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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.
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