Mind Games

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.