fire.  Samson started to yell, and Mariah slapped him on the cheek, hard.  "I am the oldest," she said, looking at each of the children one by one.  She held Sefka’s eye as she said,  "When I tell you to do something, you will listen to me."  Sefka glared at her defiantly but then nodded and looked away.




*****




       Mariah woke with a start.  A hand was on her breast. 




       "I'm sorry," Master Gabriel said, slowly pulling his hand back.  "I didn't mean to wake you."  Mariah remembered his face when they met on the path, outside the gate, how broad and sunny it had looked.  Now it was drawn and shadowed. On the path where she had trusted him, Mariah reminded herself.  Defiantly she refused to speak, but the master didn't seem to notice.  "I'm going to touch you," he said, "But I'm not going to hurt you."  Slowly he moved his hand again to just below her left breast, and lay it flat there.  Mariah's heart pounded.  Her body was so tortured that she was sure even gentle sex would kill her.




       Gabriel drew his hand away.  "Below your chest is your ribcage," he said conversationally.  "And inside your rib cage are your lungs, which is what you breathe with.  I think you have a cracked rib.  I want to see if you can breathe okay.  So I'm going to put my hand back on your rib cage, and I want you to take a deep breath."  He held Mariah's eye.  "All right?"




       His voice was kind and urged her to trust him.  The same voice as on the path.  The voice that had promised freedom and had betrayed her.




       "I hate you, master," Mariah said. 




       Gabriel flinched as if he had been whipped.  He looked away from Mariah, and Mariah felt that she had won a victory.  But he looked back at her almost immediately.  "It takes a lot of energy to hate," he said.  "And it takes a lot of energy to heal.  You get better.  Then you can hate me all you want."




       Mariah knew he was playing a mindgame with her.  He would heal her so the torture could begin again.




       Gathering all her energy, Mariah spat on the master.  Or she tried to.  The spit got no farther than her chin, where it dribbled down.  Gabriel, expressionless, took out a pocket handkerchief to wipe her off.  She jerked her chin away from his hand, but the sudden movement caused a sharp pain in her neck and shoulder.  She cried out.  "I hate you," she said again, more weakly than before.




       Gabriel said, "If you don't let me wipe the spittle off your chin, pretty soon it will start to itch."




       Mariah said nothing, but as soon as the words were out of Gabriel's mouth her chin started itching, almost burning.  She glared at him.  Manfully not smiling, Gabriel let her suffer for a few seconds before he wiped her off.




       "I want to feel your ribcage," he said again.  "All right?"




       Mariah glared at him but nodded.




       Gabriel again put his hand below her left breast, flat on the skin.  "Breathe slowly, as deep as you can," he said.  Defiantly Mariah refused to obey, glaring.  Gabriel said nothing, sitting still as a statue.  Mariah resolved to outwait him.  She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. 




      Minutes passed.  Mariah heard a soft sound from Gabriel.  Opening her eyes, she saw that, without moving, he had fallen asleep, and was snoring softly.  As she watched, in slow motion he slid from the edge of the bed where he was sitting down to the floor, his hand trailing down her side as he slid.  At last he came to a rest leaning against the bed. 




       Mariah watched him warily.  Was this part of his strange game?  Was she supposed to react in a certain way?  As the bad cunt, should she do the opposite of what he wanted?  Her arm ached, and her chest, and she had trouble thinking straight. 




      She started at the sound of a quiet chuckle from the open door.  It was Master Animal, leaning on the door frame, watching the whole scene, his eyes glinting with amusement.  When he looked to  Gabriel sleeping on the floor his expression softened. Silently he crossed the room to Mariah's bed and sat in the empty chair.  He leaned forward so he could speak softly to Mariah. "For a week he's hardly slept, watching over you." 




       "Why?" Mariah asked, mystified that any mindgame could matter so much to a master.




       Animal shrugged, his sardonic expression returning.  "I guess he just likes your looks," he said.




       Mariah said weakly, "I'm just a torture cunt. I'm nothing to look at."  Animal snorted again and Mariah understood that he had been joking.  She remembered how Rolanda had looked in the field; caked with blood and excrement and covered with bruises.  Someone had cleaned Mariah up, she knew, but she probably looked even more frightful than she felt.  Suddenly embarrassed, without thinking she lifted her hands to put her hair behind her ears.  Pain shot from her right elbow to her neck and to her fingertips.  She groaned. 




       "Is it your chest?" Animal asked, something akin to sympathy in his voice.




       Mariah shook her head, and this effort made her arm throb even more.  "My arm," she said, and she closed her lips against the moan that was coming.




       Animal picked up the medicine bottle and spoon she had seen earlier on the bureau.  Carefully he unstopped the lid, saying as he did so, "This will just put you to sleep.  When you wake up, if you can manage to behave for long enough, Gabriel will try to fix up your arm." 




       Animal  held the spoon to her lips but Mariah defiantly refused to open her mouth. Animal frowned.  "Open," he said.




       Mariah sucked her lips between her teeth and shook her head. Animal lowered the spoon and reached for his whip without thinking.  "You can beat me all you want," Mariah said.  "I won't play your mindgame." 




       Animal's eyebrows came together in surprise and consternation.  "You think this is a mindgame?" he asked incredulously. 




       "I'm not stupid, Master," Mariah said.




       Animal appraised her.  "Maybe you're not," he said.  He looked at Gabriel, sleeping on the floor.  "Maybe you're in a situation you can't understand."   He sighed, slowly, and said, "Isn't there a slave saying about mindgames?  About the only way to get through them?"




       Mariah looked at him in surprise.  How would he know this?  She said reluctantly, from rote, "The only way to get through a mindgame is to play it through to the end." 




       Animal nodded.  "In this mindgame," he said, "Gabriel helps you to get better." 




       "So they can start the torture over again?" Mariah said.  Her eyes welled with tears, and she writhed at the memory of the torment.  The movement brought new pain.  She repeated, "I won't play." 




       Animal took her good hand.  She tried to draw it back, but he held onto it.  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you that's not how it ends, would you?"  Mariah shook her head.  Animal said, "Then believe this.  If you're alive, you can try again.  Whatever it took to get you as far as  you got, outside the walls, you might get it back if you get strong again."




       Mariah was dubious.  They knew her now. There would never be another chance.




       Animal continued as if he had read her thoughts.  "It couldn't have been easy to escape, and it won't be easy to do it again.  This ... 'mindgame' gives you the hope of another chance. Without it, no hope."




       Mariah realized that what he said made sense.  At the end, they could not make her suffer more than they already had, for it would kill her.  All they could do was put her through it again. 


      On the other hand, hope.  She could not believe she would ever be given another opportunity to run away, but maybe she would be given a chance to talk to other slaves, to spread the word, as Rolanda had talked to her.  She would risk the torture for such a chance.  Animal had seemed fond of Rose.  She would start by talking to her.  A tiny dose of revenge would be to sour the sweet slave, like a drop of lemon in milk. She looked at Animal and nodded her head, slightly.  Then she opened her mouth for the medicine.  As he lifted the spoon to her mouth, she fleetingly wondered if it was acid he was putting in, but it was syrupy goo.   She felt relief and exhaustion at the same time.  "No one will hurt you while you sleep," she heard Animal promise.


               











Chapter 11: The games begin


       


       Mariah had attempted to steel herself to leave the corn fields even before her encounter with Rolanda.  After the night of the fire, she felt it was right that she should go.  Whether because of her age or because of what Rolanda had told her, she was no longer part of the cohort.  Master Timon must have sensed the same thing.  He had taken to singling her out for criticism and punishment, telling her he needed to wipe Rolanda's pollution from her.  Nevertheless, when the rider on the black and brown horse came one midmorning, her stomach clenched tightly and she fought nausea. 




       Master Timon had few words for her at parting.  As Mariah had seen him to do so many other slaves, he placed black eyeshades over her eyes and tied them snugly around her head.  Then he boosted her onto the horse behind the rider, and said, "Remember to always obey your betters."  The rider spurred his horse before she could gather her thoughts.  Wishing desperately for one last glance at the field she had cultivated for so long, she choked back a sob.  The rider said in annoyance, "None of that.  I'm not in the mood for punishing, but I could change my mind."




       "My apologies, Master," Mariah responded. 




       Of course Mariah had never been on a horse before.  Her legs were painfully pulled apart over the horse's broad back and her knees started to ache almost immediately.  Her crotch rubbed uncomfortably on the saddle, which dipped so that she was sitting almost under the rider.  They rode for some time, the horse mostly walking but at times breaking into a slow jog which jounced Mariah like a ragdoll.  She surmised that they had long passed her home cornfields, and the neighboring squash fields, and the tomatoes beyond that.  Mariah had never been past the tomatoes. 




       They rode on and on.  The rider hummed tunelessly.  The blindfold let no speck of light through.  Mariah could hear the birds and feel when the horse left the sunlight into the shade of trees and when he presently went back into sunshine.  The fear still burned in Mariah's stomach like a hot coal, but with the monotony of the ride her mind wandered, her thoughts turning inevitably to Rolanda.  All that was familiar to her was gone now.  She had only Rolanda's mysterious words to guide her.




       The ache in Mariah’s knees grew worse.  Without meaning to she shifted in the saddle.  The rider flicked his whip backwards, catching her across the upper buttocks.   "Forgive me, my lord," Mariah said, but there was no reply.  Mariah wondered what matter of man this rider was.  He seemed to take no interest in transporting her, or in her at all.  Why did he do it, then?  Had he ever been dragged from his home?  Could he be kind if the mood took him?




       Of course, Mariah reflected, really she knew herself no better.  Oh, she knew how many hills of corn she could hoe in a day, how many pounds she could carry, how many times she could be lashed before she cried out. But she knew no more about her own character than she did about this rider's.  Why had she fought so hard to stop her cohort from torturing the rabbit?  Gone against Samson, who until that night she had always felt a protective warmth for?  And incurred the anger of her whole cohort?  Was she brave?  Or a fool?  She had never thought of herself as either.  Would this mysterious place where the rider was taking her teach her the answers?




       How much time passed Mariah could not say.  The horse stopped.  The rider instructed her to take off her mask, and Mariah obeyed, the bright sunlight burning her eyes.  "Get down," he ordered her, and clumsily Mariah pulled her left leg around so that she could slide off, crying out with the sharp pain in her knees and falling down when she landed.  The rider dismounted and gave her a hard kick, the narrow toe of his leather boot going between her ass cheeks.  Mariah fell forward onto her face.  With his boot the master rolled her over on her side and then kicked her in the abdomen.  Mariah struggled against crying out.  He watched her for a moment, then said, "Get up and stop wasting my time."  Mariah scrambled to her feet, trying desperately to get her wind back.  Ignoring her gasping, the master quickly tied her hands behind her back and gave her a shove forward.




       In front of them was the mansion.  It was larger than she had ever imagined, looming seemingly endlessly in both directions.  The rider whipped her hard, on the stomach.  "No looking," he growled.  "Walk." 




       The rider pushed her towards a doorway which was silently opened by a male slave. The rider gave her another shove and she walked down the hallway.  He occasionally whipped the back of her knees when she walked too slowly or looked about her.  They passed masters and mistresses and slaves but the rider spoke to no one.


         


       At length the rider indicated that she should enter a door to their right.  It opened onto a new hallway, not covered with grand carpeting like the others, and dimly lit.  Again, there were doors on either side, and the rider pushed her down the hall to the fifth door on the right.  He opened it and pushed her inside, so roughly that she almost fell again.




       Looking up, she saw twenty or so slaves, each of their ankles and wrists manacled to the wall.  The rider whipped her thigh, the lash curling around her leg and ending near her toilet place.  "No looking," he said again.  Roughly, he dragged her to the far wall.  He unbound her hands and one by one locked them into handcuffs at shoulder height, her arms bent.  Then he kicked her legs apart and manacled them as well.  Finally, he spit on his finger and rubbed her clitoris for a moment.  She shrank back, her buttocks hitting the cold wall. He laughed, turned, and left, the door clanging shut behind him.




*****




       When Mariah awoke her first thought was that Animal's promise that no one would hurt her while she slept had been another lie.  There was pain in every corner of her body.  Anger at the mindgame and disgust at herself for believing it cleared her head.  Concentrating, she broke down the pain bit by bit. 




      A sharp ache in her chest, where Master Gabriel had manhandled her earlier.  General aching in her cunt and asshole. Her pulse beating a steady throb in her face.  Sharp itchiness on her legs and most of the rest of her; that would be whipcuts healing.  Most acute was her arm.  These could all be wounds from the Torment then; no sharp, new pain. 


     


      Rose stood at the window, staring pensively out, unaware that Mariah was awake.  She was pretty, Mariah thought, and not just because she was unmarked.  She seemed open and innocent, if that was possible for a slave who was past the age of breaking in.


     


      “What’s out there?” Mariah asked, but her voice was a croak


     


      Rose turned with a start.  “Oh, I was . . .” She blushed.  “I was trying to name the color of the sky.”


     


      “It’s blue,” Mariah said. 


     


      Rose laughed a little, and went out the door.




       Gabriel came in a moment later.  He sat at the chair by the bed and watched Mariah for a minute.  "No spit?" he asked, almost as if were genuinely nervous.  Mariah tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was parched. 




      “Let’s get you sitting up and then you can have a drink,” Gabriel said.  He grabbed from the closet a stack of pillows that, Mariah noticed, already had pillow cases on them.  Placing his hand in the middle of her back, he gently helped her sit up.  He put the pillows behind her so she could rest against them, leaning back only a little.  He poured a glass of water from the pitcher and held it to her lips, and she drank. 




       As Gabriel lowered the glass he said, "Animal tells me that your right arm hurts." Mariah nodded dully without looking at him.  She felt dizzy.  "I lowered the dose of pain suppressant," he continued, "so you'll be feeling things more sharply than before."  So this was the torture.  Gabriel continued, oblivious. "I know some of what's wrong with you.  But the arm I can only guess.  I'm thinking it's a torn rotator cuff, but I need you to help me out with this."   




       "I am your obedient servant, Master," Mariah said, her voice still hoarse. 




       Gabriel actually smiled at her. "Good," he said.  "I need more of those around here."  Seeing Mariah's confusion his smile left.  "I want you to try and trust me," he said.  "I can help you get better if you trust me."




       "I'm not stupid, Master," Mariah said, repeating her earlier words to Animal.  "I trusted you outside the walls.  You said you would help me, and you turned me in."




       Gabriel put the glass on the bedside table and turned to her.  "I tried to help you, Mariah," he said, “I swear it. I sent you west and the hunters east.  I don't know how they found you." 




       Mariah started to shrug but it was too painful.  The man seemed sincere.  So had so many masters and mistresses.  Until the end of the mindgame.  Then the rape, the torture, the trip to the exchange.  "I am your obedient servant, master," she repeated.




       Gabriel sighed.  "All right, obedient servant, I’ll work with that.”  He reached his hand to her right shoulder, but she flinched back, which made her groan.  Gabriel stopped and slowly backed his hand away from her and lowered it onto the bed.  His fingertips touched hers, as if by accident. He slid his hand forward until it covered hers.  Mariah did not pull back.  For some reason she found she was crying.




       “It’s okay,” Gabriel said.  “You’re safe now.”




       Safe?  She was a slave.  She looked deliberately pulled her hand away, ignoring the pain.




       “How far can you move your arm?” Gabriel asked, looking at her shoulder intently.  Mariah didn’t answer.  Gabriel moved his hand to hers and she moved away from him even further, staring stonily ahead.  Gabriel slid his hand under hers, and she raised her arm, bending it at the elbow.  She cried out with pain.




       Gabriel nodded to himself and smiled slightly.  “All right then,” he said briskly.  “I’m going to see what you can move and what you can’t.”  He took the blanket off of her. Mariah stared at him defiantly.




       “On the count of three,” Gabriel said, “I’m going to bend your leg.  You tell me if it hurts.”  Lifting her ankle, he counted slowly, “One. . . . Two. . . . Three.”  He pushed her ankle towards her butt, so that her knee was bent.  Mariah resisted but Gabriel didn’t seem to notice or mind.  He slowly pushed until her foot touched the back of her thigh, and then pulled it back out until her leg was straight again.  He did the same thing with Mariah’s other leg.  If he noticed that she resisted less, he gave no sign.  Nor did he ask her if it hurt.




       Gabriel took Mariah’s left hand.  “Same thing,” he said.  “On the count of three.”  He pressed on the inside of her elbow and  counted slowly, “One. . . . Two. . . . Three.”  He gradually bent her arm until her hand touched her shoulder, then straightened it out.




       He took her right arm, the one that hurt, and put his other hand on the inside of her right elbow, pressing.  “One . . . .”  Quickly he bent her arm, pressing down on her inner arm.  Mariah felt a click, and a hailstorm of pain as Gabriel straightened out her arm. 




       Through the pain Mariah felt rage boil over in her.  She hated him, she hated him, she hated him.  “Sorry,” Gabriel said.  He waited a beat.  “How does it feel now?”


 


      Quite suddenly Mariah noticed that her arm was hurting much less.  She moved it. There was an ache, but it no longer felt useless.  She was so surprised that she looked Gabriel in the eye.  “How did you do that?” she asked.


     


      Gabriel smiled with satisfaction.  “You had a dislocated elbow,” he said.  “Easiest thing in the world to fix.” 


     


      Mariah stretched out her arm all the way in front of her.  “Careful,” Gabriel said.  “Your elbow was out of joint for too long.  You’ll have to keep pressure off of it for at least three days, and ice it.” 




       “It’s a mindgame,” Mariah told herself fiercely.  But the absence of pain was such a relief that she actually smiled. 




      Gabriel pressed his advantage.  “I want to take a look at your ribs.  Will you let me?”  Mariah nodded, remembering what Animal had said.  If she could regain her strength, there was hope. 




       Gabriel laid his hand flat on her chest.  She shrank back slightly into the pillows but Gabriel paid no heed to that.  His hand was icy cool. 


     


      When Gabriel instructed Mariah to take a deep. slow breath, she did so until it became painful.  Moving his hand slightly he gave her the same instruction, again and again.  Gabriel's eyes were closed and he seemed to breathe with her. 


     


      At last he opened his eyes and took his hand away, although her skin seemed to burn where he had last touched it.  “Two cracked ribs,” he said.  “That’s why it hurts when you breathe.”


     


      “Oh.”  How did he know it hurt?  “Are you going to fix them, like you did my elbow?”


     


      Gabriel smiled gently, which for some reason made Mariah blush.  “Elbows are easy,” he said.  “Ribs are hard.  I can’t cure them.”


     


      Disappointment flooded Mariah.  She felt her eyes fill up with tears, again.


     


      Gabriel took her hand again. “I can’t cure your cracked ribs,” he said, “but you can.”


     


      Mariah bit her lip to keep it from shaking.  Stupid mindgame. 


     


      “Deep slow breaths,” Gabriel continued.  “Several times a day.  And no strenuous movements.  After six months you’ll be good as new.”


     


      “Six months?” Mariah said.  She laughed harshly.  “And I suppose you intend to keep me safe in this room for all that time, and not require that I perform my duties, or torture me?”


     


      Gabriel was still holding her hand.  He waited until she looked him in the eye.  “I hope to keep you safe, yes,” he said.  “But not in this room, unless you choose to stay here.”  He let go of her hand, reached into his pocket and took out a plain silver bracelet, opened at a hinge.  He put it around her wrist and closed it with a decisive click.  “Animal says this is no guarantee, but it should go a long way to keeping others from injuring you.”


     


      Mariah stared at the do not molest bracelet.  This was not the first one she had ever worn; her duties to past masters and mistresses had required that she run their errands, and they wanted to save her torture for themselves.  Yet, unbelievably, she was crying again.  The damn, damn kindness mindgame, the hardest one to fight.  “Why are you doing this?” Mariah asked, her voice husky.


     


      “Why am I helping you to heal?” Gabriel responded, misunderstanding her.  “For one thing, I’m a healer.  I took an oath to help where I could.”  He was silent for a moment, rubbing his hand through his hair.  “For another thing, even though I didn’t mean to I seem to be responsible for you getting . . . hurt, or caught, which gives me a special responsibility towards you.”  He took a deep breath and added, “And there’s another reason . . . “  His voice drifted off. 


     


      Mariah wondered whether this was where he would reveal the mindgame, that he was healing her so he could torture her.  She doubted it; it was too soon for so elaborate a set up.  “Why?”  she asked him.


     


      Gabriel was blushing.  He cleared his throat and said softly, “I’ve promised myself that I will see that same light in your eyes as you had when you were outrunning the hunters.”  Mariah merely looked at him, and he continued, as if talking to himself, “It was as if . . . you were like a goddess come to light my way.” 


     


     


      He turned away, but only for a moment.  He cleared his throat again. “If you’re not too tired, I’d like to examine the rest of your body, and make sure there’s nothing that needs attention that we haven’t missed.”  Mariah nodded, stunned.


     


      Gabriel helped her to put her legs over the side of the bed.  He looked over her cuts and bruises, and poured a liquid onto some of them that were infected.  The medicine made the area seem warm, like it was burning, only pleasant.  He dabbed some onto a cut on her cheek, which made her eye sting and tear up.  "Sorry," he murmured, and gently wiped the liquid below her eye with a handkerchief.  For some reason this made her eye tear more, and she turned away from him.


     


      Gabriel had her stand up so he could examine her backside.  As he tended to more wounds her legs started to shake.  He helped her sit again and cleared his throat.  "Is there any place else that hurts?" he asked, his voice gentle and embarrassed at the same time.  "Any place I haven't looked?" 




       Mariah wondered at his obvious discomfort.  "You've looked everywhere but my cunt and my butthole, master," she said. 




       "Do they hurt?" he asked, tentatively.  "When I saw you they had..." His training overcame his embarrassment. "You were severely tortured in those places.  I examined you when you were sleeping and they seemed to be healing.  But if they hurt, I can make you more comfortable."




       "Master, could I..." she paused, breathed, and decided to test her power to use this mind game.  "Could I use the toilet?" she blurted.




       Gabriel blinked.  "I'm sorry, I should have thought," he said.  "Of course."  He helped her to stand up again and hobble over to the toilet room.  Holding the door for her, he switched on the light and closed the door behind her, leaving her alone.  Mariah tried to remember the last time she had been allowed to use the toilet, much less alone.  She might enjoy this mindgame yet.




       As she was leaving, she saw her reflection in a mirror above the sink.  Now she knew the extent of Animal's humor the day before.  Her face was bruised and swollen.  Her hair missing in chunks, and what was left hung like dirty string.  She turned away, revolted. 




       Gabriel helped her back into bed.  She was suddenly exhausted, and he half carried her, gently placing the sheets and blankets around her.  She barely noticed as he spooned his medicine into her mouth before she fell asleep again.









Chapter 12:  Rebellion and panic




       After the rider left, Mariah dared to look around.  The other slaves were all, it seemed, like her, of an age to leave the fields.  They were similarly bound.  There were boys and girls both, and between them it made no difference which ones cried or moaned and which ones tried to seem stoic and brave.  A guard leaned lazily back in a chair, seemingly asleep, but when one of the slaves tried to talk he flicked his whip at her.




       At length a mistress came in, and imperiously glanced each slave up and down.  She saw Mariah staring at her and approached, stopping just a few inches from her.  The mistress lifted her hand and lightly stroked Mariah's right breast, and then squeezed her nipple.  Mariah shrank back from her touch.  The mistress laughed, a cold, tinkling laugh.  "You can't escape from our touch, cunt."  Her index finger circled Mariah's breast.  "You like this, don't you?"




       Mariah shook her head, panicked.  "Please, mistress, no.  I am a good girl." 




       The mistress seemed angered by this response.  "You don't like my touch?"  she said, her pink lips forming a straight, tight line.  Suddenly, with the heel of her hand she pushed Mariah's breast, hard, bruising it against her ribcage.  Mariah groaned.  Without loosening her stance, the mistress leaned over and licked Mariah's ear.  “Soon," the mistress whispered, "Soon you will crave our touch.  You will beg for it." Abruptly she walked away from Mariah, to a slave boy across the room.  Wordlessly she freed him from his chains.  He fell to his hands and knees, and the mistress playfully kicked his bottom, indicating that he should precede her out of the room.  Mariah longed to rub her sore breast, but could not, prevented by her chains. 




       Over the next few hours more masters and mistresses came into the room, each selecting a slave that they took with them.  Mariah was careful to keep her eyes on the floor and none of them took any notice of her.  Mariah thought of what Rolanda had tried to tell her.  Was this what she was referring to?  All the rules were different in this place.  She did not know how to obey, or how to escape punishment.




       After a time a master approached Mariah and stood in front of her, as the mistress had done.  Mariah carefully looked only at his boots.  He began to blow on Mariah's face, first one cheek, then the other.  Mariah did not move, but she felt stinging tears forming in her eyes.




       The master pulled on the bottom of Mariah's hair so that she was forced to look up.  He had a narrow, pinched face.  "Are you a virgin?" he asked her, and his voice was mean.




       "Please, my lord, yes," Mariah answered, the tears in her eyes sounding in her voice.




       "A virgin and not afraid?"  he asked her.  Mariah had no answer as her terror was palpable.  The master laughed.  "Do you want me to touch you?"  he asked her. 




       Mariah knew there was no response for this.  She had been a good girl, and clean, her whole life, but in this place the rules were not as they had been in the fields.




       The master pulled her hair, yanking on it with each syllable.  "Answer me," he said, and again asked slowly, enunciating, "Do you want me to touch you?"




       Mariah thought of Rolanda again.  She said, "I want only to please you, my lord." 




       The master laughed.  "A good answer," he said.  "But not good enough."  His hand went down to her toilet place, pulling lightly on the hairs there.  Mariah gasped but willed herself not to move.  Her legs were cuffed open and wide apart, and there was no protection from his hand.  He touched the lips of her clitoris gently, and then, abruptly, pushed his index finger into her vagina.  She gasped with pain.  With his thumb he rubbed her clitoris. 




       "Now," said the master, "Does that feel good, or does it hurt?" 




       "Please, my lord," Mariah gasped.  "It hurts." 




       The master laughed again.  He took his finger out of her sex and reached further back until it touched her asshole.  He pressed and his finger went in.  He continued to rub her clitoris with his thumb.  “And now?" he asked, "pleasure or pain?" 




       Mariah could not answer, her backside burning, his finger like sandpaper on the mass of nerves in front. "Please," she said, "please." 




       He stopped rubbing her clitoris, and shoved his finger further up her ass, his fingernail tearing at her.  "You dare to not answer me, cunt?" he said.  "Soon you'll beg for this.  You'll beg for my touch.  You'll say, 'Please, Master Jonas, do that some more'" and he made his voice high pitched and mocking.   He pulled his finger almost all the way out of her ass, then pushed it back in, slowly, and she groaned.  "That's better," he said.  "You moan with pleasure from my touch."  He pulled his finger all the way out of her, a movement which burned as much as his shoving it into her had.  He undid her bonds.  "Get down on your hands and knees," he ordered.




       She looked at his mean, pinched face, and at the floor which was filthy from the excrement of the terrified slaves.  From somewhere deep inside, where, she could not say, came the word, "No."




       Master Jonas spun around, his first reaction more surprise than anger.  "What?" he cried.  "What?"  Mariah, although her heart was hammering, looked stonefacedly back at him.  Master Jonas regarded her blackly.  Then he slammed her back against the wall, his forearm under her chin, choking her.  He lowered her voice so that only she could hear.  "Have you ever seen a slave who has been tortured to death for disobedience?"  he asked.




       Rolanda.  Mariah nodded, desperately regret filling her.  Master Jonas narrowed his eyes.  "I will have that done to you," he said.  "Beginning right here, right now.  Is that what you want?" 




       Mariah could not breathe.  She had no doubt he would carry out his threat.  She shook her head frantically.




       Master Jonas pressed harder against her throat.  "Then when I let go of you you will get down on your hands and knees and you will never, EVER, disobey me again.  Am I clear?"




       Mariah nodded wildly.  Master Jonas stepped back and Mariah fell to the floor, scrambling to her hands and knees immediately while gasping for breath.  Jonas stepped on her bottom, forcing her to lie all the way down in the excrement.  "Lick the floor," he ordered her.  She licked it. 




       "Don't move an inch," he said, and she heard the whistle of the whip only an instant before she felt it, searing into her buttocks and her hips.  The force of it made her slam her chin into the floor.  The whip rammed into her buttocks a second time, and her teeth bit her tongue that still licked the floor as he had ordered.  He whipped her a third time, on her lower back.  The lash was harder than she had ever felt it before, and she was sure she must be bleeding already.  A fourth time the lash hit her upper legs. 




       He stopped.  "I have not finished this," he said, his voice low and cold.  "I have only delayed it because I need you fresh for what comes next.  When we are done with the factory, you will regret this moment.  You will be a torture cunt for the rest of your short life.  Now slide to the door." 




      Mariah was in agony.  The beating was short, but no one had ever whipped her so hard.  She started to slither over the slippery floor to the door.  He kicked her legs apart and stepped on the lips of her sex with the toe of his boot.  As she slid, her clitoris stretched and then escaped from his boot.  He stepped on it again, again, and again until they reached the door, until her sex ached as much as her back, buttocks and thigh where she had been whipped.  "What is this place?" she thought to herself in despair.  In a vision she saw Rolanda's face in front of her.




       In the hallway Master Jonas mercifully let her crawl on her hands and knees.  He contented himself with flicking her buttocks occasionally.  Although it did not really hurt, each time she heard the whistle of the whip Mariah fought paralysis.




       Master Jonas directed Mariah to turn into a doorway on the left.  The room was a large, empty bath chamber, with a tiled floor and a drain in the center.  Master Jonas took a hose from the wall and pointed it at Mariah before turning it on.  It was not full blast, but the water was freezing, cold enough to burn Mariah.  He directed her to stand up, and raise her arms over her head, and turn around slowly.  He hosed her all over, lingering on her breasts which had already endured so much that day.  Then he told her to get back on her hands and knees, with her legs spread wide.  She obeyed, and he sprayed the cold water at the crack between her legs.  Then, turning down the power of the hose down to little more than a trickle, he inserted it into her anus, and she felt herself swelling with the cold water.  "Mercy," she thought to herself.  "Mercy."  But she did not speak.




       When she began to fear that her insides would rupture, he turned of the water and removed the hose from her.  He waited a moment to see if Mariah would be willful and attempt to move or if she would hold the water.  When she remained motionless, he indicated a toilet in the corner of the room. "Go shit in that," he ordered, and he watched her with his arms crossed as she, unable to stand, crawled to the toilet and pulled herself up on it, her body cramping with the exertion.  As soon as she sat on the bowl her body emptied itself of water and shit.  The cramping continued as the stuff poured out of her. 




       Suddenly, unexpectedly, Master Jonas's whip lashed Mariah on the breast.  "Did I give you permission to piss?" he demanded.  Mariah looked at him with stupefaction.  "Answer me!"  He whipped her again, this time directly across the nipple.




       "No, my lord," Mariah answered in a whisper.




       Master Jonas held his whip in his right hand, tapping its handle in his left.  "You are the wickedest slave cunt in memory," he said.  "I should kill you now, for you will obviously be nothing but trouble."  He seemed to consider.  "Yet, taming the wild beast has its own pleasure.”  He tapped his whip handle in his hand.  “Very well,” he said at last.  “You will not piss for the next twenty four hours.  If you obey me, this matter will be forgotten."




       "Thank you, master," Mariah whispered.




       Master Jonas snorted.  "You can thank me by obeying me.  Now, close the lid and kneel over the toilet." Mariah obeyed, wondering what this next torture would be.  When the water hit her bottom again she began to scream uncontrollably, not even realizing the water was lukewarm and merely drizzling between her crack.  Even when the water stopped she could not stop screaming.  Her last memory for some time was of Master Lucas leaning against the wall, laughing. 


       


       CHAPTER




       When Mariah awoke, she was grateful that Master Lucas had covered her with a blanket while she slept, which seemed an unusual kindness in him.  But when she opened her eyes she remembered.  Master Lucas was years ago.  This was the new mindgame.




       Animal was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, a sketchpad on his knees.  When he saw that she was awake he said sourly, "Your timing's lousy.  No one around but me and I'm working." 




       "My apologies, master," Mariah said meekly, and then coughed, her throat dry. 




       Animal rolled his eyes and threw his sketchpad onto the floor.  "Okay, okay," he grumbled.  He stood up, stretched, and ambled out of the room, coming back a moment later with a tray with a bowl of gruel on it, and water.  "Gabriel says you can feed yourself," he said, ungraciously, putting the tray on the table next to the bed.  Mariah sat up and Animal put the tray on her knees.  She tentatively tasted the food, relieved that it was just gruel.  Animal said, "He'll have you on human food soon, you'll see.  I convinced him you'll eat more if its gruel and you're not terrified."




       Mariah bristled.  "I don't get terrified," she said angrily.  "This mindgame doesn't scare me."




       Animal just snorted.  He picked up his sketchpad and returned to his place on the floor, ignoring her.  After finishing her gruel, Mariah tested her limbs again.  Her rib area hurt as before, but the pain in the rest of her body was less sharp.  The tray on her knees felt heavy, but she knew she could not move it without help.  She sighed softly.  If Animal heard her he gave no sign.




       There was a soft rap at the door, which Animal ignored.  A moment later, the door opened and Rose looked tentatively in.  Taking in the scene, she smiled softly at Mariah and came in, walking silently.  Mariah saw with some remorse that she wore a bandage on her arm, where she had been cut the day before--or had it been longer ago than that?  Mariah didn't know. 




       Wordlessly Rose took the tray from Mariah.  She reappeared a few minutes later with a large wooden comb in her hand.  Holding the comb up, she raised her eyebrows, silently asking Mariah's permission. Mariah shrugged.  Rose took that as assent and settled herself behind Mariah on the bed. 




       The combing of Mariah's hair was a long and, despite Rose's gentle hands, painful process.  When, at last, Rose indicated that she was finished, Mariah glanced over at Animal who, to her surprise, was looking at the two of them intently while his hand flew over the sketch pad.  He scowled at her, but after a moment put the pad down. 




       "Can I look, Master?" Rose asked softly.  Animal shrugged and closed his eyes as if he were greatly weary.  Rose took the pad from him and brought it back to Mariah's bed to show her. 




       "It's you!" Mariah said in surprise as she looked at the sketch of the slave girl.  Then she added in a squeak, "It's me!"  Indeed, the picture showed Rose, serious and gentle, holding Mariah's hair near the roots with one hand and pulling a comb through it with the other.  Mariah saw that Animal had drawn her own face less bruised than it had been in the mirror the day before, and less swollen, but he had not skimped on the bald spot near her forehead where her hair had been yanked out, or on the grimace that made her appear all the uglier. 




       Mariah looked at Animal in amazement.  He, no longer feigning sleep, smiled at her a little sheepishly, then checked himself and frowned.  Mariah almost smiled but she, too, checked herself and frowned. 




       At that moment Gabriel walked in.  He looked tired and drawn.  "Can I get you something, Master?"  Rose asked sweetly.  Gabriel shook his head and flung himself onto the floor next to Animal. 




       "Esmerelda whipped a slave he so hard that he went into shock,” he said.  “She begged me to save his life.  As soon as he came to, she started torturing him again."  He drew up his knees and leaned his head into it.  "He's probably dead by now," his muffled voice said.




      Rose clucked sympathetically, but Animal said harshly, "You're exhausted and you're pushing yourself too hard.  This isn't your precious Harmony.  We'll use you and throw you away. That's what we do."




       Gabriel looked up, bleary eyed. "I'm a healer," he said.  "I save people's lives. That’s what I do."




       "Then make them sign a contract," Animal growled.  "No torture for a month, or something.  That should get them to leave you alone."




       Gabriel smiled at that, a trifle bitterly.  "Jonquil suggested the same solution when I met him," he said.




       Animal looked to the ceiling.  "The elements save me from mimicking fat, stupid men," he said.  Rose giggled, then stopped herself.  




       Mariah watched this whole scene with amazement.  She felt panicked.  This mindgame was so strange and so elaborate, she would surely lose herself in it.  She wished, desperately, that she could go to sleep and wake up and find herself someplace that she understood. 




       Suddenly Gabriel was next to her, holding her hand, squeezing it gently. "Breathe," he reminded her.  She found her face was wet.  She had been crying without realizing it.




       "I'm not afraid of you," she said, fiercely. 




       "I know you're not," Gabriel responded.  "You're tired and in pain, and it's hard to think straight."  He added, "Breathing will help."  He set an example for her, breathing deep into his diaphragm and then his lungs.




       Mariah just looked at him in amazement.  He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.  Could he read her mind?  Could all masters and mistresses do that?




       Animal laughed a little meanly.  "Look at her, Gabriel," he said.  "The kinder you are to her the more you terrify her."  He amended, "Oh yeah, except she doesn't get scared." 




       Mariah glared at him.  Animal laughed again, but Gabriel shushed him and then went back to his breathing exercise, still holding Mariah's hand.  Mariah, without realizing it, found herself matching his breath.  A deep intake hurt her ribs, and she stopped.  Gabriel, with his eyes closed, was immediately aware of the change.  "Tomorrow I’ll teach you breathing exercises,” he said. “Today I’ll tell you a story.”  And he began to tell her about his home, a land with no slaves, where everyone did their share of work and received what they needed in return, and every child lived with its parents, and every adult chose how to live, and with whom.  It was a lovely story, Mariah thought, as her eyes fluttered closed, as good as the stories of wood nymphs she remembered from the fields.   






       Chapter 13:  A choice and a consequence


       Mariah was running, then fleeing, through a fallow field she did not recognize.  She came to a stream and tried to hurdle it, but her legs wouldn’t move properly.  She started to put her hands out to break her fall but they, too, were stuck.  She awoke with a start, her heart pounding madly.   As in her dream her limbs would not obey.  They were held – no, tied – down.  Panicked, she flailed about until she banged the back of her head on the platform on which she lay, and saw stars. 


       Through sheer force of will she held herself still, except for the trembling that she could not control. When she could no longer hear her pulse pounding in her ears, she slowly tried to take stock.  Her legs were spread wide apart and her ankles tied down, and her wrists shackled near her hips.  Other than that, she was not restrained.  She raised herself up onto her elbows and looked cautiously around. 


       She was on a sleeping platform, alone.  On either side of her were drab low walls that did not reach the ceiling.  Past her feet was a corridor, and beyond it another low wall. 


      She heard pleading from not far away.  A boy’s voice, begging someone to stop whatever they were doing to him.  But she didn’t hear the slash or cut of a whip.

     

      A mistress walked through the corridor past her, but paid her no mind.  A moment later a slave walked by.  Mariah cleared her throat.  “Excuse me,” she said, but the slave did not turn his head or slow his pace. 

     

      Mariah wondered how long she had been tied to the table, and if she had been left here to die, alone and untended.  One of the cornfield masters had had a boy killed that way.  He locked him in a cabin and forbade the other slaves to bring him food or water.  He died in about five days.  Mariah couldn't recall what he was being punished for. 

     

      Suddenly she remembered Master Jonas.  The malice, as cold as the water he sprayed on her body and then inside it.  And his threat to kill her.  As she heard the boy’s voice, begging again, Mariah wondered if it wouldn't be better to provoke Master Jonas into carrying out his threat. 


       No, a voice from inside Mariah said, I want to live. 


       Mariah leaned back and closed her eyes.  The boy’s begging rose to a shriek.  Rolanda had lived through this mindgame and had escaped beyond the walls.  But the mindgame had continued even then, Mariah realized.  Rolanda was surely dead by now.


      “No despair,” Mariah told herself fiercely.

     

      She listened for clues as to where she was or what would come next, but could hear only murmurs of sound from beyond the low walls.  She could no longer hear the boy, but there were conversations whose words she could not make out.  Perhaps someone whimpering.  At least she was not alone, she told herself.


       A slave appeared, rolling a table on wheels in front of him.  Wordlessly he stopped in front of Mariah, cranked a lever which raised the back end of her platform up and moved her to a sitting position.  He untied her hands and handed her a bowl of lukewarm gruel.  As she took it she whispered to him, "Are you allowed to talk?"  He looked unsurprised by this question, but shook his head and opened his mouth wide. Inside, his tongue was only a stub. 


      Mariah’s stomach churned at the sight, but the slave put the spoon into her hand as if she were simple and pantomimed that she must eat.  She dipped the spoon into the gruel and barely managed to get it into her mouth.  She concentrated on not vomiting.  Another spoonful, more concentration.  She couldn’t take a third. 

      The slave seemed satisfied with her efforts.  He gave her a cup of water and indicated that she should drink it.  She was parched, and the water helped the gruel settle.  The slave tied her arms again, leaving her sitting up, and moved on, expressionless.


       Mariah looked around but could see nothing beyond the short walls surrounding her, and the ceiling that gave away no secrets.  Occasionally slaves or people walked by, but they did not look at her.  “They fed me,” Mariah told herself several times.  “I’ll not die today.” 


      Panic gave way to boredom that was even worse.  Occasionally Mariah tested the bonds that tied her wrists and ankles, but not with any real hope that they would give way.  And even if they did, what would she do? 


       The wall.  If she could get free, could she make it to the wall?  Mariah thought of what she knew of the geography of Riviera.  It seemed certain that she was still in the mansion which was in the dead center of Riviera.  The wall encircled Riviera, but was miles and miles away.  It had taken the rider hours to bring her here on a horse, and the cornfields were closer to the mansion than to the wall. 


       Yet, it was not all farmland between the mansion and the wall.  There were woods and wild places.  If she could get to them, could she hide there? 


       She sighed and shook her head at what she knew was foolishness.  Even if she could untie her bonds, she would never make it out of this strange room.


      The tongueless slave returned to Mariah twice, each time giving her a bowl of gruel and a cup of water. After the third meal Mariah dozed. Through her sleep she could hear the cart making its way through the aisle yet again.  Someone was shaking her arm.  She immediately jerked awake.  It was an older slave, a female, large and muscular.  "Toilet," she said.  Mariah saw that she pushed a bucket on wheels with a seat on top, like a portable latrine. 


       Mariah shook her head.  "I'm not allowed," she said.


       "Sure you are, honey," the slave said.  "Everyone uses the toilet.  You don't need special permission for that."  She began to untie Mariah's restraints.


       Mariah felt her face burn red.  "No," she said.  "It's a punishment.  He said I couldn't for 24 hours."


       The woman clucked.  "What did you do to deserve that?" she asked.


       Mariah said nothing.  The woman was just a slave, and Mariah did not have to answer her.  She didn't see the frown of annoyance on the slave’s face as she patted Mariah just above her sex place.  "Do you have to go something awful?" she asked.


       Until that moment, Mariah hadn't. But now she felt that if she didn't pee she would burst. 


       "I'll tell you what," the woman said.  "You just sit up here on the toilet and pretend.  It'll make you feel better."


       Mariah shrank away from her.  "No,” she said.


       The woman's eyes narrowed but she said pleasantly, "It's the rules, honey.  Everyone has to sit on the toilet, whether or not they go. Otherwise, I get punished.  That wouldn't be fair, now would it?" 


       Defeated, Mariah stepped onto the floor, gasping at the stiffness in her muscles, and then onto the toilet platform.


       "There, now," the woman said soothingly.  "You close your eyes and relax.  I'll just tie you here for a minute and come right back."


       Mariah didn't react as the woman tied her ankles apart, affixing them to cuffs jutting from the bottom of the toilet box, or when she tied her knees open.  But when she took her right hand and put it in a container of warm water, Mariah jerked her hand away, splashing.  "What are you doing to me?"  she shouted.


       The noise brought a mistress over, who frowned at Mariah as she grasped her whip.  "What's this racket, Shinelle?" she asked sternly. 


       The slave woman answered, "This farm cunt won't let me do my job, Mistress.  I keep telling her, these are the rules, but she just makes trouble."


       The mistress glared at Mariah.  "I don't like to punish other's pickings in here," she said, "but if I hear one more sound out of you I'll beat you right back to the farm.  Do you understand me?"


       "Yes, mistress," Mariah said. 


       As the mistress strode away, Shinelle tied both of Mariah's arms in bowls of warm water, saying softly, "Don't make trouble.  You just go along with me, everything will work out fine."  Then she walked away.


       Mariah felt the need to pee like waves in her body.  Her very jaw tingled with the feel of it.  She closed her eyes and tried to think of anything else, or to concentrate on the noises echoing around her, but nothing helped.


       Suddenly there was a body behind her, and breasts pressing into her back.  Hands came around to her front and began rubbing her where her hair grew, above her sex place.  Shinelle said in her ear, "Just relax, and neither one of us will be punished."


       Mariah felt as if her pee was streaming through her body like blood.  Shinelle’s hand moved lower, to her clitoris, touching her there.  “Please, stop,” Mariah begged, trying to close her legs that were tied open.  Then Shinelle was licking the inside of Mariah’s ear and blowing softly into it.  Mariah could stand it no more.  With a groan, she let herself pee.  She felt as if it would never stop.  She did not notice that Shinelle had moved away.   


       When the stream stopped, Mariah opened her eyes.  Master Jonas was standing there, hands on his hips, staring at her, his eyes ice.


       "Forgive me, Master," Mariah said hopelessly.


       Shinelle snorted from behind her.  "Now she begs for forgiveness, Master," she said.  "You should have heard her a few minutes ago begging me to let her pee. I told her no, but a mistress came over and told me to let her do it just to shut her up."


       "No," Mariah whispered.  "That's not true."


       "Shut up, scum," her Master said.  He turned to the slave woman.  "Tell me, Shinelle, you see these farm cunts come and go.  How would you punish her?"


       Shinelle smiled in satisfaction.  "This one is no better than an animal, Master," she said.  "I say no point in having a master like yourself break her in.  Give her to a dog."


       Master Jonas actually laughed.  "You are a delight," he said.  "Go to the exercise yards and bring me the finest looking dog you can find."  Shinelle dropped to the floor and touched her forehead all the way down before she stood and ran down the corridor.


       "Master, I'm sorry," Mariah pleaded.


       Without warning Master Jonas punched her in her left breast, so hard that Mariah would have tumbled backwards off the latrine seat if she were not tied to it.  “No talking,” he said.  He moved behind her and began to touch her, on her back, on her shoulders, on her breasts, on her stomach, on her thighs.  His touch was gentle and yet aggressive.  Mariah hated it.  She concentrated on not moving.  Her body felt hot, as if she was in a sweatbox.


       It seemed like an eternity later when Shinelle came down the corridor leading a large brown and black dog by the leash.  She handed the leash over to Master Lucas and untied Mariah.  “On the floor,” he told Mariah.  Mariah dove down and lay on her stomach.  With his foot Master Lucas rolled Mariah over onto her back.  "Bring a cushion," he ordered Shinelle.  Then he turned back to Mariah.


       "Shinelle is right, you deserve to be broken in by a dog," Master Jonas said to Mariah. 


       "Yes, master," Mariah said.


       Master Jonas kicked her in the side with his boot.  "No talking,” he said again.  He glowered over her to see if she would groan or move.  When she lay perfectly still, he continued, "Unfortunately, since you haven't been fully tested, I can't punish you as you deserve, yet."


       Shinelle returned then with a cushion, which Master Jonas indicated she should put under Mariah's head.  "Bend your knees and open them," he said to Mariah.  She obeyed immediately.


       "Have you ever seen a hard penis?" he asked Mariah. 


       Mariah remembered a mistress tormenting one of the slave boys in the room where Master Jonas had found her.  She nodded her head. 


       "Good," Master Jonas said. "Have you ever seen a man come?"


       "No, master," Mariah pleaded.  "I've been good, I swear." 


       Master Jonas kicked her again, but not as hard as before.  "I know you," he said. "You've never been good."  He continued, "If you were good, the first time you saw a man come it would be to bring you pleasure, and the man.  But you have lost that privilege.  Because you are nothing more than an animal, your first experience of pleasure will be when this dog comes in your mouth."  He pulled the dog’s hind legs over Mariah's chest.  "You will put your mouth around the penis.  You will caress it and suck on it.  If you obey, your punishment will be over.  If you bite him or do anything to make him pull back, I'll kill you on a cross.  Do you understand?"


       Mariah nodded frantically.  "Yes, master," she said.


       "Good," Master Lucas said.  He prodded the dog forward.  "Put your mouth around its penis, gently."


       Mariah obeyed, willing herself not to gag or disobey in any way.  The thing was hairy and disgusting, but this punishment was merely revolting, not painful. 


      Suddenly, two things happened at once. The dog's organ began to widen and elongate in her mouth, almost choking her, and she felt something wet and warm, a tongue, on her own sex, licking her slowly.  Frantically she jerked her head back, but reminded herself fiercely that she wanted to live.  She lifted her mouth again to the dog's organ, hoping her master had not noticed.


       The dog whimpered and began moving its hips up and down, forcing its penis deeper into her mouth.  Mariah's nose was pressed against its hairy belly and she felt that she would suffocate, until she learned to gasp for breath when the dog pulled back to begin a deeper thrust.  "That's it," she heard Master Lucas say.  "Suck on it." 


       Moving her lips around her teeth so she wouldn't bite the dog's penis, Mariah sucked, still fighting for every breath.  It seemed to go on and on.  Her jaw ached with the effort of keeping her mouth wide enough.  She tried to pretend this was not happening to her, that she was still back on the farm with her cohort, that she was young and innocent, that she had never met Rolanda, but the licking of her own cunt was interrupted by a bite there, which jolted her back into this reality.  She in turn bit the dog, but not so hard that the dog's pleasure was interrupted. 


       Suddenly there was a wet goo in the back of her mouth, like thin gruel.  Mariah choked and sputtered as the dog went soft inside her.  "Swallow it," Master Lucas ordered.  She did her best, still keeping her mouth wide so as not to injure the dog's softening organ which he did not seem inclined to remove from her mouth.  Minutes passed before he pulled out.  Giving her an apologetic look, he lay down next to her and immediately went to sleep.  Master Lucas put his foot under Shinelle's throat, pulling her head away from Mariah's cunt.  "I knew you could obey if you tried," Lucas said to Mariah.  "Thank me for teaching you that."


       "Thank you, Master," Mariah said.        




CHAPTER 14: Inside and out


       The next morning, as he had promised, Master Gabriel taught Mariah breathing exercises, and movements to strengthen her injured arm.  Mariah was exhausted afterwards and fell asleep for several hours.  When she awoke, Rose was sitting cross-legged on the floor, shelling a large pile of peas.  With a quiet smile she cleaned up, and then offered to help Mariah take a bath.


       Mariah did not admit to Rose that, except for the old metal tub in the cornfield, filled by bucket, she had never taken a bath before.  Most masters and mistresses would require that their houseslaves take a very quick shower periodically, but a bath was a luxury for favored pets. 


       Rose filled the tub and Mariah stepped in and sank down into the water.  Its warmth stung her cuts at first, but she ignored the discomfort, soaping every inch she could reach, and, to protect her elbow, allowing Rose to wash and rinse her hair.  Mariah realized that the atrocious itchiness she been suffering was not just her wounds healing, but the filth that covered her body.  The bathwater was gray.  Rose giggled, drained and refilled the bath, and they started the process over again.  Mariah's skin, in those places where it was neither burned nor bruised nor cut, had a pinkish tinge.


       Rose, sitting on the edge of the tub with her feet in the water, started to wash Mariah’s upper back with a washcloth.  Mariah closed her eyes, enjoying the pleasant, relaxing sensation.  Suddenly she started and in a quick movement pivoted and grabbed Rose’s wrist. She stared at her, hard.  “What have they done to me?”  she demanded.

     

      “N... nothing,” said Rose.  “Th. . . They saved your life.”

     

      Mariah narrowed her eyes.  “What are they saving me for?” she asked.  She leaned toward Rose.  “Why don’t I want to fuck you?”

     

       “I don’t know,” Rose said.  “I’m just a rag.”  

      

      Mariah loosened her hold on Rose’s wrist but did not let go.  “That’s not what I meant,” she said.  “The way you were washing me . . .  I should be burning.  But I’m not.  Not for you.  Not for Master Gabriel or Master Animal.  It’s like I woke up and I’m back on the farm, not broken in.”  She placed her hands deliberately on Rose’s knees and pushed them apart, and looked at her crotch.  “And you’re not even wet,” she said. 

     

      Rose looked nervously at Mariah’s hands, still on her knees, but didn’t remove them.  “It’s the gruel,” she said softly. 

     

      “The gruel?” Mariah asked.   “Master Animal told me that you don’t even eat it.”

     

      “I don’t, mostly.” Rose said.  “And neither did you, when you were unconscious.  You’ve only been back on gruel for a few days, and you’re not eating much.  Not enough to make you burn.”


       Mariah thought about this.  Of course she had known for a long time that it was the gruel that made slaves crave sex, sometimes to the exclusion of all other cravings.  It would make sense that if she stopped eating it those urges would go away. 


       To Rose’s relief, Mariah took her hands off her knees.  “Are you dried up?” Mariah asked her. 


       Rose didn’t answer for a minute.  “In a way,” she said at last.  “I don’t look at a cucumber anymore and wish I dared to put it inside me, to get some relief.  And I don’t cry because maybe I’ll never be allowed to come again.  But when I think about having sex with Master Animal . . .” She blushed.  “I’m not dried up, no.”


       “Does he fuck you?” Mariah asked.  “Or is he too much of a pansy for that?”


        “Every night,’ Rose said solemnly.  “We both come once and then he goes to sleep.”


       “You come every night?” Mariah asked disbelievingly.


       Rose nodded.  “Sometimes he eats me,” she said.


       Mariah stared at her in open astonishment.  She had heard of pansy masters, but this was too much. Master Animal must have unnatural feelings for Rose. 

      She remembered the promise she had made to herself, to spread the truth among as many slaves as she could, to start with Rose, to curdle Master Animal’s sweet cream.  How much more effective it would be if he thought he cared for her. As Mariah started to stand up, she said, "I want to tell you something."


       Rose tsked softly.  "First we'll dry you off and get you into bed," she said.  "Master Gabriel says that even little things will wear you out."  Rose's voice was gentle and sweet as ever, but there was a firmness in it that made Mariah obey.  She didn't protest as Rose toweled her dry and led her back to the bed. Once Rose was satisfied that Mariah was well-settled, she began combing out her hair again, and said, "What did you want to tell me?"


       Mariah said nothing for a time.  Was Rose part of the mindgame?  A slave-spy, who would repeat every word to her masters?  Almost certainly.  The girl had no spirit with which to rebel or refuse to be used against her own kind.  Nevertheless, she had to try to reach her, to spoil her for her master.  The worst that would happen is that the mindgame would end sooner. 


       Mariah tried to remember what Rolanda had told her, so long ago, when she hadn't wanted to hear it.  Was there ever a time when she was as young and sweet as Rose was now?  She took a breath, calming herself.  "Did they tell you why I was being punished?" she asked.


       "Shsh," Rose said.  "We don't need to talk about that."


       Mariah yanked her hair out of Rose's grasp and turned to look at her.  "Answer me," she said fiercely.  "Did they tell you?"


       Rose started back, her scared look returning.  "Yes," she said, not meeting Mariah’s eyes.


       Mariah leaned closer to Rose, blocking Rose's fear out of her mind.  "It was because I was outside the gates.  I escaped, and I was free."


       "I know," Rose whispered, trembling.


       Mariah grabbed Roses' bicep with her good hand.  "Whatever they told you about me, it was a lie," she said. "I was free!"


       "I know," Rose whispered again, ashen-faced. 

       

       Mariah went in for the kill.  "You could escape, too," she said.  "You could be free."


       A derisive snort came from the doorway. "Free to die," Animal said.  "Free to starve to death while you ponder which berries are poison.  Free to bleed to death when you fall from a tree you climbed to escape the packs of wolves.  Free to contract dysentery from drinking the wrong water.  And," he added, entering the room, "That's assuming you beat the five hours it took the sage Mariah to get caught by the hunters so they could exquisitely torture her."


       Mariah flung Rose away from her, trembling with rage.  "It is no worse to be tortured in the field by the hunters for a few days than to be tortured every day in the mansion, from one mind game to another! The difference in lifespan is only a few years."


       To Mariah's chagrin, Animal laughed.  "I doubt you'll find a convert in Rose," he said.  "She has sense enough to know when she's well off."


       Mariah looked over at Rose, who sat at the head of the bed, her back to the wall, frozen.  Mariah jeered, at her, “So you've found yourself a pansy master who can't be bothered to whip you.  How long do you think he'll keep you?  A few more months, if you're lucky?  And then it'll be back to the exchange.  Do you think your next master or mistress will be as kind?  Or will you get someone who likes the ones who cry easily?"


       As if on cue Rose's eyes filled with tears and Mariah turned to give Animal a triumphant look.  She stopped cold when she saw the whip in his hand, his arm raised.  Then she said, "Go ahead.  Show Rose what a kind, merciful master you are." 


       Animal lowered his arm.  "Go fix dinner, Rose," he said, not taking his eyes off Mariah. 


       Rose was crying in earnest now.  "Please, master, don't hurt her," she pleaded as she stood to obey his order. 


         "Shsh," Animal said.  "I won't."  Rose stumbled from the room.  Animal continued to look disdainfully at Mariah for a few moments, before he turned and followed Rose out of the room, firmly closing the door behind him.


       


CHAPTER:  Never by choice


       Master Jonas tied Mariah back into her cot and left her.  While he was gone Mariah had time to think. Was this the mindgame Rolanda had told her of?  It was clear to her that Shinelle had set her up, perhaps by prearrangement with Master Jonas, and that she had taken pleasure in it. The episode with the dog had been scary when she was not sure if she would suffocate, and the ticklish pleasure in her cunt from Shinelle licking her there had added to her torture. 


      And for what reason? “To humiliate me,” Mariah thought.  “And yet, I am not humiliated.  I did nothing wrong.”  She thought again of her cohort torturing the rabbit  She had stood up to them, stood against her friends, because what they were doing was wrong, and cruel, and needless.

     

      She was the rabbit to Master Jonas, she realized, a victim to be tortured to pass the time.  And she knew that he could easily turn her into a torturer.  She had hurt other slaves at the command of the cornfield masters and mistresses.  Whipped them, pulled out their hair a few hairs at a time, put them in a stockade.  But not by choice.  Never by choice.  She would never be the one to hold the rabbit over the fire, or to idly stand by as others did it.  Not by choice.  And while she would no doubt be forced again to torture other slaves, she would never take a perverse pleasure in it like Shinelle clearly did.  Maybe it had all been prearranged and Shinelle had been compelled by Master Jonas to force Mariah to pee; but Shinelle had enjoyed it, savored it even, and added to it. 

     

      Mariah swore to herself:  whatever Master Jonas would do to her body, no matter how he tortured her or made her cry or shriek or beg, no matter if he forced her to torture other slaves, for her it would never be by choice. 


CHAPTER


       When Mariah's was not left alone again with Rose, she told herself her disappointment was because of the missed opportunity to proselytize freedom.  Another slave, an older cunt named Chilla, occasionally brought her a tray or helped her to the necessary, but was largely uncommunicative.  Mariah gathered that she belonged to a master in a neighboring suite.


       Mariah still slept more than she woke.  When she was awake she meticulously did the exercises Master Gabriel had taught her.  Her arm was almost healed, and, although the breathing and strengthening exercises hurt, she could feel herself getting stronger, mindgame or no.


       One morning Master Gabriel watched her do her exercises, occasionally correcting an angle or encouraging her to do more.  When she finished, Gabriel casually asked her if she would like to go for a walk.  Mariah was surprised by her own eagerness.  She hadn't realized how stir-crazy she was going.


       Mariah leaned on Gabriel for support, staggering.  Crossing the threshold into the living room, she felt an echo of the same surge of joy she had felt when she had run through the gates of Riviera so many weeks ago. 


       Animal sprawled on a couch, pretending disinterest, while Rose, assiduously massaging his feet, only glanced up with a shy smile before looking away.  Mariah let go of Gabriel and took a few steps on her own before she stumbled and had to grab at his arm.  If the others noticed her gasp of pain, they gave no sign.


       Gabriel led her to a strange chair with wheels instead of legs.  He said off-handedly, "I thought it would be more fun for you to walk outside and get some fresh air.  I can wheel you through the corridors so you don't get worn out."  Mariah sank into the chair.  Gabriel stood behind and pushed.  When the wheelchair moved forward Mariah gasped, grabbing at the armrests.  "I'll go slow," Gabriel said encouragingly.


       Gabriel had long since learned the twists and turns of the corridors near his suite, and in only a few minutes had pushed Mariah to the nearest entryway. Just outside the door he helped her to stand up, and put the wheelchair aside.  Mariah turned her face to the sun, soaking it up, breathing the air.  Gabriel helped her down the two or three stairs leading from the door.  Six or seven humans were coming up the walkway towards them, laughing carelessly.  A few had slaves on leashes.


       "Gabriel!" one of them shouted.  "Come entertain us!"  Then the group stopped at once, seeing Mariah.


       "Is that your cunt?" a honey-haired mistress asked after an awkward pause.  Mariah let go her grip on Gabriel and started to fall to her knees.  Gabriel stopped her, putting his arm around her waist.  "This is Mariah," he said. 


       The mistress came forward and looked her up and down.  "Standard position," she ordered. 


       Mariah automatically obeyed her command, raising her hands to the back of her neck.  Shooting pain went through her chest as she did so, and she gasped, and stumbled, falling out of Gabriel's protective encirclement. The mistress raised her whip and flicked it on Mariah's buttocks.  Although the blow wasn't hard, it caused Mariah to fall forward onto her knees, banging them painfully. 


       "Stop it!" Gabriel shouted.  "Leave her alone!"


       The mistress flipped her hair at Gabriel coquettishly.  "Don't tell me you're under her spell," she said.  "She's nothing but a rag."  Mariah felt her face go blank.


       One of the mistress’s companions said, "Not a rag, Darla.  A rescued runaway.  Didn't you hear?  Gabriel plucked her off a cross."  He smirked. 


       Gabriel tried to place himself between Mariah and the group, but Mariah stood up, painfully, on her own.  One of mistresses had a slave dick on a leash.  Mariah looked him straight in the eye.  "That's right," she said.  "I escaped through the gates and I was free. That's why they punished me."  She paused and added, "It was worth it."


       As one, the group of masters and mistresses took out their whips.  The man who had spoken, who was closest to her, growled, "You filthy cunt," and kicked her, hard, in the shin.  Mariah fell over again, landing on her bad arm, and cried out. 


       Gabriel pushed the master away.  "Leave her alone, I tell you," he said, his voice low and calm.  The master saw his face and backed away.  "No harm done," he said, and headed inside, followed by the rest of his group.  The slave dick looked at Mariah as he crawled by.  "Eyes down!" his mistress shouted furiously, kicking him in the balls.  He groaned but continued to crawl.


       Gabriel knelt down by Mariah.  "I'm so sorry," he said.  "Are you okay?"  Mariah refused to look at him, embarrassed by the stinging in her eyes.  Gabriel took her good hand.  "Breathe," he said.  Mariah complied, breathing as deeply as her injured ribs would let her, until she felt the new pain was under control.  Gabriel was still holding her hand.  "You have so much courage you put everyone I know to shame," he said.  Then he added, pulling a strand of hair off her face, "But maybe you could keep the outreach to other slaves down until you're a little stronger."


       Mariah jerked away from his touch and said bitterly, "You won't let me talk to Rose, master.  I need to reach out where I can."


       Gabriel looked at her in confusion.  "Won't let you...  You can say what you like to Rose, surely you must know that."


       Now it was Mariah's turn to be confused.  "You mean they didn't tell you?" 


       "Tell me what?" Gabriel asked.


       "About the other day... What I said to Rose.  And to Master Animal."  When Gabriel shook his head, she added, "But you've kept her away from me since then."


       Gabriel took her hand again and said gently, "There's an old man who lives in the other suite in our quad.  He lapsed into a coma the other day.  Rose is helping to take care of him."  He added, almost petulantly, "If you wanted to see her, you only needed to ask."


       Mariah looked him in the eye, trying to read him, to decipher him.  It seemed such a strange lie to tell.  Was it part of the mindgame? Or an odd, coincidental truth?


       Gabriel smiled ruefully.  "What would happen if you trusted me?" he asked.


       "Torture," Mariah answered automatically.  "Pain.  Death."'


       "Then by all means, don't trust me," Gabriel said.  He stood up.  "You landed on your arm.  Does it hurt?"


       Mariah nodded and Gabriel sighed. He helped her into the wheelchair and wheeled her back through the corridor.  "Maybe Animal can suggest a private place for a walk tomorrow," he said.




CHAPTER 15:  TASTING SOMETHING NEW


       The mute slave untied Mariah and indicated that she should stand.  He had her place her feet into holes in stiffened leather.  When he pulled it up her legs she realized it was a sort of garment, similar to panties a mistress might wear, except that it ballooned out at her crotch so the leather did not touch her skin there and it kept her legs apart.  The mute tied a cloth gag in place, loosely as if it was meant to be more symbolic than practical, and cuffed her hands behind her neck.  He shoved her to start her walking.


       Mariah caught glimpses of other slaves tied to platforms as she had been, boys and girls alike and all of the same age as she.  At the end of the corridor the mute turned her and led her to a door which, to Mariah’s surprise, opened to outside.  The sun stabbed at her eyes. 


      She was in an enclosed pen.  A number of slaves, similarly clad with the strange crotch garment, and similarly bound and gagged, trudged in a circle around the perimeter.  With another shove, the mute indicated that Mariah should do the same, and then he left her.


       Mariah’s arms soon started to ache and her position made her feel embarrassed by her breasts, which jutted out in front of her in a way she had never noticed before.  “What do I care?” she asked herself in annoyance as she stumbled and almost fell over. “What these slaves think of me is nothing.” She wondered if she would feel the same if Samson, or any of the rest of her cohort, even Sefka, could see her.  Homesickness washed over her, and her eyes blurred.


       She walked in a circle for an hour, until the pain in her shoulders was almost unbearable.  When the mute slave came to get her she nearly cried with relief.  At her cubicle, when he unbound her wrists and allowed her to lower her arms, she groaned with relief.  He patted her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic smile before he removed her crotch cover and her gag.  “Thank you,” Mariah said very softly, so as not to get him in trouble.  He nodded slightly, tied her to her table, and was gone.


       The walk in the pen was repeated twice a day for several days.  Each time, although the pain in her arms became less, Mariah’s embarrassment grew.  She imagined that the other slaves were staring at her breasts, or at her covered crotch, and she found herself staring at them in turn. 


       There was a tingling sensation in her crotch, sort of like having to pee, but constant and getting worse.  She longed to rub herself there, but was always bound in such a way that she could not reach that area, and her legs were tied apart.


       At last Master Jonas returned.  Without a word to her, he placed his hand on her inner thigh, tied open as always.  Then he put the index finger of his other hand at the entrance to her vagina and pushed it in slightly.  He pulled it out, looked at it, and frowned.  “Are you eating?” he asked her.


       “Yes, my lord,” Mariah answered.


       “Well, not enough.  You need to eat more,” he said, and left.


       At her next meal the mute slave handed her a larger portion than before, and hovered near her to make sure that she ate it all.


       Over the next days the tingling in her crotch grew worse.  When she was awake she thought of ways to escape her bonds so that she could touch herself.  When she slept she dreamed of doing so.  When Shinelle came with the portable latrine Mariah remembered how Shinelle had licked her crotch when the dog’s penis had been in her mouth.  The tingling grew to a burning. Mariah could not bear to look at Shinelle.


       Master Jonas returned, and as before pushed his index finger into her vagina.  This time he looked pleased.  “Soon you’ll be ripe enough,” he said, before he walked away.           



***


       The next morning Gabriel wheeled Mariah to a different entrance to the mansion.  It was early enough that the lawn was mostly deserted.  Gabriel seemingly aimlessly led Mariah on a walk parallel to the mansion. Mariah enjoyed the feeling of sun on her face and the fresh air.  It made her feel strong and healthy.  The grass was short, and was cool and soft beneath her feet.


       Gabriel came to a sudden stop, staring at the lawn.  He bent over and picked something green.  Turning to Mariah he said, "Do you know what this is?"


       "Clover, my lord," said Mariah, expressionless.


       Gabriel shook his head.  "Clover is a darker green than this, and less stringy.  This is sorrel."  Mariah mouthed the strange word.  "It's delicious," Gabriel added, putting a couple of its tiny leaves in his mouth.  He handed some to Mariah.  "Try it." 


       Mariah took a step back from him, her lips clamped closed as if she thought he would force her mouth open.


       Gabriel looked at her appraisingly.  "What Animal told you the other day was true," he said.  "You can't survive outside of Riviera on your own.  Not unless you know how to take care of yourself. How to recognize food.  How to build a fire.  How to trap animals, and skin and cook them.  You would starve to death in a week if you don't know these things."


       "You told me Master Animal said nothing about this, Master," Mariah said, almost triumphantly.


       Gabriel rolled his eyes.  "He told me last night, when I asked him," he said.  "And he was right.  It would be suicide for you to try to live out there right now."


       "What are you saying, Master?" Mariah asked bitterly.  "That you'll teach me what I need to know to run away, and then drop me off five miles outside the gate and leave me on my own?"


       Gabriel smiled sadly.  "I don't know," he said.  "Even I couldn’t survive on my own for long without provisions from home and a good horse with a lot of sense.  No matter how much I teach you, if I just dropped you off it would be murder.  But if I assume that if you get a chance to run away again you'll take it, then I have a responsibility to teach you what I can."


       Mariah felt the mindgame rushing in at her again, a feeling of vertigo that was beginning to seem normal to her.  She remembered what Animal had said to her when she first woke up.  Playing the mindgame through to the end gave her a chance.  She tentatively looked at the sorrel, sniffed it, tore off half a leaf and put it in her mouth.  She puckered up and spit it out.  "It's sour!" she said accusingly.


       Gabriel smiled.  "Your taste buds are weak from that bland gruel you eat," he said.  "Rose could cure you of that.  She's an excellent cook."


       "I can cook, Master," Mariah said defensively.


       "Aah, but can you eat?" Gabriel said.  "Rose isn't afraid to eat her own cooking. Are you?"


       "I'm not afraid of anything," Mariah said fiercely.  She broke off three sorrel leaves with her fingernail and popped them in her mouth.  Gabriel looked away quickly to hide a smile of triumph.  Trickery or not, he had finally figured out how to get through to her.


***



      Mariah woke with a start.  Master Jonas was moving a lever next to the platform on which she was tied, causing the platform to split at its bottom and spread her legs farther.  Before they were spread wide enough to be really uncomfortable rather than just shameful, Master Jonas stopped.  He came around the side of the table and sat on its edge, taking her pinioned hand in his.  "Do you hate me?" he asked her softly.


       With all her heart.  "No, master, I only want to please you," Mariah whispered.


       "Shsh," Master Jonas said.  "It's okay that you hate me.  It will make my victory more complete."  He unlocked the cuff that held her wrist, and stroked her hand, and then held it.  He put his other hand on her breast, resting it there lightly.  Mariah was electrified.  Her clitoris was pinging. 


      Master Jonas spoke softly, almost dreamily, gently, as he tapped his fingertips all over her breast. Mariah’s heart pounded, and she was gulping air. "Sometimes there is a mix-up among the babies,” Master Jonas was saying..  “Human babies are switched with slave babies, and brought up by accident as slaves, on the farm. This factory is the last test."  He looked at Mariah intently and slowly brought her hand to his mouth, kissing and then licking her palm.  Mariah felt a though he were licking her crotch directly, as Shinelle had.  Master Jonas slowly lowered her hand back down, continuing to massage it with his thumb. "You see, Mariah, a human being would have the dignity and the strength of character to resist temptation.  But a cunt would grasp the first chance she is given to have an orgasm."  He looked at her carefully.  "Which do you think you are?"


       For a brief moment Mariah forgot her body’s urges as a shining hope flared in her:  she was indeed a human being, switched at birth.  Her life had been a mistake.  She should have been raised in the mansion, by parents, not on the farm.  But she knew immediately that this was the mindgame Rolanda had spoken of.  She also knew that Master Jonas must be made to think that she believed him, or things would go much worse for her.  "I don't know, master," she said.


       Master Jonas smiled.  "Then we must find out, my dear," he said.  "The test is this: If you can go for a single hour without coming, you will pass the test and be declared a human being.  But if you have an orgasm, you are declared for all time to be a dirty slave cunt.  Do you understand?"


       “No, master,” Mariah said.  “I don’t know what an orgasm is.”


       “What the dog did in your mouth,” Master Jonas said.  Mariah was still confused.  She didn’t have  a penis.  How could she do that, or want it? 


       Master Jonas said no more.  He let go of Mariah’s hand and of her breast, and untied her legs and her other hand.  "I want you to turn over on your back and relax."  Mariah thought briefly about running.  Even if Master Jonas caught her immediately, he would take time to tie her down and to punish her.  That would surely run the clock.  But she dismissed the idea.  This is only a mindgame, she told herself.  She turned over.


       Master Jonas moved her hair off her shoulder.  Taking a bottle from his waistpack, he squirted her shoulders with oil and began to massage them, deeply, starting with the triangles next to her neck.  Mariah willed herself to fight him.  "Shsh," Master Jonas said, his fingers biting painfully into her muscles, "I told you to relax.  Disobedience won't help you."  Mariah continued to fight him, and he squeezed harder, causing a shooting pain in her head.  He pulled back and she gave in. 


      He went back to massaging her gently, soothing the muscles he had just tortured.  "Good girl," he said softly.  "You can't resist me."  He poured more oil onto her shoulders, rubbing gently in deep circles.  After a long time he moved slowly down her back, circling and then pushing his fingers deeply into her shoulder blades.  Mariah’s muscles spasmed and then suddenly relaxed into jelly.  "Good girl," Master Jonas said again, slowly moving down her spine, inch by inch, adding oil as he went, then pressing his fists gently into her lower back.  Moving lower still, he massaged both cheeks of her bottom, carefully oiling all over and in her crack.  He slid a slippery finger into her asshole, not too fast and not too hard.  Mariah whimpered.  "Shsh," Master Jonas said.  "That doesn't hurt, does it?"


       "No, Master," Mariah whispered.  Master Jonas pulled his finger out and went back to massaging her bottom cheeks, his thumbs between them and his fingers outside.  When another sound escaped her mouth, he moved down her left leg, covering it inch by inch with oil and his massaging hands.  Then he returned to her bottom, rubbing it again, again putting a finger in her asshole, this time a little deeper.  Mariah whimpered again, but this time not with fear but because it felt so, so good.  Master Jonas moved his finger in and out of her ass, slowly, not hurting her.  Then, so slowly, he brought his hands down her right leg, all the way to her toes.


       "Turn over," he ordered her in a soft, husky voice.  Mariah hastened to comply.  He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.  "Slowly," he said, and he helped her turn onto her back and respread her legs.  Then, for what seemed like a long time to Mariah, he simply looked her in the eye, not touching her.  Mariah was afraid to look away, but also afraid she would get lost in him.  Almost imperceptibly he moved his head towards her and kissed her on the lips, opening her mouth his tongue, slowly exploring the inside of her upper lip.  The ache in Mariah's again vagina flared to a burning.  She groaned.  Master Jonas continued to kiss her, moving his hands to her neck, softly. He blew in her ear, as his hands found her breasts and caressed them gently, like butterflies.  Mariah heard a noise and realized it was herself, whimpering.


       "Where do you feel it?"  Master Jonas whispered in her ear.


       "Please, master, everywhere," Mariah said.


       "Here?" Master Jonas asked, gently cupping her pubic triangle with his hand.  She could only nod. 


       Master Jonas returned his hand to Mariah's breast, massaging it slightly harder than before, and then placed his lips over her nipple, sucking.  Mariah groaned out loud, over and over again. 


      With his other hand, Master Jonas slowly rubbed her all the way down her belly, back to her pubic bone, which he gently ran his fingers over, tickling her.  He placed his forefinger at the entrance to her vagina, but did not push in.  Rather, he moved his finger up her slit, slowly, stopping before he touched her clitoris, and then back down to her vagina.  He repeated this action, again, again, and again. Mariah’s sex place was soaking, as if she had peed.  Slowly Master Jonas moved his finger back up towards her clitoris, and stopped without touching it.  Not able to help herself, Mariah raised her hips, seeking contact.  Master Jonas moved his hand away.  He lifted his lips from her breast.  "Beg me for it," he said.


       In the corner of her mind that was able to retain control, to think rationally, Mariah thought of fighting.  But she knew this was the mindgame.  "Please, Master," she said.  "Please."


       Master Jonas returned to toying with her slit.  "Beg me to make you come," he said.  "Beg me to prove that you are a slave."  His finger came slowly up her slit, again stopping before her clitoris.


       "I beg you, Master," Mariah said.  "Make me come.  I am a slave."  With her left hand, Mariah crossed her fingers. 


      Slowly, Master Jonas moved his finger away from her clitoris and into the entrance of her vagina, not very deeply, and vibrated it there.  Then he took it back up the slippery path of her slit, and kept going, circling around her hard button, again, and again, closer and closer, until finally he was circling on top of her clitoris itself.  A convulsion shook Mariah, wave after wave.  Dimly she heard Master Jonas laugh, and felt him push his finger all the way into her vagina, which spasmed around it.  It hurt, but the pleasure was overwhelming, like a dream of freedom.          




       


CHAPTER 16:  OF FLOWERS AND HORSES


       Mariah held the crook of Gabriel’s arm.  She tried not to lean on it too heavily.  She could feel his warmth radiating through his shirtsleeve.  He smelled good.  Clean, like rain.  She had never particularly noticed the smell of a master before, except their breath when it was hot and rancid on her face.  The memory of Master Jonas flashed through her mind.  Involuntarily she clutched harder at Master Gabriel’s arm.

       He was telling her something about flowers.  Nasturtiums.  There was a bed of them, red and yellow and orange.  Their cheerfulness assaulted Mariah.  Edible, Gabriel was saying.  Spicy.  Then he turned to her and his face relaxed from earnest to gentle.  “You’re tired,” he said.  And she was.  He led her back to the wheelchair, which they had left by the entrance to the mansion.  It was no more than fifty yards from the nasturtiums, but by the time they got there Mariah was shaking.


      Just as she had sat down heavily, a runner came panting up to them, fell on his knees before Gabriel, and offered up a folded note.  Gabriel read it, frowned, and turned to Mariah.  "There's been an accident at the stable where I keep my horse," he said.  "I haven't time to take you home, and I daren't leave you here. Will you come?" 


       "I am yours to comm..." Mariah started to say.  But Gabriel gave her a look, and she was so tired.  "Yes, my lord," she amended.


       If Gabriel noted Mariah's brief concession to the mindgame, he gave no sign.  He started to push her chair over the grass, but it was bumpy and slow.  He backtracked to the paved walkway.  There was a slight curb onto the pavement which jolted the chair, giving Mariah a shock of pain through her ribs that made her gasp.  Gabriel ignored her, half-running with the chair towards the perimeter of the lawn and taking a right towards the stables.


       When the building came into view, Gabriel stopped, panting from his exertion.  He ran his fingers through his hair and breathed deeply several times.  Then he began to push Mariah's wheel contraption again, this time at a firm walk.


       They turned the corner to the building.  A slave cunt, with auburn flyaway hair, and so short that at first Mariah thought she was still a farm slave, ran up to them and skidded to her knees before them.  "Get up, Jordan," Gabriel said without breaking his stride, "and tell me what happened."


       Jordan rose without hesitation.  "It's Remarque," she said.  "He was riding Plantana out of the stable when something spooked her and she threw him.  He hit the back of his head on Master Stefan's glass window and was cut bad when it shattered.  Master Stefan won't let the vet look at him. He's waiting for you."


       As she said this they turned the corner into the stable.  A group of slaves were hovering near the entrance.  Gabriel started to push Mariah's wheel contraption through but stopped and turned to Jordan.  "This is Mariah," he said.  "Take care of her."


       Jordan nodded.  "Of course, my lord," she said respectfully.


       Gabriel hesitated for a moment, looking from Mariah to the crowd and back.  "Keep her out of trouble."


       Jordan nodded again.  "Don't worry, master," she said.  She flashed him a smile but looked towards the crowd.


       Gabriel gave her a little nod, and plunged into the circle of people.  They parted to let him through.


      A slave dick was laying flat on the ground on his back.  Master Stefan was kneeling on the ground next to him, naked from the waist up, holding his blood-soaked shirt to the area where the slave’s neck met his left shoulder.  When Stefan saw Gabriel he let out of a sigh of relief.  "Thank the first oath that idiot runner found you," he said, sounding ragged. 


       Gabriel knelt on the ground next to Stefan.  "How long ago did it happen?" he asked.


       "Half an hour or more," Stefan answered,  his voice cracking.


       Gabriel laid two fingers on the slave's pulse on the other side of his neck from the cut.  Then he looked at Stefan.  "I have a new rule," he said.  "I'll look at this slave in return for your promise not to punish him for a full moon cycle." 


       Stefan's eyes bugged out.  "You would bargain with me while he might be dying, Healer?" he asked.  When Gabriel said nothing, Stefan said, "Yes, yes, I agree.  Do what you can for him."


       Gabriel looked glanced back over towards Mariah and gave her a smile with the side of his mouth facing away from Stefan. He reached into his medicine pouch for a gel that he rubbed over his hands.  At the same time he looked down at the slave and said softly, "Remarque."  The slave blinked opened his eyes. "Do you know who I am?" Gabriel asked.


      “The outlander,” Remarque said, his voice hoarse. 

     

      Gabriel nodded.  He held two fingers a few inches above Remarque’s face and moved them slowly side to side.  “What are the names of the horses you take care of?” he asked.

     

      “Tracey, Tender, Racer . . .  “ Remarque said.  “That devil Plantana.”  His eyes followed Gabriel’s fingers. 

     

      Gabriel gave a small sigh of relief.  "You're going to be fine.  You've a nasty cut on your neck but you missed the artery.  I’ll fix you right up." 


       "How can you tell that he missed the artery?" Stefan asked in a worried undertone. “You haven’t even looked.” 


       Gabriel said shortly, "If he had cut the artery he'd be dead by now.  I was more concerned about a concussion."  He looked around, craning to see past the slaves around him.  "He’s lost too much blood to sit up, but I need him higher to stitch him cleanly.  Have you a table?"


      "My desk," Stefan said, indicating the office behind them. 


      Gabriel looked around, and nodded.  Without an order being given, two of the slaves hurried into the office and cleaned off the desk.  Gabriel directed several of the others to gently lift Remarque, while Stefan kept pressure on his neck.  When they had laid him into the desk, Gabriel went to the back of the building to wash his hands. 


      He returned with a bucket of clean water.  Seemingly unhurriedly, he poured white powder from two packets he took from his medicine pouch into the bucket and stirred it.  When he was done, he reached again into his medicine bag and took out a bandage and a pair of scissors.  He began to cut Stefan's shirt until only the part directly over Remarque’s wound remained.  Then he indicated to Stefan to remove his hand from the makeshift bandage.  He nodded, pleased.  "You stopped most of the bleeding yourself," he said.         

       

       He slowly began to wash away the remaining cloth from the wound.  Remarque groaned and moved his head.  Gabriel instructed Stefan to hold the slave's head still, and said to Remarque, "This is going to pinch.  You’ve lost so much blood that I can’t give you anything to numb it.”  He waited for Remarque’s eyes to meet his.  “A man who can handle a horse like Racer can handle this.  But I won’t start until you’re ready.” 


      Remarque looked away from Gabriel.  A blonde slave, slightly taller than Jordan, pushed her way next to the desk and took his hand.  Remarque relaxed.  “I’m ready, Master,” he said. 

     

      Gabriel nodded at Stefan, who tightened his grip around Remarque’s head, keeping it still.  Remarque’s eyes widened with fear.  The blonde said, conversationally, “Guess who I saw at the pond yesterday.”  Remarque looked her way, and the cunt began to tell a long, meandering story about a feral dog. 

     

       Gabriel slowly washed away the remains of Stefan's shirt that stuck to the wound.  Using a cup, he poured some of the mixture from the bucket over it, letting the blood and water mix.  When he was satisfied that there would be no infection, he sewed up the wound and placed a loose bandage over it.  All the while, the cunt continued telling Remarque her long story. 


       When at last he finished, Gabriel put his tools back in an outside pocket of his medicine bag.  He took Remarque's free hand.  "You're going to be fine," he said. "But you need to take it easy for at least a week.  That means no work."  Gabriel was looking at Stefan as he said this, and Stefan nodded.  "The stitches will come out in ten days.  After that, we'll see."


       Gabriel packed up his bag.  Suddenly he jumped and began to look about him as if he had misplaced something important. His gaze came to rest on Mariah, who was sitting quietly in the wheel contraption, and he relaxed.  "Can Remarque borrow your chair?" he asked.  "The sleeping quarters are in back, and he can’t walk it."


       Mariah jumped precipitously up without saying anything, and watched as the other stable hands helped Remarque into the chair.  Most went with him and Gabriel as he was wheeled towards the back of the building, Gabriel talking in a low voice to Stefan. 


      Mariah found herself alone with Jordan.  "Don't you want to go with them?" she asked ungraciously.


       Jordan shrugged.  "Your master told me to stay with you," she said.  She added a little mischievously, "And to keep you out of trouble."


       Mariah scowled.  "If your master knew the kind of trouble I am, he'd beat you just for talking to me."


       To Mariah's surprise, Jordan laughed.  "Master Stefan knows," she said.  "You're the kind of trouble that would keep Master Gabriel from his horse for half a moon cycle."  Impulsively she took Mariah's hand and said, "I began to think I would never lay eyes on you.  I half-wondered if you were a mindgame."


       Mariah recoiled, which hurt and made her scowl.  Jordan continued, a little contritely, "I knew Master Gabriel wouldn't lie.  But were you really outside the wall?"


       Mariah nodded, her thunder stolen.  "I've seen the wall," Jordan said in a low voice, conspiratorially.    

       Mariah shrugged scornfully.  "Some slaves grow up within sight of the wall," she said.  "But they never go outside it." 


       Jordan frowned angrily.  But she saw Mariah sway, and a quick look of understanding crossed her face.  "We can wait in Master's office," she said.  "He won't mind."  She started to take Mariah's arm but she pulled away.


       "I can take care of myself," she hissed.


       Jordan shrugged and stepped back, indicating that Mariah should precede her back into Master Stefan's office.  Inside, Jordan sat down on a divan chair placed against the inside wall, with a tilt of her head indicating that Mariah should sit next to her.  Mariah lowered herself slowly, as if it made no difference to her.  They sat in silence for a few minutes, each stubbornly staring straight ahead. 


       At last Mariah said, "You trust him, don't you?"


       Jordan looked confused for a moment but then said simply, "Master Gabriel?  Yes, I do." 


       "Why?" Mariah demanded.


       Jordan considered.  At length she said, "I can show you better than I can tell you.  But you have to let me help you walk, or I won't do it."


       Mariah scowled, and then nodded.  Leaning on Jordan, she walked out of Master Stefan's office and into the stable.  Mariah pretended not to be awed by the large animals as they passed, and if Jordan noticed that she clutched at her arm she did not mention it.


       Jordan stepped into a stall on the right.  Mariah started to follow her but stopped short when she saw a large horse turn and walk towards Jordan, pushing its face into her shoulder to nuzzle.  Jordan kissed the horse between its eyes and petted its neck.  She turned to Mariah.  "Look at her," she said softly.  "Her spirit is completely unbroken, yet she is as trusting as a child raised by its mother."


       Mariah watched blankly until comprehension awoke.  "This is Master Gabriel's horse?" she asked.


       Before Jordan could respond, Master Stefan answered from behind her, "Ridden from the far ends of the earth for the express purpose of rescuing you, it appears." 


       Mariah fell to her knees, painfully. Stefan's sardonic half smile turned to a complete frown.  "Get up," he said.  "Gabriel's done enough for me this day that I won't have you hurting yourself in these stables."


       Mariah stood up tall, stubbornly refusing to lean against the wall of the stall for support.  Stefan looked her appraisingly up and down.  "Pity you were ruined instead of making a stable hand," he said.  "We could've turned that bravado into courage."


       Mariah retorted, "If you'd have taught me to ride, I wouldn't come crawling back here every evening, waiting for your lash to fall."


       Jordan gasped, but Stefan just laughed meanly.  He turned to the back of the stable and said sarcastically, "Well, Gabriel, I can certainly see how her charms would snare you so." 


       Gabriel came into view pushing the wheel contraption.  He looked tired and sad, and a shared feeling of contrition came over the three others.  Jordan walked up to him and quietly lay her hand on top of his on the handlebar behind the chair.  "Is there anything I can do for you, Master?" she asked.  As Gabriel smiled a little and shook his head, to Mariah's shock she felt a stab of jealousy, as if she should be the one debasing herself so.  Gabriel's eyes met hers, and his smile seemed to include her.


       "You'd better sit in this contraption, Mariah," he said, "or I might take your place and have you push me home." 


       Mariah obeyed, shamefaced.  As she sat, Gabriel reminded Stefan of his care instructions for the invalid.  Stefan, for once neither sardonic nor sarcastic, said, "Gabriel, I thank you.  A vet would have killed him, I know..."


       Gabriel started to wheel Mariah towards the stable exit.  "Treat him well," he said.  "That will be thanks enough." 




CHAPTER 17:  COMING ALONG


       Mariah awoke dizzy and disoriented.  Thinking she was late for the fields, she tried to jump up but her limbs were bound.  In pieces she remembered the horse ride, the waiting room, being chosen by Master Jonas, and finally what he had done to her--when?  This morning?  Yesterday?  She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.  She heard Master Jonas' laugh, and saw him approaching her.  "Well, no question you're a cunt, huh, girl?"  he said.  He placed his hand on her crotch and pressed his index finger into her vagina.  She was still gooey there, but his finger was large and it hurt.  Mariah whimpered.  Master Jonas laughed again.  He pulled his finger out, quickly, and it hurt as much as it had going on.


      Master Jonas unbuttoned his pants and took out penis.  Mariah stared at it, puzzled and afraid.  It did not look like the penises of the slaveboys she had grown up with.  Theirs were soft and smallish, like a floppy thumb.  Master Jonas’s was stiff and big and pointed at her.  He rubbed it and it seemed to get even larger and stiffer.

     

      Suddenly Master Jonas flung his body on top of hers so that they were lined up, face to face, chest to chest, groin to groin.  "I gave you pleasure," he whispered to her.  "Now you pleasure me."  He pressed against her body, biting at her ear.  His hand pressed against her hip and her pubic bone, hurting her. 

     

      Mariah thought Master Jonas was putting his finger back inside her, but she realized it was something much bigger.  It tore her.  She groaned and tried futilely to wiggle away.  Master Jonas' weight on top of her pinned her down.  It hurt. 

     

      Mariah tried to calm herself, to think, but the pain was too much.  A groan escaped from her.  Suddenly the pain below subsided somewhat as Master Jonas himself gave a throaty groan and one final shove, and then sprawled on top of Mariah, sleeping.  Mariah felt more disgusted by his face near hers than when he had tortured her with the dog; but, free of immediate pain, was able to gain control of her mind and her body.  She lay still.  "It's just a mindgame," she told herself.  Indeed, the rape was less painful than many thrashings she had been given, and certainly quicker. 


       After an eternity Master Jonas stirred and opened his eyes.  "Kiss me," he said to Mariah, his voice husky.  Mariah pursed her lips and pecked him on the cheek.  Master Jonas laughed softly.  "Like this," he said, and, placing his mouth on hers, parted her lips with his tongue and softly explored her mouth.  To her horror Mariah felt a ticklish sensation in her clitoris.  She tried to pull back but this was impossible.  Master Jonas shifted his position slightly so that his penis rubbed her cunt area as he continued to kiss her.  She felt wetness down there, and felt his penis grow against her inner thigh, but he did not enter her, not yet.  He cupped her face with his hands so that it was as immobilized as her body, and continued to softly kiss her.  His penis poked at her.  It was rubbing her clitoris now.  Just as she was sure she would orgasm again, Master Jonas raised his hips and reentered her vagina, but slowly this time.  Still sore, she cried out, but the sound was muffled by Master Jonas' own mouth.  He pulled his head back. "Shsh," he said, and kissed her again as he pushed his penis forward.  Suddenly, despite the pain in her cunt, Mariah came.  Master Jonas continued to kiss her and to fuck her slowly, until she came again, and again.  Master Jonas gave a great thrust with his penis, and a gasp, and, as before, collapsed on top of Mariah. 


***


       Gabriel was in a foul mood when he left his clinic.  Two teenagers who had started internships with him the previous week had neither showed up nor sent word.  The clinic was bursting with what Animal dismissively called the “wart cases” – kids with acne, women with wrinkles, men with athlete’s foot.  Wash your face, smile less, rub it with garlic, he wanted to scream at them. 


       And of course there was the usual assortment of battered slaves.  Each master or mistress promised that they would neither punish nor torture their slaves for a month if Gabriel would treat them, but there was one man who he had treated for infected cuts the week before who was now back with a broken finger.  His mistress was astonished that Gabriel remembered him, since “really, they are all alike.”  Gabriel splinted his finger anyway, and watched in disgust as the slave licked his mistress’s shoes.


       At least, he thought, while Mariah stayed under his care she would come to no further harm.  She, at least, he could heal and protect.  Maybe he couldn’t give her freedom, but he could give her safety. As he so often did, he remembered her eyes as they had looked when he had first seen her:  fierce, wild, free.  He smiled.  He would heal her, and she would look that way again. 


       He entered his apartment.  Animal and Rose were mixing pigments at the table, and Mariah was doing a breathing exercise he had taught her.  Animal and Rose greeted him.  Mariah said nothing, but her face flushed.  Gabriel said hello and then threw himself on the couch and stretched out, putting his arm over his eyes.         


      Animal cleared his throat.  “Umm, Gabriel?” he said.  When Gabriel looked at him, Animal pointed at the floor by the couch.  Mariah was prostrating herself there.

     

      Gabriel’s body reacted before his mind, scooting away from her. “What in the hell are you doing?” he asked.  Mariah didn’t answer, but her body trembled.

     

      “That’s the position a slave takes when she wants permission to speak,” Animal said mildly.

     

      “What?”  Gabriel said.  He looked down at Mariah.  If she injured herself by twisting herself into some ridiculous position her body wasn’t ready for . . .  His days without sleep, caring for her. . . .  The hours and hours of physical therapy he did with her. . . .  Her eyes . . . .

     

      “No,” he said, his voice low and harsh.  “I do not give you permission to speak.  If you want to talk to me you get up and look me in the eye.”

     

      Mariah sat up, her face hot.  Gabriel put his hand under her shoulder and practically lifted her onto the couch.  “That’s better,” he growled.  “Now, what?”

     

      Mariah fought to master herself.  She would not sulk.  She forced herself to raise her eyes to Gabriel’s, and to ask the question that had been on her mind since they left the stables that morning.  “What you did for Remarque . . .  Did you always know how to heal?” she blurted. Her face cracked, and she looked down, too embarrassed to meet Gabriel’s eyes any longer. 

     

      “Of course not,” Gabriel snapped.  “I studied hard from the time I was a boy to learn my skills.”  

     

      Mariah cleared her throat.  “Why?” she asked.  “Did you have to?”

     

      Gabriel drew a deep breath and then expelled it quickly.  “When I was a boy, my mother was pregnant with my sister,” he said.  “She went into labor early, too early.  The midwife was far away.  My father sent me for the local healer instead.  It took me a long time to track him down, and when I finally found him, he was drunk.  Too drunk to help.”  His throat closed up suddenly and his eyes stung, but he continued.  “My father delivered the baby, but he couldn’t stop my mother’s blood.  He couldn’t save her.”  Mariah’s eyes were riveted on him when he continued, “I swore then that I would be a healer, that I would always be available to help those who needed me.” 

     

      “Always?”  Animal broke in softly.  “You’ve never been drunk, or . . .”

     

      Gabriel shook his head.  “What if it’s someone else’s mother and I can’t help?  I can’t take that chance.”

     

      Animal stared at him.  “You’ll put yourself in an early grave, man, and then you’ll be no use to anyone.”     

     

      Gabriel snapped at him,  “Then you can paint a pretty picture in my memory, and everyone will give you the praise you want.” 

     

      There was silence in the room as the two man glared at each other.  “Sorry,” Gabriel muttered.  Animal shrugged.

     

      Rose cleared her throat.  She asked Animal, softly, “Did you always know that you wanted to be a painter?” 

     

      Animal gave her a half smile.  “When I was a boy my tutor took me to the museum.  There was an old painting there, from the ancients.  A picture of stars boiling in the night sky.”  Rose nodded.  She knew that painting.  “It made me feel something,” Animal said.  “It moved me.  And that’s when I knew I wanted to be an artist.”

     

      “So you could feel?”  Rose asked.

     

      Animal shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “To make others feel.”  He stood up and looked at one of his pictures hanging on the wall, of a boy playing ball with his nanny.  “But they never do.  My paintings can’t compete with the thrill of torturing a slave.”  He glared at Rose, who looked down.  He stalked out the patio door, closing it behind him with a thud.  Gabriel stood and headed out the door to the corridor, slamming it behind him.   

     

      The silence in the room thudded in Mariah’s ears.  “So masters can suffer,” she said to Rose.  “It’s nothing compared to what we go through.”

     

      “You’re wrong,” said Rose softly. “It’s something,”


***


       Mariah lost track of the days and nights in the factory.  She only knew that Master Jonas came periodically to rape her, sometimes giving her pleasure and sometimes not.  Then she found herself coming even when he was simply brutal.  Her body began to yearn for him even when he was not near.  She could not understand it.  Was it, as Master Jonas said, that she was indeed born to be a slave?  No! she told herself fiercely. 


       Master Jonas taught Mariah to pleasure him with her cunt, and her mouth, and her ass, and her breasts, and her hands.  If she did not learn quickly enough he beat her, sometimes while another slave licked at her cunt.  After a time his beatings started to make her tingle even if no one was pleasuring her.  "It's the mindgame," Mariah told herself, even as she wondered desperately how she could be so far reduced. 



***


      Gabriel took another sip of the cinnamon tea Rose had prepared.  He allowed himself to enjoy the almost unbelievable luxury of it.  He had tasted the spice once in Harmony, in an early apprenticeship, and had never expected to be so privileged again.  In Harmony the ancient twigs were carefully hoarded for diabetics and women with difficult pregnancies. 

     

      The fact that Riviera had enormous greenhouses for the laurel trees from which the spice was harvested was astonishing and humbling.  The trees were of myth and legend, native to continents Gabriel was not sure even existed. 

     

      Abruptly he thought of Carmen, the reason – or excuse – for his journey.  He had made no progress with her.  She did her exercises if he stood over her, but seemed to consider them a diversion at most.  She refused to try a wheelchair which, although it would add no strength to her legs, would give her some freedom of movement which may leave her wanting more.  He had reasoned, ordered, cajoled, and appealed to the Bearer, Carmen’s father, but nothing had made an impact.

     

      The door to Mariah’s bedroom creaked and Gabriel turned towards it.  He was embarrassed by his behavior the day before.  Mariah looked at him, and nodded.  “Are we walking today?” she asked him casually. 

     

      Gabriel smiled at her, relieved that she was not inclined to hold his bad behavior against him.  “Actually, I have a favor to ask you,” he said. 

     

       "I am yours to command, Master," she said.


       Gabriel rolled his eyes.  "I wanted to ask you,” he said with emphasis, “if you would come with me to the Bearer's quarters and meet my young charge, Carmen.”


       “If you wish it, my lord,” Mariah said. 


       Gabriel sighed.  “I do wish it,” he said. “But I wish you to wish it as well.”  


       “I wish to be free,” Mariah thought.  But she merely said, “I wish it with all my heart, my lord.”  But before he could show his disgust, or change his mind, she gave him the smallest shadow of a smile. 


       Gabriel pushed Mariah in the wheelchair towards the Bearer’s suite, his mood dampening with every step.


       The doorman stepped aside to let them enter.  Children, some squabbling with each other and others torturing slaves, were littered about the large room.  The Bearer's wife sat in a chair by a low-burning fire, toying with a dick's anus with a cold poker.  Bent over at the waist and grasping his ankles, he stood passively until she gave a hard shove and he lost his balance.  Still he did not let go of his ankles, but did a forward roll and landed on his side.  The Bearer's wife sighed, bored, and looked away.  One of the children, backing away in a game of tag, tripped over the fallen slave and squealed and then kicked him hard with all her young might.


       Unconsciously Mariah shrank down in her chair.  She had grown accustomed to the calm and controlled environment of Gabriel's mindgame.  The chaos threatened to overwhelm her.  She felt Gabriel's hand on her shoulder and heard him take a breath to steady himself.  "Ready?" he asked her in an undertone.  She nodded, her lips pressed together.  He wheeled her forward into the Bearer's living quarters.  A dick quietly presented himself in front of them, falling respectfully to his knees and placing his forehead on the ground.


       "How does she fare, Turbo?" Gabriel asked him. 


       Turbo answered without raising his head, "She's in a mood, Master." 


       Gabriel frowned as he saw that the slave was quivering and that his back was crossed with fresh whipmarks.  "Look at me, Turbo," Gabriel said quietly.  Reluctantly the slave kneeled up.  One of his eyes was blackened and swollen shut, and his chest down to his knees was covered with cuts.  Even his penis was cut and bleeding.


       "Who did this to you?" Gabriel asked.  "Carmen doesn't have the strength." 


       "No, master," Turbo answered.  "She ordered Hector to do it."


       "Why?" Gabriel asked.  “I know your devotion to her.” 


       Before Turbo could answer, a young mistress was carried up in the arms of two dicks.  She said meanly, "Answer him, Turbo. Tell him the truth about what a slut you are."


       Turbo, looking at the floor, said in a low voice, "I came without permission." 


       The mistress continued, "And how much longer would you have had to have waited before I gave you permission?"


       Turbo almost sobbed.  "Just one minute, mistress." He added, tearfully, "I'm sorry, mistress.  Georgia's blow jobs are that good.  I couldn't help myself." 


       The young mistress set her lips together in an angry line. "Who told Georgia to give you that good blow job?" she demanded.


       "You did, mistress," Turbo said.


       The mistress turned to one of the slaves who held her.  "Put me down and rape him in the ass, hard," she said.  She added to him, "You can come whenever you want." 


       "You will not!" Gabriel roared, so loud that for a moment there was silence in the room as everyone turned towards him in surprise.  But Carmen just looked at him insolently. 


       "You forget yourself, Healer," she said.  "I am the Bearer's daughter.  You are here on my errand."  She had the look of her father at his most imperious.


       Gabriel faced her silently for a moment and said at length, "I forget nothing, Carmen.  You are a child and I am a man, and you will show me proper respect."


       Mariah felt her blood chilled, as she felt before a great punishment.  She had never seen such hardness in her master, or such anger.  Another master would surely have his hand on his whip.


       But Carmen's own rage was unaffected.  "Or you'll what?" she asked venomously.  "Refuse to heal me?  You've no more skill than one of our vets anyway." 


       For a moment there was total silence in the room, except for Gabriel’s hard breathing.  At length he said, speaking deliberately, "Not only will I refuse to treat you, I shall refuse to amuse you."  He looked Carmen in the eye until she looked down.  He turned slowly, and wheeling Mariah, walked out the door. 


       When Carmen saw that he really meant to go, she screeched after him, but, except for his ears turning red, he gave no sign that he had heard.  At the sound that could only be a whip hitting flesh, followed by a groan from  Turbo, Mariah felt his step falter as he pushed her chair, but only slightly.  Not until he had turned off the endless corridor to a side passageway, a shortcut to his suite, did he stop.


       Sitting on a bench in the corridor, he put his face in his hands.


      “What is Turbo to you, my lord?” Mariah asked him.

     

      “What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, raising his head to look at her.

     

      “Did you own him once? I mean . . . why do you care what happens to him?” 

     

      Gabriel leaned forward and took Marian’s hand.  He looked her in the eye with that same unrelenting look he had given Carmen.  Mariah’s heart pounded from the force of it, but she did not look away.

     

      “He is a human being,” Gabriel said slowly. 

     

      “No,” Mariah said.  “He is a slave.” 

     

      “They call you a slave, too,” Gabriel responded.  “But don’t you feel pain?  And hope?  And despair? And love?  That’s what makes us all human.”

     

      Mariah shook her head and pulled her hand from Gabriel’s.  “I never feel love,” she said. 




CHAPTER 18:  Arousal


       There was a rhythm to life in the factory that Mariah came to know very well.  Food three times a day.  Relieving herself three times a day.  Exercise time once a day, now fully naked and in a larger courtyard with the other slaves who had been broken in. Five minute cold shower with her exercise cohort.  Mariah was diligent about these physical tasks, determined to stay healthy for...she had no idea what came next. But she intended to survive it, whatever it was.


       She was no longer tied down, and the chain shackled to her ankle was long enough to allow her to venture several feet.  After a while she became familiar with the slaves in the cubicles near to her own, and with the comings and goings of the masters and mistresses.  She learned that, just like in the fields, rules could be quietly bent, if you were careful, and she sometimes had conversations with the others.  There was an exercise yard master who was lazy, and overlooked small infractions. 


       Mariah learned that all the slaves were, like her, new from the fields where they had spent their lives.  All had been told the same thing by the master or mistress in charge of them in the factory: that if they could refrain from an orgasm for only an hour, they would be human beings and not slaves.  Mariah avoided those who were downcast at failing the test; they, she felt, could not be trusted.  Of the others, some admitted softly that they had not arrived as virgins, but had been initiated into sex in the fields, by their masters or mistresses or even by members of their cohorts.  So they had no hope to start off with.


       One day in the exercise yard after Master Jonas had made Mariah come several times by lowering her cunt onto a greased wooden pole attached vertically to a board on the floor and then whipping her bottom while she writhed on it, Mariah voiced the question she had been asking herself over and over again:  How was it possible to have so little control over her own body?


       "Don't you know?" Jeffers, a dick with whom she was friendly, asked.  "It's something they put in our gruel.”


       Mariah slowed her jog to a walk and stared at him.  She felt her face turn red, then white.  Master Jonas had lied to her; she did not come because she was weak, a slave cunt; but because of yet another mindgame.  Then she realized that despite herself until this moment she had half-believed, the filthy lies he had told her.


       The exercise master whipped Mariah's already welted bottom, startling her.  She jumped and began her run again, her anger giving her energy to catch up and then pass Jeffers.  She ran the laps quickly until her exercise hour was up and she was herded to the shower.        

 

***



       Mariah lay down for her usual afternoon nap, but she found she wasn’t tired.  She stared restlessly around the room, listening to Animal rustle around in the living quarters and then open and close the door to the corridor, followed by silence.  She sat up and did her breathing exercises.  Gabriel had told her that she could not do them too often. 


      She could feel the breath expand in her body, as Gabriel had taught her to notice.  Her chest was hurting less.  The rest of her wounds were as good as healed.  Her arm hadn’t bothered her for weeks.  Her scabs had mostly shrunk into scars, and even they were fading.  The mirror in the bathroom told her that her face was no longer bruised and swollen, and her hair had started to grow back where it had been yanked out. She still tired easily, but not as easily as she pretended.  And today she felt positively strong. 


       Restlessly she walked to the door of her sleeping quarters and opened it.  She was greeted with silence.  Quietly she walked into the living area, and looked around.  It was meticulously, almost cloyingly clean.  As a houseslave Mariah had always done as poor a job as she possibly could and still escape punishment; and since almost every other slave did the same that was a poor job indeed.  She rolled her eyes at the thought of Rose taking such care.


       She glanced at Animal’s paintings hanging on the walls.  A bowl of peaches, a slave mowing the great lawn, a field of wildflowers.  She liked that one.  It looked inviting.


       A dart of light struck the wildflower painting, startling her.  She looked around for its source and realized that sunlight from the courtyard window was bouncing off the gold do not molest bracelet Gabriel had placed on her wrist some time ago.  She stared at it for a moment, then glanced quickly around the apartment to reassure herself that she was alone.  She crossed to the door to the corridor, opened it, and looked both ways.  The hall was empty.  She stepped out and closed the door behind her, and began to walk, her heart hammering. 


       When she came to the busier main corridor, she lowered her eyes, slouched her shoulders, and let her hair fall onto her face.  No one paid her any mind.  She hesitated only for a moment before turning toward the main entrance hall. 


       She wondered what she would she do when she got there?  Walk outside, all the way to the wall mile after mile away?  She was tired already, and the hammering of her heart was making her chest hurt.  No, it was not time to run again, not yet.  She had just made up her mind to turn back when she heard her name. 


       “Mariah!”  It was Master Gabriel, walking with another master who Mariah did not know.  Gabriel acted as though it was the most natural, and happy, event in the world to meet his slave in the corridor, on no errand he had set for her.  He hurried toward her, smiling.  “It’s good to see you up and about!” he said.  “Where are you going?” 

     

      While Mariah tried frantically to think of a lie she straightened up, shook the hair off her face, and looked Master Gabriel in the eye.  Of course she could have no errand; she had no duties.  Keep it simple.  “I wanted to find some sorrel, to surprise you,” she said, daring him to challenge her.  But Gabriel just looked puzzled. 

     

      He turned to his companion, a tall, somewhat chubby man with reddish brown hair cropped short.  “This is Roland.  He’s a healer.  He wants to help me out in my clinic, and see what he can learn.”

     

      “Not a healer, just a vet,” Roland corrected him.  He looked at Mariah quizzically. “Is that the runaway?” he asked.  “I’ve heard about her . . . and by the looks of it she’s still running.” 

     

      “Nonsense,” said Gabriel.  “She’s testing her legs.”  He smiled at Mariah warmly.  Oh, it was good to see that proud, defiant look, even if the girl was acting the fool.  There were times when he had despaired that he would ever see it again.

     

      Gabriel’s practiced eyes also saw the slight tremor in Mariah’s legs. She was tired. “If you don’t mind,” he said to her, “I’ll come with you.  I need some air.”  He turned to Roland.  “Join us?” he said.

     

      Roland shook his head emphatically no, raised up his hands, and backed away.  “I don’t socialize with slaves,” he said.

     

      “You can’t heal them if you don’t talk to them,” said Gabriel, but Roland was already walking away.  “There’s another one that won’t show up at the clinic,” he said a little ruefully to Mariah.  He took her hand and started towards the entrance hall.  “Would you mind if we sit for a minute before we go herb hunting?” he asked.  “I’ve been on my feet for hours and I’m tired.” 

     

      “I am yours to command, my lord,” said Mariah.

     

      Gabriel snorted and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.  “And if I commanded you to stop taking foolish risks?”

     

      “My lord?” said Mariah, all deliberate innocence, although her hand grasped his arm ever so slightly tighter.

     

      Gabriel led her to a recessed window about three feet above the floor.  He turned so he was facing her, picked her up gently, and sat her down on the sill.  He put one hand on each side of her legs and looked at her gravely.

     

      “You’re not up to full strength yet, Mariah.  Far from it.  And even I know a beautiful slave girl wandering the corridors alone is not safe.”

     

      “Then it’s lucky I’m ugly,” Mariah said.

     

      Gabriel laughed, and then gave a double take, realizing she was serious.  “You think that?”  He took half a step closer, so that his toes were up against the wall and he was standing between her knees.   “With those green blazing eyes?”  He leaned in and put his hands on her thighs. “And that perfect chin?” 

     

      Mariah was transfixed by his eyes, by his voice, by his hands on her.  She suddenly understood what Rose has said in the bathtub, about not being dried up.  She stared at him and he stared back.  Entranced, she leaned towards him, to taste him.

     

      But Gabriel stepped back abruptly, taking his hands off her.  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a little shaky.  What was he doing?  He knew better.

     

      “I’m fully trained, Master,” Mariah was saying stiffly.  “And my cunt is healed.  You needn’t fear using me.”

     

      Now Gabriel colored.  “You may be trained to be raped,” he said, “but I’m not trained to be a rapist.  I would never touch a slave in that way.” 

     

      Mariah pushed herself off the windowsill so she was standing directly in front of him.  “I thought you didn’t believe in slavery,” she said, and her voice was angry and mocking.  She pushed passed him and walked back in the direction of his apartment.

         

***


      Mariah came to learn that the factory was not permanent.  After a while the slaves left there, but no one knew where they went. Some who had arrived after her had already gone.  Jeffers thought they were put to death but Mariah did not believe that.  Her master spent too much time training her, or at least her body, to plan to annihilate her.


       Mariah no longer fought her orgasms.  After all, the struggle was futile and the end predetermined by the very food she ate.  Perhaps because of this, or maybe it was just coincidence, Master Jonas' interest in her waned.  Sometimes several days might go by without Mariah seeing him, although other masters and sometimes mistresses would use her body at least daily. 

       One day after her exercise time Shinelle roughly strapped Mariah spread-eagle on her shelf, as when she had first arrived at the factory. Master Jonas came to her a few minutes later.  He smiled at her almost wistfully.  Mariah groaned silently.  It was worst when Master Jonas treated her kindly, or pretended to.  Although in her mind she knew he was an evil son of a bitch, her body reacted to his presence immediately, her clitoris tingling and the juices beginning to form in her vagina.  “You will look me in the eye, and you will not look away,” Master Jonas said.  Mariah obeyed.


      Master Jonas moved between her spread legs and placed his fingers on her inner thighs, tickling them, running his fingers down to her knees and back up to the edge of her sex, his fingers waggling quickly but his hands moving slowly.  He moved down and up her legs again, and again, and again, but always stopping, and always holding her gaze.  As he approached her sex again, Mariah whimpered, and her hips moved.

     

      Master Jonas moved one hand to just above her pubic hair, the other hand on her butt cheeks, his fingers still drumming.  His lower hand came closer and closer to her sex, until he was tapping on her labia but not touching the center. The pleasure in Mariah's womb was like pain.  She couldn’t help it; she raised her hips until her sex was pointing at him.

     

      Slowly, teasingly, Master Jonas dipped his finger into Mariah's soaking vagina and moved the moisture up to her clit, still holding her eye.  She groaned, low and guttural, but he didn't linger there.  Instead, he unzipped his pants.  “Keep looking at me while you come,” he commanded her, and slowly he pushed his penis into her, rubbing her clitoris as he did so.  Mariah came almost immediately.  She fought to keep her eyes open while the waves crashed over her.  Master Jonas smiled while he continued to look at her.  He pushed in and pulled almost all the way out, slowly, slowly, slowly.  Mariah had several more orgasms before he looked away and rammed himself into her, crying out as he came.  As he often did, he fell asleep on top of her.  Mariah dozed too.


       They awoke about a half hour later.  The wistful look in Master Jonas' eyes remained as he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her, "That was to show you how it could have been."  Then he rolled off of her and almost nonchalantly unbuckled her restraints.  Mariah knew better than to move without his permission.  He left her so for a minute, until her thighs began to ache from being spread widely without the help of the leather ties.  At last Master Jonas gave a thrust of his chin, indicating to Mariah to get up.  She did so as quickly as her aching muscles would allow. 


       "Down on your hands and knees," Master Jonas commanded.  Mariah obeyed without thought, her thighs still aching and her cunt still dripping.  When Master Jonas ordered her to crawl she did so, ignoring the almost immediate ache in her shoulders and knees.




CHAPTER 19:  Two courtyards


       Mariah slammed open the door to Gabriel’s apartment, causing it to reverberate on its hinges.  She hated herself.  She had acted the fool, letting down her guard and allowing a human being to crawl inside her head and read her secret thoughts and torment her with them. 


       Is it really too soon to run? Reliving the torture would be better than living with this mindgame – no, mindgame was too tame.  Than living with that mindraping bastard, Master Gabriel.


       She started to breathe slowly and deeply to center her thoughts, then remembered that Master Gabriel had taught her that trick.  She expelled her breath so quickly that she coughed.  Bastard.


       It is too soon to run.  Her body was too weak, and she was far from the wall, and she had no plan. 


       A movement in the courtyard caught her eye.  Two sparrows were chasing each other. Nearby, Master Animal was sleeping in a divan chair in the sun. 


       I’ll show him I’m not giving into the game. I make my own rules.


       She crossed to the sliding door to the courtyard and opened it silently.  She glanced over into Animal’s apartment and his studio.  The lights were off.  If Rose was around there was no sign of her.  She walked over to the divan where Animal lay dozing, her bare feet making no sound.  Do I dare?  Slaves did not approach human beings.  I escaped.  I break the rules.


       Silently she kneeled by the divan chair.  Animals’ legs were slightly spread.  She put her right hand firmly on his inner thigh, over his pants leg, near his groin, and bent her head down to the slight bulge beneath his button fly.


       Animal startled.  His body jumped back in the divan.  “Wha . . . ? Rose?”  Quick as thought he was pulling the back of Mariah’s head up by her hair.  He stared at her, wild-eyed, almost panicked.  “Mariah?  What are you . . . ?”  He held her hair in a death grip. 


       Mariah could find no words.  Dry-mouthed, she suddenly realized that she wasn’t ready for this mindgame to be over.  What have I done?


       Animal let go of her so suddenly that she fell, skinning her knee on a cobblestone.  He sat up and swung his feet over to the ground.  His knees and his ankles were pressed firmly together. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his wrists crossed, protecting his middle. “You mind telling me what you were doing?”  he asked Mariah mildly, although his chest rose and fell with hard breath.


       Mariah raised her chin.  “I wanted to pleasure you,” she said.


       Animal said harshly,  “I’m no innocent outlander, Mariah.  Tell me the truth.”


       Mariah grasped for a lie that would be believable.  “I’m horny,” she said.  But when she said it she realized it was true.   


       “You know I’m not your master.”  Animal’s voice, if not gentle, was less hard.


         “Master Gabriel wouldn’t mind,” Mariah said.  She met his eye, trying for defiance again, against any kindness.


       Animal  snorted.  “Don’t be an idiot.”  


       “It’s true,” Mariah said.  “Master Gabriel told me he doesn’t fuck slaves.” She was surprised by the bitterness so clear in her voice.

      Animal could hear it too.  His pulse not pounding quite so loudly in his ears, he took a deep breath and looked closely at his friend’s slave.  From habit he pictured her as the subject of a painting.  She kneeled before him in obeisance, but her green eyes glared at him. Her face was framed by her dark, almost black hair, that was still uneven from where it had been pulled out and was growing back.  Her cheeks flushed with emotion, but whether it was anger or embarrassment or shame he could not tell.  He knew what the title of the painting would be: “Defeated but unbroken.”  He couldn’t help but admire her, a little. Still, for all her bold colors he was glad she wasn’t his.  He thought of Rose, pastels and light browns.

     

      “I don’t fuck slaves either,” he said to Mariah.  “Except my own.” 

     

      Mariah’s eyes stung.  I’m done with crying.  She took  a deep breath.  “Is this the torture, then?” she asked, trying to keep  her voice neutral.  “To never fuck again?”

     

      Animal did not answer immediately.  He didn’t know what Gabriel had in mind for Mariah, now that she was healing.  “He doesn’t mean it as torture,” he said at last.   “And I think you know that.”

     

      Mindraping bastard, Mariah thought again.  How could she guess what he meant or didn’t mean?  She breathed deeply in and out, once, twice.  She was so, so tired of this game.  Torture masquerading as kindness.  Kindness masquerading as torture.  Was there a way to cut through it, to end it now?  She looked up.  “Aren’t you going to punish me for touching you?” she asked.


       Animal fingered the whip on his belt.  “Is that what you want?”  He sounded disappointed.  “Are you a pain slut?”


       “No!” Mariah said, recoiling, revolted and offended by the accusation, stung that Master Animal would think that of her.


       “Good,” said  Animal with a grim small smile.  “Because I’m a pansy.  Since you don’t like being punished, and I’m too lazy to punish you, this once we’ll let things slide.“        


      Was it kindness?  Or had Animal just outsmarted her? Or was he really such a pansy that she could take any liberties? “Is this slave supposed to thank you, Master?” she asked, her voice sarcastic. 


       “Yes,” Animal  said.  “By letting me finish my nap.”  And he laid back on the divan and closed his eyes.  Mariah watched him uncertainly for a moment, then rose to her feet and walked back to Gabriel’s apartment.  As she started to open the sliding door Animal called her name.   When she turned to him he said, “If you come near my junk again I will punish you, in a way you won’t forget.  I’m a pansy but I’m not a fanatic.”  There was a hard anger in his voice that made Mariah automatically say, “Yes, my lord,” before she went back into the apartment.          


***


       Crawling, Mariah could not see where Master Jonas was taking her, only that they went through huge wooden doors that led her out of the Factory.  Mariah thought back to the horseback ride from the fields to the mansion.  Like then, she now had no idea what was coming. She snorted as she recalled how naive and hopeful she had been then.  Master Jonas flicked her ass with his whip and she increased her pace, her knees and wrists protesting.


       It seemed to her and her aching body that the crawl was endless, but rationally she knew they hadn't gone very far when Master Jonas directed her to go through a doorway.  Mariah caught a hubbub of voices.


       Master Jonas paused.  They were in a large cobblestoned courtyard, shaded here and there by trees.  Throughout the courtyard were slaves shackled to metal rings set in the ground or wooden posts that stood upright.  Humans milled around the slaves, some gazing from one slave to another, others studying a single slave intently.  One mistress was checking the teeth of a young male, while another was finger fucking a cunt who gyrated while biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from crying out.


       “This is called the Exchange,” Master Jonas told Mariah.  “There are several of them throughout the mansion.  Slaves are brought here for new assignments, and humans come here to find new slaves.”


       Mariah digested this new information.  Master Jonas was done with her, then.  She felt a lightness throughout her body.  It was hope.


       Master Jonas indicated that Mariah should stand up.  “Most of the slaves at this Exchange have come straight from the factory and need training.”  At Mariah’s puzzled look, he laughed.  “Oh, I’ve begun to train your body,” he said, “but a slave needs to know how to do more than fuck.  Most of the slaves, especially the cunts, will learn to serve in a household, while they are young.”


       Mariah looked down.  There was so much more she wanted to know.  “You can ask your questions,” Master Jonas said.


       “You said while they’re young, Master.” Mariah said.  “What happens after that?”


       “It depends,” Master Jonas answered.  “Some stay in household service for years.  But most, once they start to lose their looks, will be moved along to other jobs.  Or they might get sent back to the farm.  Nearly all slaves end up back there sooner or later.”


       Mariah looked around again, grateful for the information.  She watched a master making his way among the slaves.  He wasn’t handsome, exactly, but he gave off an air of cheerfulness.  He stopped by a blonde slave girl who Mariah recognized from the exercise yard at the factory and asked her a question. She answered, looking down, and then in response to his command looked up.  He was smiling and in response she smiled too, tentatively.


       Mariah looked away, embarrassed.  There was something deeply private about the exchange she had witnessed.  She wondered if it would be the same when she was chosen. 


       Master Jonas had seen the same thing.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said to Mariah.  He took hold of her wrist, circling it strongly with his thumb and fingers.  “A kind master to belong to?”


       No, Mariah thought.  It would be too personal.  But out loud she said,  “I don’t know, master.”


       Master Jonas pointed out a mistress who was trailed by three slaves, two cunts and a dick.  “That’s Mistress Miranda.  She trains houseslaves, and is known for teaching them to be outstanding cooks.  There’s a waiting list for her slaves, and their owners usually treat them well and keep them for a long time.  Maybe you’d like to be one of them?”


       Nervousness washed over Mariah.  Why was Master Jonas asking her these questions?  She would have no choice in the matter.  She searched for an acceptable answer.  “I want to do what pleases you, my lord,” she said.


       Master Jonas laughed at that.  “It’s a pity you didn’t feel that way when we first met,” he said.  He tugged her closer to him, brushed her hair away from her ear, and whispered, “It’s time for your punishment for that day.” 


       Mariah’s blood ran cold.  It took every ounce of her energy not to pull away from Master Jonas. He had told her he would torture her to death.  But surely he hadn’t meant it, after the time he had spent breaking her body.  All that effort would be wasted. 


       Master Jonas pulled Mariah inexorably by the wrist to the middle of the courtyard.  There was a platform there, perhaps two feet above the ground.  Like the rest of the courtyard, it had metal rings on its floor and wooden posts that stood upright. 


      Master Jonas stepped onto the platform and pulled Mariah up behind him.  He turned to her suddenly, so that they were face to face and almost touching.  She started to back away but the edge of the platform stopped her.  He bent so that he was whispering in her ear again.  “Do you remember how it felt when I fucked you earlier?” he asked, and he touched her breasts lightly with his fingers.


       “Yes, Master,” Mariah said, and already, with just his breath in her ear and his hands on her breasts, her cunt was burning, although the sensation was not as strong as the fear that coursed through her body. 


       “Would you like me to whip your breasts?” he whispered to her.


       “Only if it pleases you, my lord,” Mariah answered.


       Master Jonas leaned away from her.  “It is such a pity what I must do to you,” he said, and he licked his lips.  “I’m not going to whip your breasts.” 


       “Thank you, Master,” Mariah said.


       “And I’m not going to beat your cunt.” 


       Unsure, Mariah said, “Thank you, Master.”


       Master Jonas smiled.  “I’m going to whip your wrist.”


       “My wrist, Master?”  Mariah had seen slaves beaten on the bottom of their feet, or on the palms of their hand.  But her wrist seemed . . . benign.


       Master Jonas nodded.  “I’m going to whip your wrist, right here.”  He took her hand and touched her lightly where a blue-green vein stood out just above her hand.  “I’m going to whip it over and over again, until you start to bleed there.  And then I’m going to do the same thing to your other wrist.”  He picked up her other hand and touched it in the same spot.  “And then I’m going to put a spreader bar between your hands so that you can’t use them to stop the bleeding.  And then I’m going to leave you here, and watch as the life drain out of you.”  He dropped her hand and smiled.  “Such a waste.”


       Mariah involuntarily took a step back, horrified.  Her foot touched the edge of the platform.  I want to live.  His hand was still holding her wrist.  She brought it up to her face in a quick movement and bit his arm as hard as she could.  He yelped and let go of his grip on her.  She turned and jumped, running through the courtyard, dodging the shackled slaves, trying desperately for the door they had come through. A guard stepped in front of it. “Now, now,” he said, and caught her, and held her.  When she struggled, the guard deftly turned her around so her back was against him, crossed her arms in front, and grabbed each wrist from behind.  She was bound by her own arms. 


       Master Jonas had come down from the stage and was walking to her, slowly, a slight smile on his face, while the guard held her tight.  “Please,” Mariah begged him.  “He’s going to kill me.”


      “Hush, now,” the guard said.  “Be good.”

     

      Master Jonas nodded to the guard, and grabbed Mariah by the hair.  He lowered his arm so that she was bent double, and then started to walk back to the platform.  When Mariah stumbled he simply dragged her until she was able to find her footing.  His grip on her scalp was so tight that she could not struggle.  There were jeers and catcalls but she could not translate them into anything she could understand.

     

      When they reached the platform Master Jonas let go of her, but many hands grabbed her and lifted her onto it and secured her feet to shackles and her arms to posts.  Struggling was useless.  She was overpowered. 

     

      When she was secured she felt the first lash.  The whip wrapped around her wrist, leaving a red mark.  It only stung, but Mariah, having no other way to fight, screamed with all her might.  Laughter, jeering, catcalls, another strike.  This one cut her a little, on her forearm, where the lash crossed the previous mark.  She was still screaming.  She pulled frantically on her bindings, but they were secure. 

     

      The next lash fell on her other arm.  With all her might Mariah tried to form words.  “Help me!”  It came out as a screech.  “I don’t want to die!”  Then, all she could do was scream.

     

      When her noise stopped as she took a quick breath, there was silence.  The whip had not fallen again.  Mariah opened her eyes which she had not realized had been shut.  A short, silver-haired mistress was on the platform, her hands on her hips, glaring at Master Jonas.  “Do you have permission from the Bearer to kill her?” Blood leaked from Mariah’s forearm towards her shoulder.

     

      Master Jonas looked down, red-faced.  “I was just having some fun, Corinne,” he said.

     

      “This is not the theater,  young man,” the mistress said.  “If you’ve come to leave your cunt at the exchange, leave her now.” 

     

      “Let me whip her first,” Master Jonas said, almost pleading.  “She’s nothing but a torture cunt.  Let me mark her so all will know.”

     

      The mistress looked Mariah up and down.  “She’s young,” she said.  “Looks like she just came from the factory.”

     

      “She did,” Master Jonas said.  “I broke her in.”

     

      The mistress sniffed disdainfully.  “You must have botched it if she’s to be made a torture cunt so young,” she said.

     

      “No!” Master Jonas said.  “It’s all she’s good for, I tell you.  She just tried to run away from me.  Anyone here can tell you that.”

     

      “Is that true, girl?” Mistress Corinne asked Mariah.  “Did you just try to run away?”

     

      Mariah tried to put every ounce of humility she could find into her battered voice.  “Yes, mistress,” she said.

     

      “Why would you do such a thing?”

     

      “I don’t want to die, Mistress,” Mariah said, and tears ran down her face and her knees buckled so that she was supported only by the shackles on her arms.

     

      Mistress Corinne said to a young slave standing near the platform, “Anna, untie her and wrap her wounds.”

     

      She turned back to Master Jonas.  “I’m sick to death of you people ruining perfectly good slaves.  You’ve no respect, that’s what.  Leave her, and get out of here.”

     

      As Mariah was freed from her restraints she saw Master Jonas glaring with hate.  But he was looking at Mistress Corinne, not at her.  Without a word to her he turned on his heels and walked away, even as soothing hands began to put bandages on her bleeding wrist.  



Chapter 20: Denial


       “There you go, pretty thing, drink, grow and be strong,” Gabriel murmured to the marjoram plant as he watered it on the windowsill of his clinic.  He sighed when he heard the door to the adjoining room open.  His posted hours were over. 


      “Excuse me,” a querulous voice called to him.  “Can you help me with a pimple on my belly button?”

     

      Gabriel answered without turning around, “Exercise, think pure thoughts, and drink a gallon of water a day.”

     

      “I think I’ll just pop it,” Animal said with a sour grin as we ambled into Gabriel’s office.

      

      Gabriel nodded.  “That might work too.”  He put down his watering can, picked up a bottle of vinegar, and began to spray his countertop and wipe it down.  “To what do I owe the honor of this visit, oh pimpled one?” 

     

      When Animal didn’t answer Gabriel glanced over to him.  His grin gone, he was staring moodily at the spray bottle, apparently lost in thought.  

     

      Gabriel finished with the countertop, took a broom and dustpan from the closet and started to sweep the floor.  Animal broke from his reverie. “You should get Mariah to do that for you.” 

     

      “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning up for myself,” Gabriel responded, and continued to sweep.

     

      “She should do it for you!” Animal said.  “She’s well enough now to attend to her duties.”

     

      Gabriel looked up, surprised, to Animal’s glare. “You forget.  She is a patient under my care, that’s all.  I have no duties for her.” 

     

      Animal stepped toward Gabriel and grabbed the top of the broom handle so Gabriel couldn’t sweep any more.  “Whether you call yourself her master or not, she has no other,” he said tersely.  “If you don’t start acting like it, you’ll lose her.”  

     

       “What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, surrendering the broom to Animal.  “The Bearer gave her to me.  No one would try to take her.”

      

       Animal leaned the broom in the corner of the room and turned back to Gabriel.  “The Bearer won’t stop a human being from disciplining a slave who acts out,” he said.  “Sooner or later she’s going to provoke someone to punishing her beyond your skill to heal.”

     

      “You’re wrong,” Gabriel said.  “She’s smarter than that.” 

     

       “I’m not wrong,” Animal said. He stared at Gabriel, unrelenting.  “And you know it.”

     

      Gabriel started to protest, but he pictured Mariah the first time he had seen her, outside the wall, running away; the horrible punishment after she was caught that brought her near death; and every confrontation she seemed to seek with masters and mistresses when she was on the lawn with him, provoking them, provoking them, provoking them.  He expelled a breath, and nodded, slowly. 

     

        “Look, brother, you’re a fine healer, a great one, no one disputes that,” Animal said.  “But you’re not a vet.  You don’t understand slaves.  They might look like humans, but they’re not.”  He tapped his head. “It’s just fluff up here for them. It’s all feelings, wants, needs.”  When Gabriel started to protest, Animal held up his hands to silence him.  “If you want to keep Mariah safe you have to make sure her needs get met.”

     

      “I do,”  Gabriel protested.  “I’m healing her.  I make sure she has healthy food, exercise, whatever freedom of movement I can give her . . . “

     

      “What she needs,” Animal interrupted, enunciating slowly, “is a good fucking.” 

     

      Gabriel took two steps back, bumping into the counter.  “No,” he said.  “I would never. Never! I’ve told her that already.”

     

      “So she said,” said Animal, his face carefully neutral.  “An hour ago, after she tried to rape me while I was sleeping.”

     

       “What?”  Gabriel jolted.  “She what?”

     

      Animal looked down at the floor and then back up at Gabriel.  “I’m coming to you as your friend,” Animal said.  “Another man might have killed her for what she did.” 

     

      Gabriel turned his back to Animal.  “And did you . . . ?” he asked, his voice unnaturally thick as he sprayed with vinegar the counter he had just finished cleaning.

     

      “Did I what?”Animal asked.  “Kill her?”

     

      Gabriel asked, his back still turned to Animal, “Did you have sex with her?”

     

      “Of course not!” Animal said.  “For a slave to approach a human . . .”  He shuddered. 

     

      Gabriel continued to spray the counter, until the vinegar pooled on it.  Animal could see the hot flush on his cheek.

     

      “You do want her, don’t you?” he said softly.

     

      Gabriel slammed the spray bottle onto the counter with a bang.  “It doesn’t matter what I want!  To have sex with a patient would be bad enough.  But to rape a slave?  I would never . . .” he repeated, and trailed off.

      

      Animal sighed in exasperation.  “If you won’t fuck her you need to have someone else do it,” he said.  “Or the next human she approaches might not be your friend, or a pansy.” 

     

      “I’ll talk to her,” Gabriel said, scrubbing the counter with a towel in tiny, hard circles.  “She can learn to control herself.”

     

      Animal walked over to Gabriel and put his hand on the towel, stopping him.  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he said.  “She can’t control herself.  She’s a slave.  Cats chase mice, cows chew their cud, and slaves fuck.  It’s what they’re bred for, and it’s all they know.”

     

      Gabriel stared at him, breathing hard, and Animal met his eye steadily.  At last Gabriel said, “You can’t believe that about Rose.”

     

      Animal snorted. “Rose?”  he said.  “I grant you she can cook better than most, and she keeps the apartments clean enough.  But do you know why?”  When Gabriel shook  his head, Animal continued, “It’s because I make her come every night.  Without fail.  She knows it, and that lets her focus enough during the day to be a decent housecunt.  She’s no different from any slave I’ve had.”

     

      Gabriel shook his head.  “You’re a fool,” he said, almost to himself.

     

      “No,” Animal said with his sour grin, “I’m a pansy.”

     

      “You’re a fool,” Gabriel said more forcefully.  “Rose takes good care of you because she cares for you.”  Animal started to speak, but Gabriel interrupted him.  “You’re supposed to be the artist who sees things.  Haven’t you noticed how she always serves you a little more food than me, how she always puts a few more flowers in the vase in your apartment than in mine, how she always has a smile that is for you alone?”

     

      Animal frowned.  “I’ll put a stop to that,” he said, and he unconsciously reached for the whip on his belt.  “The Bearer said she should treat you better than me.”

     

      “No!” Gabriel said.  “She does these things as a gift for you, because it’s all that she can give.”  He turned back to his counter and started scrubbing it again.  Then he slapped his cleaning rag against it, hard, and pivoted again to Animal.  He said, “And you?  You’re a brute who doesn’t deserve her.” 

     

      The two men glared at each other.  Animal gave in first, taking a step back and putting his hands up in mock surrender before he turned and left Gabriel’s office without another word.  

     

     

      ***

     

      Mistress Corinne was examining the hands of a slave, helping Master Tonit determine his suitability for work in the bakery that served the south wing of the mansion.  “You’ll have to break him in slowly,” she said.  “He’s lost his calluses from the field.” 


       Mariah knelt to her Mistress’s side, her knees apart, her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes respectfully on her mistress’s feet, awaiting her next orders.


       “I just don’t know if he’s strong enough,” Tonit said, squeezing the slave’s biceps.


       Mariah knew that would annoy her mistress.  “He’s young,” Mistress Corinne said.  “He hasn’t reached his full strength.  This is the factory exchange.  If you want an older slave, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”


       “No, I want one who I don’t need to break of bad habits,” he said.  “But the bakery’s hard work.  I need a boy who can lift.”


       Mistress Corinne turned away, having lost all interest in the conversation.  “If this one doesn’t suit you, you’re free to look around,’ she said. She looked down at Mariah.  “Did you finish cleaning out the supply closet?” she asked.


       “Yes, mistress,” Mariah answered, not raising her eyes.


       “It had better be spotless,” Mistress Corinne said, but she knew it would be.  It had been over a week since she had rescued the cunt from that idiot Jonas, and her work had been flawless.  And yet . . .


       “Under that oak tree, do you see that group of cunts?”  she asked Mariah.  Mariah looked over.  “Yes, mistress.”


       “I want you to pleasure each of them.  Use your mouth.  And no more than ten minutes each.  Make sure they come.”


       “Yes, mistress,” Mariah said.  Her tone was deferential, but her heart sank.  She wanted desperately to please this mistress, to keep her from marking her as a torture cunt as Master Jonas had suggested.  She was on edge all the time, fearing that rebellion would slip out – the same rebellion she had showed to Master Jonas when he had chosen her.  Sometimes her eyes ached from looking down, when she longed to look her mistress full in the face. 


      But that was nothing compared to the constant, unbearable ache that originated in her sex and spread outward until it took over her whole body.  Mistress Corinne had her pleasure other slaves daily, sometimes more, but had not yet seen fit to allow Mariah release.  The greatest torture was pleasuring other cunts, feeling with her tongue the same contours as her own sex, tasting their desire, feeling their surge of freedom at the end.


       Mariah knew that among both humans and slaves there were some who preferred their own kind – female to female or male to male.  She didn’t think she was one of those.  In her dreams, awake or asleep, it was the hardness of men that satisfied her.  Not just their sex in hers; she knew that there were substitutes that could be used for that.  It wasn’t the strength of their bodies alone that she was drawn to, but the strength of their will – something she was not sure she had ever encountered when awake, among men or women, human or slaves. 


       Pleasuring the dicks in the exchange made her burn, but not as much as her dreams did.  The slaves were not allowed to move besides the small gyrations they could not help, the collapse at the end.  They could not choose to touch her as they wanted; or to have her touch them.  She enjoyed giving them relief because they were happy, grateful, to receive it. 


      But pleasuring the girls made her think of her own pleasure.  She touched them as she longed to be touched; gave them the relief she longed to receive.  And when they exploded onto her, just the slightest touch, she knew, would create her own explosion.  That touch never came.  She fought to keep her knees spread, to prevent any accidents, to show her mistress that she was obedient and good. And with that hope – that she could convince Mistress Corinne that she was worthy – she trudged to the slave girls who awaited her.      

       



CHAPTER 21: SHIFTS


       Rose looked worriedly from Mariah to Master Gabriel to Master Animal. All three sat silently glowering at their dinner plates.  Gabriel nudged his untasted food with his fork, and then abruptly slammed the utensil down on the table.  He stood, almost overturning his chair.  As he righted it, he said tightly, “Thank you, Rose.  Dinner was delicious.”  He started toward the patio door.


       Animal cleared his throat.  “Yes, thank you, Rose,” he said.  “It was very good.  Especially the . . . ”  He looked down at his laden plate.  “. . . beets.” 


      Gabriel stopped in his tracks and turned.  He, Rose, and Mariah stared at Animal, who warded off their looks with his hands and said, “What?  I like the color,” he said.

      

      “It’s carmine,” Rose whispered, her face almost the color of the beets in question.

     

      Animal blinked.  “That’s what I was thinking,” he said.  “Too bright for burgundy.”  He tasted one of the vegetables.  “It is good.” 

     

      Rose, her face even hotter than before, managed to whisper, “I’m glad you like it, Master.”  She tried to meet his eye but could not bring herself to look higher than his chest.

     

      Animal, though, had turned his attention to Gabriel. “Sit,” he said gruffly, gesturing with his fork towards his friend’s empty chair.  “You’ve barely eaten.  You need your strength to heal all the warted ladies tomorrow.”

     

      Gabriel nodded at him with a slight smile.  “I guess I could try those beets,” he said. He glanced over at Mariah, to include her in the lightened mood, but she had returned to glowering at her plate and did not notice. 

     

      ***

     

      Mariah made her way back to the dais.  She walked bow-legged to keep her upper thighs from touching – which, she was sure, would be enough to cause her a forbidden orgasm.  The longing for it was a sharp pain, centered in her clit and radiating outward.  She gritted her teeth.

     

      When she reached Mistress Corinne, the woman looked at her with distaste. “Go clean your face,” she ordered.  “You’re covered with filth.”

     

      Mariah forced her eyes to stay down but open, and to let no part of her shocked anger show on her face or in her posture.  Of course she was dirty.  At her mistress’s orders she had just pleasured five cunts. She managed to say evenly, “Yes, mistress,” and hurried to the washroom. 

     

      She washed her face and swished her mouth with water to rinse out the taste of the slavegirls.  Raising her head from the sink, sharp green eyes peered back at her from the mirror on the wall.  Although she was well-groomed – her mistress insisted upon that – she had lost most of her tan from the fields, and her skin was sallow, especially against her dark brown hair.  Did her misery show in her face?  Did defiance? Or the interminable longings of her body? She sighed.  Only if anyone cared to look.  And as her mistress chose to keep her working at the exchange rather than offering her to another human, she expected no one would.

     

      When Mariah returned to the dais her mistress’s back was towards her.  She was speaking with another human, tall, blue eyed, brown hair starting towards gray.  Mistress Dominique was her name.  Mariah had seen her a few times before, but wasn’t sure if she came to the exchange to pass the time with Mistress Corinne or to look for new slaves.

     

      Mistress Dominique glanced at Mariah as she kneeled, knees carefully spread, hands behind her head, eyes down.  “Isn’t that the one Jonas dropped off a while back?” she asked, surprised.  “With all the fuss?”

     

      Mistress Corinne glanced absent-mindedly at Mariah and nodded.  “Mmm-hmmm,” she said.

     

      “Why is she still here?”  Mistress Dominique asked.  “You surely aren’t keeping her for yourself.”

      

      “No, of course not,” Mistress Corinne said, offended.  “But I think Jonas might have been right – she’s only good as a torture cunt.  I don’t want to put her on display until I’m sure what to do with her.”

     

      Mistress Dominique raised her left eyebrow.  “She looks biddable enough to me.”

     

      Mistress Corinne shook her head.  “Looks can be deceiving. In the weeks that she’s been here I’ve let her have no satisfaction.  She hasn’t broken down once.”  Mistress Corinne pulled the back of Mariah’s hair, forcing her face up. “She’s just finished pleasuring a group of cunts, and look at her, kneeling as calmly as if she hasn’t a care in the world.  She’s either touching herself, or she’s entirely unnatural.” 

     

      Mariah felt as though the room was spinning.  Her struggle to show Mistress Corinne that she could be trusted, that she was obedient and worthy . . . and it was all a mindgame.

     

      Rage.  Swallowed quickly.

     

      But Mistress Dominique had seen.  “Stand up,” she ordered.  “Standard position.” 

     

      Mistress Corinne released her grip on Mariah, and she rose to her feet, her eyes down, her knees spread, her hands behind her head.

     

      “She’s dripping,” Mistress Dominique said, pointing to a Mariah’s crotch.  She walked over to her. “Look at me,” she ordered.

     

      Mariah didn’t want to.  She didn’t want Mistress Dominique to see the angry tears that had formed in her eyes, the surge of hatred she felt towards Mistress Corinne, worse than anything she had felt towards Master Jonas.  But she had no choice.  Biting her cheeks to control herself as best she could, she looked at Mistress Dominique.

     

      Mistress Dominique tsked.  “Poor thing,” she said.  “You’ve been so good, and no one’s noticed.”  Mariah’s throat tightened until it ached as much as her cunt, and her eyes burned.  “Would you like to leave here with me?”

     

      “Yes, Mistress,” Mariah whispered.

     

      “Can you be good for me for just a few more minutes?”  Mistress Dominique asked.

     

      The part of Mariah’s mind that could be rationale knew this was another mindgame. And  yet . . . the possibility of getting away from Mistress Corinne . . . she hated her.  “I’ll try, Mistress,” Mariah answered. 

     

      “Hands at your sides, then,” Mistress Dominique said.  As Mariah obeyed, Mistress Dominique walked behind her and pressed Mariah’s back against her own front.  She reached her hand around, under Mariah’s arm, pressing her forearm firmly against Mariah’s hip and abdomen.  With her forefinger she gently touched Mariah’s clitoris. 

     

      Mariah tried to step back, but Mistress Dominique was there, holding her firm.  The mistress didn’t move her finger as she asked, “A good slave would never come without permission, would she?”

     

      “No, mistress,” Mariah said, but she could already feel the blood rushing.

     

      “You just need to be good for a few minutes,” Mistress Dominique said, as she began to slide her finger up and down Mariah’s slit.  “Then you can leave with me.”

     

      Mariah closed her eyes.  She tried to block out the sensations, but she couldn’t. She balled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her flesh.  It didn’t help.

     

      Mistress Dominique moved her finger back up to Mariah’s clit and circled it. Mariah cried out,  “Please, Mistress, I won’t be able to stop it.  Please, no . . . ”  But Mistress Dominique continued.

       

      “Mistress, I’m going to come.  I can’t help it, please . . .”  Mistress Dominique moved her finger back down Mariah’s slit, giving Mariah relief for a moment.  But almost immediately she returned to Mariah’s clitoris, returned to slow firm circles around it.

     

      Mariah fought with everything she could.  She bit her cheeks and shook her head from side to side.  She tried to think of something far away, the fields, Rolanda, the rabbit.  But it was no good. 

     

      Mistress Dominique brought her other hand around and put it on the fleshy area just above Mariah’s clit, pushing down on it so that Mariah’s clit was pushed into her circling finger.  “Gaah,” Mariah groaned, shaking her head.  “No. . . No  . . . No . . . ”, but the explosion overtook her.  Mistress Dominique kept pushing down with her left hand and circling Mariah’s clit with her right index finger.  Mariah’s orgasm went on and on.  When at last it quieted, Mariah dropped to her knees, crying.

     

      “Let me have her,” Mistress Dominique said to Mistress Corinne.  “I can work with her.”

     

       ***


       Mariah woke the next morning earlier than usual.  When she opened the door from her sleeping room she saw Rose in intense concentration, cutting flowers and placing them by their stems in a large sponge.  As Mariah watched she picked the sponge up, held it at eye level, turned it around, put it down, rearranged the flowers so slightly that Mariah could detect no difference, and then did it again.


       Rose only noticed Mariah when she started across the living room towards the kitchen.  She shook her head, changing focus, and said, with only slightly excessive cheerfulness, “Good morning.  Would you like me to get you some food?”


       Mariah scowled at her.  “Don’t you have something to do for your master?”  she asked. 


      Rose answered, “Master Gabriel asked me to keep you company this morning.”


       “I don’t want your company,” Mariah said.


       At the look on Rose’s face, Mariah felt suddenly ashamed, as if she had pulled a kitten’s tail.  “Look, I’m sorry,” she said.  “I just don’t want you thinking that we can be friends.”


       “Oh,” Rose said softly, turning away.  Mariah watched her gather up the extra stems and leaves and put them in the trash can, and place the display she had created, riotous with color, in the middle of the table.  And then she wiped her eyes, quickly, as if she hoped Mariah would not notice.


       The girl was so young.  And there was something about her – not innocence, but something like it -- that made Mariah feel mean for keeping her distance.  Almost to herself she said, “Don’t you know what will happen when this mindgame is over?”  Rose shook her head, and Mariah realized she had spoken out loud.  Hardening herself, she said, “They’ll make me hurt you.” 


      She paused, then added fiercely, “They’ll make me take pleasure in hurting you.”  She turned away from Rose, blinking rapidly, and stared out the window into the quiet courtyard.  “It will be worse if . . . ”  She trailed off.


       Rose came up to her and laid her hand on Mariah’s forearm. “If that happens,” she said, “I’ll forgive you.”


       Mariah jerked her arm away from Rose and took a step away.  “Why are you nice to me?” she hissed.  “I’ve given you no reason.”


      Rose was surprised into saying, “Of course you have.”

     

      “No.”  Mariah folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.  “I’ve ignored you and sneered at you, nothing else.”

     

      “Not always,” Rose said.  When Mariah looked confused she said, “Do you remember when you first woke up, after you were hurt?  I gave you soup and you threw it because it wasn’t gruel.”  Mariah nodded. She vaguely recalled that through the haze of pain she had felt at the time.  “The bowl broke,” Rose continued.  “And when Master Gabriel came, you said you should be punished, not me.”

     

      “You hadn’t done anything wrong,” Mariah said.

     

       “Yes, I had,” Rose said earnestly.  “I hadn’t warned you the food wasn’t gruel. It scared you.  And you . . . you had just woken up, and were in pain, and you didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t know that Master Gabriel was an outlander, . . . and you tried to protect me.”

     

      “That’s nothing,” Mariah said flatly.  “Slaves help each other.”

     

        Rose shook her head and laughed a little.  “Are you that naïve?” she asked.  She turned away abruptly, after a moment changing direction towards the kitchen.  She returned with a bowl and a spoon, which she placed on the table.  Gesturing for Mariah to sit in front of them, she sat down as well.  Finally she took a deep breath, expelled it, and said, “I only  had a couple of assignments before Master Animal chose me.  The one right before was with a family, a large one. It should have been a good assignment, because there were four of us slaves there.  But . . .”  Rose looked away.


       “Not all slaves work well together,” Mariah shrugged. 


       Rose sniffled.  “I’ll tell you what it was like, but you have to eat.”  Mariah picked up her spoon indifferently, barely recognizing the slave gruel that Gabriel had determined she and Rose should continue to have for breakfast.  It tasted much better flavored by Rose with cinnamon and nutmeg and honey.


       Rose took another deep breath.  “They . . . the other slaves, I mean . . . they had been with each other for a long time, and when I came . . . they were a  group, and I wasn’t one of them.  They made me do all the work.  All the cleaning, all the cooking, everything, for eight humans and the four of us.”  Her voice broke. 


      “If the work was too much for me, they would tell the master and mistress that they had done their share and I hadn’t, and I would be punished.  They would secretly watch and laugh.  Sometimes they would do things – tip over the trash, put food back in the oven so it would burn -- just so they could watch me get in trouble.”

     

      Rose put her head down on her arms, crying.  After a minute she looked up, her cheeks wet and blotchy.  “It wasn’t just in the apartment,” she said.  “I had a bracelet, everyone nearby – even the neighboring slaves – knew they could do whatever they wanted to me.”

     

      She looked Mariah in the eye, and Mariah found she could not look away.  “The hall monitor wouldn’t let me use the washing machine unless I let him buttfuck me.  Dry.  Every week.”  Her said with a bitter little laugh, “I was a slave’s slave.”

     

      “I . . . “ Mariah began.  She didn’t know what to say.

     

      “And you say slaves help each other?  No!” Rose interrupted her, fiercely.  “You helped me when you thought Master Gabriel might torture or kill you for it.  You can deny it, but I know you’re brave and you’re good!  And if I want to be nice to you, well . . . you don’t have to be my friend, but you can’t stop me.”

     

      Mariah was just staring at Rose, overwhelmed by her story.  “I’m sorry,” she said to Rose, not sure if she was apologizing for her own behavior or for that of the slaves Rose had lived with. 

     

      “Don’t pity me,” Rose said, her voice still hoarse.  “Belonging to Master Animal after that . . . well, I don’t think I would appreciate how lucky I am if I hadn’t been through it.” 

      She and Mariah sat in silence for a few minutes.  Mariah was embarrassed for obsessing over Master Gabriel’s refusal to fuck her.  How easy it was to forget that in this mindgame she had safety, food, as much freedom as her bracelet could grant. 

     

       “Why did that family send you back to the Exchange?” Mariah asked finally. 

     

      “They didn’t,” Rose said.  “Master Animal asked for me.”

     

      Mariah raised her eyebrows in surprise.  Rose continued, “He was painting a portrait of them.  One day, in the early morning, I couldn’t help myself.  I snuck over and looked at his canvass.  Master Animal let himself into the apartment just then, and saw me.  I was scared, but I hadn’t touched anything and he didn’t seem to mind.  After that he would talk to me sometimes, when he was setting up and no one else was around. 

     

      “When the portrait was done Master John and Mistress Rafaela threw a big unveiling party for it.  It was practically a revel.  I prepared for it all day and served all night, and after everyone left it was my job to clean up.  By the early afternoon I was so tired I sat down, just for a minute.  Master John saw me.  The other slaves claimed they had been working all morning to clean up and I had done nothing.

     

      “To punish me, my master cuffed my hands behind my back.  He put nipple clamps on me and attached the chain to the ceiling.”  At Mariah’s look she said, “It wasn’t that bad, really.  The chain was loose enough that I could stand with my feet flat.  But I was so tired that I was afraid that I would fall asleep and my nipples would be torn off.”  She shuddered.

     

      “Master Animal came in then, to get some supplies he had left behind.  Master John said if there was ever anything he could do for him, Master Animal should let him know.  And that’s when Master Animal said he wanted me.”  She smiled at the memory.  “When he released me from the clamps I collapsed into his arms. He had to carry me home.” 

     

      “He has good taste,” Mariah said, the compliment making her voice rough.

     

      Rose shook her head.  “I’m not his taste, “ she said.  “I think he just felt sorry for me.”

     

      “Why would you think that?” Mariah asked.  “He likes you well enough.”

     

      Rose shrugged.  “People are always surprised to see me with him,” she said.  “Raul – he’s the hall monitor here – says all his other cunts were tall blondes with big boobs and . . .”

     

      “Stupid?”  Mariah asked. 

     

      Rose nodded and blushed a little.  “That’s what Raul says.  If Master Gabriel hadn’t come along, I’m sure he would have traded me in long since.”

     

      “I don’t think so,” Mariah said slowly.  “Yesterday, I tried to . . . I tried to get him to fuck me.  I surprised him when he was napping.  And he wouldn’t . . . he said he only fucks you.” 

     

      Rose stared at her silently, and Mariah realized suddenly what she had said, and done. “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I know you have unnatural feelings for him. I wasn’t thinking of you when . . .”

     

      But Rose smiled.  “He said he only fucks me?” she asked.

     

      Mariah nodded, and Rose’s smile deepened. 

     

      They sat quietly for a few minutes while Mariah finished her gruel.  Then she looked at Rose.  “That time with the bowl of soup . . .  You defended me too.  You said it wasn’t my fault.”

     

      Rose shook her head.  “That was different,” she said.  “I knew Master Animal and Master Gabriel.  I knew they wouldn’t hurt me.  You didn’t know them.”

     

      She stood up and started to clear Mariah’s bowl.  Mariah stopped her.  “You don’t have to do that for me,” she said. “I don’t want . . .”

     

      Rose said with an impish smile, “Friends help each other.”

     

      Mariah didn’t contradict her.

     



Chapter 22:  Entrances and Exits


      "Let me have her," Mistress Dominique said to Mistress Corinne.  "I can work with her."        

     

      On her knees, wrung out from her orgasm, Mariah allowed herself to wipe her eyes, to feel a glimmer of hope, to say, "Thank you, Mistress."

     

      "Tut," Mistress Dominique responded.  "It’s nothing personal.  I don’t like waste, is all." 

     

      "Surely you won’t take her without punishing her?" Mistress Corinne said. 

     

      Mistress Dominique laughed.  "Oh, she’ll miss you soon enough, I promise you." 

     

      ***


       Mariah followed Rose to the kitchen, not sure what to do with herself.  She watched Rose rinse her dishes, and dry them, and put them away.  Finally she asked, "What do you usually do in the mornings?  Not even you can spend all your time cleaning Master Animal’s apartment." 


      Realizing how disdainful her question sounded, she crossed her arms and raised her chin.  But Rose answered, earnestly as always, "Master Animal usually sends me to the exercise yard in the morning.  After I’m groomed, I meet him at the revel room where he’s painting his mural."

     

      "You mean that big picture on a wall that everyone keeps talking about?" Mariah asked.

     

      Rose’s nodded. "Would you like to come see it?  Master Animal won’t mind, and Master Gabriel said you could walk with me, if you like." 


      She looked down, shy, and Mariah understood how much Rose wanted to go.  But she scowled. "With you, he said?  If he doesn’t want me walking around on my own, he shouldn’t have given me a bracelet." 

     

      Rose asked, "Should he take it away, then?"

     

      Mariah blinked and gave in with a surly shrug. The slightest shadow of smile crossed Rose’s lips. 


      ***


      Although Mariah had been in the corridors of the mansion only twice before, she paid little attention to them as she hurried to keep up with Mistress Dominique.  Her body was still sluggish, still covered with a sheen of sweat.  She struggled to think.  What would her punishment be?  Could it be worse than how Master Jonas had terrorized her? 


       Mistress Dominique led her through a door, and to her surprise Mariah suddenly found herself outside, not in a courtyard but outside the mansion.  Her eyes sought the horizon, which she had not seen since she left the fields.  It was a cloudy day, but a ray of sun broke through, visible on its way down to the grass.  Suddenly Mariah was no longer afraid.  She had no power over her punishment; just as she did not deserve it, she could do nothing to stop it. 


       Not this time. 


       She was outside the mansion, now, but there was another outside – outside the walls.  How had Rolanda managed it?  Surely she hadn’t been led there as Mariah had been led through a door to the open air.


       Noticing that Mariah had slowed her pace, Mistress Dominique snapped her fingers, and Mariah hastened to catch up.  But as she did so she looked around, memorizing where the door had been, what was behind it, what lay ahead. 

     

***


       Mariah blinked in surprise as she and Rose entered the revel room.  She had assumed Animal would be alone, painting on a wall. But instead he was standing on a dais on the far side of the room, a group of people standing in a semi-circle in front of him.  He was pointing with a clean, dry paintbrush to various parts of a painting on an easel next to him, talking animatedly. 

       Rose clutched Mariah’s arm.  "He’s teaching," she said.  "Let’s go listen."  She pulled Mariah with her across the room to the edge of the group.  No one took any note of them.


       Mariah thought the picture on the canvass was odd.  It was just dots and shapes and squiggles, as far as she could tell.  Animal reached his hand out to a man in the group, who stepped up and took a bow, to applause. Someone called out a question about his pigments, and most of the others wandered off.  Mariah glanced over at Rose, whose eyes were shining.  "Isn’t it amazing?" she whispered to Mariah. 


      As the man took his picture off the easel, Animal noticed Rose and Mariah.  "Good, you’re here," he said to Rose. "Fetch a jug of the linseed oil.  I’ll need you to mix some more burnt sienna."  

     

      "Yes, Master," Rose said.  "Would it be all right if Mariah helps me?"

     

      Animal had turned away, but he snapped back to them.  "No!" he said. "I won’t have my paints sabotaged." He glowered as Rose stood awkwardly for a moment. 

     

      Mariah nudged her. "Go.  Do your master’s bidding." Rose, looking upset, walked towards the storage closet.

     

      Mariah looked deliberately at Animal, and then fell to her knees in front of him.

     

      Animal sighed impatiently.  "Stand up.  Gabriel wouldn’t want you down there."

     

      Mariah ignored his order.  "This slave begs your permission to speak," she said. 

     

      Animal crossed his arms and eyed her suspiciously.  "What is it?"

     

      Mariah cleared her throat.  "I want you to know that what I did yesterday . . . " she looked Animal in the eye. "I’ll never do it again." 

     

      "I know you won’t," Animal responded, his voice hard.  "I meant what I said.  If you do . . . " His hand went to his whip. 

      "That has nothing to do with it," she snapped. Then she took a deep breath.  "It’s just . . . I’m sorry."  She glared and blushed at the same time.

     

      Animal eyed her suspiciously, caressing the handle of his whip. "What are you up to?" he asked.

     

      "Nothing," Mariah said.  She raised her chin and added, "Master." Her face was defiant, but she was sucking in her cheeks. Even so, her lower lip was trembling slightly.

     

      Animal slowly let go of his whip handle.  He sighed.  "Okay," he said. "But you’re still not mixing my pigments."

     

      Mariah stood up.  "I would never want to." She and Animal eyed each other.  Suddenly Animal flashed a grin, and Mariah smiled slightly in response before looking away.     

     

      Rose walked up staggering under the weight of a glass jug filled with liquid.  She placed it on the edge of the dais.  "May I show Mariah the room, Master?" she asked.  "She won’t touch anything, I promise."

     

      Animal looked at her dolefully.  "All right," he said.  "But don’t take too long.  I need those pigments mixed."

     

      "Thank you, my lord," Rose said.  Mariah accepted her hand and allowed herself to be led away. Animal stared after them, bemused.   

     

      ***

     

      Mistress Dominique’s training center was a large room divided into sections, like an overgrown apartment.  There were several kitchen areas and as many living room and bedroom areas, but no walls between the spaces. 

     

      About twenty slaves, all young like Mariah, were scattered throughout the center, cooking and cleaning.  A  mistress who resembled Mistress Dominique but was much younger – about the same age as the slaves – lounged on one of the couches while a slave dick massaged her feet.

     

      Mistress Dominique approached that area and clapped her hands twice.  The slaves put down what they were doing and hurried to her. One by one they fell to their knees. Mariah stood awkwardly, not sure what was expected of her.

     

      Mistress Dominique pulled Mariah forward.  Without introduction she said, "This cunt orgasmed without permission."  A murmur rose among the kneeling slaves, along with Mariah’s fear. "Her punishment will begin now." 

     

      She led Mariah to a plush red armless chair, and sat down in it.  "Over my knees," she said to Mariah.  Mariah, unsure of what she meant, did not react immediately. Mistress Dominique pulled Mariah so that she was lying with her stomach on Mistress’ Dominique’s thighs, her hands dangling uselessly in front of her. Mistress Dominique grabbed her hair and pulled her forward a few inches.  Mariah felt nauseous with her head hung so low.

     

      Mistress Dominique smacked Mariah’s butt with her palm.  It stung, but was nothing compared to the whip.  Mistress Dominique struck her again, in exactly the same spot.  Then again, and again, and again. On the fifth hit Mariah gasped.  It still wasn’t as bad as the whip but it hurt.

     

      Mistress Dominique moved her hand lower, to the crease between Mariah’s butt and her thigh, and hit her there until Mariah whimpered. 

     

      A harder smack made Mariah grunt.  Mistress Dominique began to hit her rapidly all over her rear end.

      

      Mariah had been smacked before, on the face, on the butt. But she had never been spanked before, not like this, drawn out, deliberate, terrible.  It was so much more personal than the whip, her mistress aware of every squirm and sound. With the whip she could hide inside her head, but that was impossible now. Even worse, she could feel the warmth, the movement of her mistress’s thighs beneath her, of her stomach at her side.  This was a person who was hurting her, not a disembodied strip of leather. 

      

      "Spread you legs," her mistress ordered Mariah.  Mariah obeyed.  She felt the inevitable fingering of her asshole, her mistress pushing her finger only so slightly into her.  Of course Master Jonas had broken her in there, but this was different. The surcease from the spanking combined with her Mistress’s gentle teasing made Mariah’s cunt gush.

     

      Mistress Dominique continued to finger her for a few minutes.  Mariah tried to block out the sensation.  Mistress Dominique pulled her head up by her hair and said to her, "Look at them." She was forced to look at the kneeling slaves who watched her, some mockingly, some pityingly, some merely bored.  Her eyes stung.

     

      Mistress Dominique returned to spanking her.  The blows were not harder than before but they hurt much more.  Every smack reverberated inside her, in her brain, in her cunt.  With each blow she grunted, making a steady "uh uh uh" sound.

     

      Mistress Dominique returned to her butthole, gently pushing her finger all the way in before Mariah was even aware that she had stopped spanking her again.  Mariah was so aroused, it was as if her mistress were fingering her cunt, not her ass.  And then she was fingering her cunt. Mistress Dominique pulled her finger slowly out of Mariah’s butt and traced a slow path to her sex.  She entered Mariah’s vagina ever so slightly, but then pulled out. 

     

      The spanking began again.  Although Mistress Dominique used only her hand, every blow felt like a paddle.  Mariah’s soft grunts changed to groans.  The slaves in front of her swam in her tears.  It was awful.  It went on and on. 

     

      Now her groans turned to half screams.  And then Mistress Dominique was pushing her finger into Mariah’s vagina again.  By the time Mariah stopped screaming she was gasping.  Mistress Dominique withdrew her finger, and this time trailed it lower still, to her slit.

     

      Mariah held herself rigid.  Surely Mistress Dominique would not touch her clit.  She could not.  She must not.

     

      "Naughty," Mistress Dominique said to her.  "In the midst of punishment, you just want to come, don’t you?"

     

      Mariah could only groan.

     

      "Answer me," Mistress Dominique said, and she did touch Mariah’s clit, but so lightly, like the tip of a feather.  "Yes, mistress," Mariah said, and her voice was a squeak.  If only she could close her legs.

     

      Then Mistress Dominique was spanking her again, and then she was touching her again.  The pain, the pleasure.  She must not come, she could not. 

     

       Mistress Dominique was stroking her slit, her pubes, her lips.  And even though she had not touched her clit again, Mariah could feel the orgasm building.


       And then Mistress Dominique pulled her hand away.  Mariah tried to brace herself for the spanking, but it did not come.  Instead, Mistress Dominique merely rested her hand on Mariah’s ass.  That alone burned.  The sensation traveled from her buttocks to her sex.  Mariah wondered if it was possible to come from no more.


       "You came before without permission," Mistress Dominique said.  "Are you going to do it again?"


       "I’m trying not to, Mistress," Mariah said, desperately.


       "Mmm, I see that," Mistress Dominique said.  "Stand up."


       It was so unexpected Mariah thought she must have misheard.  Mistress Dominique slapped her bruised ass once. "I said, stand up," she repeated.  Mariah scrambled up, so quickly that she felt dizzy and had to steady herself on the back of her mistress’s chair.


       "Thank me," Mistress Dominique said.


       Mariah fell to her knees. "This slave humbly thanks you for spanking her," Mariah said, careful to keep her legs spread wide.


       "Beg me to allow you to come," Mistress Dominique said.


       "Mistress, please, let me come," Mariah said, and she placed her forehead on the floor and inched to her mistress’s feet to kiss them.


       "Very well," Mistress Dominique said.  "Follow me."


       Mariah stood up again, more slowly than before, trying to remember to breathe, trying to remember to keep her feet wide.   Mistress Dominique was walking past the slaves on the floor to the far corner of the room.  There was a large block of wood there, its height slightly lower than Mariah’s waist.  It was wide at the bottom and tapered to the top so that the top edge was only a dull line about a quarter inch wide.


       "Hands behind your head," Mistress Dominique said.  Mariah obeyed, assuming the standard position. 


       "Mount it," Mistress Dominique said.  "As soon as you do, you can come."


       Mariah stood uncertainly.  Was she supposed to jump on?  But Mistress Mariah led her by the elbow to the side of the slab.  "Just straddle it," she said.  Mariah lifted her left leg, award of how grotesque she looked, and slid it over one side, until the top edge of the wood was scraping her inner thigh.  Then she was stuck.


       Mistress Dominique snapped her fingers, and a slave came over.  To Mariah’s horror, he lifted her by the waist and set her down so that her crotch was on the thin top edge of the wood. "Lean forward," he whispered to her, and then her clit was pressing into the wood, and she came, struggling not to topple over.  And then all of her weight was on her clit, and the orgasm ended, and there was only bruising pain.   


       

     

     

       


      Chapter 23: Past and present

     

     

      Rose led Mariah to the center of the revel hall.  Sunlight streamed through the windows, making Mariah squint a little. Easels were spaced in front of the walls, and a few scaffoldings were scattered around. Here and there was a random piece of furniture – a somewhat bedraggled sofa, a red armchair, an empty bathtub, contextless.

     

      The walls had a line of molding about five feet up.  Below they were freshly painted a slightly gray off-white. Above, Animal had begun sections of his mural.   

     

      Rose turned Mariah so that she was facing a wide panel opposite the main door.  On top of a cool green background a picture was taking shape:  an unkempt bed in which a figure lay, perhaps a woman, perhaps holding an infant.  A group of people surrounded the bed.  The picture was to such a scale that the large window in the wall seemed the size of a normal bedroom window. 

     

      Mariah's eye was drawn to the panel to the right, this picture complete, or nearly so.  In it an older slave woman sat in a rocking chair, holding a little human boy, crooning to him. A human man looked on, while a human woman's back was turned,  her face not visible.  Mariah could see the tenderness in the slave's face, the placidity in the child's, the satisfaction in the man's. 

     

      "Master Animal won't let anyone else work on the first two panels," Rose told Mariah.  "But the apprentices are allowed to help with the next one." 

     

      The third panel showed a party in a courtyard, humans dancing and slaves serving.  The focal point was a little girl, watching the festivities, wide-eyed as she held the hand of a slave dick. 

     

      "Each apprentice gets to paint one person," Rose told Mariah. "Master Animal says that creates variety."  She paused, twirling a strand of her hair, and added, quietly, "But he hovers over them so much it's really all his work."

     

      "Where are the apprentices, then?" asked Mariah, looking around.  Most of the crowd that had surrounded Animal when Mariah and Rose came into the room had left.  Animal was on the far side of the room, chatting with the couple that remained while he loaded material onto a scaffolding. 

     

      Rose shrugged.  "They come and go. But mostly they go.  I think Master Animal gave them the third panel to entice them to stay, but . . ."  She sighed pensively.  "Master Gabriel has the same problem.  People who say they want to learn healing from him, but wander off after a few days."  She looked over at her master. "I wish . . ." she said, but she didn't continue. 

     

      Master Animal had caught her eye.  Rose immediately started over to him, bringing Mariah with her.  As they approached, the man Animal had been talking to shook his hand, and the woman gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  They both turned to go.  Animal continued organizing the scaffolding.  "Clarice and her cunt were supposed to be here half an hour ago to model for me," he said. He frowned at Rose.

     

      "Would you me to take a note to them, Master?" Rose asked.

     

      "You know it would do no good," Animal growled. 

     

      The door opened with a squeak and Animal looked over hopefully.  When he saw it was Gabriel he frowned and sighed, but Gabriel was holding the door for someone behind him.  A thin woman with strawberry blonde hair tumbling over a sleeveless green dress walked in, followed by three slave dicks.  One of them was carrying a package.

     

      Animal started, and stared, and started again, and then a huge grin broke onto his face and he hurried toward her.  "Amalie!" he boomed.  "The wanderer returns!" He hugged her, then pulled back to arm's length to look her over. "When did you get back?"

     

      Mariah looked at Rose, who shrugged and shook her head. 

     

      "Three days ago," Amalie said.  She snapped her fingers and the slaves who had followed her fell to their knees, but looked at her adoringly.  "Aren't they sweet?"  She patted one on the head.  "I put in an order for them before I left, and they were just finishing their training when I got back.  Best thing I ever did.  This is the first time I've left my quarters. I came straight to you." She smiled prettily.

     

      Animal turned to Gabriel, who was standing between Rose and Mariah, and gestured him to come forward.  "I want you to meet my friend," he said to Amalie.  "This is Gabriel, a healer, from Harmony." 

     

      "So you're the one I've been hearing about," Amalie said, still smiling.  "The paragon." 

     

      Before Gabriel could reply she glanced at Mariah and Rose.  "And that one must be the runaway," she said, gesturing at Mariah.  "She's got trouble written all over her face."  Mariah stiffened but stared at Amalie's feet.  Animal started to say something but Amalie interrupted him.  "Where's your current cunt?  You never travel alone."

     

      Animal gestured to Rose, who fell to her knees.  "This scrawny thing?" Amalie asked.  "She's hardly your type." Rose and Mariah risked a glance at each other and then quickly looked away.

     

      Animal shrugged.  "She's good at mixing paint," he said mildly. 

     

      "You let her mix . . . ?"  Amalie trailed off as she turned back to Rose. "Standard position," she ordered.  Animal didn't interfere as Rose scrambled to her feet and placed her hands behind her head, elbows pointing out, eyes down, face red.

     

      "I see your master is still a pansy," Amalie said.  "Do you like mixing his paints?" 

     

      Animal started to say something, but stopped himself.

     

      "Yes, Mistress," Rose said, her eyes flitting to Animal as she answered. 

      

      But Amalie wasn't listening. She reached out and touched Animal's arm.  "I was sorry to hear about your mother.  I would have come to her burial if I had been here."

     

      Animal shrugged and pulled away.  "You know she was no loss to me," he growled. He snapped his fingers at Rose and she lowered her arms.

     

      In the awkward silence Gabriel asked, "Have you been traveling, Amalie?" he asked.

     

      Amalie was still holding onto Animal's arm.  "Oh, yes," she said.  "I've been to the ocean.  Have you ever been?"

     

      Gabriel shook his head.  "Harmony is in the opposite direction," he said.  "We only have songs about it."

     

      Amalie turned back to Animal.  "You must go some day.  The sun reflecting a million colors off the waves; the way the quality of the light changes throughout the day; the endless horizon . . ."  She trailed off.

     

      "Did you bring me a picture of it?" Animal asked eagerly.

     

       "Don't be ridiculous.  I could never do it justice," Amalie said. 

     

       "You've talent enough, if you'd apply yourself," Animal said, frowning.

     

      "And you know I never will," Amalie responded lightly.  Before Animal could say anything she added, "But I did bring you a present."  She gestured to the slave with the package, who carried it to her.  She handed it to Animal.  Carefully he opened the box, and brought out two wine glasses.  They were identical, each with a swirl of maroon pigment traveling from the base, up the stem and around the bowl.

     

      Animal handed the box to Rose and held one of the glasses up to the light, turning it.  "It's beautiful," he said.  "Flawless." 

     

      "And practical," Amalie said. She laughed again, and Animal joined in, as if she had brought up an old joke between them.  She continued, "The sea sand is amazing.  I brought some back with me, along with enough water glasses and windows to satisfy the Bearer.  But I'm not sure if the forge here can do it justice."  She sighed almost despondently, but then brightened.  "Now, show me your mural.  I want to see everything."

     

      Animal led Amalie to the first panel.  She nodded.  "Your perspective has improved," she said.  "Solis would be proud of you."  She walked slowly over to the next panel, the one with the picture of the slave holding the toddler.

     

      Amalie stared at the panel.  "You didn't," she half-choked.

     

      Animal shrugged, but said nothing. When he wouldn't meet her eye, she shook him.  "How could you?"

     

      "It's my painting," Animal said.  "The Bearer gave me full rights to paint what I want."

     

      "But . . ." Amalie sputtered.  "With your mother barely in the grave . . . "

     

      Animal took a step back.  "Leave my mother out of it.  She has nothing to do with this."

     

      "Clearly," Amalie said dryly,

      

      Animal shrugged again and looked fixedly ahead. 

     

      Amalie studied the panel.  "That's you as a baby; I didn't know you then but you've painted your own face clear enough."  As one, Gabriel, Mariah, and Rose looked at the painted toddler's face.  They had only known Animal with his long, unkempt beard which covered so much of his features; but they could see now that the color of the eyes, the shape of the nose, were his. 

     

      Amalie continued, "And your father, of course.  He was a sweet man."  She stopped, almost wistful, remembering. 

     

      Animal crossed his arms in front of him, while Amalie continued.

     

      "But you're not being held by your father or your mother.  That's your father's slave. What was her name?"

     

      "Edelia," Animal said sullenly. 

     

      "That's right," Amalie continued.  "She was older when I knew her, of course."  She looked at the painting closely. Then she glanced at Rose.  "Did you have your cunt model for her?"

     

      "No," said Animal.  "I painted from memory." 

     

      Amalie looked back and forth between the painting and Rose.  "Either there's a resemblance, or you've made one," she said.  Rose blushed, but stared at the slave woman in the picture.

     

        Amalie went on, "But that's not your mother. . ."

     

      "Of course not," Animal snapped.  "I have no intention of immortalizing her.  I used a model." 

     

      Animal and Amalie glared at each other for a moment, and then Amalie burst out laughing.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "I've been away too long, and too far from comfort.  Of course you painted the scene this way; you could do no other."  Animal relaxed, and Amalie turned slowly around, examining the room.

      

      "It's the project of a lifetime," she said at length.  "I see that.  But your paints will fade.  What are you thinking letting the sunlight stream in like this?"

     

      "I need light to paint," Animal said.  "At the end I'll deal with the windows."

     

      Amalie furrowed her brow in concentration.  She walked to one of the windows and tapped on it.  "Glazed glass is what you need," she said.  "It's whitish instead of clear.  Let's in a certain amount of light, but it's muted.  I'll make the windows for you, of course." Before Animal could respond she glanced out the window again, and started.  "Look at the time," she said.  "I promised Aunt Matilda I'd meet her for tea."  She glanced fondly at Animal, and then turned to Gabriel.  "Would you like to come by my quarters tonight?"

     

      Gabriel blinked, confused.  "Why?" he asked.  "Are you ill?" Animal snorted.

     

      Amalie reached out to touch Gabriel's arm as she had touched Animal's before.  "For comfort," she smiled.  She gestured to the three slaves, who looked at her with puppy love.  "For variety."

     

      Gabriel blinked three times rapidly, and removed Amalie's hand from his arm.  "Erm," he said.  "No thanks." 

     

      Amalie shrugged.  "Suit yourself," she said. "If you change your mind, Animal knows where I live."  She hugged Animal quickly, snapped her finger for her slaves to follow, and left, Gabriel gazing after her as if stunned. 


     

      Chapter 24:  Darkness


     

      Mariah did not know how long she suffered on the saw horse, how long she rocked from her clit to her tailbone on the thin slice of wood, bruising, bruising, bruising.  After a time the pain in her shoulders was almost as great as the pain below, as she forced herself to keep position with her hands behind her neck, her fingers swelling in their desperate grip. 

     

      At last two dicks assisted her down.  They helped her unfold her arms, and lay her on her front on a mat on the floor, where they massaged her shoulders, back, and arms.  Mariah was too exhausted to move.  "You're allowed to sleep now," one of the dicks said to her.  They put a sheet on her.  Mariah closed her eyes and fell into a sleep she could not distinguish from wakefulness. 

     

      ***

     

      After Amalie left, Gabriel, Rose, and Mariah as one riveted to study the picture Animal had painted, they now knew, of himself as a toddler, held by a slave woman, his father nearby, his mother with her back turned.  Gabriel was the first to turn, speculatively, to Animal, who stood, arms crossed, feet wide, scowling.  Mariah turned to him next, and, at last, Rose. 

     

      Into the silence Animal said, "Her name was Edelia."  He took a step towards the picture he had painted.  "She was my father's slave.  He was fond of her and she . . . she was devoted to him."  His voice caught, and his hands clenched.  "And she was always kind to me." 

     

      He took a deep breath. "When my father became ill – it was a slow, wasting disease, at first his limbs shook, and then after a while he couldn't move," Animal said, looking at Gabriel, who nodded in confirmation, "she was always at his side.  She did far more than her duty.  When his time came, about five years ago, I was there, but it was Edelia who eased his passing."

     

      "And your mother?" Gabriel asked quietly.

     

      Animal gave a short, bitter laugh.  "She cared nothing for us," he said.  "Her only interest was the ponyboy races." 

     

      "It must have been very difficult for her," Gabriel said, "her place usurped."

     

      Animal turned to him with a glare so stone cold that Gabriel took a step back.  He spoke slowly, clearly.  "After my father's funeral I got drunk.  The next day, when I sobered up, I went back to their apartment to collect Edelia.  I wasn't sure what I would do with her, but I planned to keep her with me until I figured it out – maybe the infirmary could use her help, or . . . " He trailed off, and then shook his head.  "It didn't matter.  By the time I came to their quarters, the day after the funeral, it was too late.  My mother had . . . "

     

      Animal couldn't continue.  He stared from Gabriel to Rose to Mariah to the ground.  At last he said, in a hoarse whisper, "My mother had sent her to the dogs." 

     

      And suddenly Rose was in front of him, and her arms were around him, and he was leaning into her.  He sobbed, once, and pulled back, hastily wiping his eyes.

     

      He cleared his throat.  "And now my mother's dead, too," he said.  He added, in a fierce whisper, "And if my loathing of her hastened her journey, so much the better." 

     

     

***


      Mariah awoke to activity around her.  A group of slaves sat on the floor near her, eating gruel from wooden bowls.  In the nearby kitchen area, others were clattering pots and spoons as they washed them. 

     

      Mariah began to sit up, but grunted as her sore shoulders reminded her of yesterday's torture.  A cunt glanced at her but shrugged and looked away, uninterested. 

     

      Mariah struggled up.  She picked up the sheet that had covered her throughout the night, wondering what to do with it.  The cunt who had glanced at her pointed with her thumb to a basket against the wall.  "Put it over there," she said, and turned away again.

     

      Mariah flushed.  That cunt had seen her the day before, knew that she had been punished for lack of control, seen her spanked and molested and forced to come while being tortured. 

     

      Mariah couldn't look at her, or any of the other slaves. They must be disgusted by her weakness. 

     

      She placed the sheet in the basket, keeping her legs wide as she walked, pulsing with pain from the day before.  Glancing around, she located a cauldron of gruel and nearby bowls and spoons.  She served herself, still not looking at anyone.

     

      Mistress Dominique clapped her hands.  Mariah followed the other slaves as they made their way to the center of the large room, where Mariah had been tortured the day before. 

     

      A dick knelt before the Mistress.  He was thin but muscular. Mistress Dominique placed her hand on his head, flattening his black corkscrew curls.  "Tell them what you did, Bini," she ordered.

     

      Bini's eyes filled with tears.  "I . . ." he said, but turned to look at Mistress Dominique.  Her face was implacable, merciless. Bini turned back to his fellow slaves.  "I touched myself," he spat out.  The tears overflowed his eyes.  "I was asleep.  I didn't know I was doing it.  Please, mistress . . ."

     

      Mariah suddenly realized there was nothing unusual about her humiliation the day before.  It was just part of the mindgame. It was foolish to be embarrassed. Her every action, every feeling of pleasure and pain, had been forced on her by Mistress Dominique, just as Bini would be tortured now for an action over which he had no control. 

     

      Mariah looked surreptitiously around. There were about twenty slaves in the room.  Mistress Dominique and the younger woman who looked like her were the only humans.  They could not control all the slaves all the time. 

     

      Mariah vowed to seek out those times when the humans could not control her, to make the most of them, to exercise her will. But, feeling Mistress Dominique's eyes on her, she looked obediently back at Bini, who cowered and sobbed.

     

      ***

     

       As Rose and Mariah left the revel room, Rose laden with several wooden palettes Animal had ordered her to clean, Animal touched Gabriel's sleeve.  "I need to harvest juniper berries for a green pigment," he said.  "Walk with me?"


       Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I wouldn't have thought to ask you.  I've been needing the berries myself, to replenish my supply of arthritis serum"


       Animal bowed with a sarcastic flourish before turning to the storage closet to grab two baskets.  Handing one to Gabriel, he led him through the door that was beneath the first panel of the mural.  As they walked across the lawn both men were quiet, lost in their own thoughts.


       Animal finally said, "About Amalie . . ."  He tugged at his beard.  "There's nothing between us. She's an old friend, almost like a sister."


       "I could see that," Gabriel said.  "I'm glad for you that she has returned." 


      Animal reddened slightly as he said, "So you didn't turn her down on my account?"  


       Gabriel began to laugh, but stopped himself when he saw Animal's worried expression.  "No," he said.  "I just wasn't interested." 


       Animal's worried look deepened.  "Why not?  She's beautiful, vivacious . . ." 


       Gabriel frowned.  "As are many women here," he said evenly.  "I'm just not interested."


       They had reached the road that circled the lawn.  As they crossed it, Animal said, "I'm worried about you."  He picked at a stray straw that poked up from the handle of the basket he carried.  


       Gabriel raised his eyebrows but said nothing.  They walked in silence for a few minutes, until Animal took a deep breath and said, "You won't fuck slaves, and I know you haven't fucked any humans since you arrived, I would have heard the gossip . . ."


       Gabriel exhaled quickly.  He flushed, but whether from annoyance or embarrassment Animal did not know.  Animal pressed on, "It's not healthy.  You must be bursting." 


       Gabriel stopped walking.  He said, too evenly, "My sex life is none of your concern, even in this place.  I'm neither your  your lover nor your patient.  Nor your slave," he added darkly.


      Animal entered onto a path through the kitchen gardens.  "Of course not.  You’re my . . ." He broke off, struggling to find the right word, and then said instead, "The Bearer told me to take care of you."

     

      Gabriel refrained from retorting that the Bearer had told Rose, not Animal, to take care of him.  He followed Animal into the gardens, but stopped at a large planter containing mint.  He plucked a sprig and crushed it in his fingers, using the pretense of smelling it to inhale deeply, steadying himself. Animal waited for him, pinching off a sprig of mint himself and rolling it between his fingers.  Gabriel said, finally, "Set yourself at ease that my choices are my own.  I won't make love to any mistress, whether your friend or not." 

     

      Animal blinked several times in rapid succession.  "So that's it, is it?" he said. "I didn't pick up on it, but then, you're an outlander . . ."

     

      "I've made no secret of it," Gabriel said shortly. 

     

      Neither of them said anything for a minute.  Animal began walking again, but was staring off to the horizon as if searching for a particular cloud.  Gabriel followed, equally silent.

     

      At last Animal said, his voice strained, "My interests don't go that way, I'd need to be on the receiving end . . ." 


       Gabriel looked confused, and then he realized what Animal was offering.  "No, I didn't . . ."  Then he stopped, his anger and embarrassment dissipating.  He craned his neck so he could check out Animal's backside.  "Well, it's nice and plump," he said, "and if your interests don't go that way you're probably good and tight . . ." 


       Animal blanched, and Gabriel burst out laughing.  "Your virtue is safe with me," he said.  "My interests don't go that way either." 


       Animal let out a sigh of relief.  He unconsciously put his free hand behind him as he asked, "But you said . . . you're not interested in women either."


       Gabriel was still laughing a little, but he responded, mock-seriously, "Surely you know there are some people who have little sex drive?  It's a well-known medical phenomenon."


       Animal looked at Gabriel uncertainly.  "You're kidding again, right?" he said. 


       Gabriel nodded.  "I'm kidding again," he assured Animal with a rueful smile. 


       Animal shook his head.  He held up his forefinger.  "You don't fuck slaves, you told me that yesterday," he said.  He held up his middle finger next to his forefinger.  "You like women."  He held up his ring finger. "You like sex."  He held up his pinkie and waved his hand in a chopping motion.  "You've got to fuck human women, then."


       "No!" Gabriel said angrily.  When Animal startled at his tone, he continued, "To make love to a rapist?  Give comfort to a torturer?  I could never . . ."  His eyes watered with the aggravation, the despair, he had felt almost every moment since crossing the gate into Riviera.  "I'd die first," he said, his voice low. 


       They had reached the stand of juniper trees.  Animal put his hand on Gabriel's basket, stopping him from reaching for the light blue berries that hung in bunches.  "Look, I feel for you.  But you can't keep your seed inside you.  It's poison." 


       Gabriel rolled his eyes.  "I assure you, my needs are met."        


       Animal frowned. "How?" he demanded testily.  "You're fucking neither slave nor woman nor man . . ."


       "Rose could tell you," Gabriel said tersely as he moved around Animal and began to pluck the berries.


       "Oh . . ." Animal said, his voice strained.  "Of course.  I thought . . ." 


       "Oh, for . . ." Gabriel said.  "I'm no more making love to Rose than I'm lusting after you."  Animal looked relieved, then confused again.  Gabriel continued, "I meant that she changes my sheets."


       When realization dawned on Animal he took a step away from Gabriel, dropping his basket with a thud.  "You touch yourself?" he said, horrorstruck.


       Gabriel nodded, trying to be grave.  "Fairly often, and quite well," he said.


       Animal took another step away from him, holding up his hands as if to ward Gabriel away.  "You shouldn't . . .  You'll go blind."


       Gabriel held up his own hands, his palms facing in. "Look," he said, "No hair on my knuckles, either." 


       Animal shook his head animatedly.  "It's wrong, I tell you," he said.  "If you don't want to be with a human, find a slave to service you.  What you're doing is revolting."  Indeed, Animal looked as though he might be ill.  "I can't bear to think of it."


       "Then don't," Gabriel advised.  He continued to pick the berries.  But then his hand stilled.   "Are slaves forbidden from pleasuring themselves?" he asked.


       "Of course!" Animal said.  "How could we control them if . . . " He stopped, suspicious.  "What are you planning?" he demanded.


       Gabriel ignored his question and continued to harvest berries.  Animal slowly added berries to his own basket.  When their hands accidently touched as they both reached for the same bunch of berries, Animal jumped back.  Gabriel sighed.  He said, "Animal, as a healer, I promise you that what you've been taught, it's not true--no more than . . . so many other things you believe here. Please, trust me that I'm fine?"  he asked.  When Animal didn't respond Gabriel looked over to him.  "And I promise that if I'm not, I'll reconsider your fine, plump . . ."


       "Okay, okay," Animal cut him off, shuddering. "I get it.  You're fine."


       When Gabriel's basket was full and Animal's much less than full, the two men started back through the kitchen gardens.  Gabriel carried his basket easily; Animal lugged his.  Before they reached the road, Animal set his basket down and massaged his shoulder with his opposite hand.


       "Um," he began. Gabriel looked over with raised eyebrows.  "I know customs are different in Harmony, no slaves and all that, but over there do you . . ."  Gabriel waited in silence, neither encouraging or discouraging Animal.  "I mean . . . you do have sex there, right?  You're not a . . ." and his voice dropped to a whisper, "a virgin?"


       Gabriel choked out a laugh.  "No," he said, and added, "although no doubt I lack your breadth of experience."        


       Animal pondered this.  "Then no doubt you make up for it in depth?" he asked, as he picked up his basket and led Gabriel across the road.

       

       Gabriel shrugged.  "I was with the same woman for a couple of years.  We thought about getting joined, not long ago." 


       "Why didn't you?" Animal asked.


       Gabriel sighed.  "When Katie proposed, it didn't feel right. My father told me he knew he should join with my mother when he realized that he wanted to share with her his dark side -- the things in the depths of his soul that made him ashamed."


       Animal thought about this.  "Did you think she couldn't have handled your darkness?"


       Gabriel shook his head.  "She could have handled it," he said.  "She was great."  He trailed off.


       "What then?" Animal asked.  They had reached the steps to the mansion and started to climb them.


       Gabriel said, "I realized I didn't love her enough to  . . .. The thought of doing that work with her . . . it just made me tired."


       "And then you volunteered to come here," Animal said.


       Gabriel nodded, and laughed self-deprecatingly.  "A journey to escape my darkness to a place where darkness is inescapable."


       "That's not . . ." Animal started to say.  But he shrugged, and held the door to the mansion open to Gabriel.




Chapter 25:  Pleasures        


       The bulk of Mistress Dominique's effort in her training center went to teaching young slaves how to cook. It was a difficult task.  When one has never seen cooking more complicated than heating gruel over a fire, every skill from breaking eggs to basting meat is foreign. When one cannot read and is rarely allowed to taste, each recipe must be memorized individually. 


       Mistress Dominique also taught housework, of course, and deportment.  Most of her slaves' experience with humans was limited to the field masters and mistresses and to those who had broken them in in the factory.  Neither group could be relied upon to impart the behavior that would  allow a slave to thrive, or even to serve, within the mansion.  Mistress Dominique therefore taught the slaves what they needed to know, such as when they should look a human in the eye, the crotch, or the foot; how to make it known what they needed -- sex, rest, or gruel -- without provoking their  humans into denying it or punishing them; and how to participate in a conversation if their human desired it.


       There were lessons in sex as well, but mostly Mistress Dominique let the slaves teach that art to each other.  Generally in the late evenings and early mornings they were allowed to do as they pleased, and Mistress Dominique knew full well that there was nothing they would please to do more than fuck each other. 


       Which is not to say that Mistress Dominique did not enjoy her own slaves.  The one she chose most often was Taejon, a golden skinned, brown-eyed dick with a slow smile Mariah found herself staring at. 


       Mariah did not want to repeat her mistake during her first days at the factory, when she had not realized that Shinelle was Master Jonas's pet, and part of the mindgame.  She spoke little, focused on avoiding punishment, and observed everyone.  She took note of who spoke to who, who Mistress Dominique praised or punished, who shirked on their work and who seemed to put in full effort even if their mistress would take no note of it.  And she watched Taejon, of the slow smile. 


       On her fifth night, Taejon watched her right back.  Each time Mariah glanced his way he was glancing hers.  Finally he left the group he had been chatting with and sauntered up to her. 

       "All you have to do is ask," he said.


       Mariah looked at him blankly, startled. 


       Taejon came closer.  "To make love to you," he said. 


       "What?"  Mariah said.  "What's that?


       Taejon threw back his head and laughed, but not loudly enough to draw attention.  He made a circle with his left thumb and fingers and put his right forefinger through its center.  "When slaves fuck out of free choice," he said, "we call it making love."


       "Why?" said Mariah, mystified.


       It was Taejon's turn to look startled.  "I don't know," he said.  "I guess because it's lovely."  He reached up and touched Mariah's hair where it reached her shoulder.  "It would be with me."


       "I'm still sore," Mariah blurted, feeling stupid and clumsy.  "From the saw horse." 


       "I can work with that," Taejon said softly.


       Mariah looked at him warily, but found herself blushing.  This brought out Taejon's smile, again.  He twirled a strand of Mariah's hair on his finger, then tugged on it gently so that Mariah tilted her head.  "Like this," Taejon said, and he leaned forward and fluttered his tongue against the side of her throat, where her pulse beat.  It was a tiny touch, but Mariah felt it in her depths.


       Taejon stopped, released Mariah's hair, and took a step back to give her some space.  "That's what I'd do to you, if you asked me to," he said. 


       Mariah imagined his tongue fluttering against her soreness.  She involuntarily moved towards him. "Okay," she said, which was the best she could manage. She found herself shaking.


       Taejon's smile widened.  He picked up a sleeping mat and sheet, and led her by the hand over to a kitchen area.  "I like privacy," he explained when she hesitated.  Mariah let herself be led, walking stiffly so that Taejon would not notice her wobbly knees.


       He arranged their bed in the center of the U shape of the kitchen.  He lay himself down on it and propped himself up on one elbow, looking up at Mariah and waiting for her.  Mariah took a deep breath.  Taejon raised his eyebrows and patted the sheet next to him, looking hopeful and sweet and longing all at once.  Mariah laughed a little and lay down next to him. She mirrored him, propping herself up on her elbow.  Then she was motionless, except for the pounding of her heart.


       "Where does it hurt?" Taejon asked her softly. 


       At first Mariah didn't know what he meant. Her heart hurt, had hurt for so long. But then she remembered -- Taejon was not here to love her soul, but her body.  She blinked away the stinging in her eyes. "My shoulders, a little," she said.  "My cunt, a lot." 


       "So not here," Taejon said, and he scooted down on the bedding until his mouth was opposite Mariah's breasts.  Before he touched them, he said, "This is what I'm going to do down below, soon."  He pushed Mariah onto her back and began to lick the underside of her left breast, below her nipple, gently, slowly, using only his tongue. He circled around her nipple, never touching it, then did the same to her right breast. 


       "You can touch me, if you want," Taejon said, as he went back to her left breast. 


       "Sorry," Mariah said, embarrassed.  It was as if she had forgotten all her training.  She circled her arms around Taejon, pushing against the strength of his back.  She moved her hands down to his buttocks, and just as she grabbed him there he began to lick her nipple.


       "Oh," Mariah breathed, and pushed her fingers slowly into his crack.  Taejon licked her other nipple. 


       Taejon moved himself up her body.  "Remember, I'm going to do this below soon," he said, and he began to lick her lips, slowly, gently.  When Mariah tried to add pressure, he leaned back.  "When I do this to your cunt, to your clit," he said, "it will only be my gentle tongue."  And he began to lick her mouth again, this time the inside of her lips.  He was looking into Mariah's eyes and she could sense his smile.


       Mariah's pulse raced and her cunt gushed, which reawoke the bruises there and the pain.  She could feel Taejon's erection against her thigh.  It made her smile, which made Taejon pull back. 


       Mariah slipped out from under Taejon and turned so that she could put her mouth on Taejon's penis.  She took him in.


       But he pulled back again.  "No," he said, his voice husky.  "Don't deep throat me."


       Mariah looked up. "I told you, I'm sore," she said.  "It will hurt if you go inside me."        


       Taejon smiled his slow smile, although he was panting slightly.  "You can give me a blow job, if you want," he said.  "But no deep throat."


       "It's the same thing," Mariah said, annoyed.


       "No," Taejon said, and he was half laughing at her.  "When you deep throat me, what do you focus on?"


       "Relaxing my throat," Mariah said.  Master Jonas had taught her this, over and over again.


       Taejon nodded.  "I want you to focus on pleasure -- yours and mine."


       Mariah flushed, embarrassed by her own ignorance.  But Taejon put his hand over hers.  "No one comes out of the factory knowing this," he said. "We all have to be taught."  He guided Mariah's hand to the base of his penis.  "Hold me here," he said, tightening his own hand around hers.  "And if you want, you can put your mouth on me.  But not so deep that it makes you uncomfortable."


       Taejon had become soft.  Mariah cupped him and rubbed him gently. She leaned forward and experimentally twirled her tongue around him.  He jolted and groaned.  Again, the feeling of pleasure deep inside Mariah's core, outweighing the pain. 


       Without letting go of him, Mariah straddled Taejon, her knees on either side of his chest, facing down.  He hardened within her grasp, and she put her mouth over him, enjoying -- loving -- being able to move her mouth up and down on him as she chose.


       And then he pulled her knees back, and she felt his tongue on her.  It was a gentle fluttering, just as he had licked her neck, her breasts, her mouth.  The sensation was in her slit, at the entrance to her vagina, and back again. 


       She stroked and sucked Taejon as he licked her, his hands curled around her legs.  Mariah felt sparks in the back of her eyelids.  She sucked on him harder.  The sensation was divine.


       And then he was licking her clit, so gently that there was no pain despite her bruises, and so slowly that she thought that she would explode. She grasped his cock with her hand and her mouth as if it was grounding her to this world.  He half-grunted, half-groaned, and Mariah could feel the vibrations from his sound.  Then she did explode, and he didn't stop.  Once, twice, three times, until she had to pull up or the sensation would be too much.  At this slight movement Taejon lifted his head, and with a groan and a push of his hips he came as well.   


       After, they rested against each other.  Mariah asked him drowsily, "So that's making love?" and he smiled his slow smile. 


       ***


       Rose sat cross-legged on the floor, a large mortar on her lap, crushing with a pestle the berries Animal had brought home. Mariah stood, one hand lightly on the back of an armchair, doing a stretch Gabriel had taught her. 


       Gabriel had emptied his medicine bag onto the table and was sorting packets, noting which needed replenishing. He sighed heavily.   Rose glanced over at him.  Mariah gave no indication that she had heard.


       Gabriel sighed again, louder, almost ostentatiously.  Mariah and Rose glanced at each other.  "Can I help you with something, Master?" Rose asked.


       Gabriel gave an obvious double take, as if surprised that Rose had spoken.  "Oh, what? No . . ." He tugged at his hair.  "I was just thinking about a girl I knew back home, and hoping that she was okay." 


       Mariah and Rose looked at each other again, even more confused.  "Was she sick, Master?" Rose asked.


       Gabriel shook his head.  "No, no, not at all," he said.  "She was just always in trouble.  Like Mariah," he said, carefully looking only at Rose.  "Hates rules.  A born rebel." 


       The door opened with a bang and Animal stomped in, sweating, carrying a large ceramic jug.  "Rose," he said, "I need you to start . . ."  Seeing what she was doing, he stopped, said, "Oh," and placed the jug on the floor near her.  "See that you don't spill," he said.  "That stuff stains."


       "Yes, Master," Rose said, smiling slightly. 


       Gabriel continued as if Animal had not interrupted him.  "Her name is  . . ." he paused, still looking only at Rose.  "Makayla," he said. 


       He went back to sorting, seemingly lost in thought.  Animal went into the bathroom and began running water for a shower.  Rose took the bait at last.  "Why are you worried about her, Master?" she asked.


       "Well . . ." Gabriel said, "I guess I'm not worried about her exactly."  Rose looked to Mariah, who was staring fixedly at the floor as she raised one elbow over her head and tugged at it with her other hand.  "Do you ever have a daydream that's so intense that it seems real?"


       Rose nodded, puzzled.  "Yes, I . . ."


       But Gabriel interrupted her.  "I was thinking, if Makayla were here, if she were a slave, what would she do?" 


       Mariah looked at Gabriel at last, but Gabriel continued to focus only on Rose.  "I mean, if her whole goal were to rebel . . ."


       Neither Rose nor Mariah said anything, but both were now staring at Gabriel.  He looked down at the packets in front of him, speaking softly now as if to himself.  "I suppose she could run away like Mariah, but let's assume she got caught."  Mariah looked away as she reached both arms above her head and stretched tall.  Gabriel continued as if he had not noticed. although he flushed slightly.  "And let's say, like Mariah, she survived.  She's nervous now.  She might be looking for an opportunity to run away again . . ."  Mariah laced her fingers behind her back, and Gabriel continued, "but in the meantime she's stuck.  She wants to rebel but she doesn't want to get caught, or punished."  Gabriel asked Rose, "What would she do?"


       Rose looked down, pale, troubled.  "I don't know, Master," she said, and her voice trembled.


       But Gabriel pressed on.  "You must have some idea.  You've surely known slaves like this, looking for opportunities.  Would she sneak food?" 


       Rose said low and urgently, "I don't know, Master." She swiped her eye with the back of her wrist, which made her splash some berry juice on the rug.  "Oh," she cried, struggling to her feet.


       But Mariah said, "I'll get you a cloth, Rose."  When she returned a moment later from the kitchen with a damp rag, she said to Gabriel, tightly, "She would do whatever she could without getting caught."


       Animal came out of the bathroom, his hair wet, a towel wrapped around his waist, and began to cross to his bedroom.


       "But what would she do?" Gabriel said.  "Remember, I'm an outlander.  I don't know your rules.  What's the worst thing a slave who wanted to quietly rebel could do?"


       Animal stopped.  He looked from Gabriel, uselessly moving his packets around, to Mariah, seething, to Rose, crying.  He said, coldly, shortly, furiously, "She would pleasure herself."  He turned to Rose.  "I need you in the bedroom."  When Rose started to move the mortar and pestle to one side, he said, "Leave them.  I need you now."  Rose followed Animal across the living area and into his bedroom, where he closed the door firmly behind them.


       Mariah was frozen in place, staring at Gabriel.  Gabriel continued randomly moving his packets around, not meeting Mariah's eye.  He continued, as if Animal and Rose had not left the room,  "That makes sense.  Of course, she'd have to be smart about it.  Find a time when she wouldn't get caught.  If she had a room to herself, she could do it late at night or early in the morning.  She would have to make sure she could take a shower right afterwards, and that her sheets wouldn't give her away.  Maybe she'd lay a towel down."  Gabriel looked at Mariah at last.  "Don't you think?" he said. Mariah looked at him, slackjawed, and then nodded once, quickly.  Gabriel turned away so that Mariah would not see his smile.


Chapter 26:  Choosing


       The next morning Mistress Celia, Mistress Dominique's daughter, ordered Mariah to the food exchange with a group of other new arrivals to the training center.  By the time she returned in the early afternoon, Taejon was in the center's courtyard, assigned to yardwork. 


       That evening Mistress Dominique took Taejon home with her.  Mariah felt a pang, not so much at his going -- she had known that Taejon was Mistress' Dominique's favorite -- but that he did so without a glance her way.


       The following day was much the same, but that night Mistress Dominique left alone.  It took Mariah a few minutes to work up her courage.  Finally she walked over to where Taejon was leaning against a counter, talking and laughing with seven or eight slaves.  She stood quietly, unsure of herself, until Taejon glanced over at her.  Then she took a deep breath and said as boldly as she could muster, "You said all I had to do was ask."


       When Taejon looked confused, and his friends stared, amused, Mariah had the sinking feeling she had made a stupid mistake. "To . . . to make love," she muttered.  Then she saw that Taejon's hand was intertwined with a slavegirl whose name Mariah had not yet learned.  Her face hot, Mariah started to back away. "I'm sorry, I didn't . . ."  Someone tittered.


       Taejon disentangled his hand and followed her.  "It's okay," he said.  "There's always room for one more."  He smiled his slow smile. "Do you know Angela?" 


       "No!"  Mariah said, still walking away.  "That's not what I . . ."  She turned away. "Maybe some other time," she muttered.  "I didn't . . ."


       Taejon looped his hand around her elbow.  "Don't be embarrassed," he said, his voice intimate so that no one could overhear.  "We'll have our time again, alone if that's how you like it."  He waited until Mariah nodded.  "But in the meantime," he continued, indicating with his head the many slaves in the room, "you should enjoy yourself.  There won't be many times in your life when you can make love with whoever you want.  I know, I've been in the mansion . . . "  He shuddered.  "Take advantage of it."


       "Okay," Mariah said, unconvincingly.


       Taejon smiled his slow smile as he released her and turned away.  "We'll be together again," he repeated, over his shoulder.  Mariah didn't know whether he meant it or not.  But how she hoped so. 


       ***


       Gabriel was having breakfast in Animal's suite the next morning when Mariah slipped in through the patio door, her hair damp. She ladled herself some gruel from the pot in the kitchen, humming softly.  As she sat down, Rose said to her, "You seem cheerful this morning."  Mariah colored slightly, but didn't contradict her.


       Animal stood up abruptly, his breakfast half uneaten.  "Come, Rose," he said curtly.  "I don't want to be late."


       Rose looked at him, bewildered, but stood as precipitously as he and followed him as he stalked out the door.  Gabriel merely smiled benignly at Mariah as she ate with an appetite that was rare for her.  When she finished, he said, "I was wondering if you would be willing to help me."


       Mariah looked at him warily, but not as warily as usual.  She said, "It is my privilege to serve you, Master." 


       "Uh huh," Gabriel said. "Anyway, I have a problem in my clinic."  Mariah said nothing, but did not scowl either.  Gabriel pressed ahead.  "When slaves are brought to me, they're afraid.  I spend more time trying to get them to tell me what hurts than I do examining or treating them."


       Mariah shrugged.  "They don't know how to play your mindgame, Master," she said.


       Gabriel nodded.  "I want you to tell them that I mean them no harm."  When Mariah continued to merely stare at him he laughed ruefully.  "I'm not asking you to lie," he said.  "I'm sure there's something you could tell them that would convince them that . . . " he trailed off as Mariah remained carefully expressionless.  He sighed, but then said carefully,  "You'd be alone with them, sometimes. You can say whatever you want to them, then."


       After a moment, Mariah nodded.  "It is my privilege to serve you, master." Gabriel rolled his eyes.  


       ***


       Mariah did not follow Taejon's suggestion that night, but the next day she found herself looking speculatively at her fellow slaves in the training center.  Although a couple, like Taejon, had lived in the mansion, most had come straight from the factory.  However, almost all had been in the training center  for weeks or months longer than Mariah.  As she looked from one to another she wondered what it would be like to be with them -- to "make love."

 

       That evening she approached a tall, thin slave with sandy blond hair and a shy manner.  Like her, he was relatively new to the center.  Mariah enjoyed feeling her way with him.  But she enjoyed just as much knowing that the next night -- even the next morning, or later that night -- she could be with someone else, someone she chose and who chose her, experimenting, learning, actually enjoying herself.


       ***


       Gabriel led Mariah into his clinic, which was made up of three rooms.  A waiting area, with a mismatched collection of chairs lining the walls, opened into the room where Gabriel met with his patients.  Both rooms also had a door to a third room, which Gabriel used for storing his medicines.


       As soon as Gabriel had finished giving Mariah the brief tour, the door to the waiting area opened. A human woman, short, middle-aged, cradled her left wrist in her right  hand. Gabriel invited her into the office, and Mariah, unsure what she was supposed to do, followed.  Gabriel asked the woman what had happened and then gingerly examined her swollen thumb.  He numbed it and then lanced it, carefully explaining each step to the woman as he did so.  As pus drooled out of the woman' thumb Mariah refused to look away, although her stomach clenched. 


       After Gabriel cleaned and bandaged the wound, he turned the woman's hand over and touched the vein in her wrist.  "If that turns red, you get someone to find me, no matter what."  The woman nodded, and Gabriel said, "Promise?"  He would not let go until the woman said, "Yes, yes, I promise." 


       Gabriel gave her instructions and medicine and sent her on her way.  He rinsed the metal bowl that had caught the pus, put it in a bucket with a tight lid, and then meticulously cleaned the area and his hands. Mariah wondered if she was supposed to offer to help, but of course did not.  


       By the time Gabriel opened the door to the waiting area again, several people had come in.  Gabriel looked around the room, scanning it for anyone in need of urgent attention. Seeing no one, he asked, "Who was here first?" as he looked at a list on a chalkboard on the wall. 


       A dark haired man, a little younger than Gabriel, raised his hand.  "Over here," he said.  He was using as a footstool the back of a slavegirl on her hands and knees in front of him. 


       Gabriel frowned at the man. "You know my rules, Charles.  That's not allowed in here."  


       "I'm not torturing her," Charles protested.  "I'm treating her good.  I brought her here to see you, didn't I?  She's sick or something." 


       Gabriel just looked at him until he shrugged and took his feet off the slave.  She remained motionless, staring at the floor.  "I'll see her next," Gabriel said.


       Charles stood up, but Gabriel raised his hand.  "I'll see her alone," he said.


       "Why?" Charles protested.  "She sick, I told you that.  She can't do anything for you, and she's got a bracelet on."


       Gabriel regarded him calmly.  "I'll see her alone so I can diagnose her without interference.  If you want me to help her, tell her to stand up and come with me."


       Charles shrugged.  "Go on, Guckel.  Do as he says."


       The slave stood up quickly, coughing a little as she did.  Mariah could see that her face was pasty white.  Gabriel started to reach his hand out to her, but he stopped, and simply walked back into his office.  Guckel followed him, and Mariah after her.


       The slave was short and squat. Mariah wondered at that -- why was she allowed to eat so much? 


       "Please, sit down," Gabriel said to her, indicating the same bench where the mistress with the infected thumb had sat.  Wordlessly Guckel obeyed him, coughing slightly again.  Gabriel riveted his attention to her at the sound, and she quickly suppressed it, ending in a wheeze.


       "How can I help you?" Gabriel asked her, his voice kind.  Guckel did not answer, apparently unaware that Gabriel was speaking to her.  Mariah snorted, but suppressed the sound as quickly as Guckel had suppressed her cough.


       Gabriel tried again.  "Charles says you're sick," he said.  "Is that right?"


       Guckel stared at the ground.  "My master is always right, my lord," she said, the words ending with a wheeze.


       Gabriel nodded, smiling faintly.  "Is it your stomach that hurts?" he asked.


       "What?" Guckel asked, surprised.  "No, my lord.  I mean . . ." she stopped in confusion, "Only if it pleases you." 


       "Ah," said Gabriel.  "Your throat then?"


       "Only if it pleases you, my lord," Guckel repeated.


       "Does your head ache?" asked Gabriel.


       "Only if it pleases . . . ," Guckel began, but her words were lost in a wheeze.   


       "I just had a woman in here with a sore thumb.  Is that it with you?" Gabriel said.


       Guckel stared at Gabriel in open amazement.  Even Mariah could tell that Guckel was not breathing right.  What mindgame was Gabriel playing?  Then she remembered, not long after she had woken up after the torment, when Gabriel had cured her arm. He had done something similar then, pretending not to know what was wrong when he had known all along.  But why?


       Guckel looked down, staring at the floor now.  When Gabriel remained silent, she muttered, "My lord, it hurts when I breathe."  And she coughed again.


       Gabriel nodded.  He reached for his stethoscope and put it on.  He took a step toward Guckel but stopped a couple of feet away.  "I'd like to listen to your lungs, if you'll let me," he said. 


       "I am yours to command, my lord," Guckel said.


       "You too?" said Gabriel, with an amused smile at Mariah.  She scowled back at him, and continued to scowl as Gabriel examined Guckel much as he had examined Mariah, when she had first awoken after the torment.  His soft tone was the same.  His gentleness was the same.  His intense concentration was the same. 

       Mariah's stomach clenched, as it had when Gabriel had lanced the mistress's thumb earlier. The mindgame again, invading her.  She was nothing special to Gabriel.  She had not even realized that she had thought she was.  She was merely someone to cure, just like Guckel. But he couldn't cure her stupidity. 

 

       "You have bronchitis," Gabriel was telling Guckel.  "Very treatable in someone young and healthy."  He squeezed Guckel's hand as he went to the storage room, and Mariah scowled at the slavegirl. 


       Nevertheless, when Gabriel had closed the door behind him, Guckel asked Mariah, "Will you tell me . . . Is this a mindgame?"


       "Yes!" Mariah snarled.  But when Guckel's face fell, Mariah amended, her voice bitter, "Oh, he'll make you better, if he says he can.  But after . . . "  She took a deep breath until her ribs announced their limit.


       "I don't care what happens after," Guckel said.  "I just want to be able to breathe."  She began to cough again.


       Gabriel came back in, two medicine bottles in his hand.  "Charles has promised that he will follow my instructions," he said to Guckel.  "Do you think he will?"


       Guckel said, scandalized, "He is my master, my lord."


       Gabriel sighed, and then shrugged.  "Very well," he said.  "I'll explain to both of you what you need to do."  He opened the door to the waiting room and called Charles in.  Mariah's self-recrimination rang in her head -- "I'm a stupid, stupid fool!" -- but over it she heard Gabriel's explanation of the doses of the mullein tincture, and how to turn the peppermint into vapor.  As he walked them to the door, Gabriel said to Guckel, "You should be feeling better by the day after tomorrow. If you don't, come back."  Charles gave no indication that he heard, but he allowed Guckel to walk upright out the door.


       Gabriel smiled briefly at Mariah before he called his next patient.  "That was a relief," he confided to her.  "I thought at first she had asthma."  Mariah scowled, shrugged, and looked away.  "Asthma is a chronic condition," Gabriel continued, as if he believed Mariah were interested.  "It can be controlled but not cured."


       Mariah's mood continued to darken over the course of the morning, as Gabriel addressed whatever ailments were brought to him, always with kindness, whether to human or slave.  Mariah felt as if she were in a cave, surrounded by dark rock, trapped. If slaves attempted to speak with her she looked at them coldly and refused to respond. If humans took notice of her she fell to her knees and stared at their feet.  If she saw Gabriel's puzzled, hurt looks she gave no sign. She was nothing to him and he was nothing to her. 





Chapter 27:  Fresh air


       Mistress Celia examined the kitchen area where Mariah had spent the afternoon cooking.  She looked at the bottoms of pots and pans, and took a toothbrush to the seam of the sink.  Finding no fault, she said to Mariah, "You are dismissed."


       "Thank you, Mistress," said Mariah, focusing on not rushing away in her eagerness.  She had made plans to be with Emerson that night.  It would be her first time going back to someone she had been with before.  Knowing him a little, she grew warm thinking about what it would be like to explore him more deeply.


       Mariah was among the last to be dismissed that night. She went to join the slaves congregating on the other side of the center, eating gruel, sipping warm water, before they would split off into pairs or groups of three or four. 


       Emerson was sitting on a wooden bench against the wall, in the thick of the crowd.  He smiled at her.  As she was making her way toward him, she saw suddenly that Taejon was sitting next to him, and hesitated.


       But Taejon grinned at her.  "You better go, Emerson," he teased, loud enough for everyone to hear.  "Here comes Mariah, and you know she can't wait to try out some new position on you."


       "Or I could be like you," Mariah said tartly and just as loudly, "always looking for new people so they'll never figure out you only know one position." 


       Her heart hammered and her face turned red when she realized what she had said, but around her the room exploded in laughter, including Taejon's. "She busted you!" someone called out, chortling.  


       Mariah sat on the other side of Emerson, their thighs and arms touching.  She didn't much listen to the mock insults and laughter flying back and forth.  She felt odd, jumpy and calm at the same time.  With a start, she realized the feeling was happiness.  For the first time since long before she left the farm, she belonged. 


***



       At last the waiting room was empty.  Gabriel gave Mariah one of the two egg sandwiches that Rose had packed.  Since Mariah refused to look at him, she did not see his tentative smile as he handed it to her.


       Gabriel did not try to speak with her while they ate, and made no comment when she threw most of her sandwich into the trash which he had just emptied.  After he swept up and washed his hands for the last time, he said, "I've a visit to make, and I'd appreciate your company."


       Mariah said nothing but followed him out the door he held open for her.  He led her through a series of corridors, until at last he stopped at an inner courtyard suite and knocked. 


       A mistress came to the door.  Mariah refused to register her surprise that a human would open her own door. She was an older woman, her hair salt and pepper, her shoulders slouched.


       "How are you, Anne?" Gabriel asked quietly. 


       She sighed.  "He's tired today," she said. 


       Gabriel nodded.  "He'll have good days and bad," he said. Mistress Anne took no notice of Mariah as she followed Gabriel into the living area.  On the couch a slave lay listlessly.  He tried to rise up when Gabriel sat on a footstool beside the couch, but Gabriel put a firm hand on his shoulder and he lay back down.  Mariah could see that he did not move easily. 


       "How do you feel today, Lenny?" Gabriel asked him.


       Lenny responded, "Fine, my lord.  I think I'm getting better."   


       Gabriel looked at Mariah, then, and  she heard his voice in her head as if he had spoken aloud, "There's nothing I can do." 

       Taking Lenny's wrist, Gabriel checked his pulse, talking with him at the same time, softly, reassuringly. Mariah didn't listen to what they said. For some reason she felt clumsy in front of the ill slave, as if she did not know what to do with her own arms.  Mistress Anne seemed to be in the same state of mind, aimlessly picking up and putting down knickknacks on a nearby shelf.   


       Gabriel continued to examine Lenny until the slave's eyes fluttered closed.  Still Gabriel stayed with him, breathing with him.  Only when Lenny was deeply asleep did Gabriel stand up, slowly, his breathing almost unchanged.  Gently he put his hand under Anne's elbow and steered her to the kitchen.  Mariah followed.  Gabriel was shaking his head.  Mistress Anne's eyes filled with tears, and Gabriel's did too.  To her dismay, so did Mariah's.


       "I don't know how much longer I can keep him," Mistress Anne said as she poured iced tea for herself and Gabriel, spilling a little. 


       "What do you mean?" Gabriel said. He had reached out for the glass but pulled back abruptly.


       Anne turned partially away, and shrugged.  "I'm already a laughingstock," she said.  "My friends tell me I'm crazy to live like this, to cater to him when he . . ."  She broke off.


       Gabriel stood up tall, cold, furious, masterful.  He waited until Mistress Anne turned back to him before he drawled, "You would send him off to die alone because you don't like what you're friends say about  you?"


       Anne took a step back.  "Not just my friends," she said.  "My son . . ."


       Gabriel shook his head.  "I misjudged you," he said, and his voice was disgusted.


       "You don't understand," Anne said.  "You're an outlander, you can't know . . ."


       "What I know," Gabriel interrupted, "Is what you told me.  That he served you well for as long as he could, until the cancer crippled him.  That he still tries to comfort you, as if you are the one who needs it, not that poor young man who is going to die soon -- and you will send him away  to . . . to . . . I don't even know what, but that his last days will be lonely at best, and probably miserable and painful."  He turned to go.  "You know my rules.  I can't help you any more."


       Gabriel walked towards the kitchen door, but Mistress Anne called, "Wait!"  Gabriel turned back to her.  "How much longer does he have?"


       Gabriel shrugged.  "Not long, I think," he said coldly.  "Weeks, maybe, not months." 


       Mistress Anne was gave a small cry.  "Please, help me," she said.  And Gabriel put his arms around her as she sobbed on his shoulder.  "I won't send him away, I could never."  And she continued to cry.  Gabriel said nothing, but Mariah could recognize that he was matching his breathing to Mistress Anne's until she calmed down.  Then she pulled away with a final sniff. 

       Gabriel took a bottle from his medicine bag. "This is palliative, nothing more," he said.  "Give him a teaspoonful if he complains of pain.  As often as he wants -- there's no reason to hold back now."


       Anne placed the bottle on the counter.  "Thank you," she said.  "You've done so much for both of us, I can't thank you enough."  Her voice shook.


       Gabriel's voice still had a hard edge to it.  "Thank me by keeping him comfortable," he said. 


       And suddenly Mariah understood.  Master Gabriel's kindness was a mindgame, there was no denying it.  He treated slaves as if they were special, when they weren't, not to him. 


       Mariah had told Guckel this morning she didn't know what happened after the cure, after the mindgame ended. 


       But Lenny wouldn't be cured.  He would die.  Neither Master Gabriel nor Lenny's mistress could torture him then.  For Lenny, Master Gabriel's kindness mindgame was just that -- kindness.  There would be no after. 


       And the mindgame had brought Lenny comfort, just as it had at times comforted her more than she would ever admit.  Gabriel had saved Lenny from torture, just as he had saved Mariah from death.  What did it mean?


***


       The next morning Mariah was assigned with two other slaves to go on their own to the food exchange.  It was Mariah's first time in the corridors of the mansion unaccompanied by a human.  As they passed a window she admired  the glint off the silver do not molest bracelet Mistress Celia had fastened on her wrist.  The bracelet, if she behaved with propriety, would likely protect her from unwanted attention. 


       It was Tabitha who suggested that they go outside rather than through the north wing of the mansion to get to the exchange.  Gino shook his head.  "If we get caught . . ." he said, his hands on his welted backside. 


       "We won't!" Tabitha said. "Not if we walk quickly."  Gino shook his head dubiously and Tabitha appealed to Mariah.  "You want to, don't you?"


       Mariah nodded her head, her heart pounding.  Gino sighed and rolled his eyes, but followed the other two out the door. 


       Outside.  The lawn, green and soft, intersected with carefully tended walkways.  Beyond it, the fields, where Mariah had grown up.  And beyond them . . . Mariah didn't care.  She took Tabitha's and Gino's hands and the three of them started to run, towards the food exchange where they were sent, but outside, breaking rules, laughing.


***



       Mariah was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice when she and Gabriel exited the mansion.  The walkway pavement felt warm under her feet.  "My lord?" she asked tentatively.


       Gabriel blinked, coming back from where he had been deep in his own thoughts.  "Yes?" he said with an encouraging smile.


       "After Lenny dies . . ." she tried to formulate her thoughts.  "Is that all?"  When Gabriel just looked puzzled, she clarified, "Do you think there's another life, another mindgame, after this one?"  She blushed, embarrassed by how stupid she sounded.


       Gabriel pushed his finger through the hair on his forehead.  "I don't know," he said.  "I don't think it matters."


       "How can it not?" Mariah asked.  "I mean . . ."  But she didn't know what she meant.


       Gabriel led Mariah over to a bench swing under an oak tree.  "A lot of people who lived long ago thought it mattered," he said.  "Some believed in heaven -- a paradise where good people would go after they died, or people who believed the right things.  Some believed that people would be reborn as other people, or even animals, depending on how they acted in this life.  Some believed dead bodies would be brought back to life."


       He pushed the ground with his foot, making the swing move.  "The earth was populated, then, from one ocean to the next and on continents across the oceans, there were people everywhere.  And no matter what the people believed, they used the earth up, and they fought tremendous bloody battles against each other, sometimes because of what they believed, until there was hardly anyone left, billions of people died, devastation like you can't imagine."  Mariah listened, transfixed, as Gabriel continued, "And of those who were left, some people who believed and some who didn't became masters and some people who believed and some who didn't became slaves."


       He stood up, and gave his hand to Mariah to help her up.  "It doesn't matter what happens after we die. What matters is what we do while we're alive.  Do we help each other, and stand up for what's right?  Or do we . . ."  He pointed to a mistress across the yard, forcing a crying slave to walk into a wild rose patch, her skin torn by the thorns . . . "Do we act like that?" He started to walk again, and Mariah came with him. 





CHAPTER 28:  THINGS FALL APART


       That afternoon Mariah still basked in the high of the morning's small rebellion.  As she kneeled obediently, knees wide, butt on heels, hands palm up on her thighs, she focused on not glancing at Tabitha or Gino, who were kneeling on either side of her. She sucked in her cheeks, hot with pleasure, to keep from smiling.


       Mistress Dominique was punishing a new girl, Erennia.  Mariah had not been listening and did not know what her supposed crime was.  It didn't matter. 


       She was suddenly aware of a change in the air around her.  Mistress Dominique had left Erennia tied to a footstool and was scanning the other slaves. 


       Cold premonition, like so long ago in the fields, when Rolanda's mistress had laid eyes on Mariah.  Desperately she looked down, at Mistress Dominique's feet pacing back and forth in front of the group.  It did no good.


       When Mistress Dominique called her name she had no choice but to look up, and when ordered to do so she had no choice but to stand and approach.


       Mistress Dominique was placing a whip in her hand.  The carved wood of the handle was warm and damp from the human woman's grip.  For a split second Mariah did not react, but as she felt the handle's solidity she dropped it and took a step back.  She willed herself not to protect her body from the punishment that must surely follow.  But Mistress Dominique smiled at her.  "Is this your first time with a whip?" she asked.


       "Yes, Mistress," Mariah answered, her voice shaking, the joy of just a few moments ago obliterated. 


       "It's okay," Mistress Dominique said.  "Pick it up."  When Mariah again held the whip handle, Mistress Dominique said, "Feel it's power.  You know what the other end feels like.  This is where it begins, pain surging from your body through the instrument and into the prostrate slave waiting for it." 


       Mariah, sickened, concentrated on remaining expressionless, but Mistress Dominique seemed to be speaking more to herself than to her.  She moved behind Mariah, close, until her front was touching Mariah's back, much as when she had forced Mariah to orgasm at the Exchange.  She slid her palm down the outside of Mariah's arm, until she had engulfed the back of her hand.  Slowly she drew Mariah's hand up and back.  "Ready?" she breathed in Mariah's ear.


       "No!" Mariah said inside her head.  "Never!"  But out loud she said, "Yes, Mistress."


       "Watch the rebound," Mistress Dominique said.  "It's common to slash your own face when you're still learning."  Mariah wondered whether she could manage to hit Mistress Dominique, but dismissed the thought.  She hadn't the skill.


       And then Mistress Dominique was directing her arm back and forth, and the leather of the whip snaked, and its end snapped Erennia in the lower back, just above her buttock.  It left a small mark, maybe an inch long, and as Errenia grunted the thong came back, going wide of both Mariah and her mistress. 


       "Nicely done," Mistress Dominique said.  "Again!"  And again she directed Mariah's arm, forward and back, and the whip hit Errenia and Errenia groaned as the whip came back. 


       "You try it," Mistress Dominique said.  She stepped away from Mariah, far enough that she could not be hit by the backlash.  Mariah took a breath, tried to imitate what Mistress Dominique had done, and ended up hitting Errenia much harder, square across her buttocks.  Errenia screamed.  The whip came back and hit Mariah in the shoulder, cutting her.  "Try again," Mistress Dominique said.  "Watch your angle."


       Mariah tried again.  It was a sweet stroke, the end of the whip hitting Errenia in the crack between her spread legs, not hard enough to do any real damage but hard enough to make Errenia cry out, "Please!  Please!"  Mariah drew her arm back wide, to direct the whip away from her own body. 


       "Feel the power," Mistress Dominique said.  "Feed on her pain."


       The lash was still swaying.  Mariah looked over to Mistress Dominique, wondering if she was done.  "Go on, girl," she said.  "Beat her as she deserves."


       Mariah looked back at the spread figure in front of her.  She gritted her teeth as she raised her arm again.  "Not for my pleasure," she said to herself. She snapped the whip, trying to do it gently.  The lash hit Errenia midback.  Errenia shuddered but made no sound. 


       "Harder," Mistress Dominique said.  "Make her feel it.  Enjoy it."


       "Never for my pleasure," Mariah said again to herself, as she snapped the whip harder, hitting Errenia lower down, making her cry out. 


       "Again!" Mistress Dominique said.  Mariah whipped the girl over and over, each time telling herself, "Never for my pleasure." Each time, Mistress Dominique commanded her to continue. 


       Mariah gained some control of where the lash landed.  When Errenia was marked from her knees to neck, and Mariah's arm ached, Mistress Dominique said, "Enough." Gratefully Mariah lowered the whip.


       But Mistress Dominique was not done with her.  Once again she stood behind Mariah, snaked her arm around Mariah's middle, and put her fingers on her sex.  "You're practically dry," Mistress Dominique said, astonishment mixed with disapproval.


       "I . . ."  Mariah began, but there was nothing she could say.  Fear gripped her as she realized her miscalculation.


       Mistress Dominique pulled away from Mariah.  She pointed at Tabitha and Gino, sitting among the other slaves, and crooked her finger towards them. As they approached she said to Gino, "Untie her," indicating Errenia.  When he complied, Mistress Dominique said to Errenia, "Go," and waved vaguely toward kneeling slaves.  With a gulp of relief Errenia scurried to them. 


       Mistress Dominique had already turned back to the three slaves before her.  She squinted at Tabitha, deliberating.  "Untied, I think," she murmured mostly to herself.  She gestured Tabitha over to the footstool, still wet with Errenia's sweat.  "Make sure you keep your knees wider than the legs of the stool." 


       With one dark glance at Mariah, Tabitha did as she was bid, assuming the same position that Errenia had been in, but with no ropes to restrain her.


       Mariah still held the whip limply in her hand.  Mistress Dominique forcibly spun her into position behind Tabitha, and kicked her legs apart.  She pointed at Gino.  "Knees," she said.  Gio knelt before Mariah. 


       Mariah did not need to hear her mistress's words to know what she would say.  "You'll whip her until you orgasm."  She added, "Mind the backswing; they'll be no stopping just because you slice your partner's ear." 


       Gino had already seized Mariah's buttocks and pulled her closer, trying for a headstart to save Tabitha some misery.  He placed his tongue on Mariah's slit and his upper lip on top of her clit and began to suck.  Mariah was not prepared and involuntarily took a half step back.  Mistress Dominique smiled.  "Begin," she said.


       As Gino pulled her towards him again, Mariah raised her whip arm and twitched it.  The lash hit Tabitha midback.  "Harder," Mistress Dominique said, "unless you fancy the rest of the day on the sawhorse."  Mariah flicked the whip again, harder, without aim.  The lash crashed into Tabitha's left inner thigh.  Tabitha inched her legs together, only for an instant, but Mistress Dominique noticed.  "Move them again, and we'll finish this while you're wearing a buttplug coated with hot pepper oil."  Although Gino had pulled back for a moment, Mariah felt the tightness begin.


        She flicked the whip again, trying for an impact that was not so soft as to arouse Mistress Dominique's ire, and not so hard as to make Tabitha move her legs again.  As the blow landed Gino put his fingers in her crack, one of them resting on her asshole.  He tongued her in wide circles below her clit. But Mariah was nowhere near ready. 


       She flicked the whip again.  Tabitha cried out.  Gino moved his thumb down and gently penetrated her vagina with it, circling her clit with his tongue, not touching it.  The whip, again, and Tabitha's groan, and Gino's thumb moving up her slit.  The whip, again, and Tabitha's pain, and Gino's thumb just below her clit.  The whip, again, and Tabitha in a blur, and Gino using his tongue to push her clit onto the hardness of his thumb.


       It is not enough.  Mariah is panting, from Gino, from her exertion, from the confusion, but she is not ready yet.  "Aim for her crack," Mistress Dominique commands her, and Mariah does, and as the lash lands, Gino is pushing his finger into her ass, and now his thumb is in her cunt again, and he is pushing his finger in and out of her ass and his thumb in and out of her sex as he licks her clit.  Mariah whips Tabitha. Tabitha cries out, her body wriggles, struggling to keep her knees wide. Gino sweeps his tongue from the entrance to Mariah's vagina to just below her clit and stops. 


       Mariah whips Tabitha again.  Again the cry, the wriggle, the struggle, and Gino's tongue on her.  Again, and again.


       And then, every time the whip connects to Tabitha, Gino licks her clit.  On the backswing he pulls back.  She whips again, he licks her clit again.  Lightning behind her eyes, but only when the whip connects.  The whip, the tongue, the whip, the tongue.  She is close now.  She accidently flicks the whip harder, and Tabitha cries out louder.  Gino draws her clit into his mouth.  His tongue continues to circle.  Mariah hits Tabitha hard again, and Tabitha out again.  The whip, the cry, the tongue circling. 


       The crash is about to overtake Mariah.  The whip goes wild; it wraps around Tabitha to the side of her breast squished into the footstool, and Tabitha shrieks, and Mariah shrieks, and Gino fingers her ass and her cunt harder, deeper, and sucks her clit, and Mariah brings the whip down one more time and Tabitha cries out one more time, and Mariah is pushed over the edge, into Gino's mouth, spasming, and as she does she whips Tabitha again, again, and her cries are louder than Tabitha's.  And then she can barely hold up the whip, or herself.  Gino has pulled back, and Tabitha is quiet and still, bleeding where the whipmarks have crossed.  And Mistress Dominique says to them, "You are dismissed."  Gino helps Tabitha up.  Mariah staggers and no one catches her. 

 




CHAPTER 29:  The Aching is the Hardest Part        


       When they came to the stable yard Mariah hesitated, surprised.  Gabriel stopped too.  “Oh,” he said.  “I’m sorry. I came here out of habit.”  He ran his fingers through his hair, perplexed.  “Are you tired?”


       Although it was early afternoon, Mariah was exhausted.  But she shook her head.  “Only if it pleases you, my lord,” she said.


       “As I’ve told you a thousand times, it would please me if you would stop talking that way,” he said, almost rotely.  “Since we’re here, would you like to ride a horse?”  He smiled, looking sunny and boyish and hopeful in a way that Mariah rarely saw in him. 


       She bit down her fear and lifted her chin.  “If it pleases you, my lord.”  She looked at him from the corner of her eye, and at his frown of annoyance she grinned and looked quickly away. 


       Gabriel led Mariah through the stable yard and into the third entrance.  They stopped at the threshold, to give their eyes a chance to adjust to the dimmer light. 


       A slave appeared before them.  “May I serve you, my lord?” he asked.


       “Ah, Remarque,” Gabriel said with a smile.  “How’s your shoulder today?” 


       As Mariah looked with interest at the man she had seen Gabriel stitch up weeks earlier, Remarque rolled his shoulders expressively.  “Good as new, my lord,” he said.


       Gabriel led Remarque out into the sunshine, where he looked critically at the puckered scar at the border of his shoulder and neck.  “May I?” he murmured to Remarque before touching it gently with his finger.  He nodded.  “I’m afraid you’ll always have a bit of a mark there,” he said.  “Sloppy work on my part.  I’m sorry.”


       Without warning Remarque fell to his knees in front of Gabriel.  Gabriel took a step back.  “Remarque!  What are you . . . ”


       Remarque stayed where he was.  “My lord, you saved my life!  This is the only way I know how to thank you.”  And he slowly lowered his forehead to the ground.


       “I expect Gabriel would appreciate your gratitude more if you gave it to him standing up,” Master Stefan drawled, leading a large speckled white mare to the entryway. 


       Remarque scrambled to his feet.  “Master,” he said to Stefan.  “I didn’t see . . .”


       “Clearly,” Stefan said.  “Now go to your duties.” A look passed between them, and Mariah knew that Remarque would be punished.  Remarque backed away before turning and hurrying inside the stable.


       Stefan turned to Mariah.  “Ah,” he said with a sardonic smile.  “The runaway graces us with her presence.” Mariah flushed.


       “I was hoping you could help us,” Gabriel said.  “Mariah wants to ride, but her ribs aren’t healed.  I was thinking if she could mount and dismount from a bench she wouldn’t have to put pressure on them.  And if you had a smooth, easy ride for her . . .”


       Stefan looked at Mariah appraisingly, but with interest, not meanness.  He stroked his chin.  “Have you ever ridden before?” he asked.


       “Just once, my lord,” Mariah said, feeling foolish. 


       Stefan turned to Gabriel.  “We’ll put her on Mercy,” he said.   When Gabriel nodded in agreement, Stefan said, barely raising his voice, “Remarque.”  When Remarque appeared immediately as if he had been hovering just beyond their view Stefan showed no surprise.  “Tell Jordan to saddle Mercy.” He looked critically at Mariah again.  “Standard saddle.” 


       “Yes, my lord,” Remarque said.  As he turned to go Gabriel called to him, “Wait!”  When Remarque stopped, he said, “Would you ask Jordan to saddle Pegasus for me too?”  Both Stefan and Remarque looked at him in surprise, but Gabriel shrugged and indicated Mariah.  “She needs to rest.” 


       Mariah flushed again, embarrassed, but Stefan merely indicated a bench between his stable entrance and the next one over before stalking off, leading the mare by her bridle.  “Friendly chap, ain’t he?” Gabriel said as he brought Mariah over to the bench. 


       When Mariah sat next to Gabriel she was overwhelmed with exhaustion.  She closed her eyes just for a moment.  She heard a voice say, “Both horses are ready, my lord.”  She felt unaccountably safe, and when she opened her eyes she realized she was leaning against Gabriel, his arm around her.  She scooted away.  Gabriel smiled at her.  “Good morning, Sunshine,” he said.  She scowled and stood up, surprised at how rested she felt.


       Stefan took Mercy’s reins from Jordan.  He checked the saddle belt and the stirrups, nodded, and walked away.  Then Gabriel checked the saddle belt and the stirrups. 


       Stefan came back with a short bale of hay, which he put on the bench.  “Ordinarily you would pull yourself into the saddle, one foot in the stirrup and then swinging your other leg around,” Gabriel told Mariah.  “But with your ribs you can’t do that, yet.  So we’ll have you just step into the saddle.”   


       Gabriel took Mercy’s reins from Jordan with a smile, and led her over to the bench. “I’ll hold the horse,” Master Stefan said.  “You help the chit. I expect she would prefer you to me.”  He looked at Mariah, expressionless.  Mariah looked away and happened to glance at Jordan, who winked at her.


       “Climb up here,” Master Gabriel said to Mariah, indicating the block of hay Master Stefan had placed on the bench.  As Mariah did so, Master Stefan urged Mercy closer to the bench, until her legs were almost touching it.  “Just step right into it,” Master Gabriel instructed Mariah.  “You can put  your hand on the horn,” indicating the front of the saddle, “for balance, but don’t pull with your arms.”         


       Mariah swung her leg over and landed in the saddle.  Master Stefan led the horse away from the bench, and Gabriel adjusted the stirrups until Mariah’s feet were in what he deemed to be the proper position.  He took the reins from Stefan, put them over Mercy’s head, and placed them in Mariah’s hands.  “This way to go the right,” he said, moving Mariah’s hands to the right of the horses neck, “and this way to the left,” and he moved her hands to the left.  “Pull back to stop.”  Mariah nodded and looked down.  The last time she had been astride a horse she had been blindfolded.  She could see why; up here she felt strong and powerful. 


       Then Mercy began to walk and Mariah grasped at the horn, letting the reins falls.  Stefan rolled his eyes and handed them back to Mariah as Gabriel mounted his own horse.  “Sit up straight, and don’t touch the horn when you’re riding,” he said. “It only shows fear.”


       “I’m not . . .” Mariah spluttered, but Master Stefan had moved away, handing a lead rope to Gabriel. Mariah sat up straight and put her left hand on her thigh, firmly away from the horn.


       Master Gabriel chirruped to Pegasus, and they started to walk out of the stable yard.  By the time they reached the wide road that led away from the mansion, through the fields, Mariah’s knees had begun to ache.  She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle, which made Mercy pick up her pace.  She pulled back on the reins and the horse slowed down. 


       Master Gabriel turned back to her.  “Good?” he asked, and she nodded, blankening her face.


       The pain in her knees got worse, but she held still, nervous about the effect that fidgeting would have on the horse.  She remembered how her knees had ached on her blindfolded ride from the fields to the mansion so long ago.


       As they traveled the main road heading east, among the kitchen fields, Gabriel was talking to her, about how his sister had secretly taught herself to ride.  Mariah barely listened, focusing on keeping her face blank and not shifting in her saddle, although the pain in her knees was increasingly sharp.  Eventually Gabriel stopped talking.  When at length he turned them around Mariah breathed a small sigh of relief.  The aching in her knees was atrocious. 

       

       The walk back to the stable seemed to take forever.  When she could take it no more she slowly removed her feet from the stirrups and bent her knees more to relieve some of the pressure on them.  It helped only a little.  Mercy continued to plod along, led by Gabriel.

       

       At last they came back to the stable yard.  Gabriel dismounted with a jump, but before he had moved towards Mariah someone called his name.  A human ran up to him, breathless.  “My wife fell off her stallion jumping the dam at the Hollyhock stream.  Her leg’s broken. Can you come?”


       “Of course,” Gabriel said.  He glanced at Mariah, who looked stolidly back at him.   


       Stefan hurried up and took Mercy’s lead rope.  “Go with Avery.  I’ll see to your rag.” Gabriel looked from Stefan to Mariah, frowning.  Avery said impatiently, “Please, hurry, her brother’s with her but he . . . she . . .”


       “You’ll be okay?” Gabriel asked Mariah.  “I can’t take you . . . It’s two miles to the dam and I’ll need to cantor . . . “  Mariah felt fear in the pit of her stomach.  He would leave her here, far from the safe apartments.  But she nodded.  Gabriel was unsatisfied.  “You’ll behave?”  he asked anxiously. 


       Avery gave an impatient hiss.  “Healer!  She’s hurt bad.  Please!”  But Gabriel did not drop Mariah’s gaze until she nodded again.  Then he swung back up onto Pegasus. He said to Stefan, “Send a wagon to the dam, will you?  And a couple of strong men, and plaster from the hospital supply room -- get a message to Robyn there -- she’ll know what I need.” 


       “Of course,” Stefan said.  As Gabriel turned Pegasus around, Stefan threw Mercy’s lead rope over a railing, and hurried away. 


       Mariah was left alone on Mercy.  She tried at first not to shift in her saddle, but as the minutes passed with no abatement to the pain in her knees, she couldn’t help it.  Mercy whickered, and Mariah wondered if that was sympathy.  Tentatively she touched the horse’s neck.  It was soft and warm.  Sighing, she looked in the direction that Gabriel had gone, when she felt a hand on hers. 


       Startled, she looked down to see Master Stefan.  He pressed her palm into the horse’s neck and moved it up and down.  “Pat her firmly,” he said. He met her eye without malice, and removed his hand.  Mariah continued to pat the horse. 


       Stefan moved the short bale of hay from the bench where they had left it earlier to the ground under Mercy’s left side.  “You’re going to slide down,” he said.  “Move your right leg over the saddle so you’re facing me.”  Mariah did so with difficulty, wincing at the pain.   “Just slide forward,” Stefan said.


       Mariah slid, and landed on the bale of hay.  Her knees unable to support her, she cried out in pain and continued down to the ground before Stefan could catch her.  She scraped her palms and barely missed hitting her forehead on the dirt.


       With an oath Stefan pulled her to her feet, but again her knees would not support her and she fell.  This time Stefan let her stay on the ground.  “Your knees?” he said without sympathy.


       “Yes, Master,” Mariah answered, trying to pull herself up.


        “No doubt they began hurting almost as soon as you got on the horse?”


       “Yes, Master,” Mariah said again.


       Stefan frowned.  “You should have said something.  I hardly think that friend Gabriel intended to torture you on horseback,” he said, contemptuously.


       Angry tears stung Mariah’s eyes as she struggled to her feet. Finally finding her footing, she lifted her chin.  “No more than he would want Remarque punished for bowing before him,” she snapped. 


       Stefan’s eyes widened as his hands went automatically to his whip.  But his first surprise was replaced almost immediately with something else -- grudging respect, maybe. He half turned away from Mariah and boomed, “Jordan!  Here!  Now!” 


       Jordan wheeled around on the big black stallion she had been riding out of the yard and trotted over.  “Dismount,” Stefan ordered her. 


       Jordan swung off the horse and, holding his reins tightly, bowed her head before her master, awaiting instructions.


       “I want you to show Mariah the stretches for tight thighs.”  He looked at Mariah and said flatly, “You’ll do them every day.”


       Mariah scowled and took a step back, which made her knee hurt and caused her to stumble.  Master Stefan turned back to Jordan.  “Keep her out of trouble until she’s sent for,” he said.  “If anyone punishes her in your care, you’ll get ten times worse for yourself tonight.”  As Jordan nodded, he turned to Mariah, gripping his whip again.  “That includes me,” he growled.  Mariah’s scowl deepened, and her face colored, but she said nothing.  Stefan added to Jordan, “Leave the horses.  I’ll find someone to take care of them.”


       “Thank you, my lord,” Jordan said calmly. 


       As Stefan stalked off, Jordan tied the stallion near Mercy and turned to Mariah.  “C’mon,” she said.  She led Mariah through the mostly empty stable. 


       “Where are all the horses?” Mariah asked.


       Jordan shrugged.  “This time of day, the ones that aren’t being ridden are in the pasture.”  She turned into an empty stall on the right.


       “Is this . . . ?” Mariah began.


       Jordan nodded. “It’s Pegasus’s stall. Far enough back that no wandering humans will happen upon you here.” She spread out a blanket that had been laid over the low wall of the stall. “I’ll show you those stretches now.”  She sat down in a straddle, pointing her toes, leaning towards the  middle.


       Mariah sighed. More exercises to add to her repertoire.  “Why does Master Stefan want me to do these?” she asked


       Jordan stopped her demonstration, looking at Mariah as though she were simple.  “Master Gabriel will surely want to teach you to ride,” she said. “And you can’t learn if you can’t sit properly in a saddle.” 


       Mariah scowled again. Who said she wanted to learn to ride? But she remembered the first moments atop Mercy, before her knees started to hurt, how powerful she felt, almost free.  Yes, she would do what she needed to do to be able to ride. 



       CHAPTER  30:  Lessons


       The next day, during the usual time that Mistress Dominique assembled the slaves so they could witness her torture of one of their own, Mariah again assumed kneeled, knees spread, big toes touching, palms up.  Feeling relatively safe from being singled out a second day in a row, her mind wandered.


       And so when Mistress Dominique called Mariah's name, there was a moment of confusion before the sick feeling flooded her. She felt almost dizzy as she approached Mistress Dominique, who smiled at her and handed her a whip, again. 


       Mistress Dominique beckoned to Angela, the slave that Taejon had been with the night he had rejected Mariah.  And then Mistress Dominique crooked her finger to a tall brunette slavegirl named Petra. Both had been in the training center much longer than Mariah, so long that they would probably be leaving soon.


       Mistress Dominique told Petra to cuff Angela to the portable whipping post, facing forward.  "Mistress, I didn't do anything, I swear," Angela pleaded.  Then she bit her lips, realizing she had spoken without permission.


       But Mistress Dominique ignored the infraction.  "Of course not," she said, as Petra raised Angela's arm and attached it to a cuff behind the post.  You've behaved very well lately, a credit to your training.  This isn't for you."  She turned to Mariah, still holding the whip, thinner than the one she had used the day before, more like a switch. 


       This couldn't be happening. "Please, Mistress," she begged, panicked.  "Don't make me do this, not again."


       "Nonsense," Mistress Dominique said. "This if for your own good."  She spoke clearly so that everyone in the room could hear her.  "But, if you really prefer, you can switch places with Angela."  She smiled calmly and looked expectantly at Mariah. 


       Mariah took a step back without thinking.  "No, Mistress, I . . ."


       "Of course not," Mistress Dominique said. 


       Mariah knew then that the offer was simply a mindgame.  She shot an apologetic look at Angela, but Angela was looking down.


       "Warm her up," Mistress Dominique said.


       "My lady?" Mariah asked, not understanding. 


       Mistress Dominique sighed impatiently.  "Touch her," she said. "Arouse her.  If memory serves she has particularly sensitive breasts."


       Mariah, shaking, approached Angela slowly.  "I'm sorry," she breathed, but Angela stonily ignored her.


       Mariah laid the whip on the floor.  She took a moment to look at Angela, spread around the post, her breasts jutting. She was a beautiful girl, dark-haired and well-muscled. Mariah hated herself for what she was about to do. 


       Tentatively she touched one of Angela's nipples, dusky pink against cream.  It hardened in her fingers.  Then the other one.  Mariah gently squeezed Angela's breasts.  Angela half-growled, half-whimpered deep in her throat.  Mariah's sex jolted alive at the sound. 


       Mariah stepped nearer.  She had not expected to be aroused so quickly.  If she could bring herself close enough, Angela's punishment would be fast -- maybe just a few lashes before Petra made Mariah orgasm, so she could stop whipping Angela. 


       Almost desperately, Mariah turned Angela's head to her, and kissed her, open mouthed, panting not just with desire but with desperate loathing for what she was doing.  Angela did not really respond, but she could not pull away.  Somehow that made Mariah burn even more.  She pressed her body against Angela's, catching the bound girl's leg between her own.  The contact.  She rubbed against her, kissing her still, reaching behind her and squeezing her ass cheeks.


       "Enough!" Mistress Dominique said.  Mariah took a reluctant step back, catching her breath.  "Well done," Mistress Dominique said.  "A little too well done, I think."  She surveyed Mariah's flushed face and bright eyes.  "Begin," she said.


       "Mistress, shall I . . ."  Petra asked. 


       "No, not yet," Mistress Dominique responded, smiling slightly.  She turned back to Mariah and nodded.


       Mariah picked up the whip, the sensations in her groin already fading.  She couldn't let them.  "This instrument is lighter than the leather you used yesterday," Mistress Dominique was saying to her.  "It will sting quite a bit, but you can go longer without risk of serious harm."  She looked contemplatively at Angela.  "Start with her nipples," she told Mariah.  "You did such a nice job preparing them."  She added, "And keep your own legs spread properly."


       Mariah sent a pleading look to Petra, but Petra could disobey their mistress no more than Mariah could.  Mariah turned away, keeping her legs spread but her thoughts as much as she could on the sensation of arousal, trying to keep it strong.


       She brought the switch down on Angela's left breast.  It missed her nipple but brought a gasp of pain from Angela.


       Mistress Dominique tsked.  "You'll have to do better than that," she said.  "Right on the nipple this time."


       Mariah focused, and the whip fell on Angela's swollen nipple.  Angela whimpered, then suppressed it.  Mariah tried to block out the sound, as she raised the whip and lashed Angela's other nipple, bringing another whimper. 


       Mistress Dominique smiled and stepped back. Mariah dared to aim the switch lower, and to swing more gently.  She tried to avoid hitting the same spot twice, and to skip Angela's crotch altogether.  But still Petra was not allowed to approach.  Mariah kept whipping, her arm beginning to ache from the exertion, but the rest of her body growing cold.


       When Angela was marked from her breasts to her knees, Mariah paused for a moemnt to rest her arm.  As Mistress Dominique had said, the switch did less damage than the whip of the day before.  Angela's skin was reddened, but she was not bleeding, even where the marks crossed.


       Mistress Dominique at last motioned to Petra to approach Mariah.  As Mariah raised the switch again Petra attacked her clit with her tongue.  Mariah spread her legs wider, to give Petra better access. 


       "Whip her cunt now," Mistress Dominique commanded.  As Petra swirled her tongue around Mariah's nub, Mariah swung the whip.  It hit Angela's inner thigh. 


       "Better aim, or Petra will stop," Mistress Dominique said.  Trying to both allow her arousal to grow but also to block out the sensations enough so that she could aim, Mariah snapped the whip.  Its end hit Angela on the clit.  As Angela let out a low gasping moan, arching her back so that she hit her head on the post, Petra inhaled Mariah's own clit, biting and sucking.  Mariah swung the whip again, and again, wildly, randomly, and Petra swirled her tongue on Mariah's nub, over and over.  Sensation grew in Mariah -- the touch of Petra's tongue; the red stripes spreading on Petra's front; the sound of her cries and Mariah's own gasping breaths.  With a final groan, Mariah spasmed in Petra's mouth. 


       Through bleary eyes Mariah saw Mistress Dominique smile in satisfaction.  "You're getting there," she said. 


         ***


       When Jordan finished showing Mariah the stretches, she brought saddles into the stall to clean.  She simply assumed that Mariah would want to help and, somewhat to her own surprise, Mariah did not refuse. 


       In answer to Jordan's question, Mariah struggled to describe where she had ridden with Gabriel earlier.  This led Jordan to tell Mariah about some of the places she went on her daily rides.


       Mariah tried to memorize the information Jordan gave her, her old habit, but found that she didn't have the will to do so. Instead, she simply listened to the stories that Jordan told, about hidden ponds and beautiful meadows and, more than anything, the horses she rode to them. 


       A couple of stable hands had stopped by to be introduced to Mariah, easily bantering with Jordan, but no humans interrupted them.  So Mariah did not look up from the saddle she was polishing when someone cleared his throat at the entrance to the stall.  When Master Animal impatiently said her name, she was so surprised that, without thinking, she fell to her knees before him.  Jordan copied her, gracefully.  In confusion, Mariah scrambled to her feet, scowling.


       Animal tilted his head in acknowledgement.  "Gabriel sent me a note," he said.  "He said you needed escort."  He frowned, but seemed more amused than annoyed.  "Of course, if he'd known that you're actually making yourself useful . . ." he said, indicating the saddle Mariah had been working on.  He winked at Jordan, who smiled in return and rose to her feet. 


       "Thank you for your help with the saddles," Jordan said to Mariah.


       "No, thank you for . . ." Mariah began, and stopped, embarrassed.   


       Animal rolled his eyes and turned to walk to the front of the stable.  Mariah shrugged at Jordan and followed him. 


       At the entrance Animal stopped so abruptly that Mariah almost walked into him.  He cursed under his breath.


       Mariah peered around him.  Stefan was talking to a slave who sat astride a roan horse.  "Give him a good kick," he said.  "Make him listen to you." 


       It was Rose atop the horse.  She pressed her heals into the horse and he started to walk.  "Good," Stefan said.  "When you're ready, turn him back towards me."


       "What the . . ." Animal growled.  But he stopped.  Rose had pulled the bridle to the right, steering the horse around in a half-circle.  As the horse walked around, Rose's face came into view.  Her smile was wide and her eyes shone.  Animal caught his breath. Rose kicked the horse again and he began to trot.


       "Pull back on the reins," Stefan called to her, stepping towards the horse.  "No trotting in the yard." 


       Rose pulled on the reins, and the horse slowed to a stop.  Stefan turned leisurely to Animal. "Would you like to help her down, or shall I?" he asked benignly, all courtesy and innocence.


       Animal drew in an annoyed breath, but he looked again at Rose, sitting tall and proud.  He seemed transfixed by her.  Stefan waited a moment, then walked over to the horse.  He gave instructions to Rose, and she rather clumsily dismounted.  Stefan had a hand under one arm, and Animal hurried over and steadied her other side.  Rose smiled up at him.


       Animal started to say something to Rose, but suddenly his eye was caught by an older woman walking across the yard.  He straightened and dropped Rose's arm. 


       "Hezekiah?" the woman said.  "What are you doing here?"


       Animal cursed under his breath again before he said, "Hello, Aunt Marge."


       Marge was a tall, big-boned woman, with unkempt hair gone mostly to gray.  She looked Animal up and down, then smiled with satisfaction.  "Didn't know you'd taken up riding," she said.  "Doing your mother proud."


       "My mother rode ponies, not horses," Animal said coldly.


       Marge tsked.  "A pansy like your father, or you'd know there's no real difference between the beasts," she said.


       Stefan interrupted,  his mouth twitching into a frown.  "If you want to watch your mare deliver, you'd better go on now.  Cran told me half an hour ago he expected it any time."


       "Yes, yes, I can't tarry," Marge said to Animal.  "But you must come to brunch.  I've invited you often enough," she added before turning and walking swiftly towards one of the far entrances to the stable. 


       Animal shuddered.  "That woman gives me indigestion," he said to no one in particular.


       But Stefan raised an eyebrow at him.  "Hezekiah?" he smirked, drawing out each syllable.


       "A family name," Animal said sourly.  "Never much suited me."


       "I suppose Animal is your middle name?" Stefan said solemnly. 


       Animal stiffened, and flushed.  "It's a nickname," he said shortly.  He added, indicating his barely combed hair and barely groomed beard and paint-splattered clothes.  "Because I look like one."


       Stefan shook his head.  "If any of my horses were as unkempt as you, I'd . . ."  He glowered at Jordan. 


       Rose blushed and looked down.  Animal noticed and uncharacteristically took her hand.  "Horses are easier to corrale than humans," he said, and he smiled at her.  She blushed deeper.



CHAPTER 31:  CHOICES


       The next day Mariah was called up again, forced to whip a slave named Annie while Falud stood behind Mariah and finger fucked her. 


       It was the third day in a row Mariah had been called up.  Mariah faced the possibility that Mistress Dominique would not soon lose interest soon in this game.  She spent that afternoon and night and the next morning steeling herself.  When, after lunch, Mistress Dominique called her up yet again, Mariah took a deep breath and fell to her knees before Mistress Dominique, touching her forehead to the ground.


       "You may speak," Mistress Dominique said, amused.


       Mariah looked up.  "I beg you, Mistress," she said.  "I would rather be whipped than . . ."


       Mistress Dominique raised her eyebrows.  "Surely you're not a pain slut?" she asked.  When Mariah looked merely confused, Mistress Dominique said, "No, of course not, you're just out of the factory, you've had no time for such training."  She shrugged.  "As you wish," she said.  "Lower the trapeze."


       As Mariah, shaking, turned a wheel on the wall to bring the trapeze down from the ceiling, Mistress Dominique looked speculatively at the slaves kneeling in front of her.  When at last she called Roberto Mariah was somewhat relieved.  Roberto was tall and strong, but she was friendly with him and had spent a night with him.  He would surely be gentle.


       But when Mistress Dominique ordered him to attach Mariah to the trapeze, Roberto grabbed Mariah's wrist roughly.  As he raised it he bent slightly so he could whisper in her ear, "There's nothing more disgusting than a kiss ass."  He straightened up and cuffed her firmly to the rod overhead, her hands in position to grab it.  Mariah tried to protest Roberto's words, his roughness, but Mistress Dominique had walked over to inspect his work. Mariah's eyes stung, but she would not wipe them with Mistress Dominique, and everyone, watching. 


       At Mistress Dominique's instructions Roberto cuffed Mariah's feet to a spreader bar about 18 inches wide. 


       Mistress Dominique turned the wheel until Mariah's arms were straight above her head.  "There, now," she said.  "I'm leaving your feet flat on the ground."


       "Thank you, Mistress," Mariah said, genuinely grateful for this unexpected kindness.


       "Nonsense," Mistress Dominique said.  "I want you to have room to dodge, so you'll feel the lash in every crevice."  She turned again to the slaves kneeling in front of her, considering. "Harold," she called.


       Mariah's heart sunk again.  Two males, and neither of them gay.  She had observed that females, no matter what their preference, could relatively easily experience pleasure from anyone with skill.  Not so with males; only with massive effort and concentration could they block out their lack of interest in the wrong type of person.  


       Somewhat to her relief, Mistress Dominique proffered the flat, wide whip to Harold.  Roberto kneeled before him.  They two men looked at each other dubiously.  "Well, go on ," Mistress Dominique said. 


       Harold raised the whip and brought it down onto Mariah's chest.  Mariah cried out as much at shock at its power as in pain.  The whip struck her again.  Through slitted eyes she saw Roberto lean in towards Harold, distaste plain on his face.  Harold shuddered and raised the whip again.  He was clearly practiced in the art.  He slashed at the underside of Mariah's breasts.  Without thinking she tried to twist away, twirling on her left feet until her back was towards Harold.  He slashed at her butt.  It burned.


       Mariah had been whipped many times.  She knew the fear was the worst part -- that it would never stop, that she would be permanently damaged.  She tried to calm her thoughts between hits, but they came too fast, and too hard. Her butt, her back, her thighs.  When she spun around again, Harold aimed for her abdomen.  Facing front, Mariah saw that he was barely hard, although he stood widestanced, trying to give Roberto as much access as possible.


       Harold aimed the whip lower, to her inner thighs.  Mistress Dominique suggested, "Try slashing up.  You might enjoy that more."  Mariah braced herself for the shattering pain.  It came, once, twice, three times. Each time Mariah shrieked.  Blinking her eyes open, she saw that Harold was now hard, and that Roberto had put his mouth on him.


       She spun again, and Harold aimed over and over again at her buttocks, until they were raw.  She did not want to turn around again, but then Harold slashed up again, from behind, the whip curling around her crotch.  She screamed this time and twisted until she was facing front.  Harold nodded.  "Good, look at me," he said hoarsely to her.  "I need to see you."  Deliberately he lowered the whip and swung up from the bottom.  Mariah screamed in anticipation.  Just as the whip hit her, Harold grunted, and shuddered, and came in Roberto's mouth.


***



       After dinner Rose cleaned up as always.  She was humming and had an odd little smile on her face that she blankened when she became aware of it.  Animal was sketching, seemingly intent, glancing at Rose as his hands flew over the page, but he held the pad at an angle where neither Rose nor Mariah could see what he was drawing.   


       Mariah felt unsettled and incomplete.  She did her exercises, adding the stretches that Jordan had showed her that day.  When she finished, she stood for a moment, then headed for the sliding door to the courtyard. 


       Animal looked at her sharply.  "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.


       Mariah stopped, almost relieved.  "To my master's apartment, my lord," she said.


       "He's not there," Animal said shortly.


       Mariah knew that.  "What would you have me do, my lord?" she asked, somewhere between sarcastic and worried. 


       Animal sighed, and threw down his sketchpad, sketch page down.  He frowned at the door, then turned to Rose.  "Go with her," he said. 


       "My lord?" Rose asked softly, the closest she ever came to protesting her master's order.  She exchanged a glance with Mariah. 

       

       Animal frowned.  "Don't backtalk me," he said irritably. 


       Mariah looked uncertainly from one to the other.  Gabriel always led Mariah away this time of night, with no protest from either Animal or Rose.  Rose had told her that she and Animal fucked every night, and that she liked it. She assumed Master Animal did too since, as he had told her, he enjoyed no other slaves.


       Then she understood.  Hot embarrassment filled her.  She turned to Animal, widestanced, her arms crossed below her chest.  "Do you really think that Rose could keep me from running away?" she asked him.


       Animal's frown deepened.  "Hoping your conscience will," he said, "since if you run, Rose will suffer for it."  His hand went to the handle of his whip.  "And if you don't want to feel my lash in your master's absence, I suggest you remember how to address me." 


       Mariah colored but did not stand down until Rose put her hand on Mariah's arm.  Mariah saw her eyes were filling with tears.  "My apologies, master," Mariah muttered. 


       Animal nodded.  He turned to Rose.  "Wake me when you come in," he said to her.  Rose looked at him gratefully, but he turned abruptly away and stalked to his bedroom.


       Rose went to a cabinet and took out silver serving utensils, which she placed in a basket and brought with her.   When she and Mariah entered Gabriel's apartment, she  unloaded them onto a cloth on the dining room table and began polishing them.


       "Why are you doing that?" Mariah asked peevishly.  "The hall mistress just did her inspection, and Master Animal won't notice or care if his pie server is a little tarnished."


       Rose started to protest, but then stopped herself.  She took a deep breath and said calmly, "I'll notice and care.  I live there too.  I like things to look nice." 


       Mariah was silenced by that.  She sat opposite Rose and picked up a large spoon, turning it so it reflected the light from the lamp.  Bored, she put it down.  She watched Rose for a while before asking, "You know how some slaves believe that after we die we'll come back as humans?"


       Rose nodded, picking up a sugar tong.


       "Do you think it's true?" Mariah asked her.


       "I hope not!" Rose said fervently, shuddering.


       "Why?" Mariah asked.  "Wouldn't you like to be free?"

       Rose focused on polishing the tong, that, as far as Mariah knew, had never been used in Animal's apartment.  After a minute Rose said, so quietly that Mariah could barely hear her, "I don't think I'd be strong enough to be a pansy.  I would never want to face that test."


       Mariah laughed.  "Pansies aren't strong, they're just lazy," she said.


       "You're wrong."  Rose looked up, certainty written on her face.  "Master Animal's not lazy.  He gets taunted and teased all the time.  He had no true friends until Master Gabriel came along."  She dropped the tongs with a clatter. "You think it doesn't take courage to endure that, when he could put a stop to it with the flick of a whip?"

 

       Mariah snorted.  "So what? I would take his choice over being a slave any day."


       "You're stronger than me," Rose said. She picked up the tongs and began polishing again, rubbing so hard that Mariah wondered if she would warp the metal. "I couldn't bear it."

***

         

       Mariah barely slept that night.  She had searched for a position where she was not placing her weight on her new wounds, finally putting her knees under her and bending over them.  Her whipped breasts pressed into her thighs, which were softer than the floor.  But she soon cramped up that way.


       She stood slowly, grateful that the soles of her feet had not been attacked.  Such torture was rare, because it made slaves unfit for most work, but not unheard of.


       The door to the washroom was open, shedding dim light into the sleeping area.  Taejon was sitting up against a wall near it, awake, and unusual for him, alone.  He seemed far away, lost in thought.  When he saw Mariah he gave her his slow smile.  "Girl, she's got you doing hard time," he said.  "The vet look at your wounds?"


       Mariah shook her head.  The vet had made her weekly visit today, but a whipping wasn't enough to warrant her attention.


       Taejon regarded her for a moment.  Then he sighed.  "Come on," he said.  He led her to the door to a supply cabinet in the bathroom.  He reached up to the trim above the door and brought down a key which he used to unlock the cabinet.  He brought out a bottle of ointment.


       "Turn around," he told Mariah.  He spread the ointment on her back.  The relief was so immediate that Mariah sagged.


       When Taejon finished, he handed Mariah the bottle.  "You can reach everywhere else," he said.  "Just lock up when you're done."  He left before Mariah could thank him.


       Mariah coated her body with the balm, which left a greasy residue.  When she put the bottle away, and the key, and left the bathroom, Taejon was gone. 



CHAPTER 32:  FINDING WHERE YOU ARE


       Mariah and Rose had fallen asleep on opposite ends of the couch in Gabriel's living room.  Mariah awoke with a jolt when Gabriel opened the door to the apartment.  He looked haggard, and his tunic was stained with blood.  When he saw Mariah he gave her a weak grin.  "It's nice to see you," he said softly.


       Mariah stood up uncertainly.  "How did  . . . The woman . . . the leg . . ?"  She shook her head, trying to wake all the way up.


       Gabriel took his shirt off and headed for the bathroom.  "She'll live," he said.  "And I think I saved the leg."  He sighed, holding his shirt by his fingertips and then dropping it unceremoniously on the floor.  "You should go to bed," he said.  "I need to wash up."  He closed the bathroom door firmly behind him.


       But Mariah stayed on the couch.  She was nodding off again when Gabriel came out of the bathroom, wet, with only a towel wrapped around his middle.  He put on his pajama bottoms in the bedroom, then came over to the couch. 


       "Ladies, bed," he said to Mariah and Rose.  "You'll get a stiff neck if you sleep here." 


       Rose opened her eyes blearily.  Gabriel was massaging his own shoulder.  "Master, I can . . . I'm trained to . . ."  Rose began, but she was too tired to continue.  She looked over at  Mariah, who shrugged, got up, and stumbled to her sleeping room.  But she didn't go in until Rose had slipped out the patio door towards Animal's apartment. 



***


       When Mistress Dominique called Mariah up the next day, the room was dead silent as the slaves watched her.  Would she take the whip her mistress offered her? 


       Mariah's hand slowly reached out and grasped the handle. Then a blur as tears filled her eyes.  She could barely make out Mistress Dominique nodding with satisfaction as she said, "Good girl."


***


       Mariah woke the next day to a squeaking noise outside the bedroom door.  Wondering if it was a mouse, she opened the door to see Master Gabriel scrubbing the floorboards with a rag.  "Sorry," he said.  "Did I wake you?"


       "What are you doing, my lord?"  Mariah asked, mystified.


       Gabriel shrugged, abashed.  "I dropped my filthy shirt here last night," he said.  "Some blood smeared." 


       "Rose will clean that for you," Mariah said.


       "I know," Gabriel responded.  "That's why I'm doing it before she sees it."  Mariah just looked at him for a minute and then she couldn't help it; she started to laugh.  Not sure what was so funny, Gabriel laughed too, which made Mariah laugh even harder.


       Animal and Rose walked into Gabriel's apartment at that moment, and Mariah laughed until she fell down, tears leaking out of her eyes.


       "Um, breathe?" Gabriel suggested.  But all Mariah could do was point from Gabriel to Rose and back again.   


***


       Mistress Dominique called Mariah up for several more days.  There was no doubt that Mariah would take the proffered whip.  At times she found herself feeling proud of her increasing mastery over it and then, horrified, she shoved down the thought.


       One day Mistress Dominique called up only one slave with Mariah, a short, curly haired male named Clark. Mariah quickly cuffed him to the trapeze, then looked expectantly at Mistress Dominique to see who she would call to pleasure Mariah.  But Mistress Dominique merely said, "You may begin."


       Mariah was elated.  Her torture was over.  She picked up the whip.  "Not for pleasure," she said chanted to herself as she worked over Clark's body, her lash following his twists and turns.  "Never for my pleasure."


       When Clark was marked from knees to neck, and Mariah covered with a fine sheen of sweat, Mistress Dominique held up her hand for Mariah to stop.  Coming behind Mariah, she wrapped her hand around Mariah's front, and touched her slit.  "You're dry," Mistress Mariah said, sounding astonished before she recovered herself.  She twirled Mariah around so they were facing each other.  "Have  you learned nothing in these past days?"


       It was a mindgame. Mariah opened and closed her mouth.  The whip slipped from her hand.


       It was a mindgame, and yet, Mistress Dominique seemed genuinely angry.  Her lips pressed together into thin lines as she watched the whip fall to the floor.  "Pick it up," she said tersely.  When Mariah had complied, she said, "You choose."


       At first Mariah thought her mistress meant she should choose whether to whip or be whipped, but that made no sense.  The whole room knew, to her shame, that she would choose to inflict pain rather than to receive it.


       And then Mariah understood.  She was to choose who she would whip, and who would pleasure her while she did so. 


       Someone strong to whip, she thought, someone who could bear it more easily.  Her eyes fell on Taejon, compact, muscular, nearly unmarked.  She nodded at him.  And then, randomly, she nodded at the girl who had been kneeling next to him, a slight thing who Mariah did not recognize. 


       Mistress Dominique narrowed her eyes at Mariah's pick. She said to Taejon, tersely, "Tie Ashley up."


       Mariah realized her mistake.  "No, Mistress, I . . . "


       Mistress Dominique looked glacially at Mariah.  She faltered.  "I meant to choose Taejon to . . . "


       "Don't reach above yourself," Mistress Dominique said softly.  "You only get the choices your betters give you." 


       Mariah looked dubiously at Ashley as Taejon tied her to the post.  She was new to the center.  Auburn hair, pale, pale skin on a thin, thin body.  She looked like a bark of laughter could blow her away.


       Mariah glanced then at Taejon, and involuntarily took a step back from the cool anger that met her.  But he approached her, wordlessly.  Placing his hands on her hips, he positioned her so that she was standing just where she needed to whip Ashley. He fell to his knees before her, and she began.


       Taejon's hands were miracles.  His fingers fluttered on her, in her, firm, soft, as if he felt her every sensation.  He hadn't even put his mouth on her, just leaned in close, so close, and Mariah could feel herself gushing.  Ashley yelped when the whip hit her breast, and Mariah adjusted the angle.  And then Taejon's tongue was on her, and his fingers pushing her into him, and he stopped and started with a rhythm that was amazing, perfect, and she was almost there.  And then she was there.  She came before Ashley was half marked. 


       Mariah was used to the routine -- the other slaves helping the one she had whipped, and ignoring her as she slunk away to find a place to rest, and recover.  Taejon, however, made no move towards Ashley.  Mariah felt warmed by his presence. 


       But Taejon was staring at her with the same cold anger as before.  He took her elbow to lead her away from Mistress Dominique.  He was menacing, not friendly.


       When he and Mariah had walked far enough away that no one would overhear them, he moved Mariah around so she was facing him.  "You just couldn't wait, is that it?" he said.


       "What?" Mariah asked.  She had the same sinking feeling as when she walked into a mindgame.  But this was Taejon.  She had thought they were friendly, if not friends.


       "Don't pretend you're stupid!" he spat.  "You've been wanting to get back with me since that first night."  Mariah remembered, she had hoped to -- what had he called it?  -- "make love" with Taejon again.  But since Mistress Dominique had been calling her up every day, she had been spending her nights alone, focusing on making it through the mindgame.


       "I would have come to you," Taejon said.  "I liked you well enough."  He brought his face in close to hers.  "I was protecting you! Mistress Dominique don't like to share me too much with anyone.  She gets jealous, you know?" 


       Taejon narrowed his eyes.  "But you couldn't wait.  You'd rather have me in front of everyone, while you're whipping the girl I was with last night, then not have me at all."


       "Wh . . What?"  Mariah stammered.  "No, I meant to whip you, not her, I swear.  I just happened to see you . . ."  She trailed off.


       Taejon took a step back from her.  "If that's true, then you really are stupid," he spat out.  "You think Mistress Dominique will let anyone other than her punish me?"  He glared at her.  Mariah shook her head.


       "I didn't know," she said.  She thought she added, "Please, believe me," but she wasn't sure if she had spoken out loud. 


       Taejon shook his head in disgust.  "You didn't know," he said.  "Just like you didn't know enough to get yourself wet when you were whipping Clark." He paused.  "If you don't know, it's because you don't care who you hurt.  You're a selfish bitch." Mariah's eyes filled with tears.  Taejon turned and strode away from her.  When Mariah looked up, he was kneeling gracefully in front of Mistress Dominique.

       

       ***


       That evening Gabriel and Mariah sat at the table in Gabriel's apartment, looking at a bound book of maps Gabriel had brought back from the Library.  They had it open to the page that showed the northwest corner of Riviera, and the area outside it.  

       Careful not to touch the delicate paper, Gabriel showed Mariah Holden's Gate.  He traced the short distance away where he had first seen Mariah.  Not sure she understood quite how the map worked, Mariah pointed to where she thought she had been found by the hunters.  Gabriel shook his head.  "That can't be right," he said.  "You must be turned around on the page."


       Before Mariah could respond, Animal slammed open the sliding door and stomped in from the courtyard.  "Is Rose with you?" he demanded. Neither Gabriel or Mariah answered at once, both in a haze of concentration. "She's late," Animal said, as if they were to blame.


       Mariah sighed at the interruption.  The map book was a revelation.  The possibilities of knowing where you were in relation to the whole land . . . .  And it was filled with not just words, but with symbols and colors and lines that even a slave could be taught to understand. 


        Animal began to tap his foot.  Gabriel reverently closed the book. Mariah scowled at Animal.  "I'm sure Rose is late on purpose, Master," she said.  "She's always testing how much she can get away with." 


       Gabriel snorted with amusement, but Animal glared at her.  "If she's so late that we have to eat your cooking, it's your ass that will be tested," he said.


       "But, master, sir, I am under the protection of Master Gabriel of Harmony."  Mariah opened her eyes wide, all innocence. 

       "He's not always around," Animal growled.  "And he won't notice a few bruises more or less on you." 


       "Children, enough," Gabriel interrupted.  "I'll cook, and you can both help me, and learn."  Their bickering forgotten, Animal and Mariah exchanged startled looks with each other.  Gabriel rolled his eyes.  "Do you really think I can't make a meal?" he said.  "I didn't travel from Harmony eating grass like a horse, you know." 

       They all turned at the sound of the front door creaking open.  Rose came in, a large sack in her arms.  She looked startled to see Animal in Gabriel's apartment.  "Where have you been?" Animal demanded.  "Did you get all my supplies?"


       "Yes, Master" Rose answered, "except Master Henri said to tell you he's out of yellow ochre and he doesn't know when he'll have the ingredients to make more." 


       Master Animal frowned.  Rose seemed to shrink down.  Sighing with annoyance, Animal snapped,  "You know I'm not going to punish you just because I'm out of paint.  What's the matter with you?  And why are you so late?"


       Rose placed the sack carefully on the coffee table.  She took a container of strawberries from the top and started to carry them to Gabriel's kitchen.  With her front no longer covered by the bag, the others could see that her breasts were bruised, and as she passed them they saw whipmarks on her behind.  Her voice trembled as she said, "I'm sorry, master.  I was stopped on the way."   


       It was a moment before Animal demanded, "Why? Weren't you wearing your bracelet?"


       Rose's voice was husky, and she looked only at the strawberries she placed on the counter.  "I was hurrying instead of showing proper respect," she said.  "They said my bracelet didn't excuse me from that.   And they were bored. . . " 


       Animal looked her over sharply for damage.  "Are you injured?" he asked. 


       "No, master, nothing unusual.   Mostly they just . . ."  Rose's chin shook, and she trailed off. 


       And Gabriel was by her side, and he took her hand.  "Rose, you are hurt," he said.  "You're bruised, and you're cut . . ."


       Rose shook her head.  "It's nothing, Master."  She looked to Animal for confirmation, but he was staring out the window, his mouth set.  But his fists were tight, his knuckles white.


       "It's not nothing," Gabriel said.  "You don't cry over nothing." 


       Rose tried to pull her hand away from Gabriel's, but he would not let go.  "Master, it's just they . . . they just butt-fucked me."   


       Animal continued to stare out the window.  Gabriel started to mutter an oath, but he stopped himself.  "I'll need to examine you, Rose," he said.  "If they tore you . . ."


       Rose shook her head.  "I'm all right, Master, really," she said.  "They weren't that big, or rough."  She tried to smile at him, but failed, and looked down. 


       Mariah was still sitting at the table.  "If that's all that happened, why are you so upset?" she asked. 


       Rose's face crumpled.  It was a moment before she answered.  At last she said in a whisper, "I don't like it."  She said, a little louder, "I hate it."  Then she looked fearfully at Animal, but he gave no indication that he was listening.


       Gabriel put his arm around Rose and led her to the couch.  "I'm going to fix you some tea," he said.


       Rose grabbed his hand.  "No, master, please, don't put me to sleep.  I have to fix dinner . . ."


       Animal said, suddenly, "Gabriel's going to cook tonight."  The others looked at  him in surprise, but Animal looked only at Gabriel.  "So if his tea puts you to sleep, that's all right."  He sat down next to Rose on the couch,  "I might go to sleep early tonight myself." 


       Rose's lips trembled.  "Master, I didn't serve you last night . . ."


       Animal put his feet on a footstool and leaned back next to Rose.  "It's all right.  I'm tired."  He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, took her hand, and then closed them again, seeming to ignore her but not letting  her pull her hand away until Gabriel brought the tea a few minutes later. 


       



CHAPTER 33:  SUPPRESSION


       The week passed in a blur for Mariah.  Each day Mistress Dominique called her up.  Each day at Mistress Dominique's command Mariah chose two slaves, one for Mariah to whip and one to pleasure her while she did it.  Mariah tried to make her choices randomly, but nevertheless the other slaves avoided her, even avoided eye contact with her.  During the act Mariah focused on coming as quickly as she could, on inflicting as little pain as possible.


       When at last Mistress Dominique had her choose only one slave, she was prepared.  She sent each groan from the girl straight to her cunt, imagined that the girl had her mouth on her, that her groans were vibrating her.  She was so deep in concentration -- on the whip, on Serena's cries, on the sensations radiating, expanding, dizzying, from her center -- that she did not even notice when Mistress Dominique told her to stop, not until Mistress Dominique touched her, which was enough to make Mariah explode.


       Mistress Dominique nodded in satisfaction.  "Very good," she said.  "I knew you had it in you."


* * *


       Rose's limbs felt too heavy to move, and her eyes would not open.  When at last, with huge effort, she forced her eyelids apart, it was dark in the room.  Still night.  She could go back to sleep.  


       She heard voices through the window, and realized that was what had woken her.  Master Gabriel and Master Animal. They were arguing.  "You've got to protect her," Master Gabriel said deeply, angrily.  "You owe her that." 


       And Master Animal said, sounding reasonable but not quite calm, "If I stopped sending her out, babysat her every minute like you've got us doing for Mariah, I would need another slave to do what she does now.  And that one would be no more safe, and you'd tell me I'd have to protect her too.  And in the meantime I'd have no paints and none of us would eat."


       There was a silence until Gabriel said, strained, "Send Mariah with her, then.  They can look after each other."


       Now Master Animal's voice rose louder.  "No!" he said.  "Trouble might find Rose from time to time, but Mariah looks for it.  Rose is a lot safer on her own than if Mariah were with her."


       There was a thud against the wall, as if something had hit it.  Master Gabriel's voice, insistent:  "You must find a way so she's not in fear all the time." Perhaps they walked away from the window then, because the next morning Rose could not remember if Master Animal replied.


* * *


       After, Mariah stayed to herself.  Mistress Dominique never again took any particular interest in her.  Mariah did what was necessary to avoid incurring punishment, but the tasks she was being taught bored her until she thought she would go mad. 


       On the occasions when she was sent out into the mansion she took the lead in encouraging her group to take shortcuts, to go outside, to test the limits of what they could get away with.  But she never exchanged smiles with the other slaves, and she felt no joy in it.  She concentrated on memorizing every hallway, every path.  And if one of her group tried to catch her eye, to include her in the contained exuberance of breaking rules, she would look away, stone-faced. 


       When her need became great she would choose someone to have sex with.  Always newer arrivals, too new to have witnessed her shame, although she was sure they had heard talk of it.  She did the act efficiently, enough to fulfill her physical imperative but not make her care, or let on that she  noticed, who she was doing it with.  Sometimes, after, if the person was especially new, he might follow her around with puppy dog looks for a few days.  Mariah remembered how she had done the same with Taejon.  Then she remembered how that ended, and made no effort to summon his initial kindness. 


       One evening, Mariah looked around the room to choose a partner, and she realized that she had been in the training center longer than anyone else.  Even Taejon had been sent on.  Her turn would surely come soon. She allowed herself to feel the faintest glimmer of hope at the prospect, but quickly stuffed it down.


* * *


       When Rose woke up in the morning she was alone in the bed. She sat up, her heart pounding, and threw off the covers.  Then she remembered, Master Animal had told her to drink Master Gabriel's tea.  He knew it would make her sleep. 


       She felt the space in the bed next to where she had lain.  It was warm.  Master Animal had not been up for long, then.


       Cautiously she opened the bedroom door.  Master Animal was sitting on the couch, scribbling in his sketchbook with an orange colored pencil, one side of his mouth curled in frustration.  His other pencils spilled on the coffee table in front of him.


       He looked up when Rose came out. His face relaxed. "Hi," he said softly.  For some reason the greeting made Rose blush.  Master Animal rarely allowed himself to be distracted from his work by her. 


       When Animal did not look back down to his sketchbook, Rose faltered, "Master, forgive me for . . . "


       Master Animal interrupted her with his crooked smile.  "Hush," he said.  He pointed with his pencil at a couple of jars on the table.  "Gabriel gave me some salves last night for your injuries." 


       "Th . . . Thank you, Master," Rose said, and she walked over to take them. 


       But when she reached for them Animal stopped her, putting his hand on her wrist.  "I'll do it," he said, and he was looking at Rose with an odd, intent look that made her heart pound hard.  He gestured for Rose to sit next to him on the sofa.  "Lean back," he said, softly.

       

       As Rose complied, he unscrewed the first jar.  "Arnica," he said. He dipped the his fingers into the cream, and rubbed it onto her breast.  Rose gasped with the coldness of it.  But Master Animal was being gentle, so gentle, and slow.  Without putting any pressure on her bruises, he spread the salve all around, so softly massaging her.  When Rose realized that he was going to do the same to the other breast, her pussy leapt awake.  And then his hand was there, slow and gentle.  "I've always loved the color of your nipples," he said. 


       "Master, I haven't satisfied you in so long . . ." Rose said.


       "I know," Animal answered.  "It's been two and a half days."  He continued to rub the salve in, then massaged both of her breasts once. 


       "Master, let me, now," Rose said. 


       Animal didn't stop, but he shook his head and smiled a little.  "No," he said.  "You know I only fuck at night."  He brushed his thumbs across Rose's nipples, and her pussy gushed.

"Without discipline, I would lay around in bed with you all day, and never get anything done."  Rose closed her eyes, the sensation overwhelming her.  Animal continued to rub her breasts.  And he continued to speak, softly.  "This wasn't the first time you didn't satisfy me, you know."


       Rose opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but Animal didn't lift his hands off her breasts.  She said, "The first night Master Gabriel came."


       Animal nodded.  "I had forgotten that.  I was thinking of the time before that."


       Rose blushed crimson.  "My first night with you, Master," she said.


       Animal nodded again.  "You were so tired, and so scared.  Too scared to rest.  Yet so responsive."  He looked her in the eye as he cupped her breasts, still gentle.  "Do you remember what I did?"


       Rose's mouth was dry.  Hoarsely she said, "You ate me until I fell asleep."


       "You came and came," Animal said.  His hands slowed on her breasts, his eyes far away.  "You made these amazing sounds when you did, nothing I expected from you."


       He finally took his hands off her breasts, and wiped them on his pants.  He picked up the other jar.  "Comfrey," he said.  "Lie across my lap." 


       There was a wet spot on the sofa under Rose.  She couldn't remember her cunt ever dripping like this.  She would have to clean it up.  Then Animal was tugging on her and laying her across him, in a position she had only even been in to be spanked.  But Master Animal was a pansy.  He wouldn't spank her.


       Instead he traced the whipslashes with his finger, leaving the comfrey tincture there.  The marks were not deep; she hadn't even bled from them.  Master Animal's touch was electrifying. Rose couldn't help it. She wriggled, trying to invite more contact. But Master Animal acted as if he did not notice, although Rose could feel his hard cock pressing into her stomach.  When she tried to rub against it, Master Animal rearranged her so there was no direct contact.  He was tracing next to her wounds now, where there was no pain. 


       He said, "That first day, I couldn't wait to come back here, to plow into you.  I thought about you all day, about what it would be like to be inside you."  He moved his hand so it was resting on the bottom of her ass.  "And it was even better than I thought.  You were so smooth, so giving.  You came for me so easily."


       "Master," Rose begged.  "Please, let me do that for you now.  Let me please you."


       Master Animal seemed to be considering her request.  But just then the door from the courtyard opened, and Gabriel and Mariah walked in.  Gabriel started and backed away, almost stepping on Mariah.  Animal stood up in a hurry.  "Breakfast is late," he said hoarsely.  "That tea you gave Rose made her oversleep."  But he helped Rose up and whispered in her ear, "Tonight." 

       

       

* * *


       Mariah stood in Mistress Dominique's office, feet shoulder width apart, hands at her side, back straight, eyes down.  She heard Mistress Dominique sigh.  "You may look at me," she said.  Mariah raised her head obediently. 


       Mistress Dominique's fingertips were pressed together as she contemplated the slave girl.  She presented well-enough.  Pretty enough.  Dark hair, green eyes, a little on the tall side but not excessively so.  Shapely but not spectacular.  Certainly well-groomed; Mistress Dominique would tolerate no less. 


       And she did her tasks well enough.  Her food never burned and was never undercooked, and she remembered recipes easily.  She could clean; and she could be sent into the mansion with no fear of becoming lost, and not much fear of being stopped on the way. 


       Her torso was marked from a recent punishment. Mistress Dominique couldn't recall what is was for, but she was sure it was nothing too serious.  Mariah was well-behaved and generally obedient.


       And yet . . .   There was something about the girl that worried her.  What was it Corinne had said?  That she was entirely unnatural, that was it.


       And maybe she was.  Goodness knows, she had tried to help the girl, teaching her to use the whip, to feel mastery over her fellow slaves.  The depth of the girl's resistance was remarkable, really.  Oh, Dominique had won in the end, that was inevitable.  The slave would feel pleasure on inflicting pain for the rest of her life.  But Mistress Dominique knew, somehow, that she would never choose to. 


       Well, it was time for Mariah to move on, and then she would be someone else's problem.


       "You're new owners will be here in an hour to pick you up," Mistress Dominique said.  "You may say your goodbyes." 


       At first Mariah didn't understand what Mistress Dominique meant.  Say her goodbyes to who?  But then she realized -- some slaves, on leaving the center, had made friends who they would miss. Some even coupled up, which to Mariah seemed simply foolish.


       "Thank you, Mistress," she said, and turned to go. 


       But her mistress called her back.  "It's a good placement," she said, almost kindly.  "It could last a long time, if you behave.  Make the most of it."


       "Thank you, Mistress," Mariah said again, and waited, eyes down, until her mistress dismissed her.  Once again that flaring of hope, quickly suppressed. 



CHAPTER 34: NEW PLACES




       Animal fidgeted through breakfast.  He drummed his fingers on the table, periodically stared intently at Rose, and ignored Gabriel's attempts at conversation. Mariah rolled her eyes, but Rose blushed and could not look at him.         




       Suddenly Animal started, squinted, and gave a shout.  He jumped out of his chair.  While the others stared at him, he crossed the living room, shoved open the sliding glass door to the courtyard and grabbed a pot off a plant stand there.  He strode back in and slammed the pot on the table in front of Rose, ignoring the stain he made.  "Where did you get this?" he demanded.



       Before Rose could answer, Gabriel said, "I planted it, and I'll thank you to take care.  The seeds reduce intestinal inflammation.  I'm almost out and can't find more anywhere." 




       Animal opened and shut his mouth.  "Very well," he said.  He threw himself down disconsolately on the sofa, and resumed drumming his fingers, leaving the plant on the table.




       Rose stole a glance at him, then put the pot on his empty plate and wiped the table where it had been.  That done, she looked at the plant.  It was stubby with small yellow flowers.  "This is upland cress," she said, shyly. "For salads."  




       "Yes, that's right," said Gabriel. "It's leaves are spicy."          


       "I don't want to eat it," Animal growled.  "Or use it to stop the runs.  The flower makes yellow ochre, and nobody can come by it by hook or crook, and I can't paint without it."  He sighed heavily.




       Mariah looked intently at the plant.  "I know where you can get some," she said, very quietly. 




       Animal turned to her so quickly he had to grab his overstretched shoulder.  When she did not continue, Gabriel said, encouragingly, "It would take a weight off my mind to replenish my supply of the seeds."




       Mariah took a deep breath.  Then another one.  She looked at Rose when she said, still quietly, "Outside the walls."




       Animal started to say something into the silence that followed, but Gabriel held up his hand, stopping him.  At last Mariah said, almost as if in a trance, "Just before the dogs found me, I was hiding on a hillock, looking at a whole field filled with them.  I recognized the leaves, but I had never seen the flowers.  I remember thinking . . ."  She broke off, then added, uncharacteristically, "They were pretty."




       Gabriel and Animal looked at each other.  They jumped up at the same time.  Then they both realized that it was already too late to ride out that day.  "First light tomorrow, then," Gabriel said.  "I'll arrange with Stefan for a buggy and team."




* * *




       Mariah supposed it was a good placement, as Mistress Dominique had said.  Her master and mistress, while quick with the lash, were not especially cruel.  There was an older slave to show her the ropes.  She needed that, Mariah quickly realized, sometimes wondering what the point had been of the training center when she had to learn everything afresh.




       Pepper was scornful. But it wasn't Mariah's fault that the stoves were different from those she had learned on, and that she was in a wing of the mansion where did not know her way around, and that the cleaning supplies her owners favored were not what she had been taught to use. 




       Pepper was strikingly beautiful -- not so much in her features as in the grace with which she carried herself.  Tall, powerful, dark skin, hair cut short.  When she knelt in obeisance before her owners, it struck Mariah as odd, disjunctive.  She should not be prostrating herself.




       She wasn't outright nasty to Mariah so much as disdainful.  She showed Mariah what to do,  more than once if necessary, but never spared her an extra glance, never gave her a friendly look.  When their owners ordered them to fuck each other, for relief, Pepper got Mariah off, efficiently, but would not allow Mariah to do the same for her.  She would just back off with a sniff. 




       Mariah didn't notice Pepper's attitude at first.  She was too busy trying to figure out how to survive, again.  Once she did notice, to the extent that she thought about it, she felt relief.  She had no interest in friends.




       One morning Mariah came back early from the exercise yard.  Pepper was on her knees in the living room. Mistress Suzette and Master Griffin sat together on a loveseat. They didn't hear Mariah come in.




       Pepper was pleading, which made Mariah wince.  "She's no good for you," Pepper was saying.  "I know how you like things.  She can't even crack eggs without help." 




       Mariah froze, anger making her face burn.  She had dropped one egg, and had been duly punished for it. That was weeks ago.  Why would Pepper bring it up again?  For a  moment she visualized herself with a whip in her hand, punishing Pepper.  She shoved the thought away quickly. 




       Master Griffin patted Pepper on the head.  "Don't take it like this, Pepper," he said coaxingly.




       Mistress Suzette added, "You'll like the fields.  You're young enough, you've got time for lots of babies.  And that means you get to fuck anyone you want until you get pregnant.  Won't that be nice?" 




       Pepper made an odd, strangled sound.  She bent down until her forehead was on the floor.  "I don't want to have babies," she said.  "I want to serve you."  She kneeled up again, clasping her hands in front of her.




       "Pepper, be reasonable," Master Griffin said, and  now he sounded irritated.  He glanced up and saw Mariah standing there.  "You've served us well.  You should be proud of that."  And he stood and walked past Pepper, indicating to Mariah to follow him to the bedroom.   




* * *




       Rose couldn't understand it.  It was an ordinary day in which she did ordinary things.  And yet . . . 




       As she washed the morning dishes she found herself smiling, sort of foolishly. She looked out the window over the sink.  The intensity of the blue of the sky caught her off guard.  And the way the sun sparkled through the leaves of the maple tree!  She did not try to name the colors; they were simply dazzling. 




       Later, in the exercise room, everything was easy. On a whim she added extra weights to the barbells and still had no trouble lifting.  Her stretches were deeper, too.  And other slaves who usually did not notice her included her in their conversations.  Or had she joined in, unbidden?  She smiled again and they smiled back at her. 




       After her shower, the groom sought her out for special attention even though it was not her turn in the rotation.  The waxing merely stung.  He clucked when he saw her paint-splattered fingernails.  Rose tried to tell him he was being silly with his fussing -- her master wouldn't care.  But he just patted her and reached for his emory board.  Rose relaxed and let herself enjoy the attention.   




       Back in the apartment, it was time-consuming to get ready for the next day's outing, finding the supplies Master Animal had ordered and preparing a picnic lunch that would not spoil or become soggy. Even though she enlisted Raul, the hall monitor, for his help and advice, she was later than usual to meet Master Animal in the revel hall. 




       He was squinting and frowning at an easel.  He saw her and smiled, and although she was across the large room from him she felt as though she was standing next to him.




       As she walked towards him he was distracted by the door opening again.  Two new students.  When he went over to greet them, Rose stole a look at the picture on the easel that was frustrating him.  His sketch book was open on it, and she saw the sketch he had been shielding from view, for quite a while now she thought of it.  In the stable yard -- it was her on a horse that was turning.  But it was not Rose as she thought of herself.  The girl on the horse was proud, excited, strong, beautiful.




       Rose was lost in picture.  Animal frowned when he saw her looking at it, and turned over the sketch pad before the students could see.  "Can't get the damn horse right," he muttered.




       He gestured to Rose to join him as he circled the room with the students.  She did not dwell on how odd it was that he gave her no task.  Then, as he pointed to the third panel -- the picture of the courtyard revel--with his right hand, he put his left hand on the curve where Rose's lower back met her rump.  It was not unusual for humans to touch their slaves in front of others, to arouse them, but Master Animal rarely touched Rose outside of his bedroom.  And he glanced at her, just for a second, as he continued to talk about the panel, and his look was warm, and his hand was fire, and she burned, and at the same time she felt, a little, like the girl in the sketchbook picture.




       He kept her with him for the rest of the day.  Once he touched her fingertips with his, and he looked at her and it seemed to Rose that he saw her, and she blushed and burned some more, until her pussy ached and she was sure the slightest breeze would make her come.




       When Rose suggested, shyly, that she needed to return to the apartment to make dinner, Animal shrugged and sent a message to the Kitchen closest to his apartment to have their meal delivered, not to his quarters but to Gabriel's. 




       Later, when they sat at Gabriel's table, and even Mariah wrinkled her nose at the soggy meatloaf and limp broccoli, Rose focused on keeping her knees wide so that she would not explode.  But then, there was Animal's hand, on her knee, above her knee, burning her.




       Animal and Gabriel set the time for the next morning's departure, and then Animal stood up.  "Good night," he said brusquely to Gabriel.  "Let's go, Rose."  And he took her hand.




       Rose protested, "Master, the dishes . . ."



       Animal shrugged.  "Mariah can do them.  Or Gabriel can, if he prefers."  Mariah scowled, and Gabriel looked mildly surprised before he smiled placidly.  Animal did not let go of Rose's hand, and led her to the courtyard. 




       Before they entered his apartment, Animal stopped.  Without letting go of Rose's hand, he turned to her. "You know I'd . . . "  he began.  And then he stopped, and stared at her.  "You're so beautiful," he said, and he leaned in and kissed her, tasting her.  Rose froze, not knowing what to do.  A human would sometimes use his tongue to rape her mouth, gagging her, but this . . .  Inadvertently she pulled back, then froze again, realizing her error.




       Master Animal did not seem angry with her.  He stepped back, giving her space, but still holding her hand, caressing her fingers with his thumb.  He took a deep breath, steadying himself.  He began again, his voice huskier this time, "You know I've never hurt you for the fun of it, right?"




       Was this day a mindgame, then?  Rose's voice trembled when she said, after a moment, "You've always been very kind, Master."




       Animal looked at her steadily, in the intense way he had been doing all day.  "I want to do something tonight that you won't like," he said, "but I'm not going to hurt you."



       Rose nodded.  She knew she shouldn't be scared, but . . . the way he looked at her, it was as if he was reading her soul. 




       "Trust me?" Animal wheedled.  When Rose didn't answer he said, "Trust that I'm a lazy pansy?"  His voice cracked when he said that.




       Rose looked up.  In that moment he was so vulnerable, so open.  "You're not lazy, Master," Rose whispered.  ‘You're . . ." She couldn't continue. 




       But Master Animal seemed satisfied.  He led her inside, and into his bedroom.  "Lay down," he ordered.  As Rose reclined on the bed, he took off  his clothes, dropping them on the floor. In part of her mind Rose wished she could disobey her master and hang them up to save the ironing of them.  But then Animal was in bed with her, his length against hers.  He started to kiss her again, but when Rose unconsciously turned her face away just a fraction, he nuzzled her ear instead, while he put his hand on her abdomen. His breath in her ear, his hand on her, so low but not low enough. 




       Rose wriggled, but Master Animal would not be rushed.  His hand drifted no lower.  She reached for him, but Master Animal pulled back. "I want you to relax tonight," he said.  "I want you to enjoy this."




       "I always enjoy it when you fuck me, master," Rose said, and her voice was pleading.  .




       "No," Animal said a little sourly.  "You always come, because you have been trained to, and it's in your diet, and I let you."  He leaned in close to her again, and murmured, "Tonight, I'm doing the work."  His mouth found her neck where her pulse beat in her throat.  He sucked on her there.  Rose was electrified. Without realizing it she groaned softly.  Master Animal circled the spot with his tongue like a feather. 




       At last he moved his mouth lower, but only to her breast.  He sucked on her nipple, circling with his tongue, while his hand drifted up and cupped her other breast. He lingered there, and Rose struggled to keep her legs spread, knowing the slightest touch in the wrong place would push her over the edge.  When he switched sides, sucking the other breast, she groaned, "Master, please," forgetting that she should not beg. 




       Animal raised his head, just for a moment.  "No coming," he said tersely.  "Not yet."  And Rose sank back, dizzy, confused.  Master Animal had always told her she could come whenever he touched her. Why this torture? She could not concentrate on that question.




       Master Animal continued to suck on her nipple and fondle her breasts.  Rose heard a low, ragged growl, and was not sure whether she made it or her master did. 




       Master Animal pulled back a little so he could move lower.  She was sure he would eat her, and she would not be able to hold back. But he put his hands under her and brought his mouth to her belly button, circling it and then going inside.  Rose could not stop groaning.  It was as if he were tonguing her clit, except it could bring her no relief.  And then his warm hand was on her pubic mound, and if he pressed there even a little she would come.  She was still groaning.  He stopped licking her, but he held his hand where it was, motionless, until the sensations subsided ever so slightly and she stopped groaning.  




       He lifted his hand and was looking at her again, a look Rose could not understand.  "I want you to turn over onto your hands and knees," he said softly.




       Rose couldn't understand at first.  Language -- everything but touch -- seemed strange.  But then it sank in.  Her master had given her an order.  She gathered herself and with a huge effort turned over, making sure to not let her legs close when she did so.




       When she was in position Master Animal told her to spread her legs.  She heard him reach into a drawer in his bedside table, and then felt him touch her asshole with something cold and gooey. 




       Rose cried out, betrayed.




       Animal stroked her ass cheeks.  "Remember, you trust me," he said.




       "Master, please, I..."




       "Shsh," Animal said.  He lay down next to her so that she could see his face.  That look again. His brown eyes seared her.  "I know you don't like buttfucking, but I don't want you to be afraid of it any more.  I don't want other humans to have that power over you."  He paused.  "If you want me to stop, I will.  But . . . "  He sounded almost pleading.  "Could you trust me for this?"   




       Rose didn't say anything for a long pause, and Animal didn't move.  "I trust you, Master," Rose whispered at last.




       "I..."  Animal started to say, and stopped himself. "I'm glad," he said.  He maneuvered himself behind Rose and gently rubbed the gel into her ass, moving his finger more and more deeply in and out.  Rose remained stock still as he did this.  When he was satisfied that she was well-lubricated, he rubbed gel into his own penis.  Rose didn't see that doing so brought it from half-mast to hard.  He kneeled behind her and moved his penis so that its tip was at the entrance to her asshole.  Rose whimpered very quietly. "This shouldn't hurt," Animal said.  "You're well-prepared, and I'm far from the biggest man you've had in there."  He stroked her buttocks.  "I'm going to start now, okay?"




       "Okay," Rose said in a small voice.  Slowly Animal eased his penis in, at the same time reaching around Rose and stroking her inner thighs just below her vaginal lips.  As he pressed deeper into her, he moved his hands up higher.  "You with me, Rose?" he asked.




       "Yes, master," Rose said, her voice small and miserable.




       Animal pulled back slightly, but not all the way.  "Are you trying to trust me?" he asked gently.  He felt Rose's abdomen expand as she took a deep breath.




       "Yes, master," she said, and he could feel her relax slightly.  He pushed forward again and leaned his upper body forward so he was pressed against her back.




       "You're a great girl, Rose," he whispered.  "I hope you'll belong to me forever." He felt Rose relax under him even more.  He pushed further inside her. and ever so slowly moved his forefinger into her slit and up to her clitoris, pressing against it with his fingerpad.  Rose gasped and bucked against him, and he began to pump, smoothly and slowly, as he rubbed her nub with his finger. 




       Sparks flew behind Rose's eyelids.  "Master, I..." she began, and suddenly she fell apart against him, groaning and writhing.  It was too much for Animal, and he pumped hard, never taking his finger off her clitoris, and with a yell he exploded into her even while she came.







CHAPTER 35: SALT FOR SUGAR




       Mariah's heart pounded as she served coffee to her master and mistress and their guests.  She kept her eyes carefully averted, and breathed the slightest sigh of relief when none of the humans paid any attention to her.  She returned to the kitchen as if all was normal.  Glancing out the window, she saw that Pepper was still in the courtyard, pretending to weed, glowering at her exclusion from the event inside. 




       And then came the sound she had been expecting.  A surprised cough, followed by an expletive, and then her name shrieked by her mistress.  Keeping her face completely blank, she returned to the dining room.  "May I serve you, Mistress?" she asked.




       "You stupid cunt!" Mistress Suzette yelled.  "There's salt in the sugar bowl!"  She backhanded Mariah on the cheek, harder than Mariah expected.  When Mariah stumbled but kept her feet, Mistress Suzette switched hands. This time Mariah let herself find the floor. 




* * *




       They had fallen asleep with Rose's back against Animal's front.  When he turned over she woke up.  She felt an excitement in the pit of her stomach and groggily tried to remember why.  The events of a few hours earlier came back to her in flashes.  She remembered Animal inside her, and touching her, and her explosion, and his. 




       And then she remembered what he had said.  Did he really want to keep her forever?  Mariah would say it was a mindgame.  She would say Animal had raped her.




       Had he?  He knew she hated buttfucking.  But when she thought of what he had told her -- that he didn't want other humans to have that power over her, the warmness inside of her grew.  She replayed all that he had said, all that he had done, and all that she, her body, more than her body, had done in response.  Would he have stopped if she had asked him to?  Could she have asked him to? 




       Rose knew with certainty that the answer to both those questions was yes.  He would have stopped; she could have asked him to.  She hadn't, because he had told her to trust him. And she did trust him. He was a good man.  




       She looked over to him. He was so determinedly shaggy.   His ragged beard, his untrimmed hair, the paint splatters in unexpected places -- how did he get paint on his stomach?  She smiled tenderly. None of it hid from her the sensuous curve of his mouth, the length of his fingers or, now she thought it, how his fingernails were neatly trimmed, the one part of him that was meticulously groomed.  So he wouldn't scratch me, Rose suddenly understood. 




       Animal turned in his sleep again, now lying on his stomach.




       As if of its own accord Rose's hand reached out and touched his back.  He sighed heavily.  Rose sat up and gently massaged him, her hands moving slowly lower until they were rubbing his buttocks.  The jar of gel he had used on her was still on the bed; she opened it and rubbed some between his ass cheeks.  When his breathing didn't change Rose gently spread his thighs.




       She waited.  Animal's back rose and fell with his breath.   She couldn't help herself.  It was like the first time she had snuck a look at the portrait Animal was painting of her old master and his family, when she belonged to them.  Her heart pounded, but she had to go on.




        She dipped her forefinger into the gel.  She put her hand on Animal's ass, and pushed her finger in, slowly, slowly, like he had done to her the night before.  And pulled it out just as slowly. 




       Animal turned his head.  Rose froze, shocked at what she was doing.  But Animal looked at her with languid eyes.  "If you want, you can keep doing that," he said casually.  At Rose's troubled look, he added, "But give me a kiss first."




       Rose lay down next to him, but hesitated.  Animal parted his lips and Rose gently licked the inside of his mouth, tasting him.  She remembered how he had kissed her in the courtyard the night before, and what had come next, and suddenly she was not shy.  She felt again like the girl he had drawn on the horse, strong, powerful. 




       She kissed him deeper, stronger, and lay her leg across his back so that her cunt was rubbing his side.  It was paradise.  But after a minute she pulled back.  When Animal merely watched her she reached for the jar again and gently moved her gel-covered finger into his asshole.  He moaned softly.  Her body responded as if he was stroking her sex.  She moved her finger in and out of him.  He gasped and groaned, and raised his hips to give his swollen penis room to breathe. Rose twisted around so that she could put her mouth around it while she continued to push her finger in and out of him.  Animal reached down. Rose separated her legs, inviting his touch. Aah, so good.  Rose realized she had spoken aloud.  In unison they moved their fingers in and out of each other.  In unison they came together, in a blinding fury, for the second time that night. 




* * *




       Master Griffin roared in outraged pain.  He shoved Mariah off the bed, sending her sprawling onto the floor.




       Beside him, Mistress Suzette sat up groggily.  "What happened?" she asked into the confusion.




       "The bitch bit me!" Griffin yelled, grabbing his now-soft dick. 




       On her hands and knees, forehead pressed into the floor next to the bed, Mariah rolled her eyes. "Bit" was an overstatement.  She had carefully scraped her teeth along his shaft.  As her mistress pulled her up by her hair she cried, "Forgive me!  I must have fallen asleep." 




* * *




       Someone was shaking Mariah gently awake. She opened her eyes, groaned, and shut them again.  "Come on, sleepyhead," Gabriel said.  "We need to leave by first light."




       Mariah forced her eyes open.  Moonlight through the window illuminated the room.  Gabriel sat on the edge of her bed, looking at her tenderly.  When he realized she could see him, he blankened his face.




       Mariah struggled to sit up.  "You're already dressed," she said, stupid with sleep. 




       Gabriel nodded.  "Margolit -- the woman with the broken leg -- developed an infection.  I've been with her for hours."




       Mariah tried to process this.  "Master Animal will be disappointed," she said.  "He really wanted to go today."




       Gabriel smiled softly.  "I'd be disappointed too," he said.  "But I was able to drain the wound.  There are other healers who can keep an eye on her today." 




       Where were they in the middle of the night, then? Mariah wondered to herself as she saw how tired Gabriel looked. 




       * * *




       Mariah did not plan the last straw.  Carrying a tray to yet another dinner party, she could not see her own feet, did not see the bored teenage boy stick his foot out.  But as she lay for a moment amid the broken plates and spilled food, she looked over to Pepper.  Pepper averted her eyes. 




       * * *


       




       A covered flatbed wagon awaited them at the edge of the lawn.  Gabriel checked the hooves on the well-matched mares and thanked the slave who was holding the team.  He turned to ask Animal if he wanted to drive and found him engrossed in twirling a lock of Rose's hair.  He rolled his eyes and climbed onto the front bench, indicating to Mariah to sit next to him. 




       Animal climbed into the back.  When Rose finished loading the supplies and thanking Raul for his help in toting them from the mansion, Animal took her hand and pulled her into the wagon.  He leaned back without letting go of her, so she landed on top of him and he landed on top of a pile of folded blankets she had placed there.  Thrumming in his throat, he wrapped his legs around hers and put his hands on her ass, kneading it.




       Rose lay on top of him, stock still.  As Gabriel shook the reins and the wagon started to move, Animal leaned up to kiss Rose, and although she did not pull back, she did not respond.




       Animal rolled them over so that Rose was on her back. He palmed her breasts, usually so sensitive. 




       Other than an intake of breath, nothing.




       Animal stopped and sat up.  "Are you denying me?" he asked, incredulous.  


 


       Rose's face turned bright red.  "Never, Master," she said, her eyes filling with tears.  She risked a glance at him, and saw that he was not outraged, but surprised and hurt.  "It's just . . . " she said, "Master Gabriel . . ." 




       Animal drew away from her sharply.  "What about him?" he demanded.




       Rose said softly, "He doesn't like this." 




       Animal looked through the opening of the wagon to Gabriel, who was sitting stock-still on the front bench, facing rigidly straight ahead.  "He knows I fuck you," Animal growled. 




       Rose took a desperate breath.  "But not in front of him, Master.  He says it's private."




       Of course Rose was right. Gabriel hated it when humans molested their slaves in front of him.  It had never come up before with Animal because he only fucked his slaves at night, in his bedroom.




       Until now.




       What was he doing?  Screwing around with Rose till all hours last night, and now during the day.  His art would suffer. He would lose all discipline.




       And yet . . .




       "I packed extra blankets, Master," Rose said softly. "For later."  And although she didn't move towards him, her eyes were luminous, pleading, beautiful,  hopeful.  And something new since yesterday . . . bold.  




       Animal looked from her to Gabriel and back again.  "Later, then," he said, and Rose smiled, and he had to look away or he wouldn't be able to wait until later.  He lumbered to the front of the wagon and asked Gabriel, "So, what gate are we going out through?"






* * *




       That night Master Griffin and Mistress Suzette argued.  Master Griffin wanted to trade Mariah in for another slave, but Mistress Suzette wanted to keep Pepper alone, arguing it was too much work to train another slave to their liking.  At last Master Griffin gave in.  "For a little while longer," he said.  Skewered on a pole covered with burning ointment, and blindfolded, Mariah could not see their faces.




       As far as she knew, Pepper never looked at her.  Certainly she never said goodbye, or thanked her. 


 




       * * *



       The trip to Holden's Gate was quiet.  When Gabriel turned to ask that Animal take over the reins, he saw that he and Rose were dozing.  He reached back and shook him.  But when he made his request, Animal shrugged.  "Sorry, brother," he said.  "Never learned to drive."  He went back to sleep, and Gabriel reached for the thermos of coffee.




       Mariah was taciturn.   When asked if she wanted to learn to drive, she shrugged.  "Only if it pleases you, my lord," she said, and continued staring at the whelping corridor they were driving through, while  Gabriel kept his eyes on the road, unable to look at the young slaves forced to work the fields.         




       It was midmorning when the gate came into view. Gabriel felt a wave of tension wash over him.  He wondered what had become of Griley, and hoped rather desperately that he would not see Tonya.  He looked over at Mariah.  She was staring straight ahead, ashen-faced and gripping the wooden seat of the buggy so tightly that her fingers were white.  Gabriel reached over and covered her hand with his.  She didn't respond, but she didn't pull away.               


       As they approached the gate, Gabriel saw with relief that the gatekeeper was not Tonya, but a man calmly chewing a wad of tobacco.  He looked at them curiously as he ambled over to unlock the gate.  "No leashes?" he asked, pointing to the two slaves.  "You a hunting party then?"




       "Nope," Animal drawled from the back.  "Flower picking party." 




       The gatekeeper gave him a hard look.  "Watch yourselves.  Had another runaway yesterday.  Just brought him in this morning."




       "Another one?" Gabriel asked.  "Have there been others, then?" 




       The gatekeeper spat out his tobacco.  "They don't tell you nothing up at the mansion?  Every few weeks.  Never seen anything like it."  He took another bite of the tobacco.  "Heard one say he did it 'cause they let the cunt live that ran a few months ago. Heard her mouthing off or something.  Stupidest thing the Bearer ever did, if you ask me."  




       "Have any of them made it?" Animal asked. 




       The gatekeeper gave a bark of laughter.  "Course not," he said.  "The Bearer might be old and fat and lazy, but the hunters ain't.  They like having more sport.  The one yesterday they let the dogs chew on." He swung the gate open.  "Enjoy your flowers."  




       They were quiet as the buggy crossed the field and entered the woods.  After a while Mariah pulled her hand away from Gabriel's and pointed.  "Over there," she said.  "On the other side of this meadow." 




       "Are you sure?" Gabriel asked in surprise.  "That's not . . ."




       But Mariah interrupted him.  "I'm sure, Master" she said firmly.  




       The horses protested a little at leaving the road, but became bored with the argument and went where Gabriel steered them. 




       They went over an uprise.  Animal whistled.  "Halleluyah," he said.  The downslope was dotted with clumps of yellow flowers.




       Mariah pointed to a boulder with a sharp edge that leaned at an angle so that it would cast a shadow even at noon.  "That's where they found me," she said quietly.  "I was so tired I thought maybe they wouldn't see me in the shade."  She laughed a little.  "At least they pulled the dogs off me." 




       Gabriel reached for her hand again.  "Those others," he said.  "You know it's not your fault, don't you?"




       Mariah shrugged.  "They took their chances," she said.  She pulled her hand away from his.  "You want these flowers, or not?"




       They set about their tasks assiduously.  Rose and Animal went for the blooming plants, placing the flowers in brown bags that would keep their colors from fading until he could lay them out and dry them down to the pigment.  Rose also filled a few baskets with leaves, to share with the slaves in the other apartments in their hallway.  Gabriel showed Mariah how to take the seeds from the dead blooms and place them in glass bottles.  Like Animal, he would spread them to dry later, and mix them into potions as they were needed.  In the meantime, he carefully scattered almost as many seeds as he kept. He was taking a great supply, but if he ran out he would return to this meadow.  


       


       At last the area was so-well plucked that even Animal had to admit that there was no point in looking further.  Gabriel sat down gratefully in the shade of the one poplar tree in the middle of the meadow while Rose took a picnic basket from the buggy.  Animal fussily covered his bags with a tarp.  Mariah climbed on top of the boulder and stared in one direction and then another. She came down reluctantly as the others began to eat. 




       Gabriel was suddenly so tired he could barely chew.  After a few bites he gave it up, and simply lay down on the blanket Rose had laid out and went to sleep. He soon began to snore softly and placidly. 




       Animal noticed the curve of Rose's bicep and thought he could capture it on canvass more accurately if he nibbled on it first. Rose agreed gravely that he was probably right and suggested, smiling, bold again, that the light was better on the other side of the hill.  She gathered up the detritus from the picnic and put it back in the buggy, glancing backwards at Animal as she took out another blanket and started over the hill. 




       Mariah sat beside Gabriel. When spittle dripped from the corner of his mouth she smiled softly.  The leaves of the poplar rattled in the slight breeze, and as she looked up at them the sunlight glowed through them from above.   Mariah felt that at this moment in her life she was exactly where she should be. 




       Smiling again at the sleeping Gabriel, and glancing in the direction where Animal and Rose had disappeared, she stood and walked in the opposite direction, away from Riviera. 





Chapter 35: Switched or not




       If Mistress Dominique was surprised to have Mariah back so soon, she gave  no indication.  She listened, with her fingers pressed together and her fact blank, to Master Griffin's somewhat outraged explanation.  When he curtly refused Mistress Dominique's offer of a replacement, she nodded in acquiescence, and stood to open the door for him.




       As he walked away Mistress Dominique turned to Mariah, who stood in standard position before her, legs apart, hands behind her neck, elbows back.  Although Mariah properly looked down, there was defiance in her stance.  Why hadn't she fallen to the floor, tearful, begging for mercy?  Again the doubt about her -- that the girl was unnatural. 




       But then Mistress Dominique was struck by a thought.  Maybe Mariah didn't beg for mercy because mercy was the last thing that she wanted.  And therefore the first thing that she needed.  Mistress Dominique made up her  mind.




       "I'm not sending you back to the training center," she said.  Mariah nodded to indicate that she had heard, but made no response.  She had not been asked a question.  "I'm giving you a gift, instead."  Again, Mariah nodded.  Mistress Dominique was impressed by her refusal to even look up.  She knew it was more willpower than training.




       She continued, "I'm sending you to a pansy."  This time a quick intake of breath with the nod.  "His name is Master Townsend.  If you behave . . ." She cut herself off.  "You may thank me."




       "Thank you, Mistress," Mariah said.   That flare of hope, quickly suppressed. 




       ***




       "Master, where's Mariah?"  Gabriel woke at Rose's puzzled question to Animal.  The two of them were crossing the meadow towards him.  The sun was more than halfway across the Western sky.  He had been asleep for hours. 




       Where was Mariah?




       Gabriel meant to spring up, but his limbs were stiff from the hard ground and he couldn't get his footing immediately.  Animal scrambled to the top of the boulder and looked in all directions.  To Gabriel's upraised eyebrows he shook his head.  He climbed down. Stunned, Gabriel circled around as if Mariah might appear out of the ground.  




       Animal crossed the meadow to him.  "I thought she might pull something.  I meant to talk to her this morning," he  muttered.




       Gabriel looked up, and Animal recoiled from the expression on his face.  "You meant to talk to her?" he said, his voice hard and loud and incredulous.  "Why didn't you watch her?  You knew I'd been up all night with Margolit."




       Where was Mariah?




       Animal took a step back, his hand up.  "What?  No, I didn't!  You didn't tell me. You should have asked for help."




       "I did!"  Gabriel was shouting now.  "I asked you to drive the buggy so I could sleep, and you . . ."  He was shaking.  "You said no!"




       Animal breathed out hard, even as his eyes scanned the horizon.  "I can't read your mind, Gabriel. I didn't know you were tired."  He scowled and looked at his friend.  "And why were you up all night anyway?  You're not the only healer in Riviera, you know." 




       "I may as well be!" Gabriel snapped.  "I'm the only healer in your forsaken home who was willing to be roused out of bed to save the woman's life."  He added, viciously, "Just like I'm the only one of us who was willing to drive the buggy!"




       Where was Mariah?




       "That's not true!" Animal's voice was low now.  "You take it all on yourself and then you tell yourself no one else will step up.  You . . ." 




       But a movement from Rose stopped him.  She fell to her hands and knees between them, pressing her forehead into the ground. "What?" Animal demanded, his voice tired, worried. 




       Rose kneeled up.  Into the silence she pleaded, "Masters, . . ."  She looked up.  "We have to  . . ." She stopped, took a deep breath, and continued, "We have to look for her."  She threw herself down again, her forehead touching the ground. 




       Gabriel deflated, the anger gone out of him as suddenly as it had come.  "Please, Rose," he said tiredly.  "Don't do that."  Rose again kneeled up. She quickly wiped her eyes.




       Gabriel spoke softly, almost to himself.  "It's as she said about the other runaways.  She took her chance." 




       "No!" Animal said harshly.  "She'll die out here.  You know it even if she doesn't!" 




       Gabriel and Animal looked at each other for a long moment.  Gabriel dropped his eyes first.  He said brokenly, "My sister could track her maybe, but I . . ."  He stopped suddenly and put his hand to his forehead to shade his eyes.  "She's coming!" he said. "And with bags full of your flowers!"  He ran to meet her, Animal and Rose right behind. 




       Mariah stopped, startled.  When the others drew near she handed to Animal the bags she carried.  "Here," she said evenly.  "I found another meadow."




       Gabriel stood still for a moment, stunned.  Then he grabbed Mariah and pulled her into a hug, which Mariah bore stoically.  "I was so worried.  I thought that . . .  we thought you . . . I thought you'd run away," Gabriel finally said into her shoulder.




       Mariah stiffened, and she pulled away.  "Well, I didn't," she said.  She turned away, her face burning. 




       Animal snorted in disgust.  Gabriel grabbed Mariah's arm.  "Stop," he said shakily.  When Mariah merely stood there, he said, "Mariah, I need you to . . ."  He took a deep breath, looking from her to Animal and back again. Another breath.  Mariah stared at his boots.  "My heart can't take any more moments like that."  Still she did not look up.  "I want you to give me your word you won't run away, not while you're under my protection."



       Mariah met his eyes at last. "Of course, Master, I promise," she said coolly.




       "No!" Gabriel said.  "Don't toy with me.  Swear it, by . . ."  But he could think of nothing she could swear by.  He squeezed her arms.  "Give me your word," he said softly. "Your true word, and I'll believe you."  




       Mariah didn't react for a moment, and then she seemed to shrink into herself.  She paled, and opened her mouth and closed it.  There was anguish in her face, and she shook her head minutely, as if against her will.




       Gabriel sighed, defeated.  "Of course you can't," he said.




       But Animal burst in, "Of course she can.  And she will."  He turned to Mariah.  "You owe him that," he said.  When Mariah merely stared at him, he added slowly, as if she were stupid, "for everything he's done for you."




       The anguish on Mariah's face disappeared, replaced by hardness and anger.  "I owe him nothing!" she spat.  "He said I would be safe, and then he led the hunters straight to me."  She pointed at the boulder, and looked at Gabriel, shrieking now.  "There, that's the safe haven you gave me!  The place where I cowered when the dogs came!  You sent them to me!"




       Gabriel flinched, but after a moment he said calmly, almost but not quite aloofly, "It's your choice to still believe that."  He walked towards the buggy, stiffly arranging the horses, looking at no one.  When Mariah started to climb onto the front bench he said shortly, "Sit in back, Mariah. I just can't look at you right now." 




***




       Mariah watched Master Townsend exhale smoke through pursed lips, sigh contentedly, and sink back into his armchair.  He would be oblivious for a while.  Mariah took advantage of the opportunity to scratch her scalp, which itched, as did the rest of her.  How long had it been since she'd had a shower?  She couldn't remember.




       And of course the worst itch of all, between her legs.  Sometimes on an errand she would purposefully cross a master in the hope that he would notice and fuck her.  Usually she was subtle.  Eye contact, or failing to keep an appropriate distance.  Sometimes in desperation she would go further, tripping in front of him or jostling him.  Most ignored her.  A few would slash her with a whip.  But two had fucked her.  The one last week had seemed to notice her desperation.  He had taken her to a side hallway and had her up against a wall.  He took his time, touched her clit with his finger, made sure she was satisfied.  She didn't know his name.  Dark skin, lithe, a kind face.  Thinking of it now increased her discomfort. 




       Master Townsend opened his bloodshot eyes.  Taking a deep breath, she put down the feather duster and approached him, prostrating herself before him.  It took a moment before he noticed her.  "None of that now," he said with the smile that made Mariah shiver with loathing.  "You know you can talk to me."




       Mariah kneeled up.  Boldly she put her hand on his knee.  "My lord," she began, as Master Townsend brought the joint to his lips again, "please, let me do my duty to you.  Let me service you."




       Master Townsend inhaled, held his breath, and exhaled.  Putting the roach in an ashtray, he removed Mariah's hand from his knee.  He shook his head sadly.  "Now, now," he said, and paused.  Mariah wondered if he was trying to remember her name.  "You know I'm a pansy.  I promised you when you came here I wouldn't oppress you, and I won't." 




       "Master, I want to fuck you," Mariah burst out in frustration.  "I need to, please." 




       But Master Townsend just patted her on the head.  "You only think that," he said.  "It's all in your head.  You need to overcome your upraising."




       Mariah sighed.  He was off again.  His story of how a long time ago there were no slaves, until war and environmental degradation led some to sell themselves, their children, to others.  "It's all random, you know?" Master Townsend said.  Mariah mouthed along with him, but he didn't notice.  "I could be you and you could be me." 




       She dared to interrupt him.  "Could I go to the exercise yard, my lord?" she asked. "I won't exercise, I promise.  I just want to shower . . ."  




       But he had already shaken his head. "Let your body reach its natural state," he said, leaning back, closing his eyes. 


     


      ***


     


      When Rose had finished loading the wagon Animal indicated to her to sit in front with Master Gabriel.  He climbed in back.  Mariah was on the wagon floor, her back against its side, her arms hugging her knees. She stared straight ahead.  Animal sat next to her and opened his sketchbook as the wagon began to roll forward.  He looked up when Gabriel spoke with the gatekeeper, but as there were no comments about Rose he returned to his sketching in the fading light. 


     


      After a time Mariah looked over to see what he was drawing.  The field, the boulder, Gabriel's prone figure, sleeping.  She looked away quickly, but Animal had caught her movement.  He said to her, softly so that Gabriel and Rose could not hear, "He won't stay mad." 


     


      Mariah colored.  "You think I care?" she hissed.


     


      Animal shrugged and said placidly, "It's nothing to me, Mariah."  He continued to sketch, his hand flying over the page, filling in details. 


     


      Mariah watched him without really seeing.  The light continued to fade, and Gabriel lit a couple of lanterns.  Animal sighed softly and put his pencils away.


     


      "My ribs aren't healed," Mariah said.


     


      Animal said, when Mariah did not continue, "Gabriel said it would take six months. It's only been three."


     


      "It would hurt to climb a tree," Mariah said.


     


      "Well, yes, I would think so," Animal said. "You're not supposed to pull with your arms."


     


      "So I wouldn't be able to escape from dogs, or . . . " Mariah fell back into silence and then added, in a fierce whisper, "I still know it's a mindgame!"


     


      "Of course you do," Animal said. "And I appreciate the blooms you brought me no end."  He couldn't see Mariah glaring at him in the dark, but he could feel it, and snorted. 


     


      Mariah scooted towards the back of the wagon and deliberately looked away from him, over the dark fields.


     


      Animal shrugged.  He called to the front of the buggy, "Gabriel, if you show me what to do I can drive for a while."


     


      "That's not necessary," Gabriel said stiffly.


     


      "Nevertheless," Animal said, "I want to." 


     


      Gabriel pulled back on the harness, bringing the horses to a stop.  He turned and looked at Animal.  He nodded.  "Very well," he said.  "I could use the help."


     


      Mariah turned to watch Animal clamber to the front.  As Rose stood up to make room, Mariah saw her slyly pat his butt.  Animal smiled and whispered something to her before she climbed to the back and sat on the floor next to Mariah.


     


      "What's going on with the two of you?" Mariah asked, not bothering to keep her voice low.  "You've been going at each other all day." 


     


      Rose shrugged, and smiled, but didn't answer.  Instead she said, "I'm glad you're here." 


     


      Mariah scowled.  "It's still a mindgame," she said, deliberately loud enough for Gabriel to hear. 


     





CHAPTER 37:  SAVED




       When Master Edwin, the hall master, did his belated monthly inspection, Master Townsend's apartment was in something of a shambles.  The dishes in the cabinet were sticky.  The bed was not properly made.  And the housegirl -- Myrtle, was it? -- was nowhere to be seen.  When he inquired of Townsend where she was, he just shrugged vaguely and said something nonsensical as usual. Master Townsend sighed, sent his own girl to fetch him a book, and sat down to wait. 




       When the chit returned at last, carrying a package from the food exchange, Master Edwin shuddered.  He could smell her from across the room.  Her dark hair was lank and greasy, her body filthy. 




       When she saw Master Edwin something quickly flashed across her face.  Relief, maybe?  She sank to her knees and bowed her head, silently awaiting his judgment.  Townsend took no notice. 




       Master Edwin sighed.  As disgusted as he was by the seeming sloth, he knew it was not the housegirl's fault.  All of Townsend's slaves ended up this way.




       He would send someone in to do a thorough cleaning, again.


Townsend wouldn't care one way or another, but Edwin wouldn't risk a roach infestation, or worse.   




       He clucked to himself.  Pansies were disgusting. He wished it were not his unfortunate lot to have one in his hallway, where he had to deal with the mess.




       He would send his own girl to work on Mary, or whatever her name was.  If the rag was palatable enough after a groom was through with her, maybe he'd fuck her himself.  If Townsend's history held true, he had denied her relief this long time.  It would be unkind to send her back to her training center in that state.




***




       Mariah lay in her bed half asleep, warm and relaxed, listening to the sounds in the apartment as she had for so many mornings.  Master Gabriel getting dressed in his bedroom and then fixing himself breakfast.  The patio door opening and a quiet conversation with Rose.  The doorway to the hall opening and closing, with Rose's softer footfall remaining in the living room, no doubt cleaning the immaculate space. 




       Something had happened the day before, something very upsetting, but Mariah was not ready to remember that yet.  She was too comfortable.  She allowed her hand to drift down.  The subversiveness of this action thrilled her more than the release it would bring.  She touched herself softly as her mind sought a story to tell.  She remembered  the sounds she had heard Rose and Master Animal make in the field the previous afternoon.  Swiftly she closed off that thought. She had no desire to intrude on them.




       Circling, she rejected other directions as well.  If she dwelled too much on any part of her life -- the fields, the factory, her various assignments -- she risked getting lost in their sour taste, hatreds or despair buried but not gone.    




       At last, she thought of the master she had met in the hallway, just once, when she belonged to Master Townsend.  He had fucked her when she was desperate, and had been kind about it.  Mariah's body began to melt.  He had had her quickly, and she had been so needy, she had come almost as soon as he touched her.




       In her mind, after, he turned her around, and they were on a couch, and he was rubbing her back, and saying kind things to her.  Noticing her.  Seeing her.  And then, without willing it, it was Master Gabriel who was on the couch with her, and his hands went down to her lower back, lower still, and his lips were on her shoulders, and she was . . .




       She jerked her hands away from her body and sat up.  Master Gabriel, never! 




       All the events of the day before came crashing back to her. The feeling of calm, of rightness, that had overtaken her in the meadow had seemed so true.  She had been outside the gates, with Rose and Master Animal and . . . her master, she forced herself to think the words . . . nearby, and she had felt content.  Even as she walked away from them, exploring, it never occurred to her to escape.  Only a few days ago she had decided not to make an attempt while her body was weak and she had no plan.  She had put the idea out of her mind. She had relaxed.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.     




       And then she had come to the next meadow, filled with flowers, and had actually felt good -- good! -- about helping Master Animal.  When she had gone back to get him she had heard him fucking Rose, their enthusiasm -- joy even -- surprising but unmistakable, making her ache herself.  Rather than disturb them, if she even could, she simply took some empty bags.  As she filled them with the flowers she felt an odd pain inside.  Loneliness, she realized, but not the kind that had followed her for so many years.  Something lighter, as if it had a cure. 




       And then she returned with the flowers, and . . .  She shuddered, thinking of it.  With Master Gabriel's words she realized that she had misunderstood everything.  That feeling of peace was not because she was supposed to stay, but because she had a chance to run.  Instead, she had been a lapdog.  And because of that she had missed her glorious chance, outside the gates.




       Bitterness had overwhelmed her when she realized how close she had come to forgetting that all of this was a mindgame.  That Master Gabriel, her supposed rescuer, was responsible for her being caught when she had run.  She was a slave.  His slave.  Forced to play the mindgame until the ending he chose. 




       She heard Rose murmur a few words, and then the door the corridor close.  Footsteps in the living room that she did not recognize, followed by silence.  Curiosity gave her energy to drag herself out of bed and open the door to the living room. 




      "Good morning."


     


      Mariah startled. "Raul?" she asked, confused, when she saw the hall monitor on the couch.  "What are  you doing here?"


     


      Raul held up the knitting needles in his hands, and pointed them towards a basket on the floor.  "Darning socks," he said.  When Mariah merely blinked he added, "And seeing you don't run off."


     


      Mariah flared.  "Watch me," she said.  And she swiftly crossed the room to the door. 


     


      As she reached for the doorknob, Raul said, "You don't remember me, do you?"


     


      Mariah stopped, and turned to look at him. He was about the same age as Mariah, compact, with curly brown hair and a calm manner.  Rose spoke of him as a friend, or nearly so.  His mistress seemed to rule the corridor firmly, and Raul had the marks to show that she was no pansy. 


     


      But Mariah could not place him.  She shook her head. The fields?  The factory?  One or another of her placements? 


     


      "We were at Mistress Dominique's training center together," Raul prompted her.  Mariah started, and took a step into the room to get a closer look at him. 


     


      "Once," Raul said, "You and I were sent for a couple of pecks of apples.  On the way back, I tripped.  The apples went flying, and I sprained my ankle.  I couldn't walk."  Mariah shook her head.  She had no recollection of this.  Raul continued.  "You sat me down, gathered up my bruised apples, went all the way back to the orchard, brought me a fresh basket, set it down next to me, went to Mistress Dominique's and came back with a vet."  He shook his head.  "And you managed it all so that I was never punished."


     


      Mariah had a flash of a younger man, sitting with his back against the wall, his leg out in front of him, scared.  Thinner than Raul was now, and with longer hair, but the same.  She nodded slowly.  She couldn't remember much about the incident. She said thickly, mortified, "If that happened, I'm sure I was trying to get myself out of punishment." She couldn't meet his eye, wondering what else he might remember about her.  She glanced at the door.  


     


      "Maybe," Raul said.  "But I know every slave in the center jockeyed to get sent on errands with you.  They knew you would keep them safe."


     


      "Everyone hated me," Mariah said flatly. 


     


      Raul laughed. "After all this time, you still believe that?" he said.  "Mistress Dominique had your wrapped tight around that mindgame." 


     


      Mariah was suddenly exhausted.  She walked over to the footstool opposite Raul and sat down.  He did remember.  What she had been forced to do, had done, to the others.  "Taejon told me . . . ."  She couldn't continue.  The words seared her still, after all this time. 


     


      Raul rolled his eyes.  "That asswipe?" he said incredulously.  "You cared what he thought?"


     


      Mariah didn't answer.  She had forgotten how much she cared,  how much he had wounded her.  To her embarrassment tears pricked her eyes.


     


      Raul shook his head.  "I'm sure you don't remember," Raul said, "but you whipped me.  More than once."


     


      Mariah shrank back, horrified.  "It was fierce," Raul said.


       


      Mariah tried to stand up, to get away.  But her legs would not work.  She felt exposed, like not just her body but her soul was naked. 


     


      "But no worse than most other thrashings I've gotten," Raul continued.  "No worse than the one my mistress gave me yesterday for washing a white shirt with a red sheet."  He grimaced. 


     


      "But she didn't  . . . not like . . ." Mariah whispered. She gave up trying to stand up, and put her face in her hands. She couldn't look at him.  "I didn't want to," she said. 


     


      To Mariah's shock, Raul laughed.  "Of course you didn't," he said.  "It wouldn't have been much of a mindgame if  you'd enjoyed it."


     


      They sat in silence for a  minute.   When Mariah finally found the strength to raise her head from her hands, Raul was looking at her.  "I'm happy," he said.  Mariah shrugged.  "My mistress is no pansy, but she treats me well as long as I behave.  Her housegirl is . . ."  Raul paused to consider. "Well, she's the best thing that ever crossed my path.  On top of that . . . " he paused, and shrugged, grinning.  "After despair, I'm happy," he said.


     


      Mariah found her voice.  "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, sounding harsher than she meant to. 


     


      Raul put his knitting needles down.  "If you ran off while I'm supposed to be watching you, I could lose it all," he said.  "My mistress might send me away, or, worse, send Wendy away, to punish me."


     


      "Not likely," Mariah said, the act of forming words tiring her.  "Rose says your mistress favors you.  She wouldn't punish you over something that's not your fault."


     


      "Maybe," Raul said.  "But the one who worked so hard to save me from punishment when I was clumsy isn't about to risk destroying my life, is she?"


     


      Mariah glared at him.  "If I saved you back then, it was because I didn't want to whip you myself," she said. "Master Gabriel would never make me . . ."  She stopped, realizing what she had said.  Giving into the mindgame again.  With great effort she stood up and walked toward the door.  She would go, she would.  But when she reached it she hesitated. 


     


      If Raul smiled it was so slight that Mariah did not see it.  "Rose heated  you some gruel," he said. 


     


      Mariah tried to shrug indifferently, tried to reach for the doorknob again.  Instead she turned back to Raul.  He had known all along that she wouldn't risk getting him in trouble.  Had probably spoken with Rose and Master Gabriel about it.  The thought made her ill.  "Have you told them?" she asked weakly.


     


      "What?" Raul said.  "That I knew you once, and you saved my skin, and it meant so little to you that you've forgotten me?"


     


      "No," Mariah answered impatiently.  "The other thing.  The whipping, the mindgame -- did you tell them?"


     


      Raul was quiet for a moment. "No," he said.  "It never occurred to them to ask, and I think . . ." He took a deep breath.  "I think that if they did ask me, seeing how much it matters to you, that I would manage to misunderstand the question." 


     


      The relief Mariah felt overpowered her.  "Thank you," she whispered. Raul nodded and took another sock from the basket. 


     


       




***




      As far as Mariah knew, Master Townsend never noticed when she left.  She had been in Master Edwin's household for a week.  He had fucked her until she was sated, then had his girl do the same, and then he had whipped her for her neglect of Master Townsend.  Then he fucked her again, and punished her again. 


     


      After a few days, when he had made her beg to orgasm and then had his girl shatter her with her tongue, Mariah groveled before him.  Master Edwin nodded to himself.  "You may speak," he said.


     


      "Master," Mariah began, "I . . . this slave begs to thank you."


     


      Master Edwin patted the top of her head.  "Now, now," he said.  He was impressed by how quickly she had recovered from Master Townsend's neglect  Not that she would ever be allowed to know that Townsend had neglected her and not the other way around.  Damn pansy.  







CHAPTER 38: MOVING SLOWLY




       Present day




       Mariah almost gagged on her first bite of the gruel Rose had left out for her. Of course Rose would not have flavored it when Raul was there, Mariah realized a moment too late. 




       The door from the corridor opened and Master Gabriel walked in.  He glanced warily at Mariah before he turned to Raul to thank him.  “My mistress says to tell you that whenever you need me, I am yours to command, Master,” Raul said as he gathered up the socks and yarn.  Gabriel merely nodded equanimically. 




       When Raul shut the door behind him Gabriel said to Mariah, “As soon as you’re ready, we’ll leave for the clinic.”




       Mariah was facing away from him so that he would not see how raw she was from her conversation from Raul.  She steeled herself to recall the mindgame.  “And if I say no, will you force me?”




       Gabriel flinched. He did not notice that her voice was weak. His face turned increasingly white until last he said, quiet and deadly calm, “Come with me, or walk out that door.”


       


       It took a moment for his words to sink in.  What was this? 




       When Mariah neither moved nor acknowledged what he had said, Gabriel continued in the same tone, “If you’re going, go.  You’ve got your bracelet.  Take a pack of food if you like.  You’ve as good a chance as . . . ”  He stopped before his voice broke.




       Leaving would be madness.  Mariah knew it, Gabriel knew it, even Raul had known it this morning, Mariah realized.  She could not stay in the mansion on her own, she could not make her way to the wall on her own, she could not survive outside the wall on her own.  She was defeated.  She shrugged, and lowered her head.




       Gabriel took a deep breath. “If you’re staying here, under my protection,” he said, “you will afford me courtesy, and unless you have a good reason you will come with me when I ask you to.” 




       Mariah turned around slowly. It was all the energy she could gather.  “Is this how it works where you come from?” she asked, her voice low.  “You pretend there’s no slavery, but you give a choice that is no choice at all?”




       Gabriel closed his eyes.  He spoke patiently, as if to a very young child.  “It’s how friendship works, Mariah,” he said.  “And family.  And community.  People help each other.  And in return . . .”  He opened his eyes as he searched for an explanation.  And saw her pale face, her bloodshot eyes.  He resisted the sudden urge to hug her, which could only lead to disaster.  “I don’t want to fight with you,” he said instead, as neutrally as he could manage.  “I just need to know that you’re safe.”




       Mariah turned away under the pretense of bringing her bowl to the sink. “It’s a mindgame,” she said fiercely to herself. 




       Flashback




       Mariah jumped when her master slapped her ass. The slap stung more than hurt, but it was unexpected.  She had not heard him come in. Reflexively she gripped the dish she was washing so it would not slip out of her hands.  She placed it on the sideboard before turning around and falling to her knees. 




       Master Brandon was young, barely older than Mariah, and living in his own apartment for the first time.  He didn’t like Mariah much, she knew that. His parents had chosen her for him after discussion with Mistress Dominique.  The fuckslaves he ordered for most nights were giggly, soft, admiring.  He didn’t know yet that those girls were fine for a few hours, but they were no good for keeping an apartment livable.  Not that it took much to do that.  Mariah sighed.  Dishes, laundry, blowjobs, sweeping, cooking, occasional scattered conversation with her master.  Master Edwin had drilled into her that these were her duties no matter how apathetic her master seemed.  And, truly, Master Brandon was not as bad as Master Townsend had been.  At least he knew her name, and his parents came by often enough to make sure he kept her on routine and healthy. 




       She knew the other slaves in the corridor found comfort in each other.  Not physically, of course; but they managed to walk to the food exchange at the same time, or gather in the exercise yard.  Mariah avoided them.  She maintained carefully good relations with Aisha, the hallway monitor, who had some power to make her life easier or harder and, to Mariah’s relief, did not abuse it.  But she had no interest in gossip or, worse to her mind, friendship.   



       Master Brandon sighed as he looked down on Mariah.  He was bored.  He could have Mariah suck his cock, he supposed.  But he wasn’t really in the mood.  He wished Mariah were more fun. 




       Master Brandon was always bored.  His father had suggested that he request an assignment, but . . . what would he do?  Supervise a bunch of cunts sewing pillow cases?  Watch soybeans grow?  He didn’t think so.  His father taught school to snot-nosed kids, and his mother ran the silk factory.  Brandon would rather die. 




       He sighed again, and indicated his crotch.  Mariah dutifully unbuttoned his pants and took his soft penis into her mouth, as bored as he. 




       Present day, six weeks later




       Animal hurried through the corridor towards his apartment.  He was without inspiration and almost grateful that no students or assistants had bothered to show up.  Surveying the revel room, he had been surprised at how much progress he had made in the last few weeks.  The first two panels were finished, the third almost done, and the fourth and fifth well started.  On a whim he had decided to leave the revel room until the softer evening light, and in the meantime . . .




       Imagining how he and Rose would pass the afternoon, he smiled with one side of his mouth, scaring a rag who lowered her eyes and scurried past.  He was like a slaveboy recently, constantly aroused, as he thought about what he and Rose had done, what they might do.  Rose had always been a good fuck -- of course, he never would have kept her if she hadn’t been trained properly -- but now, increasingly uninhibited . . .  Yesterday, in the revel room, the way she had looked at him from across the room before she walked over to the supply closet, swaying her hips as she went, her invitation unmistakable.  He had no idea what he had said to his students.  He had locked the closet door and taken her standing up, kissing her -- it was amazing how she had learned to kiss, how sensual it was -- and the cries she had made into his mouth had pushed him over the edge. 




       What would they do today?  He walked faster, thinking over the possibilities.  Lying on top of her, her arms over her head, his arms on top of hers, rough and fast.  Or, in an armchair, holding her legs open with his, touching her as she writhed against him.




       The apartment was empty when he arrived. 




       Rose was supposed to be finishing the last of the yellow ochre pigment. Where was she?




       Animal heard laughter coming from the courtyard, Rose’s laughter, loud, not her usual shy giggle.  He looked through the sliding glass door.  She was sitting on the ground, the mortar and pestle between her knees.  And she was shaking with mirth.




       Near her, Raul, the hall monitor, was spreading mulch with a rake.  But as he was doing so he was gesticulating wildly with one arm, telling some story to Rose.  Animal slid open the door. 


       “So that night, who should show up on her doorstep but Penelope, ten pounds heavier and her hair dyed black!”  Evidently this was quite a punchline, because Rose practically convulsed.  “So she . . .”  Raul stopped suddenly when he saw Master Animal out of the corner of his eye.  He flashed Rose a baleful look before he fell to his knees. 




       Animal frowned.  Why he had never heard Rose laugh like that? 




       He looked hard at Raul.  “You are dismissed.” 




       Raul quickly touched his forehead to the ground before he stood and hurried out through Gabriel’s apartment, leaving his tools and mulch where they lay. 



       And Rose.  She was looking at him as though she would speak, although of course she would not, could not, without his permission. 




       “Yes?” Animal said coldly. 




       “Master,” Rose said softly, seriously, all laughter gone although she was still damp around the eyes where tears had leaked out.  “If Mistress Tabitha sees that Raul has not finished here, she’ll punish him, and he . . .” 


       


       Animal’s anger deepened. What did Rose care about Raul? “Would you like me to interfere?” he asked sarcastically.




       “If it pleases you, my lord.”




       Animal glared at Rose.  Was this boldness?  Or did she really not see his stern face, his hand on his whip?  She knelt in front of him, next to the mortar and pestle, her eyes down. Why was she kneeling? Gabriel didn’t like it.  But Gabriel wasn’t here. Animal wished Rose would look at him. 




       When she did look up, trust in her luminous gray eyes, he softened.  He turned on his heel and went back into his apartment before he melted altogether. He scribbled out a note on paper in his sketch pad, tore it out, and took it to the courtyard where Rose had returned to the mortar and pestle.  “Take this to Mistress Tabitha,” he commanded, holding the note out to her. 




       “Thank you, Master,” Rose said, rising to take it.  But Animal drew his hand back.  “Don’t dawdle,” he said roughly.  “I don’t want you talking to Raul.”  At Rose’s hurt, confused look he faltered, and indicated her tools on the ground.  “You were supposed to finish mixing the pigment this afternoon.”  He bit his lip in frustration -- his excuse sounded stupid even to him.  But he had no need of excuses.  He glared, ignoring the tears, not of laughter this time, welling in Rose’s eyes.  He handed her the note at last, and went back to the apartment as Rose exited through Gabriel’s quarters. 




       When she was gone Animal felt foolish and at loose ends.  He went back to the courtyard and looked at the tools left scattered by both Raul and Rose. A jar half-full of yellow pigment was carefully placed in the shade.  Really, Rose had worked hard these last weeks to mix the ochre.  Animal picked up the pestle, still damp from her grip.  Funny how the pestle seemed to be Rose’s now, although he had made it himself years ago, under his mentor Solis’s tutelage. He sat on a bench, grabbed the mortar and began to mash, taking up where Rose had left off, the old familiar rhythm calming him. 




       Rose returned a very short time later, out of breath.  “Clean up,” Animal said, standing up, “and then come to me.”  He stalked over to the divan chair in the center of the courtyard.  Kicking off his shoes he stretched out on it, watching Rose as she gathered up the bags and jars and tools and took them into his studio for storage. 




       And then she came to him, tentative, nervous, standing before him, looking down.  Where was the bold girl of the day before, the one who had lured him into the supply closet? 




       She was never nervous with Gabriel, Animal thought with annoyance.  But then, Gabriel was always kind to her.  Never snapped at her, or moved his hand to his whip. Didn’t even have a whip, and wouldn’t know how to use one. Of course Rose wouldn’t fear Gabriel.  If he owned her he’d ruin her . . . Animal stopped the direction of his thought.  Gabriel did own Rose; the Bearer had given her to him, told her to treat Gabriel better than she treated Animal. His fists clenched.




       And then Rose was falling to the ground before him, on her knees, her forehead touching the dirt.  Why was she doing this?  Animal generally allowed her to speak without begging permission, had since Gabriel’s arrival.  He didn’t like her down there.




       “What?” he tried to say, but it came out more of a bark.




       “Master,” and Animal could hear her tears, “I’m sorry I didn’t finish mixing the ochre.”




       Why would she say that?  She would have finished if Animal hadn’t interrupted her.  But then he remembered, he had scolded her for it.  Maybe Gabriel was right, he thought with a sinking feeling; maybe he was a brute. 




       “It’s okay,” he said. When she raised her head he added, “I know you’ve worked hard these last weeks.”




       Rose still didn’t look at him.  Where was the trust he had seen in her eyes when he offered to write a note to Tabitha?  Why did it disappear so quickly? 




       The answer was obvious, Animal knew: whether he was a pansy or not, his moods were a danger to her.  It was important that she remember the power he wielded over her.  Unlike Gabriel, he didn’t ruin slaves, he prided himself on that.  But still . . . He sighed. 




       “Did Mistress Tabitha read the note?” he asked, trying to remind her that he was . . .what?  Kind?




       “Yes, Master,” Rose said, her voice low, her eyes still downcast.  “She said she would not punish Raul.”  Good.  What more could Rose want from him? 




       But he said, to his own surprise, “I didn’t know that you and he were such good friends.”  His voice sounded sour, even for him.




       Rose shrugged, still looking down.  “He’s always been very good to me, Master.  Helps me when  . . .” She stopped, and started again.  “Never takes advantage of me.”




       “You have feelings for him, then?” Animal asked.  He was aware that sometimes happened among slaves, acting out a pale imitation of human love.  It had never occurred to him that anyone belonging to him, that Rose would . . . He felt an odd, sinking feeling in his stomach. 




       “No, Master,” Rose said. Animal expelled his breath, relieved.  Rose looked up at last, and continued, “Raul cares only for Wendy,  Mistress Tabitha’s housegirl.  He would never think of any other slave in that way.”  




       Animal frowned. But Rose was still looking up at him, and although her eyes were guileless, the slightest smile was twitching on her lips.  Was it possible she was teasing him?  Would she dare?




       “Should I do that for you?” he asked her.  “Take on a houseboy, and give the two of you a sleeping mat the in the spare room, and let you . . .”  He broke off, shuddering.




       “Would he be handsome, Master?” Rose asked.  And now Animal was sure . . . almost sure . . . that she was teasing him. He pulled her towards him. 




       “He would be ragged looking,” he growled.  He lifted her so that she was on top of him and they were lying length to length.  “But he would know just what you like.” He kissed her.  After a brief hesitation Rose kissed him back. 




       She was delicious.  He loved the feel of her against him, chest to chest, groin to groin, legs to legs.  He pulled away from her lips so he could look at her.  The boldness hadn’t appeared, but the fear was gone.  He moved his legs between hers, separating them.  “Like a good slave, he would care about your pleasure before his own,” he said, putting his hands on her lower back, and then moving them down, resting them there, his warmth penetrating her from behind.  He held her like that, massaging her slightly, until Rose made that sound of hers in the back of her throat, and gyrated on Animal as his hardness poked at her.  She shifted so that it hit her in just the right spot.  That sound again.




       Rose pulled away this time. “My slaveboy wouldn’t be wearing pants,” she said slyly, and undid Animal’s belt.  Then she waited, looking at him.  When Animal nodded his permission she pulled his pants off, trailing her hand along his inner leg. It seemed to wake his entire body up.  She did the same thing with his underwear, gently easing it over his hips, his erection, and down his legs.  And then she was laying on top of him again, his shaft against her clit, her juices warming him.  Animal held her head, pulling her in for another kiss. 




       But Rose pulled back.  “With my slaveboy, I would be in charge,” she said. Again she waited for the nod of permission from Animal.  He gave it, transfixed by her, lost in the power of her excitement. 




       Rose brought her knees forward, creating space so that Master Animal could enter her.  She kneeled up, guiding him in.  His eyes swam. 




       Slowly Rose lifted up and sank down, lifted up and sank down, the feeling exquisite.  There was not enough friction on her clit to push her close to the edge.  But not so with Animal.  His heart hammering, his breathing ragged, he was gathering.  Rose pulled up, and stayed there, only his tip within her.  “With my slaveboy, I would set the pace,” Rose said, a wicked glint in her eye.




       Animal reached his hand toward her, to touch her.  “But he would help you along,” he said.




       Rose shook her head and batted his hand away.  So beautiful.  “He would want to,” Rose said.  “But I would say no.”  Animal put both his hands behind his head.  He looked at her, drank her in, as she slowly, slowly sank down on him, and then slowly, slowly rose up.




       The sensation was exquisite.  Rose had been on top before, of course, but always Animal had grasped her hips, pushing her up and down like a sack with a hole in it.  She had never been in control like this.




       Animal became acclimated to her slow movement, and matched it with a slow thrusting of his hips.  It was as if she was riding not just his dick but his brain, if that were possible.  He was again ready to peak.  Rose stopped at the top again.  Animal breathed out hard, the denial exciting him even more.   




       When he had calmed down she rode him again.  Up and down again, again, again, each time slower than the last.  Rose’s excitement was equal to Animal’s own, but he knew she would not explode with direct stimulation to her clit. 




       She stopped again.  Looking Animal straight in the eye, she moved her own hand to her center.  “With my slaveboy I would take my own pleasure,” she said. 




       Animal was transfixed as Rose touched herself with her finger.  He should stop her; he had not given her permission, not exactly.  But Rose’s eyes closed and she crooned with pleasure, and he could not catch his breath; he was lost.  She pressed the back of her hood down so that her clit was against Animal’s penis, and as she moved up and down on him it rubbed her. And then she was crying out, and Master Animal was crying out, and it went on and on, her spasms gripping him, massaging him, and he exploded into her.  And just before they rested against each other he was kissing the top of her head, and then he was too tired, and she lay on him, and it was delightful.





CHAPTER 39:  PAINS




       FLASHBACK




       It was Master Brandon's mother who announced to Mariah that her time with Brandon was over.  Mariah put down the feather duster she was using and picked it up again, unsure if Mistress Greta meant that she would be leaving immediately or if she should finish her task.  "There, there," Mistress Greta said.  "It's nothing personal. It's just time to let Brandon make his own mistakes." 




       "Yes, Mistress," Mariah said.  Fleetingly she wondered what it would be like if it were personal. 




       Mistress Greta did not bring Mariah back to Mistress Dominique for a new placement, but to the Exchange.  When in her surprise Mariah stopped in the doorway and protested, Mistress Greta stared at her.  "I thought she would have told you, since you were a favorite.  Dominique closed the training center.  Said she'd done her share and earned a rest.  True enough I suppose." 




       Mariah felt shocked, and then unexpectedly bereft, and then scared.  She had hated Mistress Dominique, of course.  She hated them all when she allowed herself that luxury.  But Mistress Dominique had taken some care in Mariah's placements, and perhaps had protected her from worse treatment. 




       Mariah hadn't realized that she had remained motionless in the doorway, until Mistress Greta raised her whip.  "Of course, if you make me punish you you'll be taken for a torture cunt at the Exchange."  Mariah followed her to the Exchange master to be registered. 




       PRESENT DAY




       Animal half-woke from his doze.  The warmth of Rose's cheek passed through his shirt to his chest.  Her arms rested around him, her legs were between his, and her belly was pressed against his sated cock.  He floated on the sensation of her.  With Gabriel and Mariah not expected back before dinner, and an hour until the light would be right for painting, they could . . .




       "Rose!"        Animal blinked his eyes open at Gabriel's exuberant shout.  "Are you out here?"




       Rose lifted her head, confused and still mostly asleep, as Animal groaned.  The sound attracted Gabriel, but the back of the divan faced his door and he couldn't see them.  He hurried over as Rose slowly pushed herself up.  "You've got to see the book I found!  It's ancient recipes with . . ."  He stopped short as he saw them at last.  "Oh," he said, reflexively backing up.




       "You said you would be teaching all afternoon," Animal growled, refusing to cover himself.




       "No one showed up,"  Gabriel muttered, half turned away from them.  "Mariah and I went to the library instead."




       Rose looked uncertainly from Animal to Gabriel as she continued to disentangle herself from her master.  "Found a book I thought Rose would want to see," Gabriel continued. "Sorry."




       "It's fine," Animal snapped.  Turning to Rose he told her, "Go clean yourself up, and then find Master Gabriel." 




       "Yes, Master," Rose said.  She stood up slowly, and then hurried off to Animal's apartment without a backward glance at him.




       "Sorry," Gabriel muttered again, and turned to his own apartment, trying to look as if he was not fleeing.  Scowling, Animal found his pants, neatly folded on the ground with his underwear neatly folded on top.  Carrying them, he stalked off to his shower. 


       


       FLASHBACK




       The Exchange was well-organized. Master Victor set up separate areas for those most likely to be chosen as skilled laborers, factory workers, crafters, and, of course, house slaves.  As Mistress Greta had intimated, there was an area for torture slaves as well. To Mariah's relief, after a brief conversation Master Victor sent her to the corner for house slaves. 




       She was chosen by two men, Gregg and Peter.  They were a striking couple; both tall and well-muscled, Gregg was ruddy and blond and Peter was dark skinned and shaved his head.  They were devoted to each other but casually cruel to Mariah.  She learned that they used only housegirls, not houseboys, to avoid developing any attraction that could come between the two of them.  Having little interest in her, they liked to tease. 




       "What did the little pussy do all day?" Peter would ask in a baby voice.




       And Gregg would answer in a sickly sweet imitation of Mariah, "I cleaned up from breakfast, and thought about fucking.  And then I swept, and thought about fucking.  And then I looked out the window and thought about fucking.  And now I'm so tired from all my hard work and so horny."




       "Ooh, poor little pussy," Peter would say.  "So many responsibilities and so little fucking.  Does little pussy want to fuck?"




       There was an endless variation on this.  Mariah was surprised at how annoying she found their treatment of her, although she had to admit that it was an easy posting as far as work went.  Gregg and Peter both had assignments that kept them out of the apartment most days.  Gregg was an accountant at the food exchange, responsible for calculating how much and what food to bring in from the fields and pastures, and Peter was a scribe.  Both were neat and not fussy about their food, and they rarely entertained.  The hall monitor had told Mariah, with a meaningful look, that most of their housegirls volunteered to help the hall in their spare time, by doing laundry for other households or assisting with heavy cleaning.  Mariah merely shrugged, and the issue was not pushed on her.




       Her masters' teasing generally continued as one of them fingerfucked her, almost to the point of coming.  And then he would stop, talk more baby talk, and walk away.  When Mariah's body had calmed down the other master would molest her but stop before she came.  Again, a pause, and the other would take his turn.  When she finally orgasmed the master who had carelessly pushed her over the edge was the loser in their game, and he would pout and punish her.  Mariah tried to make sure that it was Peter and not Gregg who would do so.  Gregg favored hot sauce and red ants and the like, while Peter generally used the strap. 


       


       Gregg came home early one day from his assignment, carrying an odd bouquet. Surprised, Mariah leaned the broom against the wall and dropped to her knees.  "You've been a naughty pussy," Gregg said from across the room.  Mariah blanched.  Did he know about the unauthorized walks she took, almost every day?  But he continued, "It's not nice for little pussies to play favorites."  He gestured for her to approach him.  As she did so, he took a pair of gloves out of his pocket and put them on, then pulled from his bouquet a long thin plant that looked like mint with spikes. 




       "Hold out your hand to me," he commanded her.  She gave it to him, palm down.  He turned it over and scraped the plant along the length of her lower arm and inner wrist.  It tickled.  And then it itched. And then, to Mariah's horror, little red bumps appeared on her skin and it burned. 




       "Stinging nettles," Gregg said.  He put the plant down and took off his gloves.  Taking her hand again, Gregg led Mariah to the armchair he favored and sat her on his lap. 




       He knew her reactions well and aroused her efficiently.  But when he was squeezing her nipple with one hand and teasing her cunt with the other, Mariah wriggled on him and he hardened beneath her.  They both froze for a second, and then Gregg sprang up, causing Mariah to crumple to the floor. 




       Gregg grabbed Mariah by the arm and dragged her to the wall, where he strung her up, feet spread wide, arms over her head. Disappearing for a moment, he came back with the nettles.  Deliberately he started with her nipples, which he had made so sensitive.  Like with her wrist, it tickled and then itched and then burned.   Mariah cried out and struggled but Master Gregg did the same to her other nipple.  He waited a moment before he went lower, to the undersides of her breasts, and then to her underarms.




       When he ran a fresh nettle over her belly Mariah forgot all her training and panicked, pulling on her shackles in a futile attempt to get free.  "Now, now, little pussy needs to learn her lesson," Gregg said with an intensity that scared her more than the nettles did.




       He moved lower still, to her inner thighs.  Over and over until she was sure she was covered with blisters upon blisters.  Mariah sagged in her bindings.




       Greg swirled the tip of a fresh plant against her asshole.  It stung, it burned.  He brought it forward, to her cunt, to her slit, burning her, and at last to her clit.  Over and over he circled.  Mariah was crying, huge, heaving sobs.  He kept going.  The burning was unbearable, her clit would never recover, she was ruined.  He stopped for a moment, but only to get a fresh nettle.  He returned and started again.  Mariah couldn't help it; she begged incoherently.  And suddenly she exploded in an orgasm so powerful she screamed until she fainted. 




       When she came to, she was laying on her masters' bed.  Peter was gently covering her blisters with lotion.  She didn't know where Gregg was.  "I'm sorry," Peter said quietly.  "You've been well-behaved and didn't deserve this."




       In her delirium Mariah reached out to Master Peter. "I'm not a pain slut, master," she said.




       "No, little one," Peter responded.  "There are a million ways to push a slave over the edge.  Gregg found one of yours, that's all."




       In gratitude Mariah clung to his hand, but Peter pulled away.  "You can rest for a little while before you make dinner," he said, and he left the room.




       Neither Peter nor Gregg mentioned the incident again, but as soon as her blisters healed Peter took her back to the Exchange.




       PRESENT DAY




       Animal wandered into Gabriel's apartment, his hair still damp from his shower, his expression still sour.  Gabriel, Rose and Mariah sat at Gabriel's table.  Mariah, as usual, was poring over the map book. Gabriel was reading to Rose from a different book.  Rose's eyes were shining. 




       When Animal came close enough to see the book he stopped short, arrested by the luscious illustrations.  On one page, a simple bowl of raspberries -- but not simple at all.  The bowl itself was decorated in a pattern Animal had never seen before, blacks and turquoises and purples and yellows in odd geographic shapes.  The colors should clash but somehow brought out the strengths in each other.  And the raspberries -- each one a marvel of shading, their pistils visible.  Looking at them actually made Animal's mouth water.




       On the opposite page was a picture of a casserole dish.  Animal didn't recognize the food -- some kind of spiral noodles, in several different colors.  He could see the heat rising from them in waves. 




       Without thinking, Animal turned the page.  Gabriel and Rose looked at each other and then scooted their chairs to the side to make room for him.  The book was filled with marvelous pictures -- roasts and salads and fish and dishes he had never seen.   When Animal came to a picture of beets he muttered, "Carmine." A sound from Rose made him look up.  Yes, they had once used that color to describe beets she had served.




       "Imagine," Gabriel said softly.  "The librarian told me there was a time when every household had a book like this."




       Animal stared at him, trying to get his bearings.  They could build a wing of the museum around this book.  "No," he said hoarsely.  "That can't be right."




       Gabriel nodded.  "Books like this, and others like it," he said. 




       Suddenly Animal felt ill.  He sat down.  "The value they must have placed on art," he said.  "So beautiful, in every dwelling."  He looked at the book again.  "What happened to civilization?"




       "Death and destruction and collapse," Gabriel said.  "In medicine too, so much knowledge was lost.  I found a book . . ."  But he stopped when he realized that Animal was not listening.




       "We survived," Animal said bitterly.  "Humans survived through that time.  We have plenty again." He stood up. "But it's as the Bearer said. People would rather look at a slave hanging on a wall than a picture." 




       He stalked to the window and stared out. The sun was lowering.  He remembered that he had intended to return to the revel room for evening light.  "Come, Rose," he commanded.




       Rose stood up slowly from the table as Gabriel turned the page of the book.  "This one sounds good," he said.  "Rose, do you have a baking dish like this?" 




       Rose came back to look at the picture he was showing her of the tall, round dish.  "Raul might know where to find one, Master," she said.  "What's it for?"




       "Souf . . . Sooffel?" Gabriel said.  "It puffs up in the oven, I guess," he continued, reading through the description. Rose sat down next to him again.  




       Unnoticed, Animal walked out.    


       


       FLASHBACK




       Mariah was sitting in the Exchange, leaning against an oak tree.  Her left ankle was shackled to a chain that was long enough to let her wander to a group of slaves a few yards away, had she did not.  She knew a couple of them and tried to ignore their laughter edged with nervousness.  Percy, who had been a hallmate a couple of assignments ago, nodded at her.  Mariah scowled and looked away.




       "I just can't find what I want here."  Mariah glanced at the source of the nasally voice.  A tall thin man was walking with a woman who barely came up to his shoulder. 




       The woman patted his arm.  "There's dozens of fresh blood, here, Dell. You're too picky."




       "I'm not!" Dell said angrily, pulling away from her.  He approached the group near Mariah.  "Can any of you cook, clean, and fuck?" he asked.  They all looked at the ground.




       Dell sighed and walked on.  When he came to Mariah, he said, "What about you?"




       Without thinking Mariah said, "Not all at the same time, Master." 




       He tore his whip off his belt.  "You sass me?" Before he could strike, the woman was at his side.  She had curly red hair and freckles dotted her face.




       "Don't waste your energy, Dell," she said. 




       "She sassed me, Iliana," Dell said to her.  Again without thinking, Mariah rolled her eyes.  Dell didn't see her but Iliana did.  Her lips twitched.




       "I saw some likely candidates over there," Iliana said.  "One of them is blonde and barely marked."  Dell allowed himself to be distracted and proceeded down the walk.  Iliana did not follow him, but looked down at Mariah curiously.  Mariah stolidly stared straight ahead.




       "Do you know why he didn't look out the window this morning?" Iliana asked her.




       Mariah blinked, trying to make sense of the question.  "No, mistress," she said.




       "Because he wanted to have something to do this afternoon." 




       Mariah blinked again, and Iliana laughed.  "It's a joke," she said.  Mariah blinked again.




       Mistress Iliana said, "I went to dinner at my brother Harold's yesterday.  There was a rooster in his living room.  Harold had the loveliest slave girl, and she served the most delicious dinner. Harold kept throwing scraps to the rooster all through dinner.  Finally I asked him why he was doing that.  He said, ‘I caught a water nymph while I was fishing.  She gave me three wishes on the condition that I let her go.  So I wished for a beautiful slave, delicious food, and an insatiable cock.'"




       Again Mariah blinked.




       "Why do slave girls have legs?"




       When this question was followed by silence, Mariah looked at the woman.  "I don't know, Mistress," she said.




       "So they don't leave trails like snails when they walk."




       Mariah inhaled quickly, then scowled.




       "I saw that," Mistress Iliana gloated. "You almost laughed."  She regarded Mariah, who glared at the ground.  "Do you want to come home with me?" she asked




       Mariah knew the proper response, but she asked, "Do you live with him?" and she gestured to Master Dell, who was coming back towards them, frowning.




       When Iliana smiled her dimples appeared.  "No," she said.  "Not yet. I have too many windows, I guess."




       Mariah couldn't help it, she started to laugh and then tried to disguise it as a cough.  Iliana took that as assent.  She waved the Exchange boy over and ordered him to unshackle Mariah.




       But as the boy fiddled with his key, Dell strode up.  "What's this?" he demanded.  "You're not looking for someone today.  You said you were enjoying your privacy."




       Iliana shrugged.  "Changed my mind," she said.  "This one's so cheerful, I couldn't resist."  She winked at Mariah. 




       PRESENT DAY




       Animal's bedroom window opened to the courtyard so Rose could not see the sun rise, but the soft light of dawn made her smile.  She did not expect Master Animal to wake up any time soon; he had returned home the previous night late and half drunk.  Although they had fallen asleep on separate sides of the bed, with Animal quickly snoring, now they were pressed together, Rose's back to Animal's front, his arm around her, his morning erection pressing against her.  For a moment she considered softly wriggling against him, but the excitement that had woken her so early won out.  The ingredients for the -- what had Master Gabriel said they were called?  creeps -- were waiting for her in the kitchen.  After she made the batter it would need to rest for an hour.  So if she wanted them ready for her master's breakfast, she had better get started. 




       She tried to slide away from Master Animal without waking him, but he tightened his grip on her and kissed the top of her head.  She held still as he palmed her breast and moved his lips to that spot right below her ear. His hand wandered down to her legs, and he tried to force it between her thighs, but she did not cooperate. 




       As Animal turned her from her side onto her back, Rose closed her eyes, hoping he might think she was still asleep.  He kissed her mouth. Without thinking Rose pressed her lips together.




       She felt Animal sit up abruptly.  "What are you doing?" he said harshly.




       Rose opened her eyes.  Animal's face was angry.  Worse than yesterday.  Rose shrank down.  "Forgive me, Master," she said. "I need to start breakfast, or else . . ."




       Master Animal interrupted her.  "You deny me because you want to cook?"        He stared at her, unbelieving. 




       Rose dropped her eyes.  "Master, I'm sorry.  I . . . "




       He cut her off.  "Go," he said, harshly.  He turned over and stared at the wall while Rose slipped from the room. 


        


       FLASHBACK




       Mariah lifted her head from between Iliana's legs, to see if she wanted more.  Her mistress had come three times to Mariah's count.  Sweating, tousled, Iliana raised her hand slightly to gesture Mariah forward.  Mariah slithered up until her head was resting on the softness above her mistress's breast.  Mariah could feel her heartbeat, pounding.  She trailed her hand up, until in rested on her mistress's other breast.  "Mmm," Iliana said, sleepily.  Mariah sighed.  She could not expect her own satisfaction, but how she burned. 




       But after a few minutes, Mistress Iliana roused.  She moved out from under Mariah.  "Lay on your back," she ordered.  Mariah complied, and Mistress Iliana lay next to her.  She moved her hand over until it was on top of Mariah's crotch.  She curled her finger up and down Mariah's slit.  "Quickly," Iliana said.  "We need to leave soon."  The words were unnecessary.  As soon as she began to circle Mariah's clit, Mariah exploded. 




       Mistress Iliana smiled, but gave Mariah no time to rest.  "Hurry and wash up," she ordered.                 




       Mariah had forgotten that all the residents, slaves and humans alike, of the hall had been told to assemble at the nearest revel room.  She assumed it was to witness a punishment, but why then were the humans also to be present? 




       When they arrived half an hour later, both still damp from their showers, the revel room was crowded.  Mariah noted that it was not just with the residents of Mistress Iliana's hall, but much of the entire wing.  Mistress Iliana wandered over to share a chair with Dell, while Mariah sat randomly among some houseslaves she vaguely knew from the exercise yard.




       A girl was being strung on the stage.  Her hands were cuffed together and lifted by a rope towards the ceiling.  It stopped while her feet were still flat.  Her ankles were shackled to spreader bars, only about a foot wide.  She would be able to twist and turn.  




       "Teraza," a man said to her, and she looked at him, her eyes pleading but her voice obediently silent.  "She hasn't done anything wrong," he said to the seated slaves.  "She is going to be punished because I wish it."




       It was such an obvious statement that Mariah blinked. 




       Two more human men walked onto the stage. One of them was shirtless.  He looked dazed.  A hush fell over the room when the audience realized that his hands in front of him were cuffed.  The other man attached the chain of his cuffs to a hook, which was raised until his arms were over his head.  Only when the movement stopped did he look at the man who had led him.  "Josiah, please, don't do this," he said, but there was no hope in his voice.




       "It's not up to me, Mack, you know that," the man answered with a shake of his head.  "The Bearer set your punishment."  He took a piece of paper from his pocket and read to the audience, "This man, Mack, son of Clenott, has been convicted of violating the most sacred laws of our land, to wit, purposefully fathering a child with slave girl Rachelle and raising the pup as if it were human."  A collective gasp rose from the audience.  "He is hereby sentenced to ten lashes with a bullwhip, laid hard on, to be followed in two weeks time by a year's labor in the coal mine where he will work side by side with slaves."




       Mack's eyes filled with tears.  "Promise me you'll take care of them," he begged raggedly, but Josiah shook his head and stepped off the stage.  His place was taken by another human, whose head was wrapped entirely in a scarf, leaving only a space for his eyes. 




       Mariah felt queasy.  She had seen bullwhips hanging on walls as decorations, and once she had seen, or rather heard, a master crack one like thunder.  Compared to those monstrosities, the thin, soft whips typically used on slaves were like children's toys. One healed from them, physically at least, in hours or days.  Was there any healing from a bullwhip?




       The man in the scarf took his position behind Mack, and the other master took his position behind Teraza, holding a simple flogger.  They nodded at each other, in unison raised their whips, in unison struck.




       Teraza grunted.  Mack screamed.  As if they had planned it, the two twisted at the same time.  Teraza's back was marked with a single whip stroke.  Mack's back was torn open.




       Again the whips were raised, again brought down in unison.  Again Teraza grunted and Mack screamed.  Again, again, again.  But by the eighth stroke there was no sound from Mack.  He had fainted.  Blood flowed down his back.  The man in the scarf slapped his face, waking him.  Two more strokes.  Again he fainted, but this time it did not matter. 




       Teraza's master lowered the chains holding her arms, and untied her.  She fell to her knees. She was still his beautiful, well-trained slave, ready to serve. 




       Mack's handcuffs were removed from the hook, and he landed on the floor with a thud, groaning, the fall waking him.  Healers came to bind wounds. He grasped at the foot of one of them. "Take care of them," he muttered, "take care of them."  The healer stepped back. 




       Mariah thought she might throw up.  She glanced across the room at her mistress, Iliana, who was looking back at her.  Her usually cheerful face was drawn and haggard.  Iliana  nodded at her ever so slightly, and Mariah knew that they were of one mind: No one, human or slave, should suffer like that.


       


       PRESENT DAY




       Mariah allowed herself to  notice and appreciate the luxury of a closed bathroom door.  Not all her owners had favored privacy for their slaves.  Here, not only was the door to the bathroom closed, but the door to the bedroom -- her bedroom -- was as well, and would stay that way until she chose to open it.




       She washed her face and brushed her hair, still uneven but long enough that the new growth no longer stood straight up. 




       Returning to the bedroom, she began with the stretches Jordan had showed her.  Then the strengthening exercises Gabriel had recently added.  Finally, the stretches Gabriel had first taught her.  Arms, back, chest, all gentle as Gabriel had emphasized, although Mariah recognized that she was much more flexible than she had ever been.




       Finally, the breathing exercises.  Mariah closed her eyes and took in as much breath as she could.  She stopped when her rib cage complained.  Slowly exhale.  And again.  She could hear Gabriel's voice instructing her.  She quieted it, replaced it with her own voice, the visions she chose to see, as she had done every morning for the last several weeks.  First, Gabriel on the road so many months ago, outside the gate, telling her which way to go, convincing her to trust him.  Then Gabriel waving down the hunters, pointing them in the direction he had just sent her.  Gabriel curing her elbow; Gabriel betraying her to the hunters.  Gabriel placing a cool cloth on the forehead of a feverish slave; Gabriel petting the hunters' dogs. Gabriel laughing with Master Animal; Gabriel watching the hunters race after her.  Gabriel reading the cookbook to Rose; Gabriel smiling with satisfaction at his success. 




       Certain at last that she would make it through the day without forgetting she was living a mindgame, Mariah stepped into Gabriel's living room, expecting to see Rose.  But it was Mistress Tabitha, the hall mistress.  She was running her finger along the top of a bookshelf.  Catching Mariah's movement from the corner of her eye, she turned to her. "Ah," she said.




       Mistress Tabitha was a striking woman.  Older than Animal and Gabriel, tall and strong, her thick black hair was streaked with gray which she did not bother to color. Raul adored her more than he feared her, but not by much.



       Mariah wasn't sure what to do.  Always in the morning Master Gabriel went to the stable to ride and either Rose or Raul waited with her.  Should she fall to her knees?  Perhaps only because Master Gabriel would not want her to do so, she did.




       Mistress Tabitha cocked her head.  "You may get your gruel," she said.  She watched Mariah as she stood up and crossed the room, and then went to where she had been kneeling.  She peered into Gabriel's bedroom and then Mariah's.  As Mariah stood awkwardly at the stove, scowling, as she waited for her gruel to heat through, Mistress Tabitha said to her, "Your bed is not made."




       Mariah nodded her head in acknowledgment.  Mistress Tabitha regarded her.  "Rose must have come in early to make Master Gabriel's bed and then do her duty to Master Animal."  




       Again Mariah nodded her head.  She did not think Rose had come in that morning.  She supposed Master Gabriel had made his own bed.  Now that she thought of it, he probably did so every day.




       "That girl works herself to the bone," Mistress Tabitha said.  "I know your master is an outlander, but I'd think you'd make some effort to not add to her burden." 




       Mariah flushed. "Master Gabriel says I'm not strong enough to work, Mistress."




       Mistress Tabitha sniffed.  "He says you're almost good as new.  Making your own bed won't strain you any." 




       Mariah spooned the gruel into her bowl.  She had never given it a thought, but of course Rose made her bed every day.  Unless Master Gabriel did it. 




       "Why did Master Animal send Raul away yesterday?" Mistress Tabitha asked abruptly.




       Mariah, surprised by the change of subject, looked blankly at Mistress Tabitha, who hissed impatiently.  "Did Rose mention nothing?"




       Mariah thought back to the previous evening.  Rose and Gabriel had been excited about the cookbook, and Animal had been out of sorts.  But Mariah had spent the evening poring over the mapbook, as she often did.  "No, Mistress," she said.




       Mistress Tabitha sighed.  "No matter.  I'd best keep him away from this suite for the time being."  In another abrupt change of subject she said, "I spoke with your master Cassander the other night."




       Mariah abruptly put her bowl down on the counter, causing some of the gruel to spill over the side.  Mistress Tabitha observed her as she found a rag and cleaned it up.  When Mariah had rinsed off the cloth and hung it up, she had no choice but to look at the mistress. 




       "He said he admired you," Mistress Tabitha said.  "That you surprised him, and that doesn't happen very often."




       Mariah's heart hammered.  She felt queasy.




       "He's not a bad man," Mistress Tabitha continued.  "I've known him most of my life.  He's no pansy, but he's sensible and not cruel." 




       Mariah stared at her gruel.




       "I have to wonder, if you can so thoroughly fool a man who knows what he's about, what are you keeping from a man who's a stranger, who has no knowledge of our ways?"




       It took Mariah a moment to realize that Mistress Tabitha meant Gabriel.  Nothing, she thought to herself.  I keep nothing from him.  I couldn't if I tried.  That's the mindgame. 




       Mariah was saved from responding by the door opening and Gabriel himself walking in.  He greeted Mistress Tabitha was some surprise.  She nodded acknowledgement and turned back to Mariah.  "You may tell Rose," she said, "that the apartment has passed inspection."        


       


       FLASHBACK




       When Mariah was clearing the dishes the next day, Mistress Iliana remarked that she had done a good job preparing the meal.  "Thank  you, Mistress," Mariah said, but her back was turned and she felt safe scowling, forgetting that her face was visible in the decorative mirror on the wall. 




       Mistress Iliana laughed and Mariah turned to her.  "I should send you to the theater master," Mistress Iliana said, "the way you pretend to be all dark and forbidding."




       "Yes, Mistress," Mariah muttered, looking down.  She wanted her darkness to be an act, but if it was, she did not want anyone, certainly not any human, to know it. 




       Then Iliana was at her side, forcing Mariah to look at her.  "I see light behind the darkness," her mistress said softly to her, and kissed her on the cheek.  And Mariah's heart was lost. 


       


       PRESENT DAY




       Animal had gone back to sleep, but he was still in a foul mood when he walked from his bedroom to the living area that morning.  "Breakfast ready?" he demanded of Rose, who was in the kitchen.




       Rose hurried to him and fell to her knees before him.  "No, master," she said, and her voice trembled. 




       "What?  Why not?" Animal asked, his mood almost engulfed by his astonishment.




       Rose sniffled, and she lowered her forehead to the ground.  "I'm sorry, Master," she said. 




       "Stand up," Animal ordered her, "And stop crying.  Why didn't you make my breakfast?" 




       Rose stood up, but she continued to cry.  "I tried, Master," she said, as she followed Animal to the kitchen.  It was a mess, with dirty pans on the stove and in the sink, and strawberry hulls on the cutting board. 




       "What's this?" Animal asked.




       "I'm sorry, Master," Rose said again.  "I tried to . . ."  And Animal realized that she was crying out of frustration, not fear. 




       He suddenly understood.  "You tried to make something out of Gabriel's cookbook?"




       Rose nodded.  "It didn't work," she almost wailed.  "I wanted to make something special for you.  Creeps, Master Gabriel called them.  I don't know what went wrong. But they wouldn't set and I kept trying to fix them and . . . I'm sorry."




       "Stop apologizing," Animal said.  He looked at the mess with some amazement.  It reminded him of when he had tried his hand at papier mache a couple years ago.  It had ended with nothing to show but a room in shambles.




       "This is why you left my bed?"




       Rose nodded.




       "Was it worth it?"




       Rose looked at him, wondering that he would tease her. But his face was curious.




       She turned to the kitchen, and back to her master, and thought for a moment, and wiped her eyes, and nodded.  "I think I used too much milk," she said.  "I couldn't remember . . . When I try again . . ." she caught herself.  "If you'll let me try again sometime . . .  Not today, I mean . . . "  She faltered.




       Animal smiled at her tolerantly.  "If you like," he said. His face changed suddenly and he looked at shoulder.  "Did you cut yourself?" he demanded.




       Rose twisted so she could see where he was.  "No, Master," Rose said.  "It's strawberry sauce."




       "Really?" Animal said as he pulled her towards him.  "Then I guess I get my breakfast after all."  He licked the sauce off.




       With the smallest of sighs for the filthy kitchen and her own exhaustion, Rose followed him back to bed. 


       


       


       FLASHBACK


       


       For a while Mariah tried to repeat that moment with Mistress Iliana, when she had felt that her mistress was reading her soul.  When she fell asleep at night she thought of her mistress telling her, "I see light behind the darkness," and she carried on imaginary conversations with her, revealing herself bit by bit.




       But Mistress Iliana never looked at her in that way again.  Mariah had come to see that her cheerfulness was something that she put on like clothes each morning.  Mariah could not fathom the reason.  But she wanted to. 




       One morning Mistress Iliana walked in on Dell and Mariah fucking in her living room.  It was not the first time, and Mariah, although she felt some physical pleasure, found the act entirely uninteresting.




       Iliana, however, grew quite somber as she watched them.  Dell invited her to join in and she merely shook her head. 




       Dell rushed through the act and left Mariah unsatisfied.  Pulling up his pants, he said to Mistress Iliana, "Still up for fishing today?" 




       She nodded but did not smile.  Turning to Mariah, she said, expressionless, "I expect the apartment to be spotless when I return."




       And Mariah knew, with a thud in her stomach, that her service of Iliana was over.  


       


       PRESENT DAY




       As Mariah showed a slave boy -- man, Gabriel corrected himself, he was a man -- how to prepare a mustard wrap for his mistress, Gabriel peered        out into the waiting room.  Two left.  A human (man, Gabriel reminded himself, just a man), standing and swaying in obvious discomfort, and a . . . a slave, sitting quietly, marked, but apparently neither seriously hurt nor ill. 




       As the woman with the chest cough walked out,  holding the arm of her slave, the man in the waiting room said harshly to Gabriel, "I've been here long enough, and drunk all that foul liquid.  You will see me now?"




       "Liquid?" Gabriel said blankly.




       "The stuff you gave your rag to give me to drink," the man said impatiently, and then grabbed his middle and groaned.




       Gabriel looked at Mariah, who shrugged.  "Master Kirk has kidney stones," she said.  "I gave him a glass of water."




       Gabriel grabbed Mariah's elbow and, over the man's protest, pulled her into the treatment room and closed the door. "What made you think it was kidney stones?" he asked calmly. 




       "There have been two others," Mariah said. "No one else sways like that."  She met his eye, defiant.




       Gabriel said carefully, "Thinking you know more than you do is a dangerous thing, Mariah.  There are some injuries where water can kill a man."




       Mariah colored and scowled.  She started to say something, but stopped. Gabriel let the silence hang, before he said, "You're almost certainly right."  Mariah breathed out breath she hadn't realized she was holding.  "But I want  you to check with me between diagnosis and treatment, okay?"




       "Yes, master," Mariah muttered, her face burning.




       Gabriel opened the door to the waiting room and beckoned Kirk to come in.  As Mariah slid past him Gabriel called after her.  "Please stay," he said.  He had that deceptively calm expression that Mariah had learned meant there was no point in trying to disobey.  She rolled her eyes at the slave in the waiting room and turned back to Gabriel and Kirk.




       Gabriel took his time examining the man.  He explained each step to Mariah and had her place her hands on Kirk's abdomen.  When Kirk sputtered and complained Gabriel ignored him.  Gabriel asked him seemingly endless questions about symptoms, his diet, his previous ailments.  With each answer Gabriel told Mariah what he was eliminating -- ulcer, food poisoning, appendicitis . . . At last Kirk stood up, red-faced, while Gabriel was in the middle of a sentence.  "What is this?" he demanded.  "I'm in pain and you're using me as entertainment for your rag?  What's the matter with you?"  He gasped and grabbed his abdomen.  "What's the matter with me?" he ended on a croak.




       "My  . . . rag . . . told you before," Gabriel said shortly.  "Kidney stones."




       "And what do I do about it?" he moaned.




       "Drink two quarts of water a day," Gabriel said.  "I'll give you a mild sedative that will lessen the pain.  If you haven't passed them in a week, we'll try something else."




       "Passed them?" Kirk said.  "What do you mean?"




       "You have sharp little rocks in you that need to come out through your penis when you pee," Mariah said in a completely bland tone.




       "You speak to me?" Kirk said, and he fumbled for his whip but was interrupted by a spasm of pain.  Gabriel hustled Mariah to the storage room and told her what herbs he would require.  When she returned with the jars Gabriel had requested, he opened, smelled and tasted each one in turn before blending them.  At last he handed a packet to Kirk and said, "I've written it down. Steep a tablespoon of this mixture in a cup of hot water every four hours when you're awake.  Stay in front of the pain or it will get worse.  Come back in a week either way." 


       


       When Kirk left Gabriel turned to Mariah. She met his eye innocently.  He shook his head, but his lips quirked up despite himself.  "Your bedside manner could use some improvement."




       Mariah shrugged as she looked at the slaveboy in the waiting room.  "One more," she said.




       The slave looked familiar. Older, heavyset, strong.  Angry, fresh welts crossed his chest.




       "Turbo?" Gabriel asked uncertainly.




       "Yes, master," Turbo responded.  He stood up.  Gabriel automatically started to hold up his hands, to ward off Turbo falling to his knees, but Turbo merely stood respectfully.




       "What can I do for you?" Gabriel asked.




       Turbo started to answer, as if reciting from rote, "My mistress, Carmen, who as you know is the Bearer's daughter, sent me to say . . ." He broke off, and began again.  "Master, these marks aren't her doing, I swear it.  She's been real good to me for weeks.  I got these from some people having sport, in the corridor.  My mistress was so upset she practically cried."  He stopped and bit his lip, realizing he had said too much. 




       "Go on," Gabriel said encouragingly 




       Turbo took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling, going back to his script.  "Master, everyone knows you've come hundreds of miles to treat her.  And she wants to get better, she does, and she wanted to show you by treating me right, and then just when she was thinking it had been long enough I come home looking like this, and then she didn't want to try to see you, but I begged her and said you seem like a good, fair human and maybe you'd let me explain it to you."  He started to fall to his knees but stopped himself.  "She told me not to beg, you're an outlander who don't hold with that."  He looked at Gabriel.  "But I don't know what else to do, except beg.  She's out in the hallway, waiting so patiently you'd think she's . . . someone else altogether."




       "She is?" Gabriel said in surprise.  "Please, tell her to come in."




       "You'll see her then, master?" Turbo said eagerly. He didn't wait for Gabriel's "of course" before he practically ran out to the corridor.  A moment later he returned carrying Carmen, and placed her gently on the examination bench in Gabriel's treatment room. 




       Carmen was paler than when Mariah had last seen her, her white face contrasting sharply with her dark hair bound back in a braid.  Gabriel regarded her.  "It's nice to see you, Carmen," he said.




       Carmen didn't respond, or meet his eye.  She played with the fabric of her skirt.




       Gabriel placed his hand on hers, calming her fidgeting. "What can I do for you?"




       For a moment Carmen did not speak.  She grasped Gabriel's hand and held it.  "I . . . " and her voice came out as a squeak.  She stopped, took a breath, and started again, deeper.  "I want to walk again.  I want to ride my horse again.  Can you help me?"  She looked at him at last.




       Gabriel smiled softly.  "I think so," he said.  "For walking, at least.  Let's see what kind of progress you've made in these last weeks."  He led Carmen through the exercises they had worked on together, and with each one he smiled and nodded.  Carmen had clearly been making an effort, and her progress had been good.  He thought she could probably stand if she had help, but he didn't want to push his luck.  Instead he promised to come see her the next day.




       "There's something else," Carmen said.  Gabriel waited politely.  Again the pause, and then Carmen continued, "It's my father.  He's not well."




       "Not well, how?" Gabriel asked.




       "I don't know," Carmen said.  "He doesn't talk about it.  But he's tired all the time, and sometimes when he's talking, or walking, he just stops, like he can't catch his breath.  And then a few seconds later he starts again, as if he hopes no one noticed."  Tears filled her eyes.  "I don't think anyone does notice," she said.




       "You notice, Carmen," Gabriel said gravely.




       Carmen nodded.  "Will you come?" she said.  "He'll be at home now."




       "Of course," Gabriel said.  He turned to Mariah, and frowned, torn. "You'll stay close?" he asked her in an undertone.  Mariah blinked, not understanding.  "You've seen what it's like the Bearer's quarters.  I could bring you to Animal at the revel room."




       Carmen snorted, her old, imperious self reemerging.  "Nothing will happen to your rag in my household, Healer," she said.  "We all know my father gave her to you. That's as good as a gold bracelet, which at least in our home we respect."  She glanced at Turbo.  "Even if others don't," she added.




       Gabriel continued to look at Mariah.  "You'll stay close?" he asked again. 




       Mariah nodded curtly, blushing.  Gabriel's mindgame was sometimes more humiliating than she could have imagined. 


       


       FLASHBACK




       Mariah was not surprised the next morning when Mistress Iliana told her they were going to the Exchange.  But she was surprised when she fell to her knees and pleaded.  "Mistress, I'm just a rag to Master Dell. I didn't mean to . . ."  She stopped.  Of course she hadn't meant to  . . . do anything.  Master Dell had told her to spread her legs for him and she had obeyed, nothing more.




       Mistress Iliana gestured her to stand up. "You think I'm jealous of you?"  she asked incredulously.  Mariah's face burned.  She was so stupid.  But Mistress Iliana drew her close.  "It was Dell I was jealous of.  I didn't like to share you with him."




       They stared at each other, frozen, for a moment, and then Mistress Iliana leaned in and kissed Mariah.  Mariah felt enveloped by her, certain that it was all a misunderstanding, that her mistress would make everything right. 




       Mistress Iliana pulled back abruptly.  "I could get lost in you," she said shakily.  She turned her back to Mariah.  "I think about you all the time.  About how we are the same, the way we act.  You scowl and I giggle to keep our distance."  She turned around again, put her hands on Mariah's shoulder and leaned her forehead into Mariah's.  "I think I have unnatural feelings for you."




       "Then don't send me away, Mistress," Mariah whispered. 




       Mistress Iliana stepped back again.  "No!" she said, and she slapped Mariah hard on the cheek.  When Mariah did not fall, she raised her hand, threatening, and Mariah slipped to her knees.




       "I'm sorry," Mistress Iliana said.  Mariah kneeled motionless.  "If you stayed, I wouldn't be able to . . . You would turn me into a pansy."  Her voice cracked.  "I can't live like that.  I'm weak."




       "Mistress, if you have feelings for me . . ."  Iliana waited, but Mariah did not continue.  What could she say?  If her mistress had feelings for her, she would keep her?  She would not send her to the Exchange, where she could be turned into a torture cunt, or sent back to the farm, or  . . .  But that was exactly what she was going to do.  Mariah understood. What Mistress Iliana called unnatural feelings could be set aside, without regard for what would become of her, the dangers, the torture and degradation that awaited her sooner or later outside of Iliana's protection.  The puppy love Mariah had felt for her disappeared with a bang, replaced by cold, familiar hate. 







Chapter 40: A TREE THAT MIGHT BE FALLING




       Present day




       To Gabriel's relief chaos did not assault him when he entered the Bearer's quarters with Carmen, Turbo and Mariah; in fact, the living room was relatively empty.  Yesnid, the Bearer's wife, sat on a red sofa staring at a fire in the fireplace, and one of Carmen's brothers -- Gabriel wasn't sure of his name -- lounged on the carpet nearby, reading a manuscript. A few slaves were about, cleaning or sewing.




       Turbo set Carmen down on another sofa.  Her mother barely glanced up and Carmen took no notice of her.  At Carmen's command Turbo went to fetch the Bearer from his study. 




       Gabriel sat down as well, holding Mariah's hand and thereby pulling her down with him. He knew he should greet Yesnid, but he was distracted Mariah's hand clutching his.  She simultaneously shrank back and hunched in on herself, and Gabriel could feel her pulse rate soar.  The Bearer had entered the room. 




       That face.  Mariah had seen it once before.  She had been semi-conscious when the hunters had brought her before him.  She remembered a blur of voices, Master Cassender, the hunters, others.  The Bearer had spoken to her, but what he had said and what she had replied she could not recall. 




       And then the order to kill her on the cross.  The Bearer had given that order. 




       And it was at his command that she was taken down from the cross, and given to Gabriel. 




       Now here he was.  




       "Healer!" he boomed. His voice assaulted Mariah.  "Glad to see you reunited with my daughter.  I told her you would come round, if she did what you asked." He glanced at Turbo.  "Huge improvement in the houseboy, too.  You might just turn my daughter into a rebel."  He frowned at Carmen, and then snapped his fingers.  A slaveboy rushed to him and kneeled before him.  "Bring us refreshments," he said.  "The zinfandel from five years ago, and sandwiches.  And tell the kitchen rag I'll have her beaten to tomorrow if they're not edible."




       Barely pausing for a breath, he turned to Gabriel, who let go of Mariah's hand and started to stand up.  Waving him down, the Bearer seated himself in an armchair that was slightly too small for his large frame.  "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he said, nearly as loudly as before.  "Not that your company isn't always welcome here."




       Before Gabriel could respond, Carmen answered for him.  "I asked him to see you, Da." 




       The Bearer lowered his shaggy eyebrows at her. "Carmen, I'm sure Gabriel will agree to heal you without my intervention. That's why he rode from the other side of the world."




       Carmen sniffed impatiently.  "I know that, Da.  He already said he would.  That's not why I wanted him to come."




       The Bearer's foot twitched impatiently.  "It's not a good time for a social call, Carmen.  Invite the Healer to come to dinner some evening, if you like." He stood up.  "My apologies for my daughter," he said to Gabriel. He stopped for a moment, swayed slightly, and took a step away. 




       "No, Da!" From her sofa Carmen said, imperiously, "You may not go.  I asked him to come to see you, when I knew you'd be here, and not busy."




       "I'm always busy," the Bearer growled. 




       "Not too busy for this!" Carmen crossed her arms and glared at him.  "I told Gabriel about your dizzy spells," she said.  "I want him to heal you, like he's going to heal me."




       The Bearer looked at his daughter, hard, for a moment, and it seemed impossibly as though she was towering over him.  He turned his gaze to Mariah.  "Is this the runaway?" he asked.




       Gabriel blinked at the unexpected turn.  "This is Mariah," he said. 




       The Bearer looked Mariah over, while she fought the urge to sink down into the cushions, forced herself to breathe.  "You've done a fine job with her," the Bearer said.  "I never would have thought she'd live.  Of course I'm no healer.  Come here, girl," he said sharply.




       Had Gabriel imagined that tiny sound?  A whimper?  From Mariah?  "No," he said, putting his arm across her middle to prevent her from rising. "She's under my protection, here as elsewhere."  The slaves around the room pretended disinterest. 




       "Now, now," the Bearer said mildly.  "I just want to talk to her."  He frowned when Gabriel did not move his arm.  "You question my hospitality?" He sounded hurt.




       Reluctantly Gabriel allowed Mariah to stand. Without being told she assumed the standard position, hands behind her head, elbows out, feet shoulder width apart, eyes down.




       "Mariah!" Gabriel said sharply, as he reflexively shot up and grabbed her elbow to pull her out of position. Mariah resisted him.




       "You may stand down," the Bearer said.  Mariah lowered her arms and stood respectfully, although her knees were knocking.  "No need to get hot and bothered," the Bearer said to Gabriel.  "I merely wish to see the miracle you've wrought.  I hear you had her outside the gate and brought her in peacefully, and now you're training her for a nurse."




       "How did you know . . . "  Gabriel began, but he stopped himself and frowned angrily. "If you know that then surely you know I tolerate no abuse of her," he said.  




       "Da!" Carmen interrupted. "Stop distracting Gabriel.  This isn't your throne room and I won't have your tricks!"  She glared at him, then turned to Mariah.  "Sit down," she ordered.  "He'll toy with you no more." 




       Mariah stared at the floor.  Gabriel chuckled.  "Very distracting indeed," he said.  "Now, about those dizzy spells . . ."




       The Bearer frowned, but then raised his hands in surrender.  Mariah allowed Gabriel to pull her down. 




       There may have been pride in the look the Bearer gave his daughter, but he merely said, gruffly, "I get dizzy.  I stop being dizzy.  I move on.  There's no more to tell." 




       Gabriel looked around the room.  Using the calm voice Mariah heard so often when he spoke to a patient who was scared, he said, "Would you like to talk privately?" His gesture encompassed the Bearer's son, and Yesnid, and Carmen, and all the slaves in the room, even Mariah.




       The Bearer stared at him, and then relaxed.  "All of you, out," he boomed suddenly, and pointed one by one at the slaves.  "To the exercise yard," he said. "You're all getting fatter than me."   He pointed last at Turbo, who had returned to Carmen's side.  "Bring the sandwiches and then take the kitchen sluts with you." 




       Turbo returned with a tray of food and drink, which he set at a coffee table in front of Carmen.  She waved him away, and he followed the other slaves out the door.




       The Bearer glanced around the room, to verify that all his slaves had left.  Then he glared at Mariah.  Mariah could feel it and against her will looked up at him.  It was as if he could read her soul.  Gabriel did that, sometimes.  But unlike Gabriel, the Bearer was invasive and overwhelming. He would know and he would kill her.




       "I won't tell anyone, my lord," she blurted, unbidden, and she realized she was answering a question the Bearer had asked inside her head.  She flushed, shaken by his power. 




       Gabriel blinked, confused, but he turned his attention back to the Bearer when the man said to him, mildly, "Proceed, Healer."




       Without getting up, seeming almost bored, Gabriel went through the list of questions Mariah had become familiar with.  Symptoms, habits, history.  The Bearer answered self-deprecatingly.  The spells had begun some time ago but had become more frequent.  He worked too hard and ate too much and slept too little. He felt dragged out all the time.




       When at last Gabriel examined the Bearer, he did very little. Checked his pulse, listened to his breathing.  He nodded in confirmation of what he had expected.




       "Well?" the Bearer demanded.  "Will I live to see the continued destruction of my reign?"




       Gabriel didn't answer for  a minute.  He just looked at the Bearer.  At last he said, "Do you want to?"




       The Bearer started in surprise, but said, without rancor,  "I do, Healer.  I'm nowhere near ready to go yet."




       "Then you'll have to change your habits," Gabriel said firmly.  "Starting today.  You need to exercise, beginning with walking every day until you're strong enough to do more."  He picked up a sandwich from the tray Turbo had brought in.  Grilled cheese and ham, it dripped grease. Gabriel shook his head.  "And no more food like this. Vegetables, fruit, grains, very little meat or dairy." 




       The Bearer and Carmen exchanged glances.  "It will be hard at first," Gabriel said, "if you're not used to it.  But your cook can be taught how to make such food palatable.  Delicious, even."




       The Bearer raised his hand to silence Gabriel.  "I don't run my kitchen, or its staff, Healer," he said.  He glanced at his wife, who, perhaps feeling his gaze, looked over at them.  Her eyes were droopy and bloodshot.  She raised her hand in a half-wave, then dropped it down. 




       Gabriel stared at her.  He had met Yesnid a few times when he had come to see Carmen, but he had always been focused on the daughter and the usual chaos distracted him.  But if Yesnid had been drugged like this, he certainly would have noticed.   




       "Is she often . . . ?"  Gabriel asked the Bearer.




       The Bearer shrugged.  "Her habit comes and goes," he said.  "Sometimes months will pass with her completely clean, and then . . . "  He shrugged again.         "The demons get hold of her."




       Mariah recognized those demons.  Master Townsend had been possessed by them.




       "Don't judge her too harshly," the Bearer said, but it wasn't clear exactly who he was talking to.   




       Gabriel looked from Yesnid to the Bearer.  "I have judged her in the past," he said.  "For how she treats her slaves, how she lets your children treat them.  But not for this, no more than I would judge her for suffering from cancer or an ulcer."




       The Bearer sighed heavily.   "It's not cancer," he said.  "It's too many children."  He glanced at Carmen, and his son, and sighed heavily.  "Don't judge her," he said again. 




       The room was quiet for a minute.  The Bearer continued, softly for him, "At the time that we joined to each other, there was a lot of talk of how the human population was becoming too small, our deaths exceeding our births, our numbers decreasing compared to the slaves."




       He picked up a glass of wine, held it up to the light, and put it down without tasting it.  "My uncle had been grooming me to succeed him as Bearer, and Yesnid and I agreed: I would run Riviera, she would run the household and set an example to others by having many children."




       He sighed.  "I wish you could have known her then.  She was smartest person I'd ever met, and vibrant, beautiful.  I couldn't believe how lucky I was."  Gabriel looked over at Yesnid.  She had rested her head on the arm of the couch. Her mouth hung open and a fine line of drool dripped from it.  "But every birth was harder to recover from, each time it took longer.  After Windt was born five years ago, she didn't leave her bed for months. She cried all the time."




       Mariah, more relaxed with the Bearer's attention not on her, could feel Gabriel tense beside her.  Without looking she knew his nostrils were flaring.  She heard him take a breath, and another, so that he could speak calmly.  "Those symptoms are commonplace after birth," he said.  "Any midwife could give her herbs to help her."




       The Bearer smiled bitterly.  "The midwife gave her herbs," he said.  "But they didn't help her.  Instead she grew dependent on them, taking more and more." 




       "And you?" Gabriel said, in the hard voice Mariah recognized he used when he was about to refuse help to a human who would not agree to treat a slave well.  "You are her spouse.  You rule this whole country.  You could not find her a new midwife, and stop her supply?"




       The Bearer narrowed his eyes. "You dare question me?"




       "I dare," Gabriel said, "to do my duty as a healer."




       "Stop it!"  Carmen broke into the rising tension.  "Da tried to help her, Gabriel, he did.  He sent away the slaves who brought her the drugs, but she found others.  They feared her more than my father.  He has had half the healers in Riviera look to her, but they could not help her.  She didn't want to be helped."  Carmen's voice broke. 




       Gabriel, however, was not placated.  "Half the healers in Riviera," he said, "but not me, who you trust with your daughter's care?  Do you love your wife less?"




       "No!" the Bearer exploded.  "She's my heart!"  He looked at her pathetic form, dozing again now.  "You are an outsider.  She wouldn't want you to see her like this, to carry tales back to your people.  If you knew what she was . . ."  The Bearer shook his head.  He took a breath.  "You will help her?" he asked quietly.




       Gabriel nodded.  "If she wishes it, I will try."  He observed her for a minute, and said, almost to himself, "The depression after birth is simply an unbalance, easily rectified, or it would have been until it seeped into her essence.  But the addiction . . . "  He gathered himself.  "First the depression, and when it lifts she'll deal with the addiction as her true self."  He looked back down at the congealing sandwich on the plate.  "But in the meantime, there is the matter of your own health."




       "I'll see to the kitchen slaves, and the food he gets," Carmen said.




       The Bearer slammed his hand onto the coffee table.  "You will not!" he roared, so loudly that Yesnid actually looked at him for a minute. 




       "I will, Da," Carmen said stubbornly, fearlessly.  "You don't have the time, and Mother can't."




       "You will not," the Bearer said again, quieter but fiercer.  "I'll not have you making the same mistake your mother made, domestic duties until they drive you mad, no matter how well-intentioned."  He glared at her.  "You concentrate on learning to walk again, and you're old enough for a work placement, something that interests you . . ."  His blinked, and wiped his eyes.




       "I have to, Da," Carmen says.  "Who else could do it?"




       "I will."  Gabriel had forgotten about Carmen's brother -- what was his name? -- on the rug, reading the manuscript. 




       "What?  No, Ben," the Bearer growled.




       "I want to, Da," the boy said.  "I'm old enough for a work assignment too, and I'm sick to death of the slop that comes out of our kitchen.  Victor's got a cook who . . ."  His eyes shone.  "Well, you should see what he makes.  You should taste it.  And . . . "  He stopped, abashed.  "I want to," he said.




       When his father did not respond, Ben turned to Gabriel.  "You'll help me?" he asked. "If you tell me what he should eat, I'll find a way to work with it."  He glanced at his mother, who was sitting up now.  "I'll need to replace the kitchen staff," he said.  "Put my own in, who haven't learned bad habits." He turned to his father.  "Please, Da, I really want to do this."




       Carmen jumped in.  "Let him, Da."  She smiled mischievously.  "And for my work assignment I'll take Tobby's place in your throne room."




       The Bearer stared from one to the other as if he had never seen them before.  "Very well," he said abruptly. "You can try it." He added after a moment, "Unless your mother says no."  He sighed as he looked over at her. 




       "Give me a minute with her?" Gabriel said softly. 




       The Bearer nodded.  "Let's look at your new domain, shall we?" he said to Ben.  Ben nodded happily and stood up, leaving the manuscript on the ground.  "You come too," the Bearer said quietly to Mariah.  She glanced at her master, who was already with Yesnid, matching his breathing to hers, engrossed with her. Mariah followed the Bearer, her heart pounding again.




       The kitchen was a disaster. Paint was peeling from the ceiling over the stove, and cabinets were pulling away from the wall.  Dirty pots and pans and utensils were everywhere.  The floor was sticky.




       The Bearer paid it no mind.  As soon as Mariah had stepped through the door he shut it behind her and rounded on her.  He wasn't the forlorn, lost husband now, or the father striving for his children, or the bemused host, or the ill man, or the master powerless over his household slaves.  He was the Bearer, radiating power.  Mariah involuntarily took a step back, bumping into a counter.  "Standard position," he growled.  For the second time Mariah raised her hands behind her head, elbows out, eyes down, trembling.




       "Turn," the Bearer commanded her. 




       Mariah turned slowly, feeling the Bearer's eyes on her.  She stopped when she had completed her circle. 




       "You may look at me," he said.  Mariah raised her eyes.  His face was hard.  Mariah tried to step away from him again, but her backside was already against the counter.  He was inside her head.  He was relentless.  He had ordered her death once before, he would do so again.  She knew it. 




       "You know what I did to the painter's rag when your master first arrived in Riviera?" he asked her softly.




       Mariah nodded.  "Yes, Master," she said. 




       "Hardly a whipping," the Bearer said, still softly.  "Three strokes on her tender skin.  To you it would be a mosquito bite, nothing more."




       The Bearer had not released Mariah from the standard position, nor from looking at him.  She was exposed, powerless, unprotected.  She trembled. 




       "There would be no point in me having you whipped," the Bearer said.  He took a step closer to her, so he was speaking almost into her ear, yet not touching her. 




       "What would you fear from me?"  he wondered.  "Not your own death.  You already chose to die, and I ordered you plucked from the cross."




       He was wrong.  Mariah had always wanted to live, had always chosen life, over everything.  Everything but freedom.  It comforted her somewhat to realize that the Bearer was not actually inside her head, could not read her thoughts. 




       But if he would not threaten her with a whipping or with death, then what?  And then in a flash she knew.  She shook her head at the thought. 




       Not Rose, she pleaded inside herself.  And not Raul. Mariah had been a fool to make friends.  She had known better.




       The Bearer was continuing, "No, it is not death you would fear.  But life."  Turning for a moment, he took a carving knife from the counter, and pointed it at her face.  Mariah held herself still, relieved that it was merely her own body he threatened. 




       The Bearer nodded.  "I like courage in a slave," he said.  "But even the bravest have their limits."  He pointed the knife at her left eye.  Mariah focused on looking at him, not at the knife.




       "Of course I wouldn't slice your eyes out.  Much too wasteful." He lowered the knife to her chest, but did not linger there.  Lower still, in front of her belly, not touching it, until the point of it was in front of her crotch.  "Here is where I would cut you," he said.  "A circumcised slave can still fully perform, work, fuck, even bear children.  It is only the pleasure in life they have lost."




       He would do it.  He could do it right now. 




       A crash came from the other side of the kitchen.  Mariah barely heard it, but the Bearer glanced over to his son, who had dropped two pans on the floor.  "Sorry," Ben called out cheerfully as he bent to pick them up.




       The Bearer put the knife on the counter and turned back to Mariah.  "Your master crossed a world to help my daughter," he said.  "And now me, my wife, even my son. You understand?" 




       Mariah could only nod frantically.  "Good," the Bearer said.  "I know it amuses him to have you speak to other slaves about running away, to have you act out in front of humans, and so I have allowed it." He sighed, and in what seemed like an abrupt change of subject he asked, "Have you ever witnessed a human punished for miscegenation?"




       Mariah had rarely heard the word, but she knew what it meant -- crossing the boundaries between human and slave.  She remembered, when she had belonged to Mistress Iliana, the human, Mack, being whipped with the bullwhip and sent to the mines because he had raised a slave child as human.  "Yes, Master," she said.




       "Gabriel doesn't understand our rules, or the consequences of breaking them, but I do, and so do you.  If he goes too far . . . "  The Bearer sighed and shook his head.  "I hate to think of it.  There are plenty of people who are appalled, sickened, by how he treats slaves as if they are human.  I protect him, but I can't control an angry mob."




       The Bearer picked up the knife and put it down.  "If you do anything to hurt him, or go beyond the freedom he allows you, or provoke others into harming him, I will personally see to your punishment."  He glanced meaningfully down at Mariah's crotch.




       The kitchen door swung open and Gabriel came in.  "She's willing to work with me," he said to the Bearer in a low voice.  He stopped abruptly when he saw Mariah. "What are you  . . . ?" 




       The Bearer raised his hands and said jovially, "I didn't touch your rag, Healer, as I promised.  Isn't that right, girl?" 


       "Yes, master," Mariah muttered. 




       The Bearer nodded approvingly.  "Stand down then."  He turned to Gabriel.  "Tell me, Healer, is there anything you need?  For your work, for your comfort?"




       Gabriel was staring in consternation at Mariah as she lowered her arms, her back still pressed against the counter.  With an effort he focused his attention on the Bearer's words.  "Yes," he said abruptly.  "A cadaver." 




       "A corpse, you mean?" the Bearer asked, leading the way back to the living room. 




       Gabriel nodded.  He had taken Mariah by the hand again.  He looked at her as he said, "And a cold room.  I have . . . students . . . who are ready to dissect."




       The Bearer shuddered, but he said, "Certainly.  Choose any slave you like.  Is there a method for killing them you prefer?"




       Gabriel shuddered this time, and backed up, stepping on Mariah's toe.  "I didn't mean . . ." he said, flustered, then annoyed.  "If you've no objection, I'm sure the hospital can provide me with a cadaver of someone who died of natural causes.  I know your tradition is burial, but if I had the assent beforehand . . . "




       The Bearer smiled genially as he led Gabriel to the door.  "Not a conversation I would want to have," he said, "but they say  you have a way about you.  I'll have my scribe send you a permission, and we'll find a cold room for you as well.  We've plenty of unused kitchen facilities.  Is there anything else you need?" 




       "Yes," Gabriel said, ice in his voice, turning to face the Bearer as he stepped into the corridor. "You gave me Mariah.  Now leave her alone." Pulling her by her limp hand, he practically slammed the door in the Bearer's face. 




       "You're paler than the whitewash on the wall," he said to Mariah.  "What did he say to you?"




       It took Mariah a moment to find her voice.  "He told me . . . "  She couldn't tell him.  Gabriel would storm back in and . . .  He didn't need to know and it would change nothing.  "He told me to be nice to you," she said.   




       "Ah," Gabriel responded.  "That accounts for why you're shaking."     




         Flashback




       Mariah lost track of her placements.  The dark-skinned sisters who fought over her until they realized they were both bored; the redheaded man who liked her to always be near, until she thought she would scream if she didn't get five minutes away from him; the woman who gave her a fearsome beating when she realized her cat liked Mariah more than her; there were more, she was sure, but she couldn't remember them. 




       PRESENT DAY




       Animal hummed as he worked, his morning's annoyance with Rose forgotten.  He was pleased with how the fifth and sixth panels were shaping up.  They were both simple scenes.  The fifth showed a boy and a girl studying together, their heads bent over a shared manuscript.  The sixth depicted the same boy and girl, older now, sitting at the edge of a swimhole, their feet in the water, their knees touching.  Truth be told, Animal wondered if it was too smarmy, but sometimes a picture needed to paint itself.




       Rose was preparing the wall for the seventh panel.  That one he would give to his apprentices, if they bothered to show up.  A circus scene. The apprentices would enjoy painting contorted slaves.  Acrobatics was a dying art.  Somewhat of a pity, Animal shrugged to himself.  Even he could appreciate the years of training it took for a slave to be able to achieve those positions, balancing on their tiptoes as they pranced or on their heads as they twirled. 




       He turned when he heard the main door to the revel room open with a loud squeak. Rose knew who it was by the way Animal's eyes lit up.  "Amalie!" As she walked toward them he said with pretended crossness, "Come to grouse about my windows again?"




       Amalie climbed onto the scaffolding where Animal was working, and examined the half-finished panels.  She knit her eyebrows, then looked at Animal and laughed. Animal grinned in return and shrugged.  "Sometimes a picture paints itself," he said out loud. Rose watched them, trying to puzzle out what her master and Mistress Amalie had no need to say to each other.  She didn't like Mistress Amalie, she realized suddenly.  




       "It was good to see you last night," Amalie said, somewhat abruptly. 




        "You saw me yesterday morning, at the museum, too," Animal said. 




       Amalie smiled briefly.  "I liked watching you teach," she said.  "But it was good to see you someplace else.  With our friends. Relaxing."




       Animal winced.  "Your friends," he said. 




       "Yours, too," Amalie said.  "Or they used to be."




       Animal turned back to the panel.  He lifted the brush but didn't paint.  "They tolerate me," he said.




       Amalie put her hand on his raised arm and turned him to face her.  "They're worried about you," she said.  "So am I." 




       Animal tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. Amalie took a half step closer.  "They say you've been keeping to yourself for a long while now."




       Animal took a half step away from her, looking briefly behind to make sure he was not at the edge of the scaffolding.  "I'm working," he said.




       "They work too, some of them," Amalie said.  "But they don't hide in their apartments when they're done, or spend all their time with  . . ."




       "With who?" Animal said.  "Outlanders?"    




       Amalie shrugged.  "The outlander," she said.  "And . . ."  Animal followed her look to Rose at the next scaffolding, seemingly engrossed in washing the wall with a soda ash solution. 


       "They begrudge me a housegirl?" Animal asked.  "As I recall, I was the only human at the party last night without a slave for a personal footstool." 




       "If you had brought her we both know you wouldn't have used her for a footstool," Amalie said. Rose turned bright red.  "And you wouldn't have let anyone else, either."




       "Yes, we both know I'm a pansy," Animal said.  "Is that what you came to tell me?"




       Amalie turned to look at the panel again.  She reached out and almost touched the figure of the boy with his feet in the pond.  "You weren't always," she said softly.  "We had some fun."




       Animal looked at the panel as well.  He said, just as softly, kindly almost, "I was trying to impress a girl."




       "Do you regret it?" Amalie asked.  Her hand came down and took his, and they stared at the painting together, neither seeing exactly what was in front of them.




       "No," Animal said after a moment.  "Not trying to impress the girl, never that.  But some of the things I did . . .  " He shrugged. 




       Amalie pulled his hand out to the side and turned, so that they were facing each other again, only inches apart.  "And if I told you the girl was impressed?"




       "I'd say the girl told the boy a long time ago that they would never be anything more than friends."




       Amalie put her hands on his shoulders, and looked up at him.  "I'm coming to you as a friend," she said.  "When is the last time you made love to a human?"  When Animal shrugged and didn't answer, she continued, "The last time you were with a girl who could take initiative, who could tell you what she wanted, who could make you wait until your pleasure exploded out of you?"




       Without thinking Animal looked past Amalie to Rose, who was looking back at him.  He smiled at her, the same knowing, secret smile he had given to Amalie when she first gazed at the panel.




       Amalie saw.  She backed away from Animal as if he had slapped her.  "You're just like your father," she hissed.




       "My father was a good man," Animal said.




       "Your father was a laughingstock!" Amalie shouted.  "And so are you."  Animal's face froze, but Amalie continued, pointing out to the empty revel room. "You know why your apprentices don't come back?" 




       "Enlighten me."




       "Because they can't stomach watching you chase your rag around like a puppy after a ball!" She turned and pointed at Rose.  "I've heard from three different people how you followed her into the storage closet the other day when she wagged her ass at you.  Word is you're not just a pansy, you're . . ." 




       "That's enough!" Animal snapped. 




       They stared at each other, arms crossed, breathing hard, until Amalie turned, climbed off the scaffolding, and left through the door to the yard, slamming it behind her.  Animal watched her go, not saying a word. 




       FLASHBACK        




       "Back again, eh?" Master Victor, the exchange master, gruffly asked Mariah.  With the hundreds or thousands of slaves that came through the exchange, Mariah couldn't help a grudging respect that he seemed to remember them all.  He turned to Master William.  "She misbehave?  Or you just bored?"




       Master William shrugged.  "Bored, I guess," he said, without looking at Mariah.  "She's well-enough trained, but not much personality."




       At Master Victor's soft order she assumed the standard position.  He circled her slowly.  She had a few fresh marks, but she was clearly fit for service.




       Master Victor signed her in.  "You remember where to go?" he asked her.




       "Yes, Master," Mariah replied. 




       "Do I need to shackle you?"




       "Only if it pleases you, Master."




       "Go on, then."




       Mariah walked over to the section for houseslaves, sitting near but not with the other slaves awaiting placement.  As usual, she recognized some of them but made no move to be friendly. She saw Master William approaching.




       "You just came from him, didn't you?" Taisha, a girl who had been on the same hall, asked her.




       Mariah nodded, not minding exchanging information.  "He's not bad," she said, soft enough that only the group could hear her.  "Likes to jog.  If you don't lag behind he'll treat you well enough."




       At those words some of the girls shrank down but more sat up straighter and tried to look enticing.  Mariah watched as Master William looked around the group, and spoke to a few of the girls before selecting a blonde Mariah didn't know. As they walked toward Master Victor Mariah leaned back against a tree and settled in to wait for her own turn, fighting for calm in the face of the familiar, almost boring dread of what might come.         




       PRESENT DAY, A FEW DAYS LATER




       Mariah prowled restlessly around Gabriel's apartment, glancing at a half-finished portrait of Gabriel Animal had left on an easel, and then through the open sliding door into the  courtyard, and then at the barely used kitchen, spotless from Rose's cleaning. 




       Finally, she looked at Gabriel's sleeping figure on the couch.  He had said he would take her to the woods that afternoon to continue his lesson on finding edibles in the wild.  She thought about touching him as if by accident to wake him up. She shook her head angrily.  It's a mindgame, she hissed silently to herself.




       Through the apartment walls Mariah heard the slash of a whip followed by whimpering, a pause, the whipstroke again.  The whimper became a gasping sob. 




       The girl being whipped was Rose.




       She was so startled she jumped, her elbow knocking a can of drying paintbrushes to the floor.  Gabriel lifted his head at the clatter.  "What is it?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.




       Mariah tried to shrug nonchalantly.  "Someone's playing with Rose," she said.   




       "Wha...?"  Gabriel was fighting hard to wake up. The crack of the whip again.  He jolted to alertness.  In a movement he was off the couch and striding through the courtyard to Animal's apartment.  Mariah walked soundlessly behind him.




       Gabriel paused, shocked, in Animal's open doorway.  Rose was belly down over the footstool, her knees on the floor and widely parted. Her lower back and butt were marked with angry welts.  Animal stood a few feet behind her open thighs, his long thin whip in his raised hand. 




       "You stay out of this, Gabriel," Animal said calmly, as if he had been expecting him.  He flicked the whip so that its tip landed between Rose's ass cheeks.  Rose made a mewling sound between her tightly clenched lips.




       In a fury Gabriel crossed the room, pulled the whip from Animal's grasp with his left hand and punched Animal in the jaw with his right.  It wasn't a well-thrown blow, but Animal wasn't expecting it and it set him sprawling backwards onto the couch.  Gabriel pushed his advantage and towered over Animal, his fist clenched back for another punch if Animal should try to get up.




       Animal raised his hands in mock surrender, but said harshly, "Don't push me too far, Gabriel.  Rose deserves this."  He started to sit up, but Gabriel pushed him back down.




       "Deserves?  This?"  Gabriel said incredulously.  "If we're giving out what we deserve, then you deserve this."  He shifted the whip he had taken from Animal from his left hand to his right, and slashed at Animal.  The leather swung in a wide slow arc and caught Animal on the shoulder, too poorly thrown to tear his shirt. 




       Animal jumped up.  "You go too far, Gabriel!" he shouted, pushing at him with his hands and knocking the whip away.  "Rose deserves far worse for what she did.  She knows it!  Look at her!"




       Purposefully knocking Animal with his shoulder as he passed, Gabriel strode to Rose, who still lay over the footstool.  "It's okay now, Rose," he said to her.  "You can get up.  I'll get some balm for you -- the welts aren't too bad, and you'll stay in my apartment."  Rose sobbed but didn't move.  Gabriel realized he was babbling.  He knelt down and stroked her hair.  "It's over," he said.




       Animal said, "I told her to stay there, and she won't move until I tell her she can."  He added, "You might not care, but I am her master, not you." 




       Gabriel didn't spare him a glance.  "Release her," he said.




       For a moment Animal was silent.  Then he said, "Get up, Rose.  We'll finish this later." 




       Rose moved off the footstool but didn't stand up.  She crawled to Animal and licked his shoes, sobbing.  Animal kicked at her, connecting with her upper arm.  Gabriel gurgled as if the blow had been aimed at him and moved as if he would punch Animal again.  Before he could, Rose managed to squirm so that she was in between the two men.  "Please, Master Gabriel," she pleaded in a tear-strained voice, "Don't hit him again."




       In a rage Animal grabbed Rose by the hair and pulled her up by it.  "You speak when I told you to be silent?" he shouted at her.  "Are you completely ruined?"




       Gabriel kicked wildly and landed a blow on Animal's shin.  Animal howled in pain and let go of Rose.  Gabriel scooped her up as if she was his medicine bag.  "You touch her again, I swear I'll kill you," Gabriel hissed to Animal.  Rose struggled to escape from Gabriel, until he lost his balance and fell onto the couch, with Rose on top of him.  Rose immediately dove for the floor and got back on her hands and knees in front of Animal. 




       Helplessly Gabriel looked around.  Mariah was still standing in the doorway.  Their eyes met.  Mariah looked away, but she walked slowly into the room.  Animal growled at her, "You get out."




       In a voice clear and regal, Mariah said, "The Bearer told you to share Rose with Master Gabriel.  When he hears of this, he'll put an end to your murals in the Great Hall, and he'll take Rose from you." 




       "You little bitch!" Animal hissed, jumping up and reaching for his whip on his belt.  Realizing it wasn't there, he backhanded Mariah in the face instead, sending Mariah reeling  with its force. 




       Mariah let out a shrieking, almost hysterical laugh.  "Mindgame over!" she said.  "What do you think of your precious, kind master now, Rose?"




       Animal lunged after her, pulling the belt from his pants to use as a whip.  Gabriel threw himself at Animal and they both sprawled onto the floor, Animal's head hitting it with a thud.




       "Stop it!  Please stop it!  I did deserve to be punished.  Another master would have killed me for what I did!"  Rose was on her feet, crying and trying to pull Gabriel off of Animal. Gabriel stopped struggling to stare at her. Animal growled deep in his throat but did not try to stand up.




       "What did you do that was so terrible?" Mariah asked with pretended diffidence, holding a hand to her rapidly swelling eye.




       Rose looked pleadingly at Animal, who glared back at her but gave her an almost imperceptible nod.  She took a deep breath.  "I lied to a mistress."




       Gabriel slowly stood up and turned to her.  "And for that you deserve to die?  Or be tortured?" he asked.  "Mariah lies every day.  Sometimes I think every time she opens her mouth it is to lie to me.  Does she deserve to die, also?" 




       All three turned to look at Mariah, who squared her shoulders and scowled. 




       "Yes," said Animal suddenly, from his prone position.  "She does deserve to die.  Rose never would have behaved this way if it weren't for Mariah's influence."  He glared from Mariah to Rose to Gabriel.  "And you defend her, and bring your outsider ways here, and push me and push me and push me, and ask me to give up everything I know for your sake."  His voice broke as he struggled to his feet.  "It's too much, I tell you."




       "Not for my sake," Gabriel said.  "Because it is right."


   


       "Right?" said Animal. He laughed humorlessly.  "You know nothing of our ways.  You tell us to treat slaves as if they are humans.  They're not!  I've told you this before, and you refuse to believe.  The best of them are like helpless children.  They think only of sex, and gruel, and avoiding punishment.  You've done Rose no favor by teaching her uppity, lying ways!  Look at her!"




       Gabriel did look at Rose.  Her face was woebegone, and her body shaking.  Then he glanced at Animal whose face, unguarded, was just as sad, and he was also shaking.




       "What lie did she tell?" asked Mariah.




       "Be silent!" Animal said to her, but quietly, as if his energy had been sapped out of him.




       "It is a good question," said Gabriel.  "What lie did you tell, Rose?"




       Rose said nothing, but her eyes filled with tears.




       "Answer," Animal commanded her.




       Falteringly, Rose whispered, "I told Mistress Marge that Master Animal was not here, although I knew that he was in the studio, painting."




       "Why?" Mariah asked, perplexed.  "You must have known you might get caught."




       Rose looked at Animal pleadingly.  He gave no sign but a hard stare. 




       She said at last, haltingly, "I knew Master Animal was working on a painting, the one of the picnic."  To Gabriel's blank look she continued, "The focal point is an oak tree with two trunks."  She closed her eyes, visualizing it, and spoke as if in a trance.  "One of the trunks is leaning, at such an angle that you think it's a wonder it stays up.  Beneath it is a slave boy, preparing the food, and you wonder if the tree will fall on him or not, and you see his face and you wonder if he would care.  And then you see a master, a fat man, sitting back against the straight trunk, and you wonder whether he is holding it up, and if it wouldn't fall over too if he stopped propping it up--or is it propping him up?"




       Animal's mouth was open with astonishment.  "Go on," said Gabriel encouragingly.  "Why did you lie to the mistress?"




       Rose took a deep breath.  "Master Animal said once that when he has to talk to Mistress Marge it's like a black cloud comes over him so he can't see to paint.  And he has to fight it, but whatever he works on for a while isn't very good."




       "That's true," Animal said sourly.  "Aunt Marge gives me indigestion."




       "And?" Gabriel asked Rose gently.




       Rose looked from Gabriel to Animal.  "This painting is good.  One of his best, I think," she said softly.  "There's more in it than I told you."  She closed her eyes, visualizing it, then opened them again.  "Some of his pictures only mean one thing, like a mistress is bored.  And some are more complicated, like a mistress is really interested but she's pretending to be bored, and you have to figure out why."  She started to speak quickly, the words tumbling out excitedly.  "And some try to say too much, or the colors are wrong, or they're too heavy, or just... wrong.  But this picnic picture--it's . . . " 




       Rose paused to think for a minute.  Then she looked at Animal, her eyes luminous.  "Well, it's wonderful. There's the plain picture, a picnic under a tree.  And a second meaning--is the tree going to fall?  And then what all the people in the picture are thinking.  But there's more, too--the tree means something other than a tree, and the people do too, and the master, I think he is fat like the Bearer because he is the Bearer, only master Animal can't come right out and say it, because of what it means.  And on top of that the colors are right and your eye moves over the picture and the clothes are just like people would wear."




       She took a deep breath.  "It's a painting that's more important than me." 




       In the silence that followed Rose fell to her knees in front of Master Animal again.  "Please, master, I know I must be punished but . . ."  Her voice broke. "Don't send me away." 




       For a moment Animal only stared at her.  Then he pulled her to her feet, gently this time, his hand under her arm, and he led her to the armchair.  He took a deep breath.  "Where...how...who taught you those things?  About painting?"




       Rose looked at Animal pleadingly.  "You did, Master.  When you let me I listen when you teach your students, and talk to the other artists, about color and balance, and you've taken me many times to the Museum.  I know you're really just talking out loud to yourself, not to me, but I listen, and I try to understand it the best I can."




       Animal's voice caught.  "But what about the other part of it, the symbolism, the tree standing for something else?"




       Rose was quiet for a minute, thinking.  At length she said, "You taught me that, too, or your pictures did.  I look at the fat man and I wonder why you would paint someone ugly?  And then I remember the Bearer is fat, and I wonder why you don't just paint him.  And I think about it and think about it.  And I come up with ideas, and if they seem right I keep them."




       Animal exhaled as if he had been punched in the stomach.  Rose threw herself full-length onto the floor.  "Forgive me, master," she said. She was shaking. Animal just stared at her, paralyzed.


       


       Gabriel said softly, "You say that no one in this place understands art, or cares about it.  And all the time Rose is under your nose.  Not a helpless child.  Not concerned only with sex and gruel.  She would die for your art."  He added disgustedly, "And you would kill her for it."




       Animal looked stricken.  "What have I done?" he murmured.




       "Something evil," Gabriel said darkly. 




       Animal turned to Gabriel like a pleading child.  "What do I do?"




       Gabriel shrugged and said coldly, "Ask her forgiveness.  Beg her for it like you've made her beg."



       Animal looked down at Rose, still at his feet, and gave a strangled sob.  Mariah snorted sarcastically.  Gabriel took her firmly by the elbow and led her towards the courtyard door.  But he stopped and looked back at Animal.  "If you ever lay a hand on her again, you know I'll . . . I'll . . ."




       "I swear it, brother," Animal said fervently.  But he was still looking at Rose as he spoke.




       Gabriel was still unsatisfied.  Indicating to Mariah to stay where she was, he walked over to Rose and sat next to where she still lay on the floor.  Mariah expected him to imitate her breathing.  But instead he touched the back of her head. "You don't have to stay with him," he said.  "You can come with me if you want." 




       Rose didn't lift her head.  The only acknowledgment that she heard Gabriel was a sniffle.




       Animal turned his back on them.  "Yes, Rose, the choice is yours," he said, his voice unsteady.  "Go with Gabriel if you wish."




       Rose struggled up to a kneeling position.  Her face was red and blotchy.  "You're sending me away?"




       "No!" Animal said.  "Never!  I'm giving you a choice.  Go with Gabriel, who would never think of harming you, who will protect you and help you.  Or stay with me.  I can only give you my word . . ."  He trailed off.




       Rose didn't hesitate.  She walked on her knees over to Animal.  "Please, master," she pleaded. "I want to stay with you." 




       "If that's true, Rose,"  Gabriel  said slowly, "then stand up.  He'll never ask you to kneel before him again.  He'll treat you with respect and kindness, as you deserve.  And if he doesn't . . ."  He looked meaningfully at Animal.




       Animal nodded.  He reached down and gently tugged Rose up.  "I should be on my knees before you," he murmured brokenly. 




       "This I've got to see," Mariah muttered from the doorway.  Gabriel turned and shushed her, and when he turned back Rose and Animal were standing forehead to forehead, crying. Gabriel led Mariah out of the room.        




       Flashback




       Mariah had been at the exchange for a couple of days now, the longest she had ever been there without a human claiming her.  Master Victor had looked at her speculatively, and she wondered whether he thought she had grown too long in the tooth to be a houseslave.  She shuddered.  She desperately did not want to go the farm, where she would be forced to breed.  But she knew if she was not chosen for what she was trained for that was the most likely outcome. 




       Master Victor was approaching now, with a human she did not know, trailed by Master Victor's boy Brewster.  Both of the humans looked frustrated.  She heard the man say to Master Victor, agitated, "I know it's the last minute, but the rag I intended to bring has appendicitis or some such.  Oddest thing when you pick someone for their utter lack of spirit and all of a sudden they start shrieking for no reason."



       Master Victor nodded.  "I hope I can help you, Cassender," Master Victor said.  "But this is a mansion exchange.  Those fit for the border don't generally end up here."




       The other man shrugged.  "The wagon's loaded and the horses waiting.  I'm determined to set out this morning."




       They continued past Mariah.  She reached out and touched Brewster, who was following behind.  "What's that about?" she asked softly.




       If Brewster was surprised that Mariah was initiating a conversation with him he did not show it.  "Master Cassender says he needs a limp rag, because the border can drive a slave with spirit mad."




       "The border?" Mariah asked.  "What's that?"




       Brewster rolled his eyes.  "The wall," he said to Mariah as if she were simple.  "It surrounds Riviera, and pens us all in.  If you go through to the other side of it . . . "




       The rest of his words were drowned out by the pounding of Mariah's heart in her ears.  "Will you send him back this way?  Without Master Victor?  Please?" 




       Without waiting for a response she walked several yards down the path and sat down.  She blankened her face as best she could, and stared at the middle distance.  "I am dead inside," she told herself over and over.  "Dead inside, dead inside, dead inside."  Her trap laid, she waited. 




       PRESENT DAY




       After Gabriel and Mariah left, Animal clung to Rose.  Thinking his grip might be too tight, he lowered his arms.  His fingers went to her lower back and he accidently brushed her wounds.  She stiffened. Animal felt sick.  He had done that.  He had done that to Rose.




       He shuddered and stepped back.  "I still have some comfrey from Gabriel.  I'll get it," he said hoarsely. He practically ran to his bedroom and fumbled through his top bureau drawer looking for the balm, dumping his socks on the floor as he did so.  Finding the right tin at last, he hurried back to the living room.




       He put the container into Rose's hand.  "Here," he said.  "Use this, Gabriel said last time . . ."  Last time Rose had been whipped by some stupid strangers having a laugh.  This time, he had done it.




       "Master, please, it's all right," Rose said softly.




       It was too much.  Animal slid to the floor, to his knees.  "I was so blind."




       "Please, get up," Rose begged. 




       She started to fall to her own knees in front of him, but Animal shook his head.  "You promised Gabriel you'd never kneel before me again," he said.




       "Then stand up, please, Master.  You don't belong down there." She abruptly shifted so she was sitting on the footstool where he had whipped her.  She winced at the contact with her cuts. 




       Animal didn't notice.  He shook his head again, and said, hoarsely,  "I do belong down here, until you forgive me."




       "I will if you get up,"  Rose said desperately.




       A gleam of hope lit in Animal's eyes.  He put his hands on her knees.  "A bargain, yes, a trade.  Tell me something I can do for you, to make up for what I did today."




       Rose sat mutely, staring at him.  "Anything," Animal prompted.  "Anything in my power."




       Rose was absolutely still for a minute.  Finally, she spoke so softly that Animal barely heard her.  "Master, will you let me . . . " 




       She stopped.




       "Anything," Animal said again, hoarsely.




       "Will you let me draw?"  Animal stared at her.  "Just once, please?"  She covered her face with her hands.




       Animal took a deep breath.  "If I let you draw, you'll forgive me?" 




       Rose shook her head behind her hand.  "I already forgave you," she said.  "Before you began.  I knew I deserved it."




       "No!" Animal said abruptly.  But he added, quieter, "This is no mindgame, Rose.  But I know it will  take time to convince you of that."  He stood up and gently pried her hand from her face.  "Come," he said.  He led her out the door and through the courtyard to his studio. 




       Flashback




       When Master Cassender almost tripped on Mariah she took no notice.  When he said, surprised to have overlooked her on his first pass through the Exchange, "Hello," she took no notice.  When he squatted down next to her she took no notice.  When he ordered her to stand up, standard position, she counted to five before obeying, spread her legs only a few inches and put her hands by her shoulders instead of behind her neck.




       He didn't bother ordering her to turn. Instead he walked around her. When he touched the fading whipmarks on her breasts, he asked, "What did you do to deserve these?"




       Mariah again counted to five before non-answering, "A slave always deserves punishment, Master."




       Master  Cassender sighed.  "How long were you with your last human?"




       Again Mariah forced herself to wait before answering.  "A few weeks, Master."




       Master Cassender sighed again.  Without warning he grabbed her nipples and pulled and twisted them.  Mariah willed herself not to cry out, to make no movement.  It seemed to go on and on, the pain crashing in her brain.  Her eyes watered.




       At last he stopped.  He turned to the group of houseslaves not far away and pointed to one who was not shackled.  "You, there," he said.  "Come here."  The boy came, and Master Cassender said to him, "I want you to fuck her.  You can come, but not until after she does."




       "May I use the bench, Master?"




       Master Cassender nodded.  The boy led Mariah to the bench.  Mariah was grateful that Master Victor had had her serviced a couple of hours earlier, so she was not desperate.  She made the boy do all the work and lay where he had placed her, like a lump.




       On the pretext of blowing in her ear, the boy whispered to her, "What are you doing?"




       He turned his own ear to her mouth.  Mariah whispered back, "Help me.  Don't make this too good." 




       The boy caressed her up and down. When she was slick but not quite ready for him he separated her legs and entered her. He put his thumb on her clit and pressed while he pumped inside her.  Mariah came after a few minutes, grunting, and the boy came just after her.  He rested for a moment, climbed off her, and fell to his knees before Master Cassender.




       Master Cassender dismissed him and turned to Mariah.  "You'll do, I guess," he said.        




       Present day




       The sunshine pouring in through the windows of his studio seemed incongruous to Animal.  He felt like he had lived a lifetime that day, but it was still early afternoon.




       Hastily he moved aside the easel with the painting he had been working on, the one of the picnic, and moved a spare easel to its place, attaching a stack of precious paper to it.  He fumbled for a few minutes in his storage area, searching for what he needed and placing it on the ledge below the paper.  He unfolded a card table that had been leaning against the wall.  Going back to his storage area, he haphazardly grabbed at some objects -- a watering can, a rag doll, an old smock.  He put the watering can in the center of the table and leaned the doll against it.  Wadding up the smock, he placed it a few inches away.  He stepped back, squinted, and moved the smock slightly. 




       All this time Rose had stood mutely, watching, her eyes big. Animal turned to her and led her to the easel.  "We'll start with black and white," he said.  "You've color sense enough, that's clear from . . . " He choked for a minute, but continued, "from how you present food, from your flower arrangements."  Rose blushed, and Animal continued, "But to depict the world, you have to translate your sight to your hand."


       


       Rose nodded.  She had heard this lecture many times.




       Animal picked up a stick of black charcoal he had put on the easel shelf and scribbled on the paper with it.  He showed her how to use the eraser to make shades of gray, and the lambswool shammy to spread the shading. He stood behind her and held her hand for her first strokes.




       "Master," Rose said tentatively, "may I use my right hand?"




       Animal shook his head.  "You want to start with your non-dominant hand.  It will help you access the creative part of your brain."




       "I know, Master," Rose said.  "But I'm left-handed."




       Animal blinked.  "Oh," he said.  "Of course."  He tore the first paper off the easel and wadded it up. 




       Rose shuddered at the extravagance but said nothing.  Reverently she held the charcoal in her right hand and put it to the page, trying to look at the still life Animal had set up instead of her paper, trying to draw it all at once instead of focusing on any particular part, as she had heard Animal lecture so many times. 




       Her first strokes were tentative, but that was to be expected, Animal thought.  She had never even held a pencil before.  He watched as the picture began to take shape, impressed that she brought in the surrounding area -- the table, the shelves against the wall, and not just the objects he had placed. 


       Animal removed the almost-finished picnic picture from his own easel and replaced it with a blank canvas.  From behind her, he began to paint Rose drawing. Rays of light from the window shone on her head,  making her look ethereal.  She was so beautiful.  Animal shook his head at the inadequacy of his words.  But he could paint her. 




       They both worked silently for a time.  Animal's brush flew over the canvas at first, but then he slowed to capture the light on her body.  As he began to add the angry red marks he remembered he had handed her the comfrey but she hadn't used it. 


       He strode out to his apartment to get it from the footstool where Rose had left it and ran back with it. He said her name softly.  She didn't hear him.  She was lost in concentration.




       He examined her picture.  Not bad for a first effort.  He could tell what most of the objects were, which was better than he could say for many humans' beginning pictures.  Humans?  Rose was human too.    




       Gabriel had been trying to tell him for so long.  Rose had too, in her own way.  Her interest in art was only the tip of it. He remembered when he first saw her, looking at his portrait of John and Rafaela's family.  She had been scared and beaten down, and yet there had been something incredibly appealing about her, some essence that made its way past her circumstances.  Bringing her home, he had told himself he felt sorry for her, but that wasn't so, or only partly so.  He had wanted her. For the way her eyes shone, almost magically, despite her shyness, when he talked to her. For her calming presence, for her quiet but outrageous competence, for her vulnerability. 




       After he brought her home, as she came out of her shell, he had wanted her even more. For the way she made everything in his life prettier, even though he pretended, to her, not to care.  For the way she listened to his lectures and looked at his pictures, even though he had pretended to her, to  himself, that her opinion did not matter.  For the way she sometimes revealed that she had thought about something deeply, even though he had pretended, to himself, to her, to Gabriel, the impossibility of it. Her boldness, so new.  Her sweetness, always.  



       He didn't mean to speak.




       "I love you," he said. 




       Rose turned.  "Master, may I turn this paper over?  I want to try contour drawing."




       Animal almost laughed out loud.  She hadn't heard him.  "Use as much paper as you want," he said.  And he went back to his easel and painted her as she drew, and he saw her, and through her he saw himself.  Selfish.  Willfully blind.  Sometimes cruel.  And yet, she had chosen to stay with him when she must know Gabriel could give her a safe haven. How could he ever be worthy of that?


          


       The sun was lower now, no longer making a halo in her hair but giving her skin a pink glow. If they had been in the revel room Rose would have left by now to start dinner.  He sighed.  First step to worthy, coming up.



       FLASHBACK




       Master Victor's eyes bugged out in surprise when Master Cassender came to check Mariah out of the Exchange.  "She's no rag," he said to Cassender.  "She's a housegirl.  Intelligent, from what I've seen.  Competent, by most reports."




       Mariah gave no indication that she had heard.  She stared at the ground.  "What are playing at?" Master Victor asked her.  Mariah didn't reply.




       Suddenly, yelling came from the houseslave section Mariah had just left.  Even Mariah looked up, briefly, but no one noticed.   Brewster came rushing up.  "Master, I couldn't stop them.  They're fighting over who their old mistress liked better."  Carefully coming between Mariah and the masters, he winked at her.  She nodded and looked back down.




       Cassender said, "You've got your hands full.  I'll just take her and be on my way."  Victor was already hurrying off.  Cassender buckled a collar onto Mariah, not too tightly, and attached a leash to it.  "Come, girl," he said.  Mariah let herself be tugged.        


       


       PRESENT DAY




       For the second time that day Gabriel burst into Animal's apartment, Mariah close behind him.  It was filled with smoke.  Gabriel rushed to the kitchen, where Animal was waving a towel over a flaming pan. 




       Gabriel grabbed two potholders from the drawer next to the stove and took the pan from the stove, dumping it into the sink where it could burn itself out.  Seeing that Animal still had the burner on, he turned it off.  "Open all the windows, and then let's get out of here," he said. 




       In the courtyard, Gabriel looked around suddenly.  "Where's Rose?"




       Animal pointed to his studio.  "Mixing your paints?" Gabriel asked with a frown.




       Animal shook his head.  "Drawing."  When Gabriel and Mariah stared at him, he shrugged.  "She wanted to." 




       Gabriel blinked, and then smiled slightly.  "And she wanted you to cook?"




       "I meant to surprise her," Animal said.  "That recipe book was still there, and I tried . . .  "  He trailed off.




       "That book's not for beginners, friend," Gabriel said.




       "So I gather," Animal said with a sour grin. 




       "You want to learn to cook?"




       Animal nodded.  Gabriel turned to look at the smoke that was still coming out of Animal's kitchen window.  "Hardly any ingredients in my kitchen."  He turned to Animal.  "Let me see what Rose stocked in yours." 




       Putting a handkerchief over his nose, he went back to the kitchen.  The burning pan was only a part of the mess Animal had managed to make.  The counter was covered with dirty dishes, half made food, and garbage, and the stove had three pots on it, none of which were in good shape.  At least Animal had kept the recipe book on a high shelf, where nothing had spilled on it.  Gabriel shuddered to think of the smoke damage to it, though.




       His eyes starting to sting, Gabriel opened the refrigerator and grabbed inside it almost at random.  He left as quickly as he could. 




       Animal followed Gabriel into his apartment, where he laid out the food he had grabbed on his counter.  "We'll start with something simple.  A nice soup.  Hard to mess up." 




       Animal  was able to fill the large pot with water without too much assistance. Chopping vegetables was more of a challenge, and Gabriel worried a bit about Animal's fingers.  Luckily, Animal was worried about them too and worked slowly.  




       Realizing he needed oil, he asked Mariah to fetch it from Animal's kitchen. While she was gone, Animal asked Gabriel how he had learned to cook. 




       "My father taught me," Gabriel responded, handing Animal a peeler for the carrots.




       "Was that after your mother died?" Animal asked.




       Gabriel shook his head.  "My father was always the cook. My mother was more likely to try to convince the eggs to get along with each other than to scramble them.  Made her a great magistrate, but not so great in the kitchen."




       They worked in silence for a minute.  Gabriel sighed.  "I miss cooking," he said.  "But Rose is territorial over the kitchen and she looks so longsuffering when I try to butt in."




       Animal scowled and reached automatically for his whip before remembering that it still lay on his living room floor and that everything was different now.  Expelling a breath, he looked out the window towards his studio.  "Maybe she'll be more inclined to share if she has other things to do with her time," he said.




       Mariah came in and handed Gabriel the bottle of oil.  When she did so Animal saw her left eye, bruised, swollen.  He touched her arm.  "Mariah, I'm . . . I'm sorry.  Truly. I didn't . . ."




       Mariah shrugged.  "Every slave deserves her punishment, Master."  She picked up the knife and began chopping celery. 




       Animal said, "Mariah, let me make it up to you.  Rose wanted to draw.  What do you want?"




       Gabriel's mouth quirked. "You want to bargain for my forgiveness, Master?" Mariah asked.




       Animal nodded. 




       Putting down the knife, Mariah ran her fingers through her hair.  "Anything, Master?" she asked.




       Animal nodded again.  




       "When the time comes, I'll tell you, Master."  She smiled at him blandly.




       Gabriel laughed out loud.  "My mother could have taught you a thing or two about negotiation, Animal," he said. He picked up a couple of onions.  "Will chopping these make you cry?"




       Animal shrugged.  "No idea," he said.  Again urging him to be careful, Gabriel demonstrated the proper technique and then retreated.




       Animal's eyes smarted, then burned.  He put down the knife with a curse and stumbled out of the kitchen. "Wash your hands twice and then go outside for some air," Gabriel advised him. 




       Animal came back in a couple minutes later and sat on the stool on the other side of the counter dividing the kitchen from the dining area.  He watched as Gabriel made short work of the onions, the knife dancing in his hand. "I whipped a girl once because she couldn't chop onions," Animal said softly.  "And then I sent her away."




       Gabriel stopped chopping. His silence made Animal more ashamed.  "She was my first housegirl after I moved out of my parents' apartment.  I didn't know then that some people just can't . . ."  He looked out to the courtyard, and across it to where Rose was.  "Her name was Lucia.  I didn't know that she . . ."  His eyes smarted again.  "If I had known I wouldn't have . . ."  He stood up.  "If I could find  her . . . ."  He sat down.  "It was years ago.  And there have been so many."  He looked to Gabriel. "What am I supposed to do?"




       Gabriel turned around and opened a cabinet. "You're supposed to remember what you did, and be ashamed, every day," he said.  Animal flinched.  Gabriel reached for a jar of salt and turned to face Animal again.  "And every day you're supposed to do whatever is in your power to make up for it, in how you live your life, how you treat others."  He put a pinch of the salt into the pot of water.  "But you can never undo the past."




       Animal stared at Gabriel, shocked out of his own self-absorption by the defeat in Gabriel's voice.  He said softly, "Brother, I don't think we're talking about me anymore."




       Gabriel shrugged and turned away again.  "We all have our histories," he said, too briskly.  "Come, I'll show you how to sauté vegetables.  The trick is in the heat of the pan."  Animal let Gabriel change the subject, but he wondered:  What was Gabriel atoning for?




       Flashback




       Master Cassender seemed to enjoy talking to Mariah.  Or to himself, more like, as she gave no indication that she heard what he said except to respond, slowly, to direct questions or commands.




       The hardest part for Mariah was to keep her eyes unfocused as they drove towards the wall.  She hadn't been this far from the mansion since she had worked the farm.  And then they kept going.  She managed to keep her head down, even as Master Cassender pointed out landmarks to her. 




       At a swimhole he stopped to rest the horses and to have sex. "I don't suppose you'd be much at blowjobs," he said, as he lay a blanket on the ground. 




       Mariah wished he would just get it over with.  But he was gentle and slow, suckling on her neck and breasts, slowly trailing his fingers down her body, finger fucking her until she was soaking.  "Open your eyes," he ordered her.  "Look at me."  She obeyed him as he entered her. "Good," he grunted.  He moved in and out of her, slowly, cupping her breasts with his hands, changing angles until he was hitting just the right spot. 


       She came with a cry, spasming on him, and still he moved in her.  She tried to look away, but he squeezed her breasts.  "No," he said.  "Keep looking at me."  She came again.  It was too personal.  Tears leaked out of her eyes.  "Good," he grunted, and released into her.


       


       Present day




       Gabriel handed Animal a spoonful of the stew.  Animal blew on it and tasted it.  "Good," he said.




       Gabriel smiled.  "Mariah, would you . . . "  He stopped.  "Where is she?" he asked Animal. His heart raced as he called her name again.  He couldn't remember when he had last seen her.




       Mariah stepped in through the sliding door to the courtyard.  "My lord?" she said calmly.




       Gabriel breathed out a sigh of relief.  "Were you with Rose?" 




       "No, Master," Mariah said, and did not elaborate.




       Animal rolled his eyes.  "I'll get her," he said.  He strolled past Mariah, across the courtyard and into his studio.




       Rose froze for a moment when Animal came in but then went back to drawing, almost in a frenzy.  She supported her right arm with her left hand, and rocked back and forth on her feet. 




       He stood behind her and looked at her easel.  She had filled almost all of the paper with individual sketches, different sizes, overlapping.  Some were of the still life Animal had set up with her, some of the flowering shrubs visible in the courtyard through the window, some of Rose's own hand.  None of them were particularly strong individually, but as a whole it made an interesting composition.




       There were other papers laid carefully on the floor.  Like the drawing on the easel, each sheet was filled with overlapping sketches.


 


       Rose had stopped drawing again.  She was facing him, but looking down.




       "What's wrong?" Animal asked her.




       Rose's voice trembled when she asked, "Master,. . . are they any good?"




       Animal started to say something banal, but he understood abruptly that she was asking not for platitudes but a real critique. 




       He slowly picked up the papers and placed them on the card table.  He looked at each one carefully. 




        "You're not in control of your proportions," he said slowly.  He pointed to the picture on the easel.  "There, you've got the doll bigger than the smock.  You see how that also throws the shadows off and makes the lighting seem strange?"  Rose nodded.  "But some of the placements are interesting," he continued.  "You have a sense of how space works on the page.  I think . . ." he looked again at the pages on the table.  "I think you may have some ability."




       Rose didn't say anything for a minute.  She was looking at the papers Animal had placed on the table, and touched one with her finger.  "Thank you," she whispered. She turned to him, and said, more strongly, "I'll never forget this afternoon, as long as I live." 




       "Nor I," Animal said.  




       Flashback




       As Master Cassender rested after they had sex, Mariah looked at him through half-closed eyes.  He was a handsome man.  The gray hairs interspersed with the brown ones gave him a distinguished look, and he was lean and strong. 




       He opened his eyes, and Mariah closed hers.  "Up," he said, nudging her with his toe.  Mariah counted to ten and then slowly stood, remembering to keep her shoulders stooped and her head down.




       Present Day




       Gabriel had just finished setting the table when Animal walked in with Rose.  Mariah carried the last bowl of soup from the kitchen.  "You see?" Animal said.  "We made dinner."  Mariah snorted at the pride in his voice.  Rose merely nodded and allowed Animal to lead her to her seat.  But she jumped up as soon as she sat down, the cushioning of the chairs not enough to protect her. 




       Animal froze.  "It's soup," he said rather stupidly.  "I helped Gabriel make it."  Rose nodded again, and sat down gingerly, wincing.  Gabriel handed her some bread.  She broke off a piece and dipped it in the soup, tasted it and put it back down.




       "You don't like it?" Animal asked anxiously. 




       "It's delicious, Master," Rose said somewhat rotely.  "It's just . . ."  She looked around the table.  "I'm tired."  Realizing what she had said, her eyes widened.  Her master looked unhappy but not angry.  She drank some water. 




       "Animal said you were drawing this afternoon," Gabriel said.  



       Rose smiled and nodded.  But before she could say anything Gabriel continued, "The stool must have hurt your backside."




       "I didn't use the stool, Master," Rose said.  "I just stood."




       "You must be exhausted," Gabriel said to Rose, frowning at Animal. 




       Rose made another effort to eat.  But after one swallow she put the spoon down and looked off into the middle distance. 




       "You'd better take her home, before she drowns in your soup," Gabriel said to Animal.




       "But she hasn't eaten.  I . . ."  Animal stopped.  "Of course.  Come, Rose.  I mean . . . "  He stopped again.  "If you'd like to go home now, I'll take you."  




       Rose stood.  "The dishes . . . " she said uncertainly.




       "Go," Gabriel said firmly.  He added, "Unless you'd rather stay with me. That offer will always stand."




       Animal scowled but waited for Rose's answer. She blinked and shook her head.  "Only if it pleases you, Master," she said, looking to Animal for approval.  He held at her hand to her and she took it, limping slightly as they crossed the room.




       When they entered Animal's apartment, Rose stopped suddenly.  "What happened, Master?" she asked.  "What's that smell?"




       Animal hit his forehead with his palm.  "The mess," he said.  "I forgot all about it."  Turning on the light, he glanced over to the kitchen.  The stench of smoke lingered but the kitchen had been cleaned.  Gabriel hadn't done it; they had been together the entire afternoon.  He remembered that Mariah had disappeared for a time.  He glanced back at Gabriel's apartment, then turned to Rose.  "I tried to cook," he said.




       Rose stared at him in surprise.  "Why, Master?"




       Animal shrugged.  "You were drawing.  I wanted to do something nice for you."




       "Nicer than letting me draw?" Rose gave a gurgling, incredulous laugh. 




       Animal shrugged again.  "Even the greatest artists have to eat," he said.  "And rest.  Come."  He led her to his bedroom, grateful that the door had been closed against the smoke.  "Lay on your stomach and I'll give you a foot rub." He stopped suddenly.  "Would you like that?" he asked gruffly.




       Rose blinked back her amazement.  "If it pleases you, master," she said.  She lay down.




       It took Animal a minute to find where Rose kept the massage oil.  He sat at the foot of the bed and slid over, putting her feet on his lap.  Rose mewled as he pressed his thumbs into her arches.  He had never done such a thing in his life. He had no idea that touching someone's feet could make him so hard.  He shook his head.  Not someone's feet, Rose's feet, and her soft sighs, and her legs on top of his. 




       After a few minutes he moved his hands up to her calves.  Rose tensed.




       "Am I hurting you?" Animal asked.




       "No, Master," Rose said softly.  "It feels so nice.  I'm afraid I'm going to fall asleep."




       "I want you to," Animal lied.  He continued his massage  until he heard Rose snore delicately.




       Animal thought about moving her foot a little closer, to press against him.  He would explode in his pants immediately.  Instead, he slid out from under her legs, changed into his nightclothes, and lay down on the other side of the bed with his back to her, wondering if he could possible fall asleep. 




       Flashback




       Master Cassender stopped the wagon.  Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a shackle and attached it to Mariah's ankle.  "So you won't be tempted," he said. Mariah held herself still.




       They came out of a stand of trees.  "Up ahead, that's the wall," Master Cassender said.  Mariah strained not to look up.




       The wagon turned right.  Mariah surmised that they were driving parallel to the wall.  If only they had turned left and she could see it without having to look past Master Cassender.




       At last Master Cassender turned again, reined in the horses and set the brake handle.  He unshackled Mariah and jumped out of the wagon.  Should she run?  Her eyes flicked up to see her master coming around to her side of the wagon.  She looked down quickly. 




       "Come," Master Cassender said to her.  Mariah counted to three before she slowly stood up and climbed out of the wagon, clumsy from sitting so long.




       Master Cassender led her to a cabin, barely more than a field shack.  There was a long chain bolted to the front porch. "Wrist or ankle?" Master Cassender asked Mariah.  She didn't answer.  Master Cassender shackled her ankle. "This gives you fifty feet in any direction," he said.  "Now, grab the blue sack from the wagon."  He wasn't surprised when Mariah merely stood there, but he sighed.  Unhooking the whip from his belt, he slashed her butt.  She jumped.  "Now," he said.  After counting to three, Mariah slowly shuffled to the wagon, picked up a couple of sacks of food, and carried them inside the cabin.  The room just inside the door had a kitchen area as well as a couple of armchairs.  She put the sacks down on the counter. 




       When she returned to the wagon, Master Cassender had unhitched the horses and was leading them to a paddock behind the house.  At last Mariah allowed herself to turn around, to look across the meadow that separated the cabin from the wall.




       Somehow Mariah had visualized it as a rock wall of the type that surrounded many of the fields.  She was wrong.  She didn't recognize the material it was made out of -- some kind of metal, maybe, because it was smooth and shiny, but there was no rust.  It was about fifteen feet high.  A twisted mass of barbed wire covered it, top and side.




       "Beauty, ain't it?" Master Cassender said at her elbow.  Mariah startled.  How long had she been staring?  She turned her back on the wall and took two more sacks from the wagon, but the vision of the barbed wire was burned into her mind.         




       Present day




       Animal woke before Rose, not sure if he was still hard or hard again.  He lifted up onto one elbow and watched Rose breathe softly in and out.  He wanted to touch her.  He mustn't touch her.




       Stumbling out of bed, he stepped on something soft.  Socks.  He had dumped them yesterday when he was searching for the comfrey in his bureau drawer. 




       The comfrey.  Which he still hadn't give to Rose.  He had left it in the studio.  He hurried to get it.




       When he returned, Rose was picking up the socks.  As he put the comfrey on top of the bureau she looked up at him with a smile.  Animal closed the bedroom door against the still lingering smell of smoke in the apartment.  He turned his back when he did so, so she would not see his tented pajama bottoms.  He cursed to himself.  Was Gabriel right that no harm would come from self-pleasure?  Because otherwise . . .




       "Can I serve you, Master?" Rose asked.  She had seen, then.



       "No!" Animal said, turning to her.




        "Forgive me, Master."  But Rose looked him in the eye as she said it.  Boldness.  And challenge.




       "No!" Animal said again, harshly.  This time Rose looked down.




       Animal raked his hands through his unkempt hair.  "Don't be hurt, Rose.  You can see how much I want you." 




       "You can have me, Master," Rose said softly.  "I'm yours." 




       "No!" Animal said for a third time. 




       Rose was confused.  "Is there someplace you need to be this morning, Master?"


       


       Animal crossed the room to look out the window instead of at Rose.  Deciding he was being cowardly, he turned to face her. "Gabriel says humans shouldn't have sex with slaves.  That they don't have the power to choose, that you can never be mine, not really."    




       Rose regarded him.  "Master Gabriel is wrong," she said. She gave Animal a look he had never seen in her before. Defiance. And then she took a step towards him. 




       Animal stepped back and bumped into the wall.  He shook his head.  He had to fight, for once in his life, to do what was right. 




       "I am yours, Master," Rose said again.




       "I don't want to rape you," he said.  "Gabriel says . . ."




       "You've never," Rose interrupted, protesting.  "You've always given me pleasure." 




       "You're trained to pleasure," Animal said sourly. "But can you tell me that never once have I fucked you when you didn't want to?  When you would have rather been sleeping, or . . . or . . . cleaning, or talking with Gabriel or Mariah . . . or just doing something other than being with me?  And you couldn't say no?"  He sat on the bed and covered his eyes with his hand.




       Rose didn't answer at first.  Then she said, slowly, "There have been a few times when it was hard to do my duty."  Animal felt her sit next to him.  She continued, "But right now, I want you."  She added, with unexpected bitterness in her tone, "Who is Master Gabriel to say I can't have you?  That we can't have each other?"  And she put her hand on his inner thigh.  "Unless you don't want me?"




       Animal knew he was lost.  But he managed to stand up, to take a step away from Rose.  "Promise me," he said hoarsely.  "Promise me that if ever you don't want me to touch you, that you'll say so."




       Rose stood up as well. "I promise, Master." 




       "And that if ever I do something that you don't like, that you don't want to do, that you'll tell me." Animal was still walking slowly backwards as he said this. 




       Rose had been matching his steps, but she stopped. Suddenly shy, she said, "I like in when you let me be in charge, Master."




       Animal wondered whether it was possible to come with no more stimulation than softly spoken words.  He took a deep breath to steady himself, and tried to think of the least arousing thing he could.  Chickens squabbling over feed.  Yes, that was better.  He clasped his hands behind his back and said to Rose, "As you wish."  He was pleased that he sounded relatively calm.




       Rose's breath hitched.  Chickens, Animal thought.  Chickens, turkeys, robins, anything.  And then Rose was taking small steps towards him, and pushing him gently but firmly back farther, until he bumped into the closed door.  She unbuttoned his pajama top, and put her mouth on his chest. The pleasure came on so strongly that it made Animal dizzy.




       Rose worked her way slowly towards his middle, untying Animal's pajama bottoms and pulling them down.  Animal stepped out of them and kicked them away.  Rose nudged his legs apart. And then with one hand she was cradling his balls and with the other hand she was grasping the base of his penis.  And he was inside her mouth.




        "Stop," he managed to groan.  "I don't want to come like this.  I want to pleasure you."




       Rose pulled back, and loosened her grip on his penis, but her hand under his balls massaged them gently.  "I want you to come like this, Master," she said.  "I want you to come in my mouth.  And then after you have your strength back, I want you to last inside me for a long time."




       "You promised Gabriel that you wouldn't kneel for me ever again."  They may have been the most difficult words Animal had ever spoken.




       Rose looked down at herself, on her knees, and then back up at Animal.  She ever so slightly increased the pressure on his balls. "He isn't here," she said.  She put her mouth around him again. 




       Her hands massaging him, grasping him, her mouth surrounding him, her tongue.  Oh, her tongue.   




       She drew him in and Animal thrust forward into her hands, into her mouth.  He  exploded, fireworks going off in his head.




       When at last he softened, Rose disentangled herself from him, stood up and led him to the bed, where he collapsed.  "Oh, Rose," he said, closing his eyes.         




       He was sure he had only rested for a few minutes.  Or had it been hours?  Rose was holding his hand.  He turned his head -- he had the energy for that--and she was lying on her side, looking back at him.  She smiled.  "I like it when you let me be in charge, Master," she said again.




       Animal's post-orgasm lethargy disappeared. "I don't think that's all you like," he said.  He moved her hand to his mouth and sucked her finger in.  That sound she makes, not a gasp, not a sigh.  He tried another finger.  That sound again.  He kissed her palm.  Slowly he nibbled his way up her arm, and then to her shoulder. And then his mouth was on her nipple, but he was only teasing her, little soft kisses.  Rose tried to push up into him, for more pressure, but he pulled back.  "You want more?" he asked.




       "I do, Master," Rose said, and then Animal's mouth was on her lips. 




       He pushed her onto her back continued to kiss her while his hands wandered back to her breasts and then lower.  Her soft cries as he felt her slickness made him hard again.  She pulled him onto her.  Her hands were on his buttocks, and then in his crack, her finger touching has asshole.  He pulled away from her.  "Too much," he grunted. "You said you wanted me to last inside you." 




       Rose moved her hands higher, to his lower back.  He kissed her again and kept kissing her while he entered her.  When she did not come immediately he changed his angle so that his penis rubbed against her clit as he pumped in and out of her as slowly as he could.  Then she was crying out, spasming against him.  He fought to control himself, to make it last, and she came again. 




       Animal lifted his head away from hers and gritted his teeth as her third orgasm massaged him. He was determined to give her as much pleasure as she could stand.  He looked down at her.  Her face was in a grimace, her lips pursed into an O shape.  Her eyes fluttered open.  "I love you too, Master." It was a cry and a gasp and a groan.  She thrust herself up against him.  Animal let go and Rose, the world, tumbled around him.







CHAPTER 41:  CLOSE ENOUGH TO CUT






       Flashback




       Master Cassender rarely let Mariah out of his sight, and he always kept her chained, to the house or to the wagon or sometimes to his own wrist.




       He demanded little of her by way of duties.  There was no hall master to complain that the cabin was musty, and Mariah made no effort to air it out.  Master Cassender did his own cooking, such as it was -- often he would simply pour the contents of a jar into a bowl, or eat out of the jar itself.




       He took care of Mariah, in much the same way as he took care of his horses.  He saw to it that she ate, drank, exercised, and groomed herself. He flicked her with his whip to get her attention or to speed her along, but he was not brutal.  He talked to her, with seeming indifference to whether she listened.




       Each morning they would set out to the meadowlands that bordered the wall.  Sometimes they stayed close to the cabin and walked. Other times they took the wagon farther away. Master Cassender would wander around, looking at plants or under them, occasionally digging them up and then replacing them. 




       He carried with him two notebooks that he wrote in constantly.  Mariah came to understand that he was making lists, of plants and animals he saw.  She never understood why.   




       One day he had sex with her in the back of the wagon.  As always, he insisted that Mariah look at him when he was inside her. As always, he moved slowly, making sure she got her pleasure.




       Just as she was about to come, he stilled.  Mariah bit down a whimper, expelled a breath.  Was she allowed to look away? 




       "What is it that cuts you when you dream?" Master Cassender asked her. "When you cry out in your sleep?"




       What was this?  Mariah closed her eyes. 




       "No," Master Cassender ordered.  He covered her mouth and her nose with his hands.  She opened her eyes and he let her breathe.  "What cuts you?"




       He must never know.  Mariah wriggled, hoping to distract him. "Answer me," he said.  "And then I'll fuck you until your eyes roll back in your head."  Mariah was not sure if he was threatening her or making her a promise.




       "I don't know, Master," Mariah said. 




       Still inside her, he turned them so they were on their sides, facing each other, and he reached down and touched the very top of her clitoris.  "You do know," he said.  "You have the same dream every night."  He began to circle, lightly, lightly.  "Tell me and I'll let you come." He tapped her and Mariah cried out, but it was not enough.  "Tell me," he said again.




       Mariah struggled to think.  He tapped her again.  "The stove," she grunted.  "I dream I burn myself on it."




       Master Cassender slid his finger up to her abdomen.  "No," he said.  "A burn is not a cut.  Tell me."  He thrust inside her.  His finger moved back down.  "The truth." 




       And then he moved his hand around to her backside, and his finger was sliding in and out of her with the same slow rhythm as his cock.  "Tell me."  He shifted so the shaft of his cock was on her slit, but he stopped pumping.  Mariah whimpered.  She could not think.  Everything was sensation.  "Tell me."




       He would never let her come.  If she held out, he would know she had a secret.  Inside her, he bent his finger.  She could not think of a lie. "Tell me."  




       "The wall," she said. "The barbed wire." 




       "Good girl."  Master Cassender straightened his finger and rammed it into her ass, rammed his cock into her pussy.  She exploded over him.  He kept going, in front and in back, and she came again and again until the sensation was too much and she tried to wriggle away. "Good girl," Master Cassender said again, and released into her.  




       Present day




       Animal let go of Rose's hand as he opened the sliding door to Gabriel's apartment.  Gabriel and Mariah sat at the table crushing dried herbs into powder.  Mariah scowled and scooted her chair back when they came in.  Gabriel smiled benignly.




       "Mind if we have breakfast here?" Animal asked.  "My apartment still smells foul." 




       Gabriel nodded.  "Do you want me to teach you to make . . ."  But Rose was already walking to the kitchen area.  Gabriel stood up abruptly.  "Rose, your cuts . . ."  He shot Animal a look of utter contempt.  "They're infected."  He reached for his medicine bag. 


 


       Animal was horrified to see the inflamed stripes on Rose's backside. He had retrieved the comfrey this morning, but Rose had distracted him.  And then he had fucked her as she lay on her back.  He shuddered.  It would have hurt even if her wounds weren't infected. 




       Gabriel was saying to Rose, "Come into the other room with me.  I'll get you fixed right up." 




       "No," Animal said.  "I'll do it.  Just tell me what to do."  There was a note of desperation in his voice.




       Gabriel barely spared him a glance.  "You've had a day and a night to put salve on the wounds you made," he said.  "You chose not to take care of her."




       Animal backed up as if Gabriel had punched him in the gut.  Somehow Rose was by his side.  "Go on with Gabriel," he muttered to her. Rose hesitated, but when Animal wouldn't look at her she followed Gabriel into his bedroom. 




       His appetite lost, Animal plopped down into the armchair, put his feet on the footstool, and stared unseeingly at one of his paintings on the wall.  He sighed and was surprised to hear an echoing sigh from across the room.  He had forgotten Mariah was sitting at the table.  The black eye he had given her had faded to an ugly packstun green. "Are you going to tell me what a bad person I am too?" he snapped at her. 




       Mariah blinked in surprise and lifted her chin.  "Please forgive me, Master," she said in her most obnoxious obsequious tone.  "This slave was not thinking of you at all, and begs that you do with her as you see fit."




       Animal reddened.  He took a breath and expelled it.  "Okay, I deserved that," he said.  "Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking of?"        




       Mariah pinched a bit of the herbs she had been crushing, sniffed them, and wrinkled her nose.  She said in a normal voice, "I was remembering a pansy master I had once."




       "Lucky you," Animal said sourly.  "Did he whip you and let your wounds fester?"




       Mariah shook her head.  "He never touched me.  Never even looked at me.  He sat in an armchair all day and felt sorry for himself." 




       Animal grinned lopsidedly at the disdain in her voice.  "What was his name?"




       "Master Townsend." 




       "Really?"  Animal raised his eyebrows.  "Blond fellow, nasally voice, a few years older than me?"




       Mariah nodded.  "You know him?"  When she had belonged to him Master Townsend hadn't spent much time with other humans.




       "I haven't seen him in years, but we grew up down the hall from each other."  Animal shuddered.  "It was terrible what happened to him." 




       Mariah put down the herbs, confused.  "What do you mean, Master?"   




       "You never heard?" Mariah shook her head. "When he was caught as a pervert?" 




       Mariah had heard humans use that word to insult one another, in much the same way that one might call another a pansy, or a changeling.  She hadn't realized it had any real meaning.


       


       Animal saw her blink.  "He liked to . . . " He grimaced while he searched for words.  "Role reversal, they call it. He would pretend that he was the slave and that his slaves owned him.  He would have them order him around, and punish him."    




       Mariah shook her head.  "That wouldn't be him, then. I told you, he barely even looked at me." 




       "This was a long time ago,"  Animal said.  "His was the first public punishment I was old enough to be required to attend."  




       "He was punished?"  Mariah felt disoriented, like the floor was tipping beneath her.




       "Our hall mistress walked in on him.  Nasty lady.  He was convicted of miscegenation, and given a choice between being castrated or killing the two slaves he had been caught with."  Animal's eyes were distant.  "At first he elected to accept his punishment.  But he was told that the slaves would be killed anyway, horribly, skinned alive, if he refused to hang them.  So he kicked the bench out from under them, and kept his balls."  He sighed heavily.  "Town was never the same after."




       "Neither were the slaves he killed, I imagine," Mariah said drily. 




       Animal gazed at Mariah.  "Have you never regretted anything you've been forced to do?"




       Mariah flushed.  Taking that as a yes, Animal continued, "Then maybe you can find some pity in  your heart for others who feel the same."




       "Even if I were human, I wouldn't express my regrets by rotting in an armchair, staring at my dirty fingernails!" Mariah snapped.




       "No."  Animal smiled ruefully.  "You would plot your escape."  He ignored Mariah's sputter.  "But it wouldn't undo whatever you've done."  He suddenly understood better what Gabriel had told him yesterday about living every day to make up for past wrongs. 




       He stood up.  "You're right.  Rotting in an armchair does no good for anyone." He walked to the kitchen.  "I believe Gabriel was going to teach me how to cook something easy before his attention was called elsewhere.  Would you show me how to scramble eggs?"




       Flashback




       Master Cassender cuffed Mariah's wrists together, and chained her ankle to his own wrist.  When Mariah realized that he was steering the horses to the wall, her heart began to pound.  She fought to keep her eyes averted, to pretend indifference.




       They drove onto a strip of hard clay fifty feet wide that separated the wall from the meadowland.  "They spray the ground with poison every two years to keep anything from growing here," Master Cassender told her.




       The horses crossed the strip until Master Cassender halted them reined them in a few feet from the wall.  "Look at it," Master Cassender ordered her.  Mariah forgot to count to ten.  She looked.  A swirling mass of barbed wire, twice as tall as she was.  "Go as close as you like," Master Cassender said, "but don't touch it. If you actually cut yourself on it the rust can poison your blood." 




       "It would be worth in," Mariah thought.  She climbed out of the wagon, Master Cassender following her.  The wall towered above her.  She turned her head to the right and then to the left.  As far as she could see it was the same, impassable, unclimbable, surrounded by clay.




       "A ladder," Mariah thought. If she could just find a ladder.  But Master Cassender was looking at her.  She turned away and climbed back into the wagon, her eyes down. 




       Present day




       When Gabriel and Rose came out of Gabriel's bedroom a few minutes later, they both stopped short at the sight of Animal and Mariah in the kitchen, apparently cooking. 




       "Finish these, will you?" Animal asked Mariah.  Without waiting for her response he returned to the living room.  He and Gabriel started to speak at the same time.  Animal held up his hand.  "Me first," he said.  He looked at Rose.




       "I've apologized for whipping you yesterday, and I'll continue to regret it to the end of my days." Rose started to speak but Animal continued.  "And now I'm sorry that I let your cuts get infected.  I'm trying to do better, but I've got a lifetime of bad habit behind me and it's going to take some time.  So I need your help.  If you're in pain, or you need something, or you want something, I want you to tell me.  Okay?"




       Rose blushed.  "Yes, Master."




       Animal took a deep breath.  "And right now I want you to tell me the truth:  Do you understand that you can go to Gabriel whenever you want?  That if you choose to be his and not mine, he will take you in?  If I mistreat you, or just because you feel like it, you can always go to him. Even the Bearer will support you.  You understand that?"



       "Yes, Master," Rose said again.




       Animal turned to Gabriel.  "Do you believe her?  That she knows she can go to you?"




       Gabriel nodded.  "I think so," he said.




       "Good," Animal said.  "Then stop rubbing it in my face."  He didn't wait for Gabriel to respond.  "And another thing: I like having sex with Rose and Rose says that she likes having sex with me.  We're not going to fuck in front of you, out of respect, but we're going to fuck and that's our business, not yours."  He barely stopped for a breath before continuing,  "And I love  her.  She says that she loves me.  That's our business too."  He paused.  "Okay?"




       "Okay," said Gabriel mildly.  "Anything else?"




       Animal blinked in surprise, and expelled a breath.  "No," he said.  "That should do it."  He took the plate of eggs Mariah was handing him, and sat down abruptly at the table. Rose joined him with a bowl of gruel.  "That went well, don't you think?" he said. 




       Rose smiled, but she was looking over Animal's head at Gabriel.  Did Mariah imagine it, or did Gabriel wink at Rose?   She suspected suddenly that Animal was not the first person that morning who had told Gabriel to leave Rose and him alone. 





       CHAPTER 42:  A WAY OUT




       Flashback




       Each morning Mariah woke before Master Cassender.  Even if she had not been chained she would not have attempted to move, for fear of rousing him. Instead she lay on her sleeping platform, visualizing the wall. 




       She was sure a ladder tall enough to get over it existed; certainly there were tremendous trees in the arboretum that were occasionally pruned, and in some places the mansion itself was three stories high and its walls and roof would need repairs.  But those facts helped her not at all. She had no ladder, short or tall.




       She could make a climbing structure out of buckets and crates--if she had buckets and  crates and time and freedom of movement.  She had none, of course.


       


       She reviewed her conversation with Rolanda all those years ago word by word until she was certain that the slave woman had told her only that escape was possible, but not how she had managed it. 




        Mariah knew the wall extended all around Riviera, in a great ring.  Surely there were areas where it had fallen into disrepair, or where trees had been allowed to grow close to it, perhaps with long overhanging limbs.  But there were no such spots within eyesight of Master Cassender's cabin, or the meadows where he worked. 




       One morning, as Mariah went over yet again everything that had transpired between her and Rolanda, she recalled quite suddenly a snippet of a conversation from another time. Mistress Iliana had taken her to a party.  Mariah had sat on her lap, not much listening to the talk as her mistress idly fingered her.  Something about a place far away.  Alfland?  Alfa something?  It wasn't in Riviera.  They were speaking of a human, someone's relative, who had long ago had set out to visit there, and had never come back.




       It wasn't in Riviera.  It was outside.  There must be a way to get outside. 




       Present day




       After finishing his eggs Animal stood abruptly.  "I want to . . . "  He stopped, looked at his plate, and carried it to the kitchen like it was a fragile, precious sculpture.  Gabriel, Rose and Mariah carefully avoided looking at each other when they heard water running, mild cursing, and a clatter.  Animal came back, his shirt wet.  "I want to visit an old friend this morning."  Rose stood up but Animal raised his hand to stop her.  "I need to go by myself," he said.  "Would you meet me at the revel room in a couple hours?" 




       "If it pleases you, Master," Rose said, sitting down again.  Animal sighed.  He suddenly understood why Gabriel hated that phrase so much. 




       When he left, slamming the door behind him, Gabriel replaced some of the herbs in his bag with the leaves he and Mariah had crushed.  He said, "I need to drop these off to Yesnid, and show Ben how to prepare them." He grimaced a little. "Mariah, whatever happened between you and the Bearer the other day . . . "  Mariah's face closed. "I'd rather not repeat it.  Would you mind staying with Rose?"




       "If it pleases you, Master," Mariah said. She smiled benignly at Gabriel's exasperated look. 




       He gathered up his things and, with a wave to Mariah and a smile at Rose, he left.




       Mariah glanced at the door to make sure Master Gabriel had closed it firmly.  Unlike Master Animal, he rarely rushed back in for forgotten supplies.  She turned to Rose. "I asked Mistress Tabitha how to clear the smoke smell from Master Animal's apartment.  She said to wash the walls with vinegar." 




       "You asked her?" Rose said, sounding both gratified and worried.




       Mariah rolled her eyes.  "Relax.  I didn't tell her what happened.  Just that a recipe from that cookbook didn't work out."




       "Thank you," Rose said, touching Mariah's hand. 




       Mariah shrugged.  "It seemed better to be upfront about it than to let her be surprised during an inspection."  She stood up.  "We'll need a few gallons of the stuff.  Should we borrow Raul's cart?"




       On their way to the food exchange they paused in the entrance hall and looked out the enormous picture window.  The usual activity was taking place on the lawn: humans strolling, a few yardboys mowing the grass, someone throwing a stick for a dog to chase.  Their attention was drawn by a loud shriek.  A housegirl stood with her arms wrapped tight around an oak tree as her master beat her with a willow switch.  Mariah looked away.




       "You must think I'm a fool," Rose said softly.  She took the handle of the wagon and started to walk again.  "About Master Animal." 




       Mariah took the other side of the handle.  But she pushed back against it so the wagon stopped, and turned to face Rose.  "I'm worried about you, it's true," she said.  "When a mind game like what he's playing ends, it's . . ."  She spread her arms, trying to show the enormity of it.  "It's devastating." 




       "You had feelings for a master once," Rose said with sudden understanding. 




       Mariah shrugged.  "A  mistress," she said.  "I thought I did.  And I thought she cared for me."  She started walking again.  "It was just a mindgame, Rose.  She was a human and I was a slave.  No feelings can change that." 




       Rose walked quietly beside her, pulling the wagon.  They left the entrance hall and walked down the endless corridor. "She said she could see the light behind my darkness," Mariah said softly, looking straight ahead. 




       She froze, mortified, when Rose snorted with laughter she was trying to suppress.  "I'm sorry," Rose said.  "But she had you so easy."




       "Easy?"  Mariah's voice was faint.




       "Easy," Rose said.  "If I could paint you--I mean, I never could, but anyone can visualize it."  She looked at Mariah intently, the way Mariah had seen Master Animal do before he started a new project.  "The light behind the darkness.  I like that." 




       They entered the food exchange.  If Mariah refused to look at her, refused to speak to her, Rose didn't seem to notice.  She navigated the huge room, explained her need for an outlandish amount of vinegar to a slave matron who sneered at her but gave her several gallons, and, taking her time, picked out enough food to save her a trip to the exchange for several days. 




       As they pulled the laden wagon back through the hallways, Rose said to Mariah, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.  It's just that, if that mistress let you go then she didn't deserve you."  




       "And Master Animal doesn't deserve you," Mariah said fiercely. "I know you've always thought you loved him, but . . ."




       Rose abruptly stopped walking.  "You think so little of me?" she asked. 




       Mariah blinked. 




       Rose said, "I had unnatural feelings for him, yes.   Who doesn't for a kind master? But love?"  She shook her head.  "Until yesterday he never saw me."



       "Don't let him!" Mariah stepped in front of Rose so they were facing each other.  "Don't let him see you!  When the mind game is played out . . ."




       Rose let go of the wagon handle.  "Yesterday, I spent the afternoon drawing."  Suddenly she laughed, causing a passing houseboy to look at her warily and scurry past.  "It happened.  I'll always know it happened.  No  mind game can take that away!"  Her voice was exultant, almost triumphant.




       Mariah understood.  "Like when I was outside the wall," she said. 




       Rose nodded, and the two of them began to pull the wagon once again.  "Like that, I think," she said.  "Except you escaped on your own, and Master Animal helped me."  She lowered her voice.  "After, he really looked at my drawings.  He told me what he thought, as if I were a student, a human."  Her eyes shone.  "And then . . ." 



       Mariah interrupted. "But just before that, he whipped you.  Do you really think a man can change in so short at time?"




       "He hasn't changed."




       Mariah shook her head.  "But . . . "




       "He hasn't changed," Rose said again.  "He whipped me because he thought it was right."  She faltered for a moment.  "Mostly, at least."  She continued, "He doesn't believe that any more."  She added fiercely, "He's always been a good man.  Last week, yesterday, today.  He's the same as he's always been, and . . ."




       Although it was in the wrong order Mariah heard Rose cry out before she heard the slash of the whip that had hit her on her upper back. Rose dropped the wagon handle and fell to her knees.  Mariah was momentarily too surprised to do the same.  Three masters, one of them holding the whip, surrounded them.  Rose continued down until her forehead was on the floor. 




       Mariah belatedly started to lower herself to her knees, but one of the men grabbed her hair to stop her descent.  "Standard position," he snarled.  Mariah immediately stood, spread her legs, and put her hands behind her neck.  Below her Rose sobbed.  The master who had spoken pulled Mariah forward by her elbow a few steps and circled around her.




       "Were you and your friend enjoying your little conversation, slut?" he asked her. 




       "If it pleases you, Master," Mariah said, keeping her eyes fixed on his knees. 




       The whip came from one of the others, hitting her on the ass.  "Don't' sass us," the first master said.  "It doesn't please us to be almost walked into by two uppity rags who won't get out of our way."




       The men were obviously out for sport.  "I beg your forgiveness, Master," Mariah said. Feeling herself begin to shake with fear, she fought to control herself. 




       "No forgiveness until after punishment," the third master said.  He grabbed Mariah's chin and turned her face towards him.  "Looks like we're not only people you've displeased lately."  He touched her cheek just below her eye, where she was still tender from Animal's fist the previous day.  Mariah winced and involuntarily drew back.  Another slash of the whip, hitting her lower back.  "Look at her," the third master said to the others.  "Except for her face she has no recent marks. None at all."




       The one with the whip nudged Rose with his boot.  "This one does," he said.  "But not many."  Rose whimpered.  "Stand up, girl," the man ordered her.  "You need to be taught respect." 


       Rose pulled herself to her feet.  She started to raise her hands to standard position but he stopped her.  "Actually, I think you should be the one to teach your friend."  He put the whip in her hand.  "Go on," he said.  "Show her what happens to slaves who forget their place."




       Rose fell back to the floor, laying on her stomach, the whip under her.  One of the other masters slashed at her, hitting her across her upper legs, on top of the infected marks Master Animal had given her the day before.  Mariah watched helplessly, horror-struck.  Rose writhed and sobbed but did not get off the floor.  Another slash.




       "Were these two misbehaving, or are you just having fun?"




       Mariah had never been so grateful for anything in her life as for the sudden appearance of Mistress Tabitha.




       "They sassed us," one of the men said.  "Are they yours?"




       Mistress Tabitha shook her head.  "I'm their hall mistress.  They're a special project of the Bearer's, sort of an experiment.  If they were acting out . . ."  She glared at Mariah.  Rose sobbed again. "I would never interrupt a punishment.  But if you could see your way clear to go easy on them, I'll talk to their masters and I'm sure the Bearer would appreciate it."




       The three men looked at each other.  One of them shrugged and stepped back.  "We don't want to cross the Bearer," he said.  "My name's Stiller.  I've been waiting for new quarters in the penthouse . . ." 




       Mistress Tabitha said, "I'll be sure to mention your cooperation to him."  Stiller nudged Rose with his foot until she raised her belly a few inches.  He slid the whip out from under her.  Shaking his head he turned and walked away, his friends following.




       "Either of you hurt?" Mistress Tabitha asked Mariah and Rose.




       "No, Mistress," Mariah said. She sank to her knees, not in obeisance but out of an exhausting relief.  She covered her face with her hands.  How had she grown so careless?  If Mistress Tabitha hadn't come along . . .  "Thank you," she said brokenly.




       Rose kneeled up beside her.  Mariah dared to look at her, and then looked again in surprise.  Where Mariah had expected bloodshot eyes and a tearstained face, her eyes were clear and her face dry.




       "Stand up, both of you," Mistress Tabitha said.  "I want to look at  you."  




       Mariah and Rose both stood and assumed the standard position while Mistress Tabitha circled them.  When she was in front of them again, she asked, "What happened?"




       Mariah said, "We were disrespectful, Mistress." 




       "You're always disrespectful," Mistress Tabitha snapped.  "Rose, you tell me."




       Rose took a deep breath.  Mariah noticed that she was not trembling.  "Mariah and I were talking.  And we didn't notice the masters.  We must have walked too close to them.  We didn't mean to. . ."




       "Of course you didn't mean to," Mistress Tabitha said with asperity.  "But I would expect better sense from you, at least, Rose."  She looked hard at her.  "Most of those whipmarks aren't from today.  Who gave them to you?"




       "Master Animal," Rose said, coloring.




       "Master Animal beat you?"




       "Yes, Mistress."




       "I suppose this is related to the fire in the kitchen yesterday?




       Rose hesitated before answering.  "Yes, mistress."




       "Good," Mistress Tabitha said. "I've never known your master to ruin a slave, but he's never kept one as long as you before.  I'm glad to see he's taking his responsibilities seriously."




       She turned to Mariah.  "I know Gabriel would never give you that black eye.  Was that Animal as well?"




       "Yes, Mistress."




       "I suppose Gabriel didn't like that much?"




       Now Mariah hesitated.  "He didn't say, Mistress."




       "Well, that's between the two of them, I suppose."  She looked them over again.  "You got lucky today," she said.  "Now, go about your business and mind your betters."  She started to walk away but turned back to Mariah.  "I'll see you shortly."




       "Yes, Mistress," Mariah said, not thinking to ask why.  She and Rose stood down.  Without a word to each other they picked up the wagon handle and started back to Master Animal's apartment.




       Flashback




       One morning Master Cassender drove the horses past the farthest meadow that he had visited with Mariah, and kept going.  He hummed to himself, which Mariah knew he only did when he was in a particularly good mood.  She was pleased that they were heading Northeast, so she could look at the wall while seeming to stare off into the middle distance.




       Eventually, though, the road curved way from the wall.  Mariah dozed off, waking when Master Cassender turned the wagon to the right. They went through a patch of woods, the road bending again.  Suddenly they were in sunshine, and there before Mariah was the gate. 





CHAPTER 43: TO TOUCH THE SKY




       Present day




       Mariah and Rose pulled the wagon into Master Animal's apartment.  Mariah closed the door behind them.  She looked around to make sure that they were alone, then slumped onto the armchair and covered her eyes.  "I'm so sorry," she said.




       "Why?" Rose asked.  "You didn't do anything wrong.  Anyone can get stopped in the corridor."




       Mariah shook her head.  "I should have been paying attention."




       Rose shrugged.  "Me too," she said.  "Anyway, neither of us got hurt, not really.  That's what matters."  She was suddenly concerned.  "Or are you hurt?"




       "No," Mariah answered.  "Just a few slashes."  She looked up, and narrowed her eyes.  "You weren't really crying back there."




       Rose took some of the food out of the cart and put it on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area.  She said, "I tried,  but tears wouldn't come.  Then Mistress Tabitha showed up . . ."




       "I don't understand," Mariah interrupted. "Why would you pretend to cry?"




       Rose unloaded more of the food.  "It's how I always act when I'm stopped."




       Mariah stared at Rose.  "They could have made me hurt you," she said.  "And you were acting?"




        Rose shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again.  She said softly, "Ever since I came to the mansion I've been the rag, the one who's afraid. I don't know how to be anything else."




       Mariah's felt like she was suffocating.  She tried breathing, as Master Gabriel had taught her.




       "What's wrong?" Rose asked, genuinely mystified.




         The breathing didn't help.  Mariah stood up.  She was shaking, much worse than when the humans had stopped her and Rose.  Shouting now, she repeated, "They could have made me hurt you!" She kicked the wagon away from Rose.  It crashed into the dining area wall, marking it and making the crystal in the hutch rattle. 




       Now Rose's eyes did fill with tears.  "They wanted me to hurt you," she said.  "That's just as bad as you hurting me."




       "You couldn't hurt a fly.  Have you ever even held a whip?"  Mariah lowered her voice, which made it sound venomous.  "Or do you just lay on the floor and make other slaves beat you while you feel sorry for yourself?" 




       Rose shook her head.  "I didn't want to hurt you.  I'm so sorry." 




       Her apology didn't enter Mariah's consciousness, but her backing away did.  Mariah was scaring her. 




       Mariah tried to calm down.  She couldn't do it.  She turned on her heels and threw open the door to the patio, nearly running to Gabriel's apartment. 




       Inside, she grasped her hands behind her back to keep herself from breaking anything. She sat down on an armchair and stood back up.  She paced. Rose appeared at the sliding door but Mariah shook her head at her.  "Go away!" she shouted. Rose closed the door but stood looking in through the glass for a minute before she retreated to Animal's apartment.




       When Gabriel came in from the hallway Mariah was standing with her arms around a pillow she had taken from the sofa.  She put it down hastily and backed away from him.




       Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "You want to tell me about it?"




       Mariah shook her head.  "Only if it pleases you, Master."  Her voice shook.  She turned around to avoid looking at him.




       "You're hurt," Gabriel said. 




       Mariah had forgotten about the whipmarks. Before she could say anything, there was a knock at the door. 




       Gabriel sighed.  "That will be Tabitha," he said.  "She told me this morning she wanted to bring someone by, asked specifically that you be here."




       Mariah hurriedly wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and took a deep breath. 




       "Shall I send them away?" Master Gabriel asked.




       "That's not for me to say, Master," Mariah said, unable to think of any other response. The knock came again, louder this time, and then the door opened.  Mistress Tabitha came in, but stopped abruptly when she saw Gabriel and Mariah.




       "I'm sorry," she said.  "I assumed you weren't back yet, and was coming in to wait."  She glanced at Mariah again and tsked.  "Were you hurt worse than I thought?  You said it was nothing."  She spoke sharply.




       "No, Mistress," Mariah said.  "I'm not hurt, my thanks to you."  Her eyes filled with tears again.




        "So that's what your voice sounds like."




       Mariah took three steps back.  She fell to her knees, stood up, and fell to her knees again.




       A human man had stepped into the room.  He laughed.  "I never saw you move so fast before."  He was middle-aged, and lean to the point of gauntness. His brown hair was cropped short and flecked with gray.




       Master Gabriel placed himself between the man and Mariah.  "What is this?" he demanded.  "Was it you that hurt Mariah before?"




       "Not I," he said.  "I haven't seen her in months.  And I never hurt her much.  I'm not a cruel man.  Ask her, if she'll answer you.  She never would me."




       Mistress Tabitha cleared her throat.  "Gabriel, I'd like you to meet my friend Cassender.  He's just back from his work near the wall, and he particularly wanted to meet you, and to see Mariah."




       Gabriel still stood between Mariah and Cassender.  "Why?" he demanded. "She's not to be used for your amusement."




       "Amusement?" Cassender said.  "No, no, not at all. I merely want to talk to her."




       Mariah was disoriented. It was hard to remember who she was. Gabriel's slave, accustomed to flaunting the freedoms he allowed her? The conniving housegirl who had tricked Master Cassender into taking her to the wall and then managed to escape?  Or the rag she had pretended to him to be? 




       "Look at me, girl," Master Cassender commanded.  Mariah started to count to ten, her old habit with him.




       "Don't speak to her that way."  Gabriel's voice was the low growl he used when he was furious.  He backed up so he was right next to where Mariah knelt, and then he edged over a few inches so the side of his leg touched her arm.  Mariah immediately felt calmer.  She looked up at Master Cassender.  He was slighter of frame than she remembered, smaller than Gabriel. 




       Master Cassender's voice was mild.  "How would you have me speak to her?" he asked. 




       "Not at all, unless she is willing," Gabriel said.




       Master Cassender looked from Mariah to Gabriel and back again.  He took a breath and cleared his throat.  "Mariah, would you speak with me?"  His voice was courteous, but before Mariah could respond he added, tersely, "You owe me that."




       Gabriel inhaled sharply, but did not say anything.  Mariah could feel his solidity next to her, trying to shield her.  Or was this part of  his mindgame?  Was Rose? "I am yours to command, Master," she said.




       "Stand up, then, Mariah, before Gabriel rips us to shreds with his glares," Mistress Tabitha said. 




       Mariah obeyed.  Her heart was pounding.  Gabriel didn't speak out loud, but she could hear him in her head. "Breathe." She blocked him out.  Gabriel took her arm and steered her to the table.  With one hand he pulled a chair out for her, in front of the herbs they had been crushing that morning. Lavender, licorice root, John's wort -- Gabriel had taught her they were each used to help a person relax.  He sat next to her and began to roll some of the crumbs between his fingers. 




       Master Cassender sat opposite Mariah, staring at her. 




       Mistress Tabitha went to the kitchen and came back a moment later with three glasses of ice water on a tray which she placed on the table.  Gabriel reached for a glass and put it in front of Mariah.  "You serve her?" Cassender murmured. No one replied.




       Master Cassender leaned forward towards Mariah. "I want to know why  you ran away," he said.




       Mariah remembered.  She had run away.  She sat up straighter and put all the defiance she could into her voice.  "I wanted to be free, Master," she said.




       "The whole time you were with me, that's all you wanted?"




       "Yes, Master," Mariah said.  That's all she had ever wanted.




       "From when I chose you at the Exchange, you were just pretending to be a rag?"




       "Yes, Master," Mariah said again.




       Master Cassender slammed his hand down on the table.  Mariah jumped in her chair.  Gabriel started to protest, but Master Cassender stood up and pointed at Mariah.  "You made me into a laughingstock!" 




       Mariah felt a responding wrath, overwhelming her, as he continued, "I was good to you!  I met your needs!  I fed you and I fucked you and I . . ."




       Mariah was not sure how she found herself on her feet.  "You didn't fuck me!"




       "You're still a liar!" Cassender shouted.  "I did, and I always made sure you got your pleasure.  Every single time!"




       Mariah was shouting as loud as Cassender.  "You didn't fuck me!  You raped me!  I didn't want you!" She felt Gabriel put his arm around her shoulder.  She violently shrugged him off.  "I never wanted any of you!  I hated your touch!  I hated the pleasure!  I hated it!  I hated it!  I hated it!"




       Flashback




       Master Cassender stopped the horses in front of the gatehouse.  Checking to make sure that the shackle was firmly around Mariah's wrist, he ordered her out of the wagon. 




       There was no answer when he knocked on the door.  He rang a bell that hung on the porch. 




       A few minutes later a red-haired mistress rounded the corner of the house.  "Come back, have you?" she said.




       "I wasn't gone that long, Tanya," he said.




       "Long enough.  It's been days since I've had a soul to talk to."




       Master Cassender indicated the rag that crawled at Tanya's feet.  "You could talk to him."




       Tanya rolled her eyes.  "I mean it," Master Cassender said.  "They all have something inside, if you have the patience to find it.  Make a game out of it.  It helps to pass the time."




       "If you're a pansy, maybe," Tanya said with a snort.  Then she tossed her head prettily.  "I've some of that scotch left, if you want it." 




       Master Cassender nodded.  "Leave these two to play?" he said, indicating Tanya's slave, and Mariah.




       Tanya nodded.  "Stay, Griley," she said firmly.  She reached down and cupped his chin.  "Be a good host.  If you both want to, you can fuck."  She attached the end of his chain to a ring on the porch, and Master Cassender did the same with Mariah's chain.




       Master Cassender followed Tanya inside, shutting the door behind them.  Mariah noticed that two windows faced the porch.  The humans could easily look out and see her.  After counting to ten, she eased herself down to sit on the top step.  "Been here long?" she asked Griley quietly.




       Slowly Griley nodded, then shook his head.  "Can't say," he said hoarsely.  "Long enough." 




       Mariah looked at him curiously.  She wondered if he was faking his despair, plotting his escape as she was.  He kneeled up, then moved tortuously slowly until he was leaning against a railing.  He seemed as though he was in pain but Mariah could see nothing wrong with him other than angry welts.




       They sat in silence for a few minutes. Mariah tried to think of something to say that would not be intrusive. Griley whimpered, although he did not seem to be aware of it.




       "Are you hurt?" Mariah asked him.  "Can I do something for you?"  As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them.  She was supposed to be as much of a rag as Griley was -- or was he pretending?  She looked worriedly to the windows, but no one was peering out.




       Griley shook his head slowly. "Don't bother about me," he said.  He shrank down further into himself.  Mariah sighed.  She turned to look at the gate.  It was wrought iron, with no more than three inches between the bars.  The heavy lock that held the two doors together was recently polished.




       The top of a gate was an arch covered with what looked like sharp knifes pointing straight up.  In the middle of the arch metal rods were shaped into gargoyles.  There were a few gems scattered on them, and indents where others should be.  The stone eyes of the gargoyles remained and seemed to stare at Mariah. 




       "They don't talk," Griley said.  "They just look." 




       "Like you?" Mariah asked.




       Griley didn't speak again until for the rest of the day.   




       Present day    




       What happened next was a blur for Mariah.  She couldn't stop screaming at Master Cassender and then, suddenly, she found herself sitting on the couch.  Master Gabriel was pressing a glass into her hand.  She took a sip.  She started to choke.  It burned. 




       "You poisoned me?" Mariah asked, still coughing, outraged as she came back to herself.




       Master Gabriel gave her a worried smile.  "A little," he admitted.  "You've never had whiskey before?"  Mariah shook her head.  "Drink it slowly," he said.  He poured himself a glass from the bottle sitting on the side table, raised it in a silent toast, and demonstrated.




       Mistress Tabitha and Master Cassender were gone.  Mariah had a vague impression that Master Gabriel had swept them out while she had stood in the middle of the room screaming.




       She looked at the amber liquid, recognizing it now.  She had served it many times.  When she took another tentative sip it stung but she swallowed it. "I thought you don't get drunk," she said accusingly to Gabriel.




       Gabriel sat next to her and sniffed the whiskey in his glass. "I can hold my liquor.  And besides, this is medicinal."




       "I'm not sick," Mariah protested as she took another sip.




       "No," Gabriel responded.  "You're magnificent."  He drank his whiskey in one swallow.  "I had an uncle who did two shots of whiskey a night.  Rougher than this; his still couldn't refine like the ones here do.  But he was never sick day in his life."



       "Your uncle Donal," Mariah said, drinking again.  "The one who taught you to play chess."




       "Do I bore you with my stories?" Gabriel asked with a put-upon sigh. 




         Mariah shrugged and didn't answer.  She had been given wine a few times but didn't care for it.  This whiskey though . . . The emotions that had rocked her that day – the fear in the corridor, the fury at Rose, the shock of seeing Master Cassender, the hysteria as the truth exploded from her – were draining, almost flying, from her. 




       Gabriel refilled her glass, and his own.  They sipped together in a companionable silence.




       Mariah wiggled her nose, trying to feel its tip. Giving up, she shifted so she was leaning back on the side cushion of the sofa, and put her feet up.  Gabriel wasn't sure if she realized they had landed on his lap.  He knew he should move away, but he couldn't bring himself to.  He was sure, quite sure, that two shots of whiskey wouldn't incapacitate him, but he felt relaxed, almost foggy. If someone needed him . . . He put the thought out of his mind.




       "Sometimes I wish you would tell me some of your own," he said suddenly.




       "My what, Master?"  Mariah swallowed the last of the liquid from her glass and put it on the floor.  "I hope Rose doesn't see."  She giggled, waving vaguely in the direction of the glass.



       "Your stories," Gabriel said.  His tongue felt thick, so he worked harder to enunciate.  "You know so much about my past, and I know so little about yours."




       Mariah stretched and curled.  The soles of her feet pressed against the side of Gabriel's' thigh.  That was somewhat better.  "What do you want to know?" she said.  "I'll tell you anything." 




       Gabriel was sure that her words were much more slurred than his.  He shook his head.  "Not now.  My father taught me never to take advantage of a girl who's been drinking.  I just wish that . . ."  He trailed off.




       "I made Rose cry this morning."




       "Did you?"  Gabriel raised his eyebrows.  "Well, I'm sure she deserved it."




       Mariah gave a shocked laugh. "I wanted to spank some sense into her," she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. 




       Gabriel thought for a moment.  "My learned opinion as a healer is that sain and pence . . . pain and sense . . . don't go together." 




       Mariah felt like she was floating. "Haven't you ever wanted to spank someone, Master?"




       Gabriel flashed a grin.  "Oh, yes," he said. 




       "Why didn't  you?"




       "Who says I haven't?"




       Mariah sat up a little straighter and then sank back down to the cushion. "You do punish people, then?" Now she was dizzy.




       Mariah wasn't sure Master Gabriel had heard her, because he didn't answer for a long time. Finally he said, slowly, in a dreamy voice, "Your tush . . ." He stopped and waited for Mariah to stop giggling at his choice of words.  "A person's . . . ass has nerve endings directly linked to their sex."  He had been staring straight ahead, out the courtyard window, but he turned and looked Mariah directly in the eye.  "Under the right circumstances a spanking can be very pleasurable."




       Mariah feebly waved her hands in front of her, protesting.  "Spanking is a punishment," she said.




       "If I spank a girl," Gabriel said, "it might or might not be a punishment, but it would always be gratifying.  For both of us."  He reached under her ankles and put her feet back on his lap.  What was he doing?  He didn't care.




       Mariah licked her lips.  "What would the girl have to do for you to spank her?"




       "She would have to tell me that she wanted it," Gabriel said.  He added, "And I would have to believe her." 




       He put his hand on top of Mariah's foot.  Mariah merely smiled groggily and slowly closed her eyes as her chin dropped to her chest. 




       Flashback




       The next morning Mariah, lying on her sleeping platform, visualized the gate.  She started at the top, with the blades.  She could not climb over it, any more than any other part of the wall.  She could not fit between the metal slats. She could not unlock the lock without a key. 




       But the gate existed.  There was hope.  Making sure that Master Cassender's eyes were still closed, she allowed herself a tiny smile.




       Present day


       


       Rose tried to hurry along the corridor, late to meet her master in the revel hall.  But her feet would not move quickly.  She kept replaying in her head the fight with Mariah.  With all the good that had happened in the last day, it seemed even worse that she had let her friend down.




       Inside the revel room Master Animal was with another human, one arm around his shoulders, pointing with his other hand to the most recently-completed mural section.  Perhaps a new student, as an easel with blank paper was set up. It faced a jumble of different sized boxes on the floor. 




       The door closed behind Rose with a loud click, and Master Animal and the human turned and watched her as she crossed the room to them.  "Is that her?" the human asked.  "I can't place her at all."  He was older than Animal and looked at Rose with tired eyes.




       "No," Animal said.  "This one is mine."  He smiled warmly at Rose as he said that. 




       "I'll take my leave then," the man said.  He hesitated.  "I thank you."  He moved in to hug Animal, then backed on and slapped him lightly on the arm instead.




       Animal watched him go.  "Is he a new student, Master?" Rose asked.




       "No," Animal said.  "Old friend of Mariah's."  He turned to Rose with a smile.  "Come."  Taking her hand, he led her to the easel. 




       "Do you want me to put his away, Master?" Rose asked.




       "What?  No, of course not," Animal said.  "Don't you want to draw today?"




       Rose looked at him blankly.  Then she looked at the easel.  The tray had charcoal and shammies on it.  It was for her. 




       "Master, I don't understand," Rose said, her heart hammering.    




       Animal knitted his brows together.  "What's to understand?  You want to learn to draw, don't you?"  Rose nodded.  Animal spoke with the same annoyed tone he used with dilettante students.  "You'll never improve if you don't work at it." He picked up a stick of charcoal and thrust it at her.




       Rose ignored the chalk and threw herself at Animal, hugging him tightly.




       Animal returned the embrace briefly but then pulled away.  "Today you'll stop before you exhaust yourself," he said with mock severity.  "I want you to focus on proportions.  Use the lines of the parquet floor to help you."  He turned and stalked towards his scaffolding, his back to Rose so she couldn't see his grin.




       Flashback




       The gate, the gate, it was all Mariah could think of.  In her mind's eye it floated in front of her during her waking hours and haunted her dreams at night. 




       Present day, two weeks later




       Gabriel and Mariah walked quickly through the corridor, both of them anxious to get to the showers.  They stank.  Gabriel had forgotten how the smell of a cadaver would permeate you until you wanted to burn your clothes, shave your head, and burn your hair as well.        




       Their cadaver had been an old man.  Gabriel had known him and obtained his assent for the dissection, but as they dug into the layers of the corpse he realized that he really had not known the man at all.  Two stress fractures in his spine, long healed, that indicated that he must have played some kind of sport as a youth.  But what?  Gabriel knew there were slaves who were trained in various kinds of competitions, but he had heard of no humans who participated. Had that changed in recent decades?




       That night they had turned the cadaver over onto its back.  It was Mariah who had first pointed out the scars on the liver.  Fredrick must have been a heavy drinker at one point in his life.




       The other students whined.  They didn't like the smell, didn't like the idea of cutting into a human corpse, didn't like the respect Gabriel showed Mariah.  But a core group of five of them came back each evening; tonight there had been eight, counting Mariah.  It had been crowded around the table.  Gabriel wondered if he should get another cadaver.  He sighed with the burden that supervising a second dissection would be. 




       He glanced at Mariah.  She was grinning, almost laughing to herself.  "What?" Gabriel asked, slowing his pace.




       Mariah tried to scowl, but she couldn't.  She shook her head.  "The way that Master Samuel squealed when he cut into the intestine. . ."  Mariah managed to look serious.  "Meaning no disrespect, Master." 




       Gabriel smiled wryly.  "He's been a healer for twenty years," he said.  "You wouldn't think a little scat would set him off."




       "A vet, Master, not a healer," Mariah said.




       Gabriel sighed again.  Most of the participants in the dissection were so-called vets, healers for slaves.  They tended to be less conservative than healers who worked with humans, but also much less rigorous.  They had had no regular course of apprenticeships; anyone could declare themselves a vet.  Those who were studying with Gabriel were more motivated than many; at the same time, if Gabriel had behaved as they often did at any time during his studies serious questions would have been raised over whether medicine was truly his calling.    




       He and Mariah had reached  the door to Gabriel's apartment. They each headed to their respective bathrooms.  Gabriel took his time in the shower, trying to wash the smell away. 




       When he returned to the living room Mariah was sipping from a tall glass of lemonade. She handed him a glass as well.  He accepted it with surprise and gratification and sat on the couch next to her, happy to be off his feet. 




       Mariah cleared her throat.  Gabriel knew what was coming; he suppressed a smile.  Mariah would tell him some small tidbit of her past, then look away angrily as if he had insulted her.  She had been doing this about once a day ever since Tabitha had brought Cassender to Gabriel's apartment. It was so obviously painful for her that Gabriel could only be pleased that she made the effort. Her comments, however, tended to be singularly unenlightening.  




       "I belonged to Master Townsend once."  When Gabriel merely looked puzzled, Mariah said, with the exact scowl Gabriel had expected, "The man Master Animal was sketching with in the courtyard yesterday evening."  Gabriel nodded. Animal had introduced them, but Gabriel had been rushing to the autopsy session and hadn't taken much note.




       Before Gabriel could react, Mariah continued in a rush, "Master, may I ask you a question?"




       "Of course," Gabriel said.




       "You told me that where you come from, there's no ice."




       "There's some," Gabriel said.  "But not much."




       "But you've dissected a cadaver before?" Gabriel nodded.  "Without ice, how did you store it?  Why didn't it rot?"




       "Ah," Gabriel said.  "There's no ice in Harmony.  But a few days journey east from Harmony there are mountains."




       "Big hills?" Mariah interrupted. "Like in the arboretum?"




       Gabriel shook his head.  "Much, much bigger," he said.  "Their tops reach the clouds, and for several months a year they are covered with snow."




       "Snow."  Mariah rolled the word on her tongue.  "From the stories?  I've never understood what it is."




       "Frozen rain that falls from the sky in big white flakes," Gabriel said.  "In cold weather it blankets the ground." 




       Mariah tried to picture it, but she couldn't.  Gabriel smiled at the expression on her face.  "It's hard to explain.  Anyway, on the mountain, there's a settlement of free people from further east . . ."  When Mariah looked puzzled again Gabriel stood up and took the atlas from the sideboard. He carried it to the dining table and flipped through to a page Mariah had glanced at but not studied. 




       He pointed to the left of the page, which was covered with blue.  "This is the ocean," he said.  "Where Animal's friend Amalie visited.  A huge body of water."  Mariah nodded. She understood about the ocean. 




       Gabriel moved his finger over a few inches, to where the blue touched beige. "Here's Alphronsia, a country much like Riviera by all accounts."  He moved his finger down, and over to the right, well into the beige.  "Here's Riviera."  Over a few more inches to the right.  "Harmony would be here, but this book was made before it was settled."  He kept moving his finger over, to deep green jagged lines.  "These are mountains; they run from north to south." 




       He tapped on a spot.  "Right around here is Rattletown.  Most of the people who live there come from . . ." he swept his finger further to the right, "here.  They call themselves free people because they never enclosed their towns with walls.  There aren't many of them, and they say none further west than Rattletown."




       Mariah tried to digest all that he was saying to her.  White specks that fall from the sky?  Land that reaches into the clouds?  People who have never been trapped by walls?




       She put her hand on the middle of the map, where the two open pages met.  "What's here?" she asked.




       "Mountains and prairies and great rivers, or so they say," Gabriel said.  "It used to be empty of people, after the turmoil.  But in Rattletown they told me there are a few settlements there now."




       "You've been to Rattletown, Master?" Mariah asked.  "You've touched the sky?"




       Master Gabriel nodded.  "All healers pass a season there during their apprenticeship.  That's where I did my first autopsy."




       Mariah blinked.  She started to turn the page of the mapbook, wondering what other mysteries it could reveal, what worlds beyond worlds.  But Gabriel stopped her, tracing again with his finger the inches from Harmony to Rattletown.




       "My little sister stowed away in a supply wagon and came with me," he said softly, smiling at the memory.




       "Isn't she much younger than you, Master?" Mariah asked, with an effort looking away from the book to him.




       "Eight years.  She didn't think it was fair that I should have all the fun, so she hid until we were more than halfway there and couldn't send her back."




       "Did she get to stay?" Mariah asked.




       Gabriel nodded.  "She did.  We tried to punish her.  Put her on ice-cutting duty for the entire season."  He was laughing at the memory.  "But you'd never know that she was in disgrace.  She made friends with everyone in the settlement, and they taught her to glide on the frozen lake on two metal rods attached to her boots, and to walk on top of the snow in net shoes." 




       Mariah didn't understand what he meant, but it didn't matter.  She stared at him, realization dawning.  "You miss her," she said.




       Gabriel nodded.  "I do.  My sister, my father, my friends." His eyes had lost their laughter.  "Everything." He traced the route from Harmony to Rattletown again.




       It seemed to Mariah that sadness permeated him.  She put her hand on top of his. She did it without thinking, trying to comfort him.  But as he looked at her, unguarded, his sadness slowly transformed to something Mariah didn't recognize.  She only knew it took her breath away, and simultaneously made her remember what he had said the afternoon they had gotten drunk together.  She imagined his hand, not spanking her, but caressing her, and herself caressing him back.  She knew suddenly what it would mean to want him.




       But then he moved his hand away and gave a snort of humorless laughter.  "I see now why the kindness mindgame is so dreaded," he said. "Don't play it with me.  My heart can't take it."  Mariah made a wordless protest, almost a gurgle.  Gabriel stood up.  "I'm sorry," he said.  Mariah didn't know whether he was apologizing for what he must know was a false, cruel accusation, or because he had pulled away from her, or because he did not want to do so.




       Avoiding her gaze, he cleared his throat.  "What did you think of what Izak said, about the healers in the west fields who use needles to cure people?"




       Mariah swallowed her hurt.  She had been down this path with Gabriel before.  When would she learn?




       In as normal a voice as she could muster, she said, "Master Izak said slaves were doing that, not healers."




       Gabriel sat on the couch again, and sipped his lemonade before he spoke.  "They heal people.  That makes them healers."  Mariah shrugged.  "Do you think it's true?" Gabriel asked her.




       "That slaves are healers?" Mariah asked.




       "No!" Gabriel said, too sharply.  Then he grinned.  "Well, yes, actually.  Izak says they've passed the technique on from one generation to another. Do you think that would be possible?"




       Mariah shook her head.  "Not from parent to child," she said.  "But far from the mansion, in a place with few humans, older slaves could teach younger ones."




       "That's what I think, too," Gabriel said.  "I want to go there.  I want to find out what they're doing.  Would you . . . "




       He was interrupted by a soft knock.  Mariah composed her faced into blankness as she walked across the room and opened the door.  A slave girl she didn't know had raised her hand to knock again.  She was young, and fresh.  "Please," she said, "I am to ask for Master Gabriel."




       Mariah crossed her arms.  "He's resting," she said and started to shut the door.  The girl stopped her. 




       "I must see him.  My mistress will punish me if I don't.  Please...."




       Gabriel was standing there.  "It's okay," he said.  "Come in.  I'm Gabriel." 


       


       The girl immediately fell to her knees, but did not lean over to touch her forehead to the ground.  Her eyes were a deep blue, almost violet, her hair long and sandy blonde, her skin flawless, her body unmarked.  "I am called Kishamie. I am a gift to you from Mistress Esmerelda," she said to Gabriel, looking him in the eye.




       "A gift?"  Gabriel said stupidly.




       "She asked me to thank you for setting her son's broken arm.  She has trained me to be to your liking."




       Mariah snorted with annoyance.  "Tell your mistress that Master Gabriel is a pansy who doesn't like slave girls," she said, moving as if to bodily throw the girl out. 




       Kishamie's eyes filled with tears.  "If I don't please you, Master, I will be punished."




       Gabriel sighed quietly.  Mariah rolled her eyes. 




       "Come, stand up," Gabriel said.  "Would you like some lemonade?" 




       Mariah snorted.  "She doesn't want lemonade, Master," she said.  "She wants to have sex with you."




       "Oh," Gabriel said.  "Well."  He pushed his fingers through his hair.




       Kishamie rose.  "It's not just me she'll punish," she said.  She looked at Gabriel with her big, limpid eyes.  Mariah felt like gagging.  "There are three of us. But," and her eyes became hopeful, "I know I can please you."  She reached out and took his hand. 




       "No, you can't," Mariah said.  "Go home and take your punishment."




       "Mariah," Gabriel remonstrated.  His voice was gentle but Mariah felt as if he had slapped her.  He hadn't dropped Kishamie's hand. 




       All three of them turned when the door to the courtyard opened.  Rose walked in.  "We finally got the sooffel . . . soufflé to work!" Rose announced. "It's puffy, just like the book said!" She faltered when she saw Kishamie.  "Master," she added, unconvincingly.




       "Rose, this is Kishamie," Gabriel said.  "She's . . ."




       "She needs to speak with Master Gabriel alone," Mariah said, her voice sweet like honey. "Let's give them some privacy."  Gabriel gave her a look that was equal parts pleading and annoyed.  Mariah turned to Kishamie.  "He might take some convincing, but of course he would hate to see you punished."  With a smirk at Gabriel, she took Rose by the elbow and pulled her out to the courtyard.  




       Flashback


       


       Mariah was terrified the first time she saw the hunters.  There were so many of them, and they had dogs, and she hated dogs. 




       It was the second time Master Cassender brought her to the gatehouse.  As before, she and Griley sat mostly unspeaking on the porch, while their humans were inside.  They heard the cacophony long before they saw it.  Five humans, all men, and at least five dogs; they were such a wriggling mass that Mariah couldn't be sure of her count. 




       But the men barely glanced at her as they ordered Griley to find his mistress.  She came out, disheveled and annoyed at the interruption, and fitted the key in the lock of the gate.  Mariah could not look away as it slowly swung open and the men and their dogs went through.  Tanya closed it with a clang, turned the key again, and returned to the house.




       Mariah knew that key would haunt her dreams. 





CHAPTER 44:  THROUGH THE GATES




       PRESENT DAY




       Mariah had not intended to stay so long in Master Animal’s apartment, but after proudly serving the soufflé Rose had been eager to show Mariah her new sketches. The two had long since made up from their fight about the encounter in the corridor.  Rose had cried as she hugged Mariah and Mariah had heroically refrained from recoiling from her embrace.  Nevertheless, Mariah was unsure that their friendship had completely recovered from the bruising it had taken.  As a concession to Rose she tried to exhibit an interest in her detailed description of the shading technique Master Animal was teaching her.    




       In Rose’s exuberance she handed her chalk to Mariah.  Mariah found that making marks on paper gave her a curious sense of possibility.  She wondered out loud whether the artist who had drawn the maps in the atlas had begun his training with chalk. Master Animal animatedly held forth about the printing presses the ancients had used. 




       What seemed most important to Mariah was not the mechanics of making the book but that the maps told a person how the world is put together. "So does all good art," Master Animal growled.  "Or how it falls apart." But he was looking at Rose as he spoke, and even Mariah noticed that his sour expression was only half-hearted. 




       By the time Mariah went home through the courtyard the nightwatchers would have long since been guarding the corridors.  She was disappointed but not surprised that Master Gabriel had gone to bed.   




       She dreamed that she was Gabriel’s sister – and yet not his sister – hiding in a wagon to follow him to some unknown destination where ice falls from the sky. But then she was in Master Cassender’s wagon and he was driving it to the wall.   




       In the morning as she did her breathing exercises Mariah could not bring into focus her meditation on the mindgame.  Where she usually visualized Master Gabriel talking to the hunters, pointing them to where she hid, she instead saw him as he had sat at the dining room table the day before, tracing in the atlas the path from Harmony to Rattletown.  And then she saw the look in his eyes after she had put her hand on his.




       Master Gabriel had wanted her, Mariah was certain of it.   Mariah had felt, for a moment, that she wanted him too.  But it was a different kind of desire than what she had known.  It didn’t seem to come from her groin, although she felt it there, acutely.  Rather, for an instant, she had wanted to share herself with him, not just her body but her heart and soul.




       And then he had pulled his hand away. 




       She had been hurt, yesterday. But now she thought more about what he had said when he was drunk.  He had said that spanking could be pleasurable, and that he would never spank a girl unless she said she wanted it – and unless he believed her. 




       It was true that spankings were often pleasurable, if the human doing the spanking intended them to be.  But they were also punishment.  And the punishment was not just the pain but also the pleasure itself. 




       Humans used pain and the threat of pain to keep her in fear, to keep her enslaved.  But they also used pleasure and the threat of withholding pleasure.  That had been why the Bearer had told her he would circumcise her if she went beyond the freedom Gabriel granted her.




       Until recently the need for pleasure had been forced on her by the very food that she ate.  It had driven her, and it had made her weak.  She had hated it.




       There had been times that she had thought that she had been in control.  She had believed that at the training center, in those first weeks when she chose a different person each night to “make love” with.  She almost laughed out loud, remembering Taejon using that term but then being unable to explain its meaning. Even then, though, she had been driven to her choices by the food she ate, and by the unspoken fact that if she did not take it upon herself to learn skills that would please humans Mistress Dominique would have forced her to learn them in much less pleasant circumstances. 




       Since she had become a housegirl there had been no pretense that she chose any of her partners.  When she fucked other slaves she was told to do so by her masters and mistresses.  And when she fucked her masters and mistresses – Mariah shuddered.  She had never felt any true desire for any of them.




       Not even for Mistress Iliana, who she had thought she loved. But Mariah had not really craved her physically; she had serviced Mistress Iliana and Mistress Iliana in turn had fulfilled her need for sex, just as she fed her and saw to it that she got enough sleep and exercise.  Sex with her had been a necessary release, nothing more.




       Mariah had been desperate for Mistress Iliana to notice her, know her, be kind to her.  And, Mariah now realized, Mistress Iliana had done those things, to the best of her ability. Then fear had bested her.  How could Mariah blame her for that?  There had been a connection between them but it had not been, after all, very deep.  It was nothing like the bond between Master Animal and Rose, and Master Animal had been a pansy for years and had Master Gabriel to guide him.




       Master Gabriel.  




       He had wanted her last night.  But, while Mariah had seen a glimpse of what it meant to desire him in return, she had been not just hurt but also relieved when he had pulled his hand away. For all of Master Gabriel’s seeming kindnesses, as she drilled into herself every morning, as she should be drilling into herself now, he had betrayed her at their first meeting.  She must never trust him.  And therefore she must never want him. 




       Had Master Gabriel pulled away last night because he had sworn never to have sex with a slave?  Or because he knew that Mariah did not really want him? If the latter, it was one more kindness that could never balance the scales against the first betrayal. 




         Mariah remembered a little guiltily that she had left Master Gabriel alone with Kishamie.  She wondered how long it had taken him to get rid of her. 




       But when Mariah emerged from the bedroom, Kishamie sat at the breakfast table across from Master Gabriel.  She looked at once uncomfortable at being seated with a human and inordinately pleased with herself.




       Gabriel smiled at Mariah in greeting.  Her eyes suddenly stinging, Mariah ignored him.  She abruptly returned to her bedroom and commenced her breathing exercises again, now picturing over and over again Gabriel with a hideous leer on his face walking the hunters to her hiding spot. For good measure she imagined him laughing with Master Animal as they planned each step of the mindgame.  Was Kishamie part of it?  Mariah opened her eyes and shrugged.  She had no way of knowing, nor did it matter.




       When she emerged from the room again Gabriel and Kishamie were at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, crushing herbs. Fenugreek, by the smell.  Kishamie was using Mariah’s pestle.  She said something and Gabriel chuckled, softly, appreciatively.




       Mariah took a deep breath and held her head high.  She proceeded to the kitchen and began to prepare her gruel, making a clatter as she did so.  Kishamie turned to stare at her, wide-eyed, then turned back to Master Gabriel.




       “Did you sleep well?” Gabriel asked Mariah in a pleasant, bland voice.




       Mariah ignored him, but she met Kishamie’s look with a cold stare. 




       “As soon as you’ve eaten, we’ll drop Kishamie off at her apartment on the way to the clinic,” Gabriel said. 




       “Why not bring her with us?” Mariah asked.  “Or to the hospital?  I’m sure she’d love to see what an abscessed bed sore looks like.  Or an infected eye.”




       “My mistress ordered me home by midmorning,” Kishamie said.  Her voice trembled slightly and she looked to Master Gabriel for reassurance.   




       “She ordered you to please Master Gabriel, and I’m sure it would please him to show you how to help people whose limbs are slowly rotting off.”  Gabriel, giving no indication that he had been listening to the exchange between Mariah and Kishamie, handed Kishamie a container for the fenugreek. He moved slowly, as if he was tired.  Mariah scowled at him.




       Kishamie’s mistress lived in the opposite direction from the clinic.  “She can get herself home,” Mariah muttered as they walked through the endless corridor.  Kishamie murmured something to Gabriel and he turned into a side hallway, taking her hand as he did so. 




       Kishamie tapped on a door about halfway down the hallway.  It was opened almost at once by a slave girl who was, in her way, as beautiful as Kishamie, if not so appealing.  She had long raven-colored hair and heart-shaped lips, and greeted Gabriel by bowing her head and saying softly, “Come in, Master.” 




       Gabriel entered the apartment, still holding Kishamie’s hand.  Mariah trailed in behind them.




       Mistress Esmerelda stood up from her table.  Gabriel said heartily and loudly, “Truly, I can’t thank you enough! You’ve given me one of the best nights of my life!” 




       Mariah stared at him.  Why was he using such a strange, exuberant tone?  But Mistress Esmerelda smiled triumphantly.  “She pleased you, then?”




       Gabriel nodded his head enthusiastically up and down.  “Oh, yes!  She was terrific!”




       Mistress Esmerelda was a large woman, both tall and broad.  She wore a floor-length green dress that made her seem even more imposing.  But, almost childlike, she clasped her hands together under her chin.  “I’m so pleased!” she said.  "If you would like to keep her, she's yours."




       For a moment everybody in the room froze.  Then the raven-haired slave girl half-gasped, half-sobbed, and turned away.  As Mistress Esmerelda’s disapproving gaze went to the girl, Mariah saw Master Gabriel look at Kishamie and Kishamie give a slight shake of her head. 




       “You are so very kind,” Master Gabriel said to Mistress Esmerelda, as hearty and as loud as before.  “But Kishamie has told me how much she adores you.  I wouldn’t feel right taking her away.” 




       “Nonsense!”  said Mistress Esmerelda.  “It’s not for her to say whether she stays or goes.  If she meets your needs, she’s my gift to you.”  Nevertheless, she looked gratified.




       “My needs are fully met,” Master Gabriel said.  He glanced at Mariah. who scowled.  “But I will savor the memory of last night.” 




       Esmerelda nodded.  “Very well.  Kishamie will give me all the details, of course.”          




       “Of course,” Gabriel said.  He let go of Kishamie’s hand.  “I thank you again.”




       He turned towards the door, but Esmerelda interrupted him.  “Healer, you must come to the full moon revel.  You know my husband and I are in charge of planning it this month.  The theme is Nature’s Wondrous Bounty.”




       Gabriel expelled a small breath.  “Thank you.  I’ll try to come.”




       “You must promise me,” Esmerelda said.  When Gabriel did not respond immediately, she turned to Kishamie.  “You ask him,” she said.  “Show me how much of his affection you gained last night.”




       Kishamie looked down, clearly troubled.  Very quietly she said to Gabriel, “Please, my lord, it would mean a great deal to me if you would come.”




       “Very well,” Gabriel said.  “I shall certainly attend, for you, Kishamie.”  Then he strode out the door so quickly that Mariah had to run to catch up. 




       Flashback




       One of the hunters found Master Cassender working in a field about two miles to the east of the cabin.  Ascertaining that Mariah was firmly chained to the wagon, he drew Master Cassender away. The hunter looked at Mariah as he whispered, but Master Cassender shook his head and said loudly enough for Mariah to hear, “She’s a rag through and through.  No need to worry about her.”




       The hunter shrugged but stopped whispering.  “Rag or no, she’s your concern inside the wall but she’ll be mine if she gets out.  You’re fairly warned, in any event.” 




       Mariah froze.  Did the hunter know her thoughts?  No, he was giving merely a general warning.  The hunter looked at her sharply, and Mariah lowered her eyes.




       Current day




       Animal sat cross-legged on the scaffolding in the revel room staring at the newly cleaned section of the wall.  He wanted this section to be something he had only recently thought of: a drawing from a slave’s point of view.  But what?  His experience of slave life was limited; mostly he knew only housegirls, and then only for the small portion of their lives when they served as such, and only when they interacted with their masters.




       Rose would help him.  But she was at the exercise yard. That was a whole area of her life he barely knew. Perhaps he would go with her tomorrow to see what it was like.




       He heard the clang of the door closing.  When he saw who had come in he scrambled to his feet and climbed down the scaffolding.




       Amalie crossed the room, looking as wary as Animal.  But when she came close her expression suddenly changed.  She threw her arms around him.  “Let’s not fight any more,” she said. 




       Animal hugged her back.  “Okay,” he said. He kissed the top of her head before he let her go.   




       “That’s settled then,” Amalie said.  She scanned the pictures on the wall.  “You’ve made a lot of progress.”




       Animal inclined his head in acknowledgment.




       Amalie continued to look around the room.  Seeing a lone easel on the floor, she walked over to it.  “New student?” she asked.  “The lines aren’t strong but the composition is interesting.”




       “Her lines will come,” Animal said.




       “If she keeps with it.  Anyone I know?”




       “Yes,” Animal said.  “Rose.”


       


       Amalie looked blank.  “Who?”




       “My housegirl.  You’ve met her several times.”




       Animal watched Amalie’s expression slowly change to one of recognition, then surprise, then shock. “You’re teasing me, right?”


       


       “No.”  Animal crossed his arms.  “Are we going to fight about it?”




       Amalie expelled a breath, and looked more closely at Rose’s half-finished charcoal sketch of the scaffolding. “I told you, I don’t want to fight any more.”  Her voice was low and controlled.  “Tell me why you’ve done this.”




       Animal stood next to Amalie and looked with her at the sketch.  He spoke cautiously.  “A lot has changed since last time I saw you.” 




       “The day we argued,” Amalie said.




       Animal nodded, but didn’t continue.  Amalie finally prodded him.  “Tell me.”  




       Animal flipped the pad on the easel to a clean piece of paper.  He picked up Rose’s chalk and began to sketch the same view of the scaffolding Rose had been drawing.  He drew swiftly but without much thought.  As the picture began to take shape, he


recounted to Amalie how he had whipped Rose, how Gabriel, and Rose, had forced him to understand that she was as human as he was, as Amalie was, and how from that he had come to understand that all slaves were human.  Then he described how Rose had asked to draw, how she had shown in just a few weeks that she loved the act of making art as much as anyone he had ever known, as much as he himself did. 




       When Animal stopped speaking his sketch was done, depicting not just the scaffolding but the room around it and the bright light shining in through the windows.  He put down the chalk and turned to Amalie.




       She had listened without interruption.  Now she took his hand in hers.  “You have unnatural feelings for her,” she said, her voice flat.




       “Weren’t you listening?” Animal twisted his hand out of Amalie’s grasp.  “I love her, and she loves me.”




       “I’m sure she does,” Amalie said sharply.  “In the way that a slave can love her master.  But, Animal, that’s all she is.  A slave.”




       Animal sighed with frustration.  How many times had he had this same conversation with Gabriel, before? 




       Amalie continued, saying carefully, “You’re my best friend. I know how deep your feelings run.  If you say you love this girl, I believe you.”




       Animal nodded, relieved, but Amalie wasn’t done.  “You’re other things beside my friend, though.  The greatest, most dedicated artist of our generation.”  Animal inclined his head at that.  “You are,” Amalie said, “and I know you know it.”




       She picked up the chalk that Animal had put down, and added to his sketch.  Her hand flew over the page, darkening a line here, sharpening a corner there.  She stood back and they both looked at it.  Whereas before the focal point of the sketch had been the bright sunshine reflecting off the scaffolding, illuminating it, after Amalie’s additions the eye was drawn to the dark corners of the room. 




       Amalie said, “You’re also a man who should be thinking of fathering children soon.”  Animal started to protest but Amalie continued, “What woman will have you knowing that you love a slave?”




       Animal pointed at the mural panels he had painted, and at the empty panels that circled the room.  “These are my children,” he said.  “My legacy.  They’re all I need.”




       “Them and a slave you think is human,” Amalie said drily.  But at the end her voice gave way to a half-sob.




       Animal took her hand again.  “Will you let me try to convince you?  For the sake of our long friendship?” Amalie nodded slowly.“You still have those triplets, right?” Animal asked.




       Amalie nodded again.  “I don’t love them, Animal; I don’t even have unnatural feelings for them.  They’re just my houseboys.”




       “You don’t have to have feelings for them,” Animal said.  “Just notice them.  Talk to them.  Ask them about themselves.”




       “I may as well ask my sofa about itself,” Amalie said with a small laugh.  “




       “Please Amalie,” Animal begged her.  “Promise me you’ll try it.”


         


       Amalie looked again at the sketch on the easel.  “Okay,” she said softly.  She hugged Animal briefly, and hurried away as if afraid of what more he might say.  But as she approached the door a sign caught her eye.  She shook her head.  In Animal’s unmistakable calligraphy he had written, “This room is a no torture, no punishment zone.” Animal was looking at her.  All she could do was laugh.




       Flashback




       As usual, as Master Cassender entered her he demanded that Mariah look him in the eye.  When he finished, he said with a satisfied smirk, “You came twice.”




       Disgusted, Mariah rolled away from him.  It was a small movement but she froze.  Had he noticed? 




       It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the facade with Master Cassender.  She had been here with him for weeks and she felt like she was rotting inside, from boredom, from loneliness, from the strain of pretending to be a rag.




       She made up her mind. 




       After, she did not have to wait long.  The next day Master Cassender announced a trip to the gatehouse. 




       When they arrived, Mariah was taken aback by Griley’s condition.  He sat on the porch, rocking and crooning to himself. Master Cassender put up the horses and locked Mariah to the porch before knocking on the door.  When Mistress Tanya answered Master Cassender asked, “What’s the matter with him?”




       Mistress Tanya shrugged.  “He didn’t like me drowning some kittens this morning.  He’s been this way ever since.”  She scowled.




       “Why’d you do that?”  Master Cassender asked sharply.  “They keep the mice away.”




       Mariah didn’t hear Mistress Tanya’s answer as she shut the door, leaving Mariah alone with Griley.




       She expelled a breath.  She had never seen a slave as skinny as Griley.  Did Mistress Tanya not allow him to eat?  Such punishments were forbidden but not unheard of at the mansion.




       Mariah sat down next to Griley.  He continued to croon and rock. She said his name, softly.  He gave no indication that he had heard her.  Mariah sighed a little.  In her deceit of Master Cassender she would do the same thing.  Was Griley playing her game?  She touched his arm and said his name again.  Griley continued to croon and rock. 




       Mariah waited, her hand on his forearm.  It would be at least an hour before Master Cassender would come out. She could be patient.




       Several minutes went by before Griley looked at her. When he finally did, Mariah’s nerve almost failed.  But she had to try. 


She had no choice. 




       “I want to escape.”  She had carried those words inside her for so long, ever since Rolanda had first told her that escape was possible.  It was such a relief to say it aloud.  All of a sudden she was crying. 




       Griley kept rocking, but he stopped crooning.  Mariah took that as a sign that she should continue.  “A hunter came to Master Cassender.  He was warning him that I might get outside the wall.”




       To Mariah’s relief, Griley nodded.  But he didn’t say anything.




       “Please, Griley,” Mariah begged.  “I’m at the breaking point.”  She hadn’t realized that was true until she said it.  She took her hand off his wrist and wrapped her arms around herself. 




       She must have gotten through to him, because he spoke, his voice rough. “They said the same thing to my mistress.  But she laughed at them.  Said I can’t crawl to the end of my dick, much less seven miles”




       “Seven miles?  To where?”  Mariah had spoken too soon, too eagerly.  Griley retreated back into himself. 




       “Please,” she said in a small voice. “You couldn’t save the kittens, but you can save me.”   




       Griley winced, then opened his eyes and looked at Mariah as if he had never seen her before.  Slowly, he pointed in the direction of Master Cassender’s cabin.  “To their gate.”




       “The hunters have a gate?” 




       Griley nodded.  “The lock is broken,” he whispered.   




       Current day




       Gabriel stared with fascination as the woman's face bulged and shrank, bulged and shrank, bulged and shrank.  He thought that he should make a note of it so he could discuss it with Pieter, his mentor.  Then he remembered that Pieter wasn't here, but back home in Harmony.  Bubbles came out of the woman's mouth. He realized that the bubbles were words, and the shape-shifting was the woman talking.  He was flooded with disappointment.  He hadn't discovered a new medical condition after all.  He turned away.




       Now he was somewhere else.  No, it was the same revel room, but he had somehow drifted to a different section.  He was closer to the music.  His heartbeat sounded alarmingly loud to him.  Not his heartbeat; it was the percussion from the band.




       A woman was touching him.  She was insanely beautiful.  She had glittering green eyes and was wearing a skintight costume, so tight she almost seemed naked.  She was naked.  She was a slave. She was unbuttoning his shirt and then kissing his stomach, sucking gently as she massaged his chest with her hands.  It was heavenly.  He was so lonely.  She looked up at him.  Her face became Pieter's, and Pieter was saying "No."  Gabriel remembered he didn't make love to slaves, although he couldn't remember why. Sadly he backed away from the woman.  She fell with a cry and he realized he had shoved her.  Gabriel continued to back away, until he bumped into a divan.  He fell onto it.




       The music was different now.  His head was pounding.  After several attempts he was able to open his eyes.  The crowd was thinner.  People were making love in groups all around him.  He would leave in a minute.




       He opened his eyes again.  There was no music.  Slaves were cleaning up around lumps of sleeping people.  Something was the matter with his shoulder.  No, someone was shaking it.  It was Animal.  "Wake up," he said.  "How much did you drink?"




       "Not, not much.  Just a few sips of punch."  Gabriel sat up slowly, trying to bring the room into focus.  The punch had tasted funny, musky almost.  He had danced, and then...only flashes.




       He groaned again, his forehead pounding.  "You'll live," Animal said, although he looked worried.  "Rose can fix you a concoction."  He sat down next to Gabriel, put Gabriel's arm around his shoulders, and lifted him up.  Gabriel's knees buckled on the first try, but they managed it on the second.




       "I was drugged," Gabriel said in a voice that would have sounded outraged if it wasn’t so pathetic.




       Animal ignored him.  "Where's Mariah?" he asked. 




       "Didn't she go home?" Gabriel stumbled.




       Animal steadied him as he shook his head, frowning.  Gabriel should have known better than to bring Mariah with him.  But of course he couldn't have known; he'd never been to a revel before. Animal would have warned Gabriel if he had told him his plans instead of leaving a note he had only just found.  "You sit.  I'll look for her."  He pushed Gabriel down into an armchair. 




       Gabriel struggled back to his feet, but by the time he had achieved them Animal was out of his limited focus.  He tried to concentrate past the dizziness and the pain in his head. 




       The revel  room was the same size as the one Animal was painting.  The detritus of the festivities littered the floor and the furniture.  Slaves were cleaning up around the masters and mistresses who were passed out as he had been.  One master stood near a paper mache tree.  Gabriel blinked hard and saw that he was being given oral sex.  The slave had dark brown hair, a little unkempt, like Mariah's.  Gabriel tried to stumble closer.




       Surely it was Mariah.  She kneeled in front of the master, who grasped her head with both hands and held her face tight against his groin.  Her arms were tightly hugging his buttocks.  Her knees were spread wide.  Another slave girl lay under her, her head propped up by cushions, and licked and fingered her.  Mariah's hips bucked and she hugged the master tighter.  He thrust deeply forward and moaned.  Slowly he released Mariah's face and pulled his now half-limp cock out of her mouth. 




       Gabriel tried to move towards her, but his legs would not obey.  He sank to the floor. 




       The master walked around to the slave girl who had been under Mariah.  The girl rolled over onto her hands and knees. 




       "Shall I command this one to pleasure you?" he asked the slave girl, indicating Mariah.




       "I would be so grateful, Master Paul," the girl answered, pleadingly.




       "Would you?" he asked, seeming to consider it.  "How long has it been since I've let you come?" 




       "Please, Master, days and days," the girl said.




       Her master smiled down at her.  Then he stepped back, pulled his right leg back, and kicked her, hard, in the left breast.  The force of the blow sent her sprawling.  "Get back into position," he snarled.  The slave girl quickly returned to her hands and knees.




       He turned to Mariah, who was still on her knees.  "How long did I give her to make you come?" he asked her.




       "Five minutes, Master," Mariah answered.




       "And did you come in five minutes?"




       "It's not her fault, Master," Mariah said.




       "Silence, cunt!"  Paul unhooked his whip from his belt, and handed it to Mariah.  "Whip her ass," he commanded.




       Mariah looked calmly from the whip to the master, who towered over her.  "I don’t whip slaves," she said.




       "What?"  The shout was so loud that it woke up a nearby mistress, who grumbled and turned over.  Paul pulled Mariah to her feet by her hair and then threw her sprawling on the floor.  His whip was more ferocious than well-aimed, but it caught her on the shoulder blade and left a mean weal there.  The next stroke curled around her lower back.




       Before another blow could fall Animal's hand was laid on the master’s shoulder.  "Excuse me, friend," he said.  "You must have missed my girl's do not molest bracelet." 




       The man pulled away from Animal and turned to face him. 


"Excuse me, friend," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  "Your cunt sassed me and I'll not allow it."




       "Surely not?" Animal said, his voice full of surprise.  He walked over to Mariah and turned her over with his boot.  "You stupid slut!" he said to her angrily. "Maybe an hour in the mosquito cage will teach you to behave!  Now get up and apologize!"




       Mariah rose to her knees and then bowed her forehead to the ground near Master Paul.  "This slave humbly begs your forgiveness," she said.




       "If I ever see you again I'll give you the beating you deserve,"  Paul growled.




       Animal pulled Mariah to her feet and hurried her out of the revel room.  When the door shut behind them he turned to her angrily.  "What were you thinking?" he asked.  "Don't you know he could have been killed you?"




       Mariah pulled away.  "He asked me to whip his slave.  I don't whip slaves!"




       "You're a stupid, stupid girl," Animal said angrily.  "He's probably in there right now giving her a far worse beating than you ever could."




       "Leave her alone," Gabriel said blearily from the door he had managed to push open.  He stumbled, and the other two rushed to him.  He put his arms around their shoulders, not noticing that a good deal of his weight was falling on one of Mariah's new whipmarks. Mariah said nothing, but held up his weight.




       Flashback




       Master Cassender had come out of the gatehouse sooner than Mariah had expected.  He took no note of the whispered conversation she was having with Griley, but Mistress Tanya looked at them with narrowed eyes. 




       On the ride back to Master Cassender’s cabin Mariah turned over in her mind everything that Griley had told her.  The hunters had a gate, a few miles past Master Cassender’s cabin. You wouldn’t see it unless you knew to look for it; it was little more than a small door in the wall.  One of the hunters had turned the key with too much force, breaking it in the lock.  They couldn’t get it out, and now the gate was unlocked and would remain so until a metal worker arrived from the mansion, which would take days. 




       Only days.  Mariah would need to make her move soon. She felt a pang for Griley, left alone with his misery, swaying and crooning.   




       Current day




       Gabriel’s head pounded rhythmically.  His tongue felt like it was swollen to three times its normal size.  He wasn’t sure whether he needed to throw up again.




       There was worse.  He tried to avoid thinking about what he had seen in the revel hall, but the memory kept pushing its way to his consciousness.  With an oath he sat up and reached for his boots. The room tilted around him but he ignored it.




       His living room was empty.  That wasn’t surprising; he recalled that he had snapped at Rose for hovering over him. Even Animal had buzzed around him like a gnat, demanding that Gabriel recount exactly what had happened.  Only when he was satisfied that Gabriel had not been seriously harmed, and that no one but the slave girl he had shoved away had touched him, did Animal allow his friend to go to sleep.




       Rose had left a glass on the table, filled with the same stuff she had insisted that Gabriel drink while he was answering Animal’s questions.     




       He took a gulp of the mixture.  Too fast; he had to take deep slow breaths to keep from puking it up. 




       When his stomach somewhat calmed he forced himself to sip the rest of the drink.  He rested for a few minutes and then, feeling marginally better, made his way to the door.




       He wondered suddenly where Mariah was.  Then, shrugging, he kept going. 




       In the corridor he ignored both the greetings and the startled looks that were thrown his way.  He hadn’t changed his clothes since the day before, nor combed his hair.  He assumed his face was greenish. 




       When he exited to the lawn the noon sun made his head pound harder than ever.  He stopped halfway to the stables under an oak tree, but continued on when he saw a woman – he couldn’t remember her name, she had come to him once to complain about her thinning hair – walking purposefully towards him.




       He usually visited the stables early in the morning or late in the afternoon, not in the middle of the day.  It was quieter now; most of the horses were pastured or out with their riders or grooms.




       Gabriel stepped into the shade of the third entryway, and sat on a bale of hay against the wall to rest for a moment. 




       He heard Stefan’s low drawl just before the stablemaster came inside with Remarque, who was leading a gray colt.  Gabriel pushed himself to his feet.




       Stefan glanced at him, then did a double take.  “You look like hell,” he said.  “What’s the matter with you?”




       Gabriel sat back down. “Drugged,” he said.  “At the revel last night.”




       Stefan frowned.  “You too?”  At Gabriel’s surprised look, he said, “You weren’t the only one.  Everyone’s talking about it.  The Bearer is investigating.  His deputy will want to speak with you.”  He tilted his head.  “Were you harmed?  Besides the obvious?” 




        “Danced like an idiot, then passed out,” Gabriel said.  What about Mariah?  Had she been drugged as well?  No, he remembered that Animal had told him she had not been.




       Stefan took the colt’s bridle from Remarque and ordered him to fetch some water, then squinted at Gabriel.  “You’re in no condition to hear this,” he said, “but Pegasus has an abscess in her right forehoof.  I had assumed you would want to drain it yourself, but we can have a vet do it.  Either way, she’ll need to rest for a few days.” Gabriel grunted noncommittally. 




       Remarque came back with a waterskin.  Gabriel took it, but put it down rather than drinking from it.  “I’d say she’d like to see you,” Stefan continued, “but you’d probably scare her when you pass out in her stall.  How about I find a runner to help you back to your apartment?”




       Gabriel shook his head.  “I just need a minute,” he said heavily.  “Then I’ll check on her.”  




       A horse and rider came into the stable.  Although it was too bright in the entryway to make out the details, Gabriel recognized the horse from her unusually wide chest; she was a roan mare named Vagabond. The rider had short, flyaway hair; it must be Jordan. 




       She started to dismount, standing up high in her saddle before she swung her leg over.  Gabriel rubbed his eyes and looked again.  There was something odd on the saddle.  A thin rod sticking up about a few inches from the seat.  Gabriel stood and walked over to it.  “What is this?” he said.  He touched it.  It was covered with some kind of gel, and when he pushed on it, it bent.




       “It’s my saddle, Master,” Jordan said.




       “Why does it have a handle?” Gabriel asked. 




       “You don’t want to touch that,” Stefan said. 




       Gabriel looked from Stefan to Jordan to Remarque.  “What is it?” he asked again, confused.




       No one answered him.  He closed his eyes, and saw again Jordan’s silhouette as she rose from the saddle.  The rod was not a handle; she had been sitting on it.  But how?  Why?




       He backed away from the mare in horror.  “Was this inside you?” he asked Jordan, an edge of hysteria in his voice.  “Was it?”  He grabbed her shoulders.  “Was it?” 




       Jordan nodded.  “Yes, Master.  Slave saddles have butt plugs.”




       “No, they don’t!” Gabriel said.  “I’ve ridden with you!” He shook her, trying to get her to make sense.  Realizing what he was doing, he lifted his hands off her and took a step back.




       “She’s always ridden Midnight when she’s with you,” Stefan said calmly.  “He was a mustang brought in by hunters.  Jordan tamed and trained him herself.  A slave saddle would have been too . . . “  He broke off for a minute.  “I didn’t want her using it on him.”




       Gabriel’s mouth hung open.  He backed up until he bumped into the bale of hay, and sat down on it. Then he jumped back up.




       Was this another hallucination?  He didn’t think so.  But he must be misunderstanding. “You use horses to rape slaves in the ass?”  He had trouble forming the words.




       Stefan frowned.  “The stablehands, yes. Sometimes others.”




       “Why?  How could you?”  His voice shook.




       Stefan gave a short, humorless laugh.  “Why, Healer?  The same reason we feed them gruel that keeps them undeveloped until they turn 18.  The same reason that we force them to crave sex but don’t let them choose when to have it, or who to have it with.  The same reason that we keep them under the constant threat of the whip and worse torture.”




       “Why?” Gabriel asked faintly.




       “To control them.”  Stefan glared at Jordan and then at Remarque.  “Look at them.  Beautiful specimens, strong, brave, Riders of the finest horses.  Both of them have been as far as the wall, and then at a snap of my fingers have turned back.”  Remarque stared stolidly ahead.  Jordan blushed and looked down. “Because no matter how fast or how far they ride on their fine horses, they have a stick up their backside to remind them that they are slaves and nothing more.”




       Gabriel recalled that he had punched Animal for doing less to Rose than Stefan was declaring that he did every day to the grooms.  He pulled back his elbow and made a fist.  Stefan saw but made no move.  Instead of striking out, Gabriel sat again on the bale of hay and covered his face with his hands. 




       Comfortable in the apartments he shared with Animal, Rose, and Mariah, and in the routine he had established, he had allowed himself to forget that this land was built on torment; that every slave he passed in the corridor was traveling from one suffering to another with hope only of the occasional and brief respite; that most humans considered it both pleasure and art to cause excruciating pain in others.




       Gabriel had known from his first visit to the stables that Stefan whipped his slaves.  Scarcely a week went by without fresh marks appearing on Jordan’s back. And yet Gabriel had allowed himself to ignore them, to focus only the facts that the stablehands seemed to both respect and like Stefan, and that Stefan, despite his sardonic demeanor, had often revealed that he felt the same about them. 




       Had Gabriel seen the torture saddles but simply not allowed himself to notice?  He tried to concentrate.  Maybe out of the corner of his eye or a blur when he was focused on something else. Yes, if he could have been bothered to turn his head he would have known.




       He had allowed himself to overlook the reality of the stables out of convenience to himself; he needed a place to keep Pegasus.




       His stomach heaved.  He barely managed to twist so that the vomit landed on the hay instead of on himself. When he was empty and spent, he sagged back.




       A moment later Jordan was holding the waterskin to his lips.  He tried to turn his head but did not have the energy.  He took a sip.  “Master,” Jordan said softly.  “If I had a choice I would choose this life.”




       Gabriel swatted her away, causing some of the water to spill.  “You would choose to be tortured?” he rasped.




       Jordan looked to Stefan, who nodded.  She spoke carefully.  “Without the slave saddle I couldn’t have the horses, or the other stable hands.  They are my friends.  I would choose them, yes.”




       Gabriel shook his head weakly.  “If a horse rears, or runs away, you could be torn, even killed.  You would have neither horses nor friends.” 




       “The phallus is safe, I assure you,” Stefan said.  “It’s completely flexible, and it comes off at the hinge with any pressure.”




       Gabriel was struck by a horrible thought.  He grasped  Jordan’s hand. “When you’ve ridden Pegasus, when I couldn’t come to the stables, did you . . . ”  He couldn’t continue.




       “No, Healer.”  Stefan answered for Jordan.  “Out of respect to you, at my order she uses a standard saddle when she rides Pegasus.”




       “Am I supposed to thank  you for that?” Gabriel spat.  And yet he did feel gratitude, and relief.




       Stefan shrugged and turned away.  “Remarque, clean this up,” he said, gesturing towards Gabriel’s spew.  “Jordan, go about your duties.”  Jordan withdrew her hand from Gabriel’s.  She patted him on the shoulder before she turned to take Vagabond’s reins and lead her away.  Stefan was expressionless when he spoke to Gabriel.  “I’ll take you back to your apartment now.  Unless you need a rickshaw.”




       Gabriel lurched to his feet.  “I can get myself back.”




       “No, you can’t,” Stefan said.  “The Bearer would hear of it if I sent you back unattended.  And like Jordan, I’m fond of my situation in life.” 




       He moved towards Gabriel but Gabriel stepped back.  “Don’t touch me!” he hissed.




       Stefan shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  As long as you can stay upright.”




       They made their way slowly out of the stables and towards the mansion.  Gabriel swayed a few times but mustered all his willpower so he would not have to rely on Stefan’s assistance.




       As they entered the path that cut across the lawn, Stefan looked straight ahead as he said, “When I first became a stablemaster I didn’t use slave saddles, and I didn’t whip my grooms.”




       Gabriel did not reply.  He concentrated on putting one foot in front of another.




       “They let the work go.  Disregarded my orders, almost to my face.  Within weeks my stables were a shambles.  They made a fool of me.”




       “So out of revenge you decided to make their life an endless misery?” Gabriel asked, as harshly as he could muster. He overreached himself, and stumbled. 




       Stefan grabbed Gabriel’s arm to stop his fall.  “Don’t you understand, Healer?” he said angrily.  “The horses suffered!”




       Gabriel twisted out of Stefan’s grip.  “I don’t believe you.  Jordan, Remarque, the others, they are dedicated to the animals.”




       Stefan expelled a breath.  “It was a different group of slaves,” he said.  “All except Chafee; he had remained stalwart and obedient.  But the others -- I had ruined them.  I had to send them away.”  Stefan’s voice was suddenly husky.  “Chafee helped me rebuild.  By then I had learned my lesson.”




       “You learned to torture,” Gabriel retorted.  “Congratulations on your achievement.”




       “I did what I had to do,” Stefan said. 




       “No, you didn’t!”  Gabriel was yelling now. People walking on the lawn turned to watch.  “You didn’t have to!  You chose to!”  He pushed Stefan on the shoulders, so weakly that Stefan barely swayed.  “You disgust me.”   




       “Healer, do you require assistance?”  It was one of the Bearer’s retinue.  Crawford was his name, Gabriel recalled.




       Stefan answered for him.  “Yes, the Healer is ill.  He needs help back to his quarters.”  Without waiting for a response from Crawford or a reaction from Gabriel, he turned and walked back towards the stables.   




       Flashback




       At the cabin, Master Cassender attached the long chain to Mariah by a wrist cuff and went to put the horses in the stable.  She shook her lower arm to feel the firmness of the cuff, and tugged on the chain attached to it.  One key, and she would be free. 




       Present day




       Gabriel’s headache and nausea had disappeared by the next day, but he still felt sick.  He dragged himself to the stables, and having no better option allowed Jordan to distract Pegasus as he searched the horse’s hoof for the source of the abscess. Pegasus shivered with relief when the grayish, foul-smelling stuff poured out. 




       Gabriel wrapped the hoof, petted and spoke softly to Pegasus for a few minutes, instructed Jordan to keep the horse in the stall, and left the stables without a word to anyone else. 




       He gave an interview to the Bearer’s deputy who was investigating the spiked punch at the revel.  It didn’t take long for the culprits to be found – a couple of teenage boys who had sought to separate a slavegirl from her doting mistress.  Although they had intended a mere prank, apparently they cried when they realized that it was only through dumb luck that no one had been seriously harmed. 




       As one of the victims Gabriel was asked for input on what their punishment should be.  He had nothing to say on the matter, except for a snarled no when the deputy asked if he would like recompense by having the boys mix his medicinals. 




       They were made to speak to each person affected.  Gabriel accepted their apology solemnly, but in his heart he did not forgive them. It was their drug that had made him know what he could never unknow, and he hated them for it.   




       He followed his schedule, going to the clinic and on his rounds and to the dissection room.  If it was harder for him to summon the energy and compassion needed for the ill, or the patience needed for those who wanted to learn, few seemed to notice.




       Mariah met his depression with seeming apathy.  She went where she was supposed to go and did what she was supposed to do, but initiated no interactions.  That suited Gabriel just fine. 




       Animal and Rose were concerned, but, after Gabriel accused Animal venomously of keeping knowledge of the use of the slave saddles from him and claimed to only half believe him when he denied it, for a time Animal kept a wary distance. 




       When Gabriel’s mood had not lifted a couple of days later, though, Animal confronted him and refused to be put off.  He went so far as to suggest that the effects of the drug had lingered, and the healer himself should seek healing. Gabriel met the first part of Animal’s concern with a bitter smile, but responded to the second with a semblance of normalcy.  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said mildly.  “But maybe I could use a change of pace.”  And so he made plans to visit the west fields to investigate the slaves he had heard about who used needles to cure diseases.




       It was easy to arrange.  Although Gabriel felt a pang about leaving Pegasus in the stables, her hoof still needed aftercare and he could not ride her yet.  He had to trust that Jordan would tend to her properly.  He found coverage for his clinic and told his students that the autopsy lessons would resume when he returned.




       On the morning of his planned departure, Gabriel pushed back his chair from the breakfast table and grabbed the pack he had left leaning against the wall.  “I’ll be back in a few days,” he said. 




       For a moment the only sound in the room was the scraping of the straps of Gabriel’s pack as he adjusted them.  But as he began to walk towards the door Animal asked, “You’re not taking Mariah?”




       Gabriel glanced at her and shrugged.  “She can come or stay, as she pleases.”




       Mariah stiffened, and stared at her plate.  Animal nudged her.  “Go on,” he said.  Her face burning, Mariah followed Gabriel out the door.   




       She lost her breath as she kept up with Gabriel’s long strides.  They neither looked at each other nor spoke as they crossed the mansion towards the distant westernmost exit.  When they came at last to an entrance hall, grander than the one near Gabriel’s apartment, Mariah put her hand out to Gabriel's arm.  "Master,” she began, and faltered. 




       Gabriel slowed.  Mariah scowled as she said, "I didn’t know about the slave saddles, I swear.”




       Gabriel nodded, but he made no other response.  “You believe me?” Mariah asked.  There was an angry challenge in her voice, but, had Gabriel been looking, he would have seen that he eyes were pleading. 




       Again Gabriel nodded.  “Why would you lie about that?” he asked, emphasizing the last word. 




       “I haven’t lied about anything,” Mariah snapped.  Gabriel raised his eyebrows, with a shadow of his usual humor.  “Not to you,” Mariah amended.  “Not about anything important. And when I did lie, you always knew it.”




       Gabriel’s lips twitched into an actual smile, his first in days.  Mariah did not respond in kind, but the pressure lifted somewhat from her chest. 




    Although Gabriel’s smile did not last, his face was less closed than it had been.  He took off his pack and sat down heavily on a bench across from the picture window of the entrance hall.  Not sure what to do, Mariah sat next to him.  “I’ll never forget the first moment I saw you,” Gabriel said, so softly that he could have been speaking to himself.  “You were wild and regal and magnificent.”




       Mariah recalled that Gabriel had said something similar once, a long time ago. “I was a runaway slave, nothing more,” she said.  


       “I saw that in the next moment,” Gabriel responded.  Mariah bowed her head.  “But by then it was too late.  I thought I had already seen into your soul.”  His voice was without warmth.  “All this time I thought that.  All this time I didn’t understand.” 




       “Understand what, Master?” Mariah asked bitterly.  “That I’m not wild or regal or magnificent?” 




       “I didn’t understand that you were playing a mindgame with me.” He laughed humorlessly.  “At first I didn’t know what a mindgame was, so you can’t blame me.” 




       His words hung in the air between them.  At last Mariah said stiffly, “I don’t know what you mean.” 




       “Don’t you?”  Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said,  "I saw you the other morning, after the revel."




       Mariah looked at him blankly.  "Of course, Master.  I helped Master Animal bring you home."




       "Before then.  I saw you giving that man oral sex."




       Mariah nodded, still puzzled.  "I gave a blow job to a master.  That's right."




       Gabriel's eyes bored holes into her.  "You enjoyed it," he said, disgust pouring out of him.




       Mariah nodded again.  "Of course.”  She froze suddenly, Understanding crept onto her face.  “You’re shaming me?” she asked, both incredulous and hurt. 




       Gabriel recoiled, and shook his head.  “No, I . . .”  Then he shrugged, but before he could continue, Mariah’s face changed again.  It was closed, and angry, as closed and angry as Gabriel had felt until a moment ago. 




       “Are you going to tell me you didn’t enjoy fucking Kishamie?” she demanded.




       “Who?” Gabriel asked.




       Mariah stared at him.  “The slave girl you spent the night with.” Gabriel continued to look at her uncomprehendingly.  “The one who Mistress Esmerelda trained to be to your liking!”




       “Her?” Gabriel asked, genuinely confused.  “You think I had sex with her?”




       Mariah bristled at the mindgame and considered not answering.  But she did, furiously, ticking off her reasons on her fingers.  “She was trained to be to your liking.  You spent the night together. You were exhausted the next day.  You told Mistress Esmerelda she had given you one of the best nights of your life, that she was ‘terrific.’” 




       Mariah’s voice dripped with loathing, but to her chagrin, Gabriel snorted. He held up four fingers to match Mariah’s, and bent them down as he responded to each of her points in reverse order.  “I lied to Esmerelda. I was exhausted because I spent hours convincing that dull girl that Esmerelda wanted her to please me and she could please me best by lying to Esmerelda, and then I had to teach her how to lie.”  Mariah looked confused, and then surprised, and then she started to laugh.




       Gabriel wasn’t finished.  “And if Esmerelda had truly wanted to send me someone to my liking, she wouldn’t have sent a simpering kitten.”




       Still laughing, Mariah asked, “What would she have sent, then?”




       “Don’t you know?” Gabriel asked softly.  Mariah shook her head.  “She would have sent a dark-haired green-eyed beauty who scowls more than she smiles.  A woman who would never admit to listening to my lectures, but who could tell me without thinking the ingredients of a tea I would give to someone with a wrenched back.”




       “That’s easy,” Mariah said.  “Ground turmeric root with honey.” Gabriel nodded, and Mariah suddenly understood that he was talking about her. He leaned in closer to her. 




       “A woman who laughs rarely but with commitment,” he continued softly.  “A woman so smart that if her circumstances and her temper allowed she could hope to sit among the wise, but so foolish that she doesn’t know who her friends are.  A woman brave to the point of foolhardiness, but too scared to recognize the truth of her circumstances.” 




       Gabriel’s forehead was almost touching Mariah’s and he bored into her eyes with his look.  Mariah wanted to gasp for breath.  She felt like her ribs had broken again.  Without thinking she reached up to touch Gabriel’s face. 




       But he pulled back with a jolt, and shook his head.  “But not a slave,” he said.  “Not a girl who takes pleasure in her own degradation.”   




       Mariah had to stop herself from crying out.  Instead, after a moment, she said, dully, “I do what I have been trained to do.”




       “I know,” Gabriel spat.  “Just as Jordan has been trained to ride a horse with a rod up her ass.  Just as she would choose that, you choose to enjoy being raped.” 




       The tip of Mariah’s nose slowly turned red, and she blinked her eyes rapidly.  She stared stonily ahead, unmoving. 




       Gabriel had been lost in his own bitterness, but when he glanced over at Mariah he was shocked by the look on her face.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”




       “Of course you didn’t,” Mariah snapped.  “You would never mean to hurt someone’s feelings.”  Gabriel started to respond but Mariah was still talking.  “That would be beneath your dignity.  You are good and kind.”  Gabriel shook his head.    “You are good and kind and smug and sanctimonious,” Mariah said.  “You think that because you have choices in your life that slaves have choices in ours.  And maybe we do.  Maybe I could have avoided catching that master’s eye, or directed him back to his own slavegirl.  Maybe I just wanted to feel the touch of someone else for the first time in months.  Maybe I was jealous of Kishamie.” 




       Mariah stood up and faced Gabriel.  He had to force himself to meet her glowering eyes.  “But for you to judge Jordan, for choosing to do what she has to do to work in the stables . . ..”  Mariah seemed momentarily at a loss for words.  “I don’t see her every day as you do,” she said, “but even I know how much she loves the horses and riding them, how she cares for the other stablehands and even for Master Stefan.”  Gabriel shook his head.  Mariah continued, ruthlessly, “You’ve never been faced with a choice between tortures, and you never will be. You will never understand.  You couldn’t live a slave’s life with one tenth the grit that Jordan has.  And yet you pronounce her unworthy!”




       Abruptly Mariah fell to her knees.  “This slave begs permission of her master to return to his apartment.” When Gabriel did not reply, Mariah sprang to her feet, and walked away.  




       Flashback




       In the end, it was easier than Mariah has ever dreamed it would be.




       The idea came to her as she examined her wrist shackle for weakness.  Twisting it too hard, it chafed her skin.  She continued to twist it, ignoring the pain.




       That evening, as Master Cassender lay on top of her, she raised her hands over her head.  When he inevitably put his own hands on her arms, she cried out in pain.  Surprised by such a reaction from her, Master Cassender withdrew. “What’s the matter?” he demanded.




       Mariah crooned in imitation of Griley, and held up her shackled wrist.  With a curse Master Cassender stumbled to his trousers where the key was in the pocket, and unlocked the bond.




       After that it was merely a matter of fucking Master Cassender until he couldn’t move.  The second time Mariah made the smallest of overtures, touching his chest with her hand.  The third time, she dropped her rag act, reaching for him and taking him in her mouth.  Although he was clearly surprised by her initiative, he did not stop her, and when she finished he dropped snoring to the bed.




       Mariah looked at him as he slept and could not feel the familiar hate.  He had not been the worst master, and had never been purposefully cruel. “Thank you,” she whispered, and walked out the door. 




       The half moon provided enough light.  She walked straight to the wall and then turned right and followed it, traveling easily on the hard clay. 




       In the darkness her hearing was more acute.  From the other side of the wall came the sounds of small animals scurrying on fallen leaves, and then a howl; Mariah was not sure whether it was a wolf or a coyote.  She hurried forward.  She had been walking about an hour, but a horse could make the distance in a quarter that time.




       And then the sun was rising.  If the light had not improved Mariah might have walked past the hunters’ gate without seeing it.  It was merely a break in the barbed wire at a strange angle. She pushed, and stepped through, and was free. 


       


       Present Day


       


       It was lucky that Mariah encountered no humans at leisure as she made her way back to Master Gabriel’s apartment, because any master or mistress who saw her defiant, angry face would surely have punished her into humility. 




       She slammed the door to the apartment so hard that one of Master Animal's pictures fell off its hook and slid down the wall.  The bottom of its frame landed on the floor with a thud. 




       Mariah hung it back up. Animal changed the wallhangings frequently and Mariah had not seen, or maybe had just not noticed, this one before.  It was a sketch of Gabriel lying on the couch, his arm thrown over his face, clearly exhausted.  Mariah had seen him in this pose many times, after long days in which masters and mistresses clamored for his attention, for themselves and for their favored slaves.  Even with the coterie of apprentices, they were too much for him. 




       "I don't care!" Mariah said, startling herself with the sound of her voice.  "I hate him," she said more quietly.  She looked at the picture again.  He seemed so alone, and, Mariah realized suddenly, so lonely. 




       Until recently all of Mariah's life had been occupied with survival, and beyond that only rebellion.  And now, alone in a room, a Do Not Molest bracelet on her wrist, her body free of pain or immediate threat of pain, a memory came to her from long ago.  She remembered being carried blindfolded on a horse to the factory, only she didn't know then where she was going.  She had wondered what kind of person she was, and whether she was brave. Life had taught her since then that she was.  As Master Gabriel had pointed out that morning, courage to the point of foolhardiness was one of her chief characteristics. 




       She looked at the picture of Gabriel again, and it suddenly seemed to her that as Master Stefan had once mocked her, her courage was only bravado.  Her life was focused on running away, to nothing.  But Master Gabriel had run to something; to a job to do, to a stranger's life to save.  And every day, when he, a free human, could so easily say no, he said yes, to everyone, to the point of exhaustion. 




       Mariah forced herself to remember her morning meditation; it was Master Gabriel who had turned her over to the hunters.  She visualized herself crossing his path.  She had begged his mercy and he had pretended to give it to her, sending her to a place he had said would be safe.  And then, not trusting him, she had doubled back and been found by the hunters.




       She had doubled back.




       Master Gabriel had meant to send the hunters away from her.  They had found her only because she had doubled back. 




       Mariah’s pulse pounded in her ears.  She stared at the portrait on the wall.  Master Gabriel was a good and kind man. It was cowardice that had made her deny it for so long. 




       He had hurt her that morning, both ignorantly and cruelly.  But he had also made her heart soar.  How could his words have such power over her?  




       “Because I love him,” Mariah said aloud.  With gentle fingers she touched the figure in the picture.  “I love him.”        




       The Western Mansion 




       Gabriel looked after Mariah, aghast, as she retreated down the corridor.  He said, softly, to her retreating figure, "I know Jordan is worthy." 




       He sat on the bench for a long time, lost in thought.  He watched as the mansion came to life at a time of day he once thought only invalids would yet be arising. 




       Slaves scurried by on their errands, some looking fearfully at him and others, mostly those with Do Not Molest bracelets, barely giving him a glance.  Parties of masters and mistresses and their slaves sauntered on their way to some picnic or sporting event.  A slave opened a door Gabriel had not noticed and came out with a cart full of sheets and towels, which he wheeled purposefully in the opposite direction.  A gaggle of children raced past, kicking at a slave three times their age who did not defend himself.  When they went by Gabriel sank lower into his slouch.  After a time he muttered to himself, "I don’t know what it's like, but I will." 


           


       When the hallway was momentarily empty, Gabriel ducked into the door through which the slave had brought sheets and towels.  He found himself in a large closet, lined with neat shelves of bedding, towels, and dishrags on one side and cleaning supplies on the other.  Gabriel took a deep breath.  He removed his medicine pouch and placed it, along with his pack, behind a stack of towels on the top shelf.  He took his boots and trousers off, and his tunic.  The slate floor felt cold on his bare feet as he folded his clothes and put them next to his medicine pouch.  He took a deep breath and pulled his underwear off.  As he moved the towels back in place in front of his belongings, the door behind him opened.




       "You git!"  The slave Gabriel had seen earlier confronted him crossly.  "This is my closet!  You need anything, you ask for it through proper channels, you hear me?"




       "Sorry," Gabriel said.  He started to move past the slave, but was stopped by the man’s strong arm across the doorway.




       "I haven’t seen you in my corridor before," he said.  "Are you new?  Who do you answer to?"




       While Gabriel tried to come up with an answer, the slave looked at him suspiciously.  "You aren’t a runaway, are you?  Because if you are, I'm getting my mistress right now." He turned as if to make good on his threat.




       "No, no," Gabriel said desperately.  "My master's from the central wing.  He came this way this morning with some business in the western fields, and he sent me back to get him some water."




       The slave glared at him.  "There’s no water in this closet, fool.  Get on with you, or I will get my mistress, and she'll give your smooth skin some what-have-you."  Gabriel ducked under the slave’s arm before either of them could change their minds, and walked what he hoped seemed purposefully to the exit door.  A group of masters were coming in and he stepped aside, looking down.  They paid him no mind, and when they passed he went outside onto the stone steps. 




       The sun was bright, and Gabriel wished he had thought to put some aloe on his skin to prevent burning.  He hurried down the steps and into the shade besides them to try to decide what to do.  He had not thought that being naked would make him so self-conscious, especially after all these months surrounded by slaves.  He resisted the urge to cover his penis with his hands.




       "You there!"  Gabriel looked up, startled, into the imperious face of a master who was reaching for his whip.  The man was tall and fit, a little older than Gabriel.  At his side was a mistress, black-haired, blue-eyed, annoyed at the interruption.  "What's your business?" the master demanded of Gabriel.




       Gabriel stammered, "My master...he was thirsty... he sent me to get water, but I..."




       The whip slammed into Gabriel's front, around his arm and into his lower back.  Before Gabriel could react, the master hissed at him, "Don't you look me in the face!"  He raised his whip again.  Instinctively Gabriel raised his arm to defend himself.  He realized his mistake and lowered it, but it was too late. 




       "You dare?" The master sounded more surprised than angry.  He looked over at the woman with him, who shrugged.  "Standard position," he ordered Gabriel.  Gabriel struggled not to hesitate to comply as he raised his hands behind his neck and spread his legs.  Fear started to fill his belly like water, but before he could begin to get it under control the master had kicked him in the stomach with his booted foot.  Gabriel fell to the ground, doubled over.  "Get up," the master said with a deathly calm, but Gabriel didn't hear him.  The master raised his whip again, but before he could strike his consort stopped him.




       "Leo, he is unmarked," she said to him.  She stepped closer to Gabriel's writhing figure.  She turned him over with his foot.  "No scars, nothing...Just the one whipmark you gave him." 




       Gabriel fought to control himself.  He opened his eyes and saw the mistress looking at him almost kindly.  "What is your business?" she asked.  Gabriel thought wildly about telling the truth--that he was just playing a foolish game.  No, he told himself firmly as his wind started to return.  I will see this through to the end.




       "My master," he gasped.  "He’s going to the western fields.  He sent me to get water.  I...got lost." 




       Leo's whip slammed into Gabriel's buttock.  Gabriel gave a short, piercing scream, fire threading through his body.  "Show respect when you speak to Mistress Pria," Leo growled.  Gabriel struggled through the pain to figure out how to do that.  What would Mariah do?  She would spit on them and dare them to punish her some more.  But if she were playing a different game...the one where she cooperates... Gabriel rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled the few feet to the Mistress.  He kissed her shoes.  "Forgive me, mistress," he panted.




       Pria looked him over.  "He doesn't have a do not molest bracelet," she said to Leo. 




       Leo shrugged.  "Wouldn't care if he did," he said.  "I won't have a boy saucing you, love." 




       "Stand up," Pria ordered Gabriel.  Gabriel tried to do so, his body still racked with pain.  He straightened as quickly as he could and put his hands behind his neck, remembering to look at the mistress’s feet.  "He is very healthy," Pria said, looking him over.  "His master must be punishing him, or playing a mindgame."  She stroked her fingernail across Gabriel's nipple.  Gabriel fought to think of something else, but the mistress trailed her hand down slowly across his stomach and abdomen and groin until she was gently stroking his penis. 




       She laughed delightedly.  "He's so tender,” she said, "almost as if he’s unbroken."  She raised her hand on Gabriel's shoulder.  "Look at me," she commanded in a low voice. Gabriel raised his watering eyes to hers.  She petted his jet black hair.  "Who is your master?" she asked him.




       "His name is An...Master Animal," Gabriel answered.  He added quickly, "Mistress." 




       "The painter?"  Pria and Leo exchanged surprised looks.  "I never knew him to keep any slaveboys." 




       Leo shrugged.  "But everyone knows he's a pansy," he said.  "That explains why the boy is unmarked." 




       Pria considered Gabriel for a minute.  "Did he send you out without a bracelet to punish you?"




       "I don't know, mistress," Gabriel said.    




       Someone laughed when he said this, and Gabriel realized for the first time that a small crowd had gathered around in a semi-circle about them.  He did not know how long they had been there.  Pria looked around in annoyance.  "Finders keepers," she said.  She snapped her fingers. 




       When Gabriel didn't move, Leo put a foot in front of him and pushed him, causing him to trip and fall onto his hands and knees.  "Crawl, boy," he growled. 


        


       Gabriel obeyed.  Within a few yards the pain started in the palms of his hands and his knees.  It quickly spread to his wrists and his lower back.  He reached into his mind for numbing techniques.  A whip flashed onto his buttocks.  "Faster," Leo growled.  Gabriel suppressed a groan.  The crawling hurt much more than the whip.  Could it only have been a few hundred feet when they turned to go into the mansion?  He was shaking with the strain.  Pria noticed and laughed.  "Stop," she ordered him.  Gabriel thought she might take pity on him when she stepped in front of him.  But she untwined a ribbon from her hair.  "Open your mouth, dear," she said.  Gabriel obeyed, and Pria put the center of the ribbon in his mouth. She gathered the ends behind his head like they were reins attached to a bit.  Then she sat cross-legged on his back.  "Don't let me fall, there's a good horsey," she said.  "Giddyup." 




       The Central Mansion




       Mariah prowled restlessly around Gabriel’s apartment.  She tried to do her breathing exercises but could not focus.  When the patio door slid open she turned around eagerly, but her face fell.  “Rose, we need to . . .”  Animal began.  Then he saw it was Mariah.  “What are you doing here?  Did Gabriel decide not to go to the western fields after all?”




       “He went without me, Master,” Mariah said.  Animal blinked.  “I haven’t seen Rose.  Can I help you with something?”



       "You?"  Animal snorted.  "I need pigments mixed, not glared at."  He went to the kitchen area and started rummaging through the oversized spice jars Gabriel kept there.




       Mariah followed him.  “What are you looking for, Master?  I know how Master Gabriel organizes his herbs.”



       Animal put down the jar he was holding and looked at her, his eyes narrowed.  "What are you up to?"




       Mariah started to shrug and turn away, but then she met Animal’s eye.  “I want to help," she said.




       "Help a human?"  Animal said.  He crossed his arms.  "Why?"



       "Not help a human," Mariah said.  "Help you.  And . . ."  Her voice faltered.  "I just want . . ."  She coughed a little, and then looked at Animal defiantly.  "I want to be better," she said.




       Animal stared at her, and then softened.  "Oh, dear one,” he said.  "Don't you know that you're spectacular just as you are?"




       Mariah scowled.  "No," she said.  "I'm selfish and mean. I'm no use to anyone."  She stood up tall and said, defiantly, "I'm going to change."




       “That would be a loss to us all,” Animal said. 




       Mariah shrugged and looked down.  Animal could see her taking a deep breath.  When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. Her voice broke.  “I want to be worthy of--”  She stopped.        




       Animal looked at her steadily.  "Of him, you mean?  Of Gabriel?”  Mariah nodded.




      “You never will be,” Animal said. 


     


      Mariah gave out the softest of whimpers, and raised her hand to rub her eyes.  Animal took an almost clean cloth from his pocket and handed to her.  “No more than I’ll ever be worthy of Rose,” he said.  “But they don’t mind.”




       Mariah shook her head.  “Gabriel minds,” she said.  “He said things to me . . . “  She wiped her eyes with Animal’s handkerchief. 




       Comprehension dawned on Animal.  "He told you some hard truths about yourself that you didn’t like to hear.”  Animal grimaced.  “He’s done the same to me.  It hurts.”




       Now Mariah shook her head.  “Not truths,” she said. “Mean things.  Not just about me, about Jordan too.  He was hateful.”




       Animal regarded her.  “You know he hasn’t been himself these last days,” he said, gently.  “If he’s not back to normal by the time he returns from the western fields, I will make him see a healer.  I’ll talk to the Bearer if I have to.”  He picked up a jar from the counter and turned it so that the glass glinted in the sun coming through the window.  Carefully looking down, he asked casually, “Why do you suddenly care what he says?"




       Mariah froze.  She couldn't answer. 




       But Animal rescued her.  "You love him," he said softly.  She nodded.  He tilted his head and looked at her with a peculiar glint in his eyes.  "You realized it when he said mean and hateful things to you?"




       Mariah bristled.  “Of course not!” she said hotly. “I realized it when I looked at your picture.”  Animal raised his eyebrows and looked where Mariah was pointing to his sketch on the wall.  “You captured him,” Mariah said.  “Rose could say how, maybe.  I just know that I looked at what you drew and I saw him and I remembered . . . “  She faltered.  “I realized . . .  I felt . . . “  She trailed off. 




       Animal stared at her, then grinned and bowed.  “Another art connoisseur, under my nose,” he said, mostly to himself.  Louder, he said, “If you’re serious about helping me, find me Gabriel’s stock of yarrow.”   




       THE WESTERN MANSION


   


       The iron collar around Gabriel's neck was attached by a short chain to a ring in the floor, so he could only lift his head a few inches.  Even this act was made difficult by the fact that his hands were cuffed behind him, and his knees held wide by a spreader bar.  He was trying to eat off a plate on the floor. He remembered a time when he had wanted to taste slave gruel and Animal had warned him away.  An innocent time.  Before Mariah.




       Gabriel sobbed, which made some of the gruel, mixed with drool, fall out of his mouth onto the plate.  Nobody noticed.  His master was sitting at his desk tapping pensively with a quill pen on a piece of blank paper.  His mistress was plucking the pubic hairs of their housegirl, Kevra.




       Gabriel couldn't remember what he was doing here.  He had wanted to make some kind of point with Mariah, but what?  And why?  He had saved her life and she had responded by spitting on him.  He had devoted himself to her and she called him a liar.  Well, now he was one, pretending to be a slave.  It was time to end the charade.  He raised his head as high as the chain would allow, and cleared his throat.  "Excuse me," he said.




       THE CENTRAL MANSION




       Mariah spent the afternoon with Rose, helping her to mix pigment.  Later, after dinner in Master Animal’s apartment, Master Animal looked at Mariah awkwardly.  “I give you my true word, Master,” she said.  “I won’t run.”  Animal nodded, and Mariah walked across the courtyard to Master Gabriel’s apartment, feeling suddenly lonely and bereft.




       The next morning Rose invited Mariah to join her in the exercise yard.  Mariah accepted, relieved that she would not have to spend the morning alone. 




       She was surprised when a groom handed her a breast band.  She had never needed one before, but as she started to skip rope next to Rose she was grateful to have it.  She had gained weight and her breasts bounced with each jump.


       


       Within a short time Mariah was winded and covered with sweat.  As she slowed she looked around cautiously for the yard mistress, but the woman was examining the knee of a boy on the other side of the yard. Mariah started and stopped several times while Rose jumped steadily, a little flushed from the exertion but barely breathing heavily.  When they finished, Rose led Mariah over to the weights, where Mariah was able to hold her own. 




       After a stretching session Mariah started to follow Rose to the showers lining a wall of the courtyard.  A groom stopped her. He touched the end of Mariah’s hair and tsked.  "We’ll get you to the front of the rotation today.  Are you new to this wing?”




       One of the other slaves, who Mariah did not recognize, answered for her.  “She’s not new.  She’s Mariah.  She belongs to Master Gabriel.”




       “Really?”  The groom looked at her with new interest, but then turned his attention back to her hair.  “Well, your master may be a vet but I guess he doesn’t know how to fix split ends.  Come find me after your shower.  I’m Ollie.” 




       It had been a long time since Mariah had been properly groomed. When Ollie asked her what her master wanted, Mariah remembered that Gabriel had called her a green-eyed beauty, and smiled foolishly.  Ollie rolled his eyes. 




       He did nothing drastic but he took his time.  As he was putting a coat of clear polish on Mariah’s fingernails, a girl sat in the chair next to hers. Ollie sneered.  “It’s not your day,” he said.  Mariah, surprised by his sharp tone, looked at the girl.  She seemed on the verge of running away, but instead she said in a voice so low Mariah barely heard her, “Will you talk to me?”




       “No!” Ollie said.  “Stop bothering her!”




       Mariah bristled, but before she could say anything the girl whispered, “It’s not up to you.”




       Mariah looked around and saw the yard mistress near the weights, counting down as a group of slaves did pushups.  "She won't mind," the girl said to her, "as long as we don’t make a fuss."  She glanced at Ollie and then away from him. 




       “I’ll talk to you,” Mariah said.




       Ollie shook his head. “I’ll be back to put on a second coat when this is dry,” he said.  “If she bothers you, just kick her away.  She’ll like it.”




       Mariah flushed in anger.  But the girl’s face had turned the same color, and tears filled her eyes.  Taking a deep breath, Mariah put Ollie out of her mind.  




       "What's your name?" she asked the girl.




       "Juicy."  Mariah stared at her.  "Because I'm a slut."




       "You don't have to say that to me," Mariah said. “I’m just a slave.” 




       "I do," Juicy said.  "That's what I have to say whenever anyone asks my name.  My mistress will know if I don't."  She looked down at her hands.




       Mariah was at a loss.  She wished Rose were here, but she spotted her near the massage tables chatting with Raul. 




       "Is it true what they say about you?  That you escaped?"




       Mariah relaxed, relieved to be back on familiar territory.  "Yes," she said.  "I was outside the wall for five hours." For the first time her words sounded hollow to her.




       "What was it like, being free?”




       The eagerness in Juicy’s voice made Mariah pity her. She had talked many times about those hours outside the wall, before the dogs came, but she had never allowed herself to relive them. "At first it was glorious," she said.  "But then . . . ”  She remembered the overwhelming fear she had felt when she realized she was completely alone, with no food, no water, no shelter, no friends. Her heart started to pound, and she gripped the seat of her chair with her hands. 




       “How did you do it?” Juicy whispered.  “Did you have help?”




       Mariah forced herself back to the present.  Was Juicy a spy?  No, it wasn’t possible.  She was beaten down and close to defeated.  This conversation was clearly taking every ounce of energy she had. She had no room for a mindgame.




       Mariah thought about the girl’s question.  For so long she had told herself that it was her own ability to plot and deceive that had allowed her to escape.  But in the exchange, when she first met Master Cassender, Brewster, and other slaves whose names she never learned, had helped her convince him that she was a rag.  Griley had pulled himself from the depths of his despair to give her the information she had needed.  With a pang she wondered if he had been punished for his role in her escape. 




       “I had help,” she said.




       Juicy reached over and grabbed Mariah’s hand convulsively.  “I want to escape.”  Mariah stared at her, hearing the same words she had said to Griley, in the same strangled tone, as if the very words hurt her.


 


       But she shook her head, finally believing what Gabriel had been telling her for so long, what she had seen in the map book she had studied on so many evenings.  “There’s no escape,” she said.  “If you get outside the wall, even if the hunters don’t catch you, there’s no place to go.  You’ll die.” 




       “I want to die,” Juicy said fiercely, forgetting to keep her voice low. 




       “Don’t touch her!”  Ollie came striding over.  Juicy immediately let go of Mariah, and cowered in her chair.  “Your mistress should tie your hands behind your back to keep you from infecting decent folk,” Ollie snarled.




       Mariah stared at him.  “I’m just a slave like her,” she said.  “And so are you.”




       A small group had come over with Ollie.  A boy said, “You’re not like her.  Don’t you know she’s a pain slut?”




       Juicy had sunk down in her chair and covered her face with her hands. The slaves stared down at her.




       All of a sudden Mariah was transported in her memory back to the fields.  It was night and she was approaching a fire where a group of slaves were torturing a rabbit.  Then there had been nothing she could do but break the rabbit’s neck to put it out of its misery. 




       But Juicy was no rabbit.  And Mariah was no longer a young, unbroken slave just learning who she was.  She felt the same righteous anger she had felt then, but something else now: control. 




       She stood up.  She took a moment to center herself, and then looked at Ollie and matched her breathing to his.  The other slaves took a step back, not sure what to expect.




       Without breaking her eye contact with Ollie, Mariah reached down and took Juicy’s hand, pulling her up.  “Have you never been forced to be something you did not choose?” she asked.




       “I was born a slave,” Ollie answered stolidly.  “But I never choose to take pleasure in pain.”




       “Don’t you?” Mariah said. “Because you seem to take pleasure in giving pain to this girl.” 




       “She likes it,” Ollie snarled.




       “No, I don’t!” Juicy pulled away from Mariah’s grip. “I can’t help what my mistress made me!”




       Suddenly the slaves around Juicy and Mariah fell to their knees.  Too late Mariah saw that the yard mistress had approached, her whip in her hand, a mixture of fear and fury in her face.  The mistress grabbed Ollie by the hair with her left hand.  “What is going on here?” she demanded.




       Ollie seemed to be at a loss for words.  Juicy fell to her knees sobbing.  Mariah, the only slave still standing, said, “Forgive me, Mistress.  This is my fault.”




       “No!” Juicy kneeled up beside her.  “It’s mine.  Don’t punish her, Mistress Sue!”




       The yard mistress looked at Juicy with repugnance.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she said.




       And then Ollie was on his feet.  “She didn’t do anything, Mistress.” he said.  “I did.”  Mistress Sue blinked in disbelief.  “I disrespected her.  I won’t do it again, I promise.” 




       “I did too.”  A slave girl stood up.




       “And I.”  A boy this time.




       Soon all the slaves except Juicy were on their feet, taking blame upon themselves.  Mistress Sue stared at them, bewildered and nervous.  She raised for her whip.  Mariah, in a desperate attempt to keep the mistress from punishing any of them, fell to her knees, grabbing Ollie’s hand and bringing him down with her.  The other slaves followed suit, each kneeling before Mistress Sue, eyes lowered, obedient, awaiting her pleasure. 




       Mistress Sue surveyed them, breathing hard.  At last she said, quietly, “Disperse.”  The slaves silently stood.  Ollie went the table where he had left his kit and began putting his tools away.  The others moved towards the exit, Juicy in the middle, protected.  Mariah nodded to herself, satisfied that she had done what she could.  But that wasn’t enough.  The words she had said to Juicy echoed in her head.  Outside the wall there was no place to go. 


 


       THE WESTERN MANSION




       Gabriel couldn't sleep.  They had taken off his chains except for one that manacled his wrist to the floor, and Kevra had given him a blanket.  But the penis-shaped gag that his mistress had forced into his mouth when he started to explain who he was prevented him from getting comfortable, or even from doing his breathing exercises properly.  Every part of his body was in pain, and he needed to pee.  




       The window faced southeast, and he watched scattered clouds turn from dark gray to orange and pink.  The same sunrise they could see in Harmony.  His eyes filled with tears as he realized that due to his own stupidity he was unlikely to ever see his home again. 




       "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Gabriel started.  He hadn't realized that Kevra had sat up on the pallet next to his.  He nodded.  The tears overflowed his eyes.




       Kevra put her arms around him.  "Don't cry," she said softly.  "Everything will be okay." 




       Gabriel sobbed while Kevra held him, crooning softly to him.  At last he was able to catch his breath.  "Thank you," he tried to say, but the gag prevented him.  Kevra smiled and started to speak, but suddenly she pulled away from him and scooted back to her own pallet and pretended to sleep.  Gabriel understood why when, a moment later, the mistress emerged from her bedroom.  She snapped her fingers and Kevra sat up, feigning sleepiness. "Tea, now," she said.  Kevra hurried to the kitchen. 




       His mistress turned to Gabriel.  "Poor darling," she said.  "Couldn't sleep?"  The kindness mindgame, Gabriel thought.  Kevra's humanity towards him had cleared his head.  He reminded himself to pretend to be a slave.  He kneeled before his mistress, then bowed low until his head touched the floor.  "Good boy," she said.  "You are improving already.  Your master would be proud."  She walked behind him, nudging his knees wider open with her foot, and then gently prodding his balls with her foot.  Gabriel made no move and no sound. 




       "Bravo, my dear," Gabriel's master said from the doorway.  "You'll have him trained in no time."  The mistress laughed.  "Shall we remove the gag?" she asked.  "I do prefer to hear them beg." 




       Gabriel's master shrugged.  "Suit yourself," he said.  "I think you have made him understand the consequences of speaking without permission."  



       CHAPTER 45: THE NAME'S THE THING




     


       THE CENTRAL MANSION




       Amalie's soft-soled sandals made no sound as she walked across the parquet floor of the revel room.  She stopped not far from the two girls who were drawing on easels with colored chalk. The picture the darker-haired one was drawing held little interest for her.  Depicting a vase of dried flowers floating in the middle of the paper, it contained neither artistry nor metaphor.  A mildly talented child could have done better. 




       As Amalie moved her attention to the other easel, the second girl shook her head.  She turned to speak to her friend and saw Amalie out of the corner of her eye.  Immediately she fell to her knees.  The dark-haired girl followed suit.




       "You may stand," Amalie said.  As the girls scrambled to their feet Amalie walked closer to the easels.  "You're Rose?" she said to the second girl.




       Rose nodded.  "Yes, Mistress." 




       "You usually shake," Amalie said.  "Don't you fear me anymore?"  She sounded genuinely curious. 




       The other girl clenched her hands into fists, but Rose merely bowed her head and said, "I wish only to serve you, Mistress."




       Amalie took her whip off her belt and threw it to the floor several feet away.  Both girls followed it with their eyes, but did not move their heads.  "Whatever you say to me, I won't punish you," Amalie said.  "Do you believe me?"




       "Yes, Mistress," Rose said.




       "Why don't  you fear me?  Your master's not here to protect you."




       Rose glanced at her friend, who remained expressionless.  "You care for my master," Rose said slowly.  "You wouldn't harm me for fun because he wouldn't like it."




       Amalie considered this, then nodded.  "He tells me you care for him too," she said.




       "I love him, Mistress."




       Amalie watched a blush spread over Rose's face.  Once you noticed her the girl was so winsome it made her teeth hurt. 




       She turned to Rose's easel. "I see he has you started on color."




       "Yes, Mistress."  Rose sighed without realizing it.




       "You prefer black and white?"




       "No, Mistress.  It's just . . ."  She sighed again.  "I can't get it right." 




       Amalie examined the drawing.  It wasn't bad, for a beginning effort.  The composition itself was strong.  "What are you trying to do?" she asked.




       "I want to show the sunlight glowing through the petals and the leaves," Rose said.  "But whatever I try doesn't work." 




       Amalie looked back and forth between the flower arrangement and the drawing.  "You're seeing with your brain, not with your eyes," she said.  "You've used lighter hues of the same color where the light hits the flowers.  But at that spot, what color are they actually?"




       Rose studied the arrangement.  "They're white," she breathed.




       Amalie nodded.  Before she could say more the door leading outside opened and Animal walked in, huffing, and pulling a cart with a plush red armchair on it.  Amalie laughed out loud at the absurd sight.




       Animal looked wary when he saw her standing near Rose.  "Come to model for me?" he asked.




       "No," she said tartly.  "To give your girl an art lesson, since you can't be bothered."




       Animal started to glower, but Rose smiled at him and he relaxed.  Amalie picked up her whip, crossed the room and hugged Animal briefly.  Then she stood back and took a deep breath.  "I talked to my triplets," she said.




       Animal slowly wheeled the cart towards his newest panel, which was roughly sketched as a divided apartment, with a family at dinner on the left side, and slaves gathered in the kitchen on the right.  Amalie walked beside him. "And?" he prompted.




       "Curtis is gay.  That's why he's so good with his tongue, to get it over with.  Frankie organizes everything and the others follow his lead although Curtis thinks he's annoying.  Luthor fancies himself in love with a girl in the next corridor, but she refuses to look at him.  Sometimes he shirks his work and Curtis and Frankie cover for him." 




       She helped Animal unload the chair from the wagon and then sat down in it, leaning back against one overstuffed arm and putting her legs over the other. She was wearing a split skirt, and the fabric fell away at her thighs.  "Are you going to say I told you so?"




       Animal shrugged.  "You looked, and you saw.  It took you a lot less time than it did me."




       "My whole life," Amalie said.  "Same as you."  She tilted her head coquettishly but her voice was worried as she asked, "Do I have to be a pansy now?"




       Animal glanced at Rose, who was focused on her picture, her brow furrowed.  "Gabriel would say yes," he said.  "But I can't answer that for you."




       "Would I have to stop shaving my legs?  And drone on at parties about history and justice?" 




       Animal looked down appreciatively at Amalie's legs, and grinned. "If you droned, you would be enthralling," he said.  "People would come from all corners of the mansion to hear your dulcet voice." 




       Amalie laughed shakily.  "And to measure the hair on my legs."




       "Give it time," Animal said.  "My Aunt Marge has a nice-sized mustache coming in." 




       "It's not the life I want," Amalie said in  a low voice. "I want to fit in.  You never cared about that." 




       Animal shrugged.  "I never really saw it as a possibility for myself." 




       Amalie swung her legs around to the floor and walked over to the completed panel where Animal had painted the boy and the girl dipping their feet in the swimhole.  Animal followed her.  Together they looked at the painting.  "I'm afraid," Amalie said softly. 




       Animal nodded.  "I know."




       "I still don't have unnatural feelings for the triplets."




       "You don't have to."




       "What do I have to do, then?" 




       Animal sighed and shook his head.  He wished Gabriel were here.  But Gabriel didn't know everything. "The best you can," he said.  "It's all anyone can ask." 




       Amalie lifted her hand towards the painting, but it was too high up and too far away to touch.  "You'll help me?" she asked.




       Animal nodded, and put his arm around her waist. "The minute I see stubble I'll bring you a razor." 




   


       THE WESTERN MANSION




       "Look at me," Gabriel's mistress commanded him.  Gabriel was not sure what she meant, and hedged his bets by raising his eyes to her waist.  She put a finger under his chin and lifted it until he was forced to look her in the face.  "I'm going to take the gag out," she said.  "When I do that, you will tell me you love me.  Then you will speak no more.  Do you understand?"  Gabriel nodded.




       The mistress gently reached around and unhooked the strap securing the gag.  "Open," she said, and Gabriel opened his mouth so she could remove it.  She slid it along his tongue as she pulled it out of his mouth, triggering his gag reflex. As soon as he could he said, "I love you, mistress."


 


       "No," she said with a smile.  "Say it like you mean it."




       "I love you, mistress," Gabriel said again, trying to put feeling into his words. She smiled encouragingly.




       "Better," she said.  "You may say that without permission, whenever you wish."   






       THE CENTRAL MANSION




       When Mariah left Animal's apartment after dinner, sliding the door to the courtyard closed behind her, Animal held out his hand to Rose.  She stepped back.




       "Are you tired?" Animal asked.




       "No, Master," Rose said, but she didn't look at him.  She hadn't looked at him all evening.




        "What's the matter?"  Animal kept his voice soft.  Rose slipped easily back into docility when he was gruff. 




       She spoke so quietly that Animal had to strain to hear her.  "You should go to Mistress Amalie," she said.




       "Why?"  Animal squinted at her.  "I just saw her today."




       "I know," Rose said.  "I was there."  She twisted her hands together.   




       Animal started to approach her, but stopped when she turned her back to him.  "What did she say to you?" he demanded, then mentally shook himself for being too forceful.




       "Nothing, Master." Rose's voice caught.  "She helped me with my drawing.  But after, when you were talking . . . "  She shrugged helplessly.  "And not just today.  Ever since she came back . . ."  She took another step away from him.  "You should be with her."




       "Be with her?" Animal said to the back of Rose's head.  "What does that mean?"




       Animal only pretended his confusion, to gain himself some time to think.  He had known this conversation would come, but he had hoped not so soon.  Rose would try to sacrifice herself so that Animal could pursue a more normal life, with a human woman, just as Amalie had urged him to do weeks ago. 


       


       He had turned that conversation over and over in his mind.  He had been honest with Amalie when he told her he had no interest in fathering children.  But so much had changed recently.  Perhaps, someday, he might come to a point where he would want to bring a new life into the world. 




       More importantly, for the first time, he had to take the desires of someone else into account.  What might Rose want?




       Of course Rose could never bear his child.  But Animal thought Amalie might be wrong that no human woman would have a child with him, knowing that he loved a slave.  If he, and Rose, one day wanted to make a family, he would find another pansy, a woman who, like him, had built a life with a slave. 




       It could work, Animal thought, but for now it was no more than a kernel of a daydream; nor did it need to be unless Rose  . . .




       But she was speaking.  "She has long legs and a dulcet voice," she said.  




       Her words, and her petulant tone, were so unexpected that Animal stared at the back of her head for a long moment.  Then he laughed with relief.  "You're jealous!" he said.  Rose wasn't going to try to throw him away for his own good.  Not today, at least. 




       Rose turned around.  Her face was wan, and she still didn't look at him.  "I don't mean to be, Master," she said.  "I'm trying not to be."




       Still chuckling, Animal crossed the distance to her.  He took Rose's hands in his.  "I care for her," he said. Rose tried to draw away but Animal held her. "I care for her like the old friend that she is," he continued.  "But I could never love her like this."  He kissed Rose, softly at first, and then, as Rose relaxed into him, hard, urgently.  He stopped but only so he could say, "Nor like this," and he slid his knee between her legs, opening her. 




       Rose shook her head.  "You could," she said.  "She has lips, and legs." 




       Animal contemplated Rose. "But that wouldn't be fair to her.  Because I would be touching her but thinking about you." 




       It seemed to have been the right thing to say because Rose relaxed and smiled slightly.  Animal sighed with relief.  "What exactly would you be thinking, Master?" she asked, teasing now.




       "Shall I show you?" Animal asked.  Rose nodded.  He moved hair to one side of her neck and nuzzled the other side, just below her ear.  At the same time he kept his thigh pressed against her crotch.  She made that little sound in her throat and tilted her head.  Animal moved his lips to her earlobe and her hand to her breast.   




       When Rose began to writhe against him he pulled back.  She gave a whimper of protest and disappointment.




       "Do you want to keep going?" Animal asked her.




       There was no teasing now.  "Yes, Master," Rose answered.         




       Animal took a deep breath.  "Then call me Animal." 




       "Master?"




       "Call me Animal," he said again.  "When we're alone.  Call me by my name.  Please."  He hadn't realized how much he wanted it until he said it out loud.




       "Animal."  Rose elongated the word like she was sounding it out. 




       Animal put his hands around her waist and his mouth found her neck again.  Rose sighed with contentment.  "Animal," she said.  She pressed her body against his.  "Animal."  They were length to length.  Rose wrapped one leg around Animal.  He groaned, his erection rubbing her abdomen.  He forced himself to pull away, but only so he could fling off his shoes and pants.




        "Animal."  He grabbed her leg and put it back where it had been.  She put her arms around his neck and pulled into him so she could wrap her other leg around his middle.  He supported her with his arms, but turned and took a few steps so that her back was against the patio door.  This allowed him to free one hand to stroke her body.  He found her nipple and squeezed it, hard.  She moaned, and he continued to play with her breasts until she was gyrating on him.  Then his hand wandered lower, over her belly, and to her nub. Rose arched her back, and Animal almost lost his grip on her.  Recovering, he continued to touch her, loving that he could give pleasure to her.




       When her moaning became continuous, he slowed. "Are you ready for me?" he asked.        




       "So ready, Animal," she answered. 




       Positioning himself, he entered her. Her slickness was bliss. "Animal."  She squeezed him with her legs, with her pussy.  He couldn't be gentle; he slammed into her.  The door shook behind her to the rhythm of his pumping.  "Animal."  She spasmed around him with his name on her lips.  He continued fucking her as she cried his name over and over, until at last he let himself go, shouting her name back at her. 




       He sank down to the floor, bringing her with him.  They landed with Rose on top of him.  "Rose," he said.  "It's only you I love like this." 


  




       THE WESTERN MANSION




       Kevra woke in the middle of the night, confused.  Gabriel was opening the door to the room.




       "What are you doing?" she asked sleepily. 




       Gabriel turned to her.  "Hush," he whispered.  "I'm leaving.  I'm going home."




       Kevra sat up.  "You poor boy," she said softly.  "This is your home, for now.  Don't you know that?"




       Gabriel looked worriedly into the apartment, but relaxed when he heard a snore from Leo and Pria's bedroom.  He turned back to the sleeping room, closing the door quietly behind him.  "I'm not a slave," he said.  "I need to go.  I have to do it tonight.  They forgot to chain me."  He pointed to the empty shackle on the floor.




       "You poor boy," Kevra said again.  "A mind game has you."  She stood up and tried to hug him, but Gabriel pushed her away.




       "I'll send for you," he said, his voice breaking.  "I'll talk to the Bearer.  He'll give you to me so you won't be punished." 




       "The Bearer doesn't talk to slaves, sweetie," Kevra said gently.  "And you won't make it a hundred yards outside this apartment.  It's after curfew and the nightwatchers are patrolling.  They won't just play with you like Master and Mistress."




       "The nightwatchers," Gabriel said.  "I forgot about them."  He leaned against the door, momentarily defeated. Then he perked up.  "I'll get some clothes from Master Leo's closet." 




       "Snuffly, you can't."  Gabriel winced at her use of the name that Pria had given him.  He turned and opened the door.  "You can't!" she said a little louder.  "When you're caught . . ." She shuddered.  "I can't let you."  Gabriel ignored her, and walked into the hall.  "I'm going to scream," Kevra said.  "I'll scream like I've never screamed before.  I'll wake the whole corridor." 




       "No!" Gabriel said desperately.  "Don't you understand I can help you?"




       "You can't help me," Kevra said. "But I'm helping you.  It's just a mindgame.  You have to play it through to the end." For a moment they stared at each other, neither moving.  "I will scream," Kevra said.  "Don't make me." 




       Gabriel sagged, defeated.  Kevra took his hand and led him back to his sleeping platform. "This is for your own good," she said as she attached the shackle to his wrist. 






       THE CENTRAL MANSION




       Mariah walked across the courtyard, Animal's forgotten sketchpad in her hand.  She was surprised by a knocking sound coming from Animal's apartment.  She saw Rose's backside pressed against the patio door, and Animal pounding into her.  Through the glass she could hear them call each other's names.  She watched as they slid down to the floor and lay together.




       It was hard to walk back to Gabriel's empty apartment, alone.  When was he coming home?         






       THE WESTERN MANSION


       


       Gabriel stood facing the wall, his hands at his sides, in the same position he had held for the last two hours.  Other than blinking he was not permitted to move.  Once he had rocked from one foot to another and his master had whipped him on the ass, a swift, brutal stroke.




       Pain shot like arrows up from his feet.  He was sure his hands were swollen but he was not permitted to look at them.  Spots swam before his eyes and in those spots were people he had known in another life, or the life before that.  Pieter, his mentor, reciting the names of the bones in the human body.  Hazel, his sister, laughing as she chased their cousins in the field behind the cottage.  Animal, with Rose, painting a picture Gabriel could not see. 




       And then Mariah, saying, "Breathe, deep, like you taught me."




       "I can't," Gabriel answered silently.  "They'll punish me."




       "My poor, dear pet," Mariah said, and she caressed his head.  The bubble with Mariah in it popped.  "I love you," Gabriel said to it, only he was saying it to Mistress Pria.




       "Come darling," Mistress Pria said.  "You've been a good boy. Lay down and Kevra will give you a massage."  Then he was laying down and Kevra was rubbing his shoulders and his back and his legs and then, blessedly, his aching feet. 






       THE CENTRAL MANSION


               


       Rose lay with her head on Animal's chest, listening to the beat of his heart.  He roused and moved his hand to her lower back, massaging her sleepily.  With an effort she rolled off of him.




       With a half-stifled groan Animal pulled himself onto one elbow.  "Do you want me show you some more?" he asked.  "Maybe in bed this time?  With my tongue?"




       He sounded so exhausted and so hopeful that Rose couldn't help smiling.  But she shook her head.  "I'm sorry I was jealous," she said.  "I know I have no right.   But the way you were looking at Mistress Amalie's legs . . . "




       Animal sat up all the way.  "I'm sorry I made you feel bad, again," he said gruffly.  Then he sighed.  "But I'm an artist.  For you to ask me not to look . . ."




       "I would never ask you that!" Rose said, shocked.  "You can do whatever you want!" 




       "I want to make you happy," Animal said, so intensely that Rose blushed.  "And if that means no touching and no looking, then so be it."




       Rose laughed suddenly.  "You can look all you want.  And if you want to put your arm around Mistress Amalie . . ."




       "Just my arm?" Animal asked.  He was no longer tired.  "Would it make you happy if I promised never to fuck anyone else?"  When Rose didn't answer he said, "Some people don't.  There's a fancy word for it – Gabriel would know what it is." 




       Rose sobered.  "How could that make me happy?" she said.  "I can't make the same promise to you."  Animal felt like she had punched him in the gut.  She continued, "If I get stopped in the hallway . . ."  It was like another punch, harder this time.  Rose was not saying that she might choose another, but reminding him that she could be forced.  Raped.   




       Misunderstanding, Rose said, "Will you be jealous, like me?"




       "No, not jealous." 




       "What, then?" Rose asked. 




       Animal tried to find the words to tell Rose the black despair he felt knowing that she was at the mercy of every human she passed in the corridor and that he was utterly powerless to protect her. But then he didn't want to tell her; how much worse must it be to be Rose, unprotected? He had no right to add to her burden.


       


       "Gabriel once suggested that I should keep you with me all the time, so that you would be safe," Animal said.  "Would you like that?"




       "No!" Rose said quickly.  Then she stammered, "I mean, only if it pleases you." 




       "Is being with me such torture?" Animal asked.  He meant to tease, but he sounded miserable. 




       Rose put her hand on his.  "I would feel trapped," Rose said.  "And so would you.  It would be worse than the fear of being stopped.  And I'm careful, and I have a bracelet, and . . . "




       Animal interrupted her.  "I get it," he said. He stood up.  "Just promise me, when you are stopped, you do what you need to do to be safe as you can be."  He pulled her up after him, his expression as sour as it had ever been.  "Even if it means you have to take pleasure in it."  He glanced at her and stopped short.




       "Pleasure?" Rose asked, hurt and shocked.




       "If it's a choice between pleasure and punishment, yes," Animal said. "Let your body do what it's been trained to do."




       Rose made an odd sound.  She was crying.  Not her usual quietly welling tears that could easily pass unobserved, but heaving sobs.  Animal put his arms were around her and she cried even harder, dampening his chest with her tears and snot.  He held her.  "Tell me," he said.  "Please." 




       It took Rose a minute to collect herself enough to answer.  "I wish I wasn't a slave," she said. 




       Animal held her.  There was nothing he could say.           






       THE WESTERN MANSION




       Gabriel was on his hands and knees in front of the sofa.  Mistress Pria was using his back as a table.  A crash came from behind him, and the sound of breaking glass, and a stifled gasp.  Mistress Pria stood up and surveyed the damage.  "Clean it up," she ordered Kevra.



       Gabriel couldn't see Kevra but he could hear her sweeping up the broken glass and placing the shards in the rubbish can.  Then she came before her mistress and prostrated herself, shaking. 




       Mistress Pria cocked her head.  "I'm tired to death of punishing you for your clumsiness," she said. "I should just send you to the exchange and be done with it."




       Kevra sobbed. 




       Mistress Pria took her plate off Gabriel's back and put it on the floor.  Placing a finger under his chin she raised him to his knees.  She unlatched the whip from her belt and put it in Gabriel's hand.  "You do it," she said.  "And do a good job, or you'll be next."




       Gabriel blinked dumbly as the whip dangled from his hand.  Mistress Pria slapped his face, hard. "Now," she said. 




       He stood and turned to Kevra.  Her flesh was already mottled from a beating earlier that day.  Gabriel lifted the whip and feebly brought it down.  He missed.  "That's three whipstrokes for you," Mistress Pria said.  Gabriel tried again, this time connecting the whip to Kevra's backside.




       "Not hard enough," Mistress Pria said.  "Three more strokes for you."  Gabriel brought the whip crashing down on Kevra's back.  She shrieked before she could stop herself. 




       "Good boy," Mistress said. "Do it again, ten more times."





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