“Bless the name of the Chama Farian, slaves,” the woman to my right told them, her voice rough and sure with command. “She sends to her serving slaves a gift this day, one who is far lower than they. This slave has allowed herself to be made to serve men, and has dared to show pride for so low a doing. In consequence has the Chama named her slave to slaves, and may be used in any manner you each and all of you see fit. As she finds such pleasure in serving men, you may see that her every waking moment is filled with pleasure. ”
I was pushed forward, then, to land on the hard stone floor on hands and knees, and behind me I could hear the sound of receding footsteps. My skin had gotten bruised and scraped from my falling that way, adding to the pain I already felt, bringing fresh tears to my eyes. I cradled my hands against me for a moment, wishing the hurt would stop, and then it came to me that I was being stared at where I knelt. I raised my head to look around, and found pairs and pairs of lightblue eyes staring down at me in wonder and confusion. The men I’d been left with were still on their knees, but their two straight lines had become a circle, completely surrounding me.
“By the Power and the Strength,” someone to the right of me said, his voice low and filled with awe. “Do you truly think we have been given a slave of our own?”
“Are you not able to see her there before you?” answered a second one to my left. “She has been put in the collar of a slave, and has been gifted to us. What are we to do with her?”
“Anything we wish,” answered a third, kneeling before me, reaching a big hand out to shyly touch a lock of my hair. “She is our slave just as we are slaves to the Chama, and she must serve us just as we must serve.”
“Yes, just as we must serve,” said a fourth, kneeling to the right of the third, his voice uneven and his body trembling faintly. His eyes hadn’t left my face, but suddenly I felt very naked in front of them all. I brought my arms up to cover myself, for some reason afraid of the very handsome man who stared at me and trembled, and the one holding my hair turned his head to that fourth man.
“Do you truly mean to do with her what you were made to do with that mistress?” he asked, seemingly upset by the trembling of the man next to him. “I had thought you were able to quiet the evil twisting within you, to keep it from rising up and haunting your sleep?”
“I have tried, but I cannot,” the fourth man whispered in torture, his hands having turned to fists on his thighs, his face forlorn. “Three full times did the mistress put me to her service, and I have not since been able to send it from my mind. You who have never done the same have no knowledge of how it is, of how your body demands a thing the mistresses have forbidden you. Now the thing is no longer forbidden, and I shall have what has so long been denied me. ”
“No, you may not do this,” I managed to say, half wondering what he intended, half knowing and fearing it. “I am the belonging of another, and you may not do this.”
“How wide-eyed and trembling you have grown, pretty slave,” he said, beginning to move forward toward me even as I tried backing away. “You have been given to us to do with as we will, therefore is there no other to deny us. You are the gift of the Chama, and a gift I must have.”
“No!” I choked out as his hand closed on my arm, other hands holding me until he had caught me. He rose to his feet then and leaned down to pull me to mine, and then he had lifted me in his arms to carry me somewhere. My body hurt where he held me but I still tried to struggle, beating at him desperately with my fists. What he was going to do was wrong, wrong on a level he would never even understand, but if he had asked me to explain that wrong I would not have been able to call up the words.
“Do not struggle so, or the whipping you were given will grow even more painful,” he advised with what seemed like real concern, going to one knee to put me down on one of the thin, neatly lined-up pallets. “You are a truly lovely wenda, lovelier than any other I have ever seen, and I know you will give me great pleasure. Do not fear what I will do to you, for the only pain it brings is an exquisite one.”
He smiled down at me then, a warm, encouraging smile, and something inside me said, Good lord, that must be what he was told! A beautiful slave, a man in everything but his mind, and he’d been frightened when he’d first been called upon to serve in a different way. It must have been like raping a child, taking him and using him and then sending him back where he came from to struggle with the new feelings brought to life within him, feelings he didn’t know what to do about. His big hands came to my arms to stroke them gently, his wide blue gaze consuming me, and I began to shiver again even before the mist thickened back to mush in my mind.
“No, pretty wenda, do not fear me,” he urged, lying down next to me to take me in his arms. “I will not add to the hurt already given you, but will instead bring you very great pleasure. You will like such a thing, will you not? Only allow me to do as I must, and you, too, will be pleased.”
I cried and tried to fight against his strength, not understanding what was happening, struggling to squirm loose, but he held me very tight and forced his lips down onto mine. Even in my confusion I knew the kiss was more desperation than passion, more groping inexperience than calculated heating. It wasn’t a man who held me but a child with screaming needs he didn’t understand, a child who rode in a man’s body. I was naked in his arms and afraid of what he would do to me, and then he pushed me flat so that he could begin doing it. It hurt to struggle but I kept on doing it, even after it was too late, even with all those eyes that watched and wondered and began to think themselves about what it would be like.
9
I knelt on hands and knees and scraped at the stone floor with the smoothing stone, hurting with every movement, the sweat heavy on my naked body. It was hot that day, even inside the cool stone walls, especially with the work I’d been given to do. One of my masters was to have done that job, but he’d been allowed to give it to the group’s slave instead. There had been quite a few of those jobs, but I couldn’t remember exactly how many. I didn’t even know how many days and nights I’d been a slave, but one thing I did know: how many beatings I’d had. Seven, counted for me every time the mistress came to give me another, just the way she had done that morning. That other mistress had been with her again, the one everyone bowed to and called Chama, and every time I’d screamed and cried she’d laughed.
I sat back on my heels for a moment beside the open terrace-doors, dragging the back of my hand through the sweat on my forehead, tired and hurting and trembling at the memory of those beatings. The mistress so much enjoyed giving them to me, and each one hurt more than the last. The mistress always came at different times, never when I was expecting her, and seemed to find so much pleasure in punishing me. It was almost as though she were angry at me about something, something I really had nothing to do with, something that was increasing her anger with every day that passed.
A small breeze came in through the opened doors, bringing with it the smell of dusty sunshine and corrals and stables. I could hear voices outside, voices that were busy at something, voices that belonged to people happier than myself. A few lonely tears trailed their way down my cheeks at how miserable I was, but another thing I knew was something that had come to me close to the beginning of my time there. I might have been miserable, but someone else, someone who seemed to be very important to me, wasn’t. He had turned around and walked away from me, and now didn’t have to worry about monsters who gave away his babies. I didn’t really understand even half of what that meant, but even in the mist and mush always surrounding me I knew it was a good thing. Even the beatings weren’t as bad as talking about babies would have been, and that was a good thing.