Mind Games

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.