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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.
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