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“Leave me!” Curse words in my language poured through the small apartment. It had him laughing again. The door shut and I couldn’t hold to the aggravation or anger when I should have. Had I really let him do that to me last night? Was I so weak to not fight the effects of the oil? My body said I wasn’t weak. I was sore in places I’d never been before, but it was a good sore. An arousal sore. I wouldn’t think about how scratchy my throat sounded, or how much it hurt to swallow. I refused to look at my eyes in the mirror. No…not even how it hurt to move. None of that compared to the dirty acts I’d enjoyed or how enticing it was to feel it again.
Clinking rattled against metal as I shifted my arm. I winced through the jolt of pain, laying down. I had a good amount of leeway to move, but I still couldn’t escape the one cuff if I wanted to. I didn’t even bother to try as I turned off the television. Had I even slept? My Master was ravenous when it came to having me. Once. Twice. I’d only just fallen asleep in the early morning when he decided to have me again. Or maybe that one had been my fault. No wonder my Master was in a good mood. Now he spoke of a fourth?
Yawning, I snuggled to the pillow, closing my eyes. Colors warped, weaving and fading. For the smallest moment I was by the bonfire again. It was night and my father played the guitar as my mother sang with the other women. There was such happiness at the upcoming marriage of me and Donavon. I could still see his smile as he stared across the fire at me. His sandy blond hair was almost to his wide shoulders and the dirt was still covering his shirt from the hard labor of clearing the adjoining field for the O’Farrill’s who were letting us stay on their property for the cost of labor. The night had been perfect. Then…I’d had to go to the bathroom. The walk wasn’t far away. It was one I had to have done a hundred times in the last few weeks. The night was darker than normal, and I’d never seen the man who stood in the shadows. He was there…and then something over my face and mouth, and more dark.
“What did I tell you. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? I saw her on my day off, on the way to pick up more supplies. She’s going to make me a lot of money.”
That had been the beginning of my journey to this place. It was a memory I hadn’t thought of in months. One so painful, it only found me in the realm of dreams.
“Slave. Clara.”
I jumped at the hand on my bicep, blinking the dark room I’d been kept in away. Had I known how lucky I was now, I’d be thanking the Gods those two men had kept their hands off me until I arrived here.
“Whoa. Shh. It’s okay.” Brown eyes scanned over my face as I pushed to sit. He’d already uncuffed me, and I rolled my wrist through the stiffness.
“You’re here.”
At my dry tone, he smiled. “I told you I’d return. And what did I say when I left?” He pulled my hips, sliding me so I returned to my back. “I said be ready.”
“Impossible. I hurt. You broke me there. Later. I need food.”
A seriousness swept his features. “Shit, I forgot.” His head lowered. “I promised Sixty-three we’d have lunch with him and his slave.” Glancing at his watch, he groaned. “We have a little time. Not much. Elec kept me later than I thought.
“It’s early. You smell like papa. Vodka. Where’s mine.”
“Ha! You’re good. Be better and spread your legs.”
At the sting to my skin from his slap, I sucked in air, glaring in his direction. It only had him smiling bigger. He wanted me to fight. Instead, I spread as wide as I could, turning my face away.
“Make it fast. I need food.”
Whack!
“Ze vouch.”
“What the hell is that?” My Master flipped me to my stomach, spreading my legs as he removed his pants.
“It’s pig fucker.”
Whack!
My legs drew in and to the side at the explosion, and my sob was immediate.
“Pig fucker. Original. I’m guessing that’s a really bad word given your constant worry about filth. So, you think I’m dirty?”
“Do you think you’re not? Look at what you do.”
He righted me and pried my legs apart, fitting himself between them as he started rubbing along my slit. “I don’t think this is dirty. I think it’s clean. I bathed it myself. And being as I’m about to be fucking you, I wouldn’t consider you a pig.”
I glared over my shoulder, crying out as he fisted my hair, pulling my head back. Lips brushed gently over mine, cradling under my chin as he held me as far as my head would go.
“I’m tempted to cancel lunch. I don’t think you deserve to go out anyway. You’re a bad slave. You don’t know how to behave. You’d do nothing but cause trouble and add to the headache I’m already starting to get. Besides, you wouldn’t want a friend. That’s what Sixty-three is looking for, a friend for his slave. He adores her, and supposedly she’s so well behaved. A good slave. Not like you.”
“I am good. I am better than this slave.”
“Yeah right. You’re horrible. You can’t even take a cock without crying about it.”
At my anger, my accent thickened.
