It's a Slaves' World - Chapter 3

So does that mean I am not getting raped? I mean don’t get me wrong I am thrilled but for Pete’s sake! The ugly, cruel, disgusting and smelly take what they want and then the one truly kind and beautiful person that corners me simply smiles and leaves me standing there trying to catch your breath. I will never understand these people! I pulled the tapestry back a little to peak around and see if the coast was clear. Last thing I need today is gossip about what I am doing sneaking out of an alcove. With a burst of energy I took off running down the hall towards the sanctity of my bunk where I could try and dry off and find a new dress.

I had just finished pulling a new dress over my head and tucking the ripped one away until I had time to mend it when the stout slave from way earlier in the day appeared to drag me off through the maze of slave passages. We ended up in the kitchen where there was a line up of 3 other slaves standing there being inspected by the male slave equivalent of the stout woman that had been dragging me around all day. I was pushed into line and handed an apron. Fumbling to tie it behind my back I missed an instruction from the short, portly and balding man that was inspecting us. A sharp Thwack across my side with a stick just like the one I had been beat with earlier made me jump near out of my skin. "Pay attention! I said, ‘Do you know what you’re expected to do out there?’" With his arms crossed in front of him the man stood there staring me down, the stick gripped firmly in his fist. I nodded briefly as this wouldn’t be my first time serving a master. I am fairly certain that I won’t mess this up. So long I don’t break anything. "Good! The dishes will be placed on the counter when you need them. You will be serving the first three on the right." With out any other instructions we were handed the first course.

No disasters getting there salads to the table. Everything stayed on the plate and he plates ended up in front of their owners with no glitches at all. I was serving three middle age men, thank good I stopped short of the woman from the bath earlier and was clear across the room from the brown-eyed man that I had the encounter with earlier. The four of us stood behind the wall in the kitchen, waiting for the masters to finish their salads. At the nod from the head slave we scurried out to collect the empty plates. When we returned soup was on the counter waiting for our delivery.

The first two bowls went out with no problems beyond a wandering hand on my leg or butt. The third was about to find its home in front of a blonde haired man that was deep in conversation with the lady from the bath when a flailing arm knocked the bowl back against me and down the front of my dress. I stood there with the now empty bowl in my hands and the hot vegetable soup running down my front. I only had time to register what had happened when what I would have swore was hells fury itself coming down on me. The horrible woman from the bath jumped out of her chair, throwing it back as she did, she rounded on me like I had spilled the soup down her front, but don’t worry it was all on me. Her shrill voice filled the air, "What is wrong with you?" With a violent push, I was sent flying back to trip over nothing and fall flat on my butt, the soup bowl flying across the floor. There was an audible thud when I made contact with the floor but my rear was not her concern. "You’re no good for anything but decoration! A waste of money!" She flung her spoon down at me as she screamed. I flinched away, thankful she had nothing bigger in her hand to throw. "Miserable scum!" She reached to the table and picked up her goblet of wine, tossing it and its contents at me. Scrambling back away from the fury I tried to make a dash for the kitchen but was stopped by her hand grabbing a fist full of hair. With a loud cry I fell back to my knees before being dragged off balance. Shit that may not have been a word but it most certainly would count to them. The room was far from silent as the masters cheered and encouraged the woman to beat me to varying degrees. I even thought I heard one say to just kill me and have it done with.

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood when the woman jerked my hair back viciously. "I will teach you how to behave around your superiors you little wench." A loud slap echoed thru my head for several seconds after the impact of her hand across my cheek. Stars flashed before my eyes and I felt a trickle of blood flow down my chin where my lips were bleeding from my teeth. I saw her lift her hand for another blow and closed my eyes at the approaching pain. I sat frozen in place by terror when I finally I felt the fingers in my hair relax its hold and then free me altogether. Taken aback by the sudden end to my berating, I opened my eyes and looked up to find my brown-eyed savior holding the woman’s hand in mid air where it was still poised to strike me.

"Enough Valencia. While you live in my house I will not have you beating slaves to death in my dinning hall." I could see his fingers indenting Valencia’s skin as he applied more and more force to the point where I actually think I saw her cringe slightly. He dropped her hand and returned to his chair at the head of the table. I couldn’t manage to tear my eyes off of the menacing Valencia who still stood over me, glaring at me with rage in her eyes.

I sat there unmoving, unwilling to risk being disciplined again and yet even more petrified of Valencia and her sadistic glare. Valencia turned back to the conversation that had continued without her and at the instant her eyes weren’t holding me any longer I scrambled for the door. I knew I wouldn’t be punished by the other slaves but I was certain that I would quickly start hating my life here if Valencia set her sights to causing me pain. I was quickly pushed out of the kitchen towards my bed to change my dress for the second time this horrible day. I am the worst at first impressions, and even worse at everyday impressions. If I weren’t a slave my clumsy tendency could be passed off as a cute quirk, but noooo I have to be watched like a hawk.

I quickly made my way through the slave passageways in a silly attempt to be unseen. Silly when you realize that everyone I was hiding from was still in the dinning hall. I plucked my soaking dress away from my chest, admiring my handy work. I get the distinct feeling that neither my breasts nor my butt are going to save me for very long here. I give it a week tops before I get shipped off again. They all seem to think beating me is going to keep me from tripping at all the worst moments but so far each and everyone of those masters have been proven wrong.

I pulled my wet dress over my head throwing it into the basket in the center of the room. Sometimes I wonder whose cruel joke I was. If there is are gods out there like all the old slave rumors say, then he has a sick and twisted sense of humor. Pulling a nightshirt over my head I crawled onto my bed, stretching out in my best attempt to get comfortable. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe I won’t wake up. I smiled and drifted to sleep.