Rowena was more broken than she let on. She was more terrified than she had ever been in her life, and she had never felt so alone. The slaver left, off to tend business, but had not locked her in the pen in the basement, telling her he would return shortly. He didn't come back that night. She had questions, she had... anger still bubbling in her. Yes, she tried the doors, every single one of them. Each locked. She stood in front of one of the windows on the upper floor for a very long time, watching the people down below as they went about their lives. Did any of them realize how quickly that life they lead could be changed? Yes, she even considered throwing herself through the glass. Somehow, though, she suspected the under-slavers had been warned to leave her alone, only watch and intervene if she tried to hurt herself. She was certain before she could get any sort of speed up to run at the window, someone would have stepped from the shadows and snatched her back.
Finally she went back to the middle floor, the bookcases. A small nook was there, a recessed wall. She curled up in the corner and let loose of the tears she thought had all been spent. She had a pierced ear. It was unthinkable and yet it was a reality. If she could not convince him to remove it soon, it would heal, the small hole there permanently, ensuring she would never be free again. That thought kept pounding at her, crushing her lower and lower as she sank into a curled up bawl and sobbed, alone.
So many things had happened in those days, she'd seen a slave whipped, another branded.. herself pierced. She had been shamefully displayed before other men. One offering to buy her, or buy her blood price. The slaver had mentioned holding a blood auction. She could not wrap her mind around that, any more than anything else she had seen that day.
He.. the slaver.. had touched her. Held a part of her body that had never been touched before by anyone but her own hand or that of a slave bathing her. She looked down, the kiss of the sun had left those perfect white globes with a blush of pink. For a moment, she could see his hand there too, toying with that bit of flesh. Her belly clenched again. What.. was that? She couldn't even think of a term for it. It was warm, and tight... it felt like hunger but ... not. It was distracting and made her feel like she needed to squirm away, but there was nothing to squirm away from. She was confused, which was better than angry, except anger made her feel like she had a chance, some slim chance.
She had to admit, if only to herself, she had not found the touch.. bad, only, unexpected.. out of place. Rude? Of course it was rude, it wasn't something a man did to a free woman. But... she had liked the way it felt even if she did not know what it meant. Walking, his arm around her? Something in that felt... normal, she couldn't see it as it happened, she was just too overwhelmed that he had ripped the top off and made her walk around like that - exposed. Wait. What was she thinking? No. She did not want this. She.. wanted to go home. She felt safe there. But... hadn't she felt.. safe.. when he cupped her chin, sprawled over his desk and sobbing?
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, then reached up and tugged a book from the shelf and opened it, hoping to lose herself in a ribald tale of adventure. Nope, that was a book on sexual positions! Just.. out in the open! She set it aside and pulled another book down - this one was illustrated with very detailed drawings. Guess what it was about? Yep, sex. Soon there was a pile of books scattered around her. Most about sex, how to get the most out of a slave, how to use her.... a couple were on the discipline of a slave, ways to strike her, how to land a whip to not damage a female slave, and how to send a single-tail against a male slave's body. She finally just gave up and leaned in the corner.. Falling asleep surrounded by those books.
The next morning...
She slowly opened her eyes, sleep had been an elusive lover in the night and her mind played a game of "Spin The Wheel", throwing random memories into visuals that made her relieve the previous day.. over.. and over... and over. From the erotic, to the horrifying, from the humiliation to the gentle way he had touched her as if to soothe her after inflicting his will upon her. There were sounds intruding on the futile attempts she made to remain asleep.
When she finally admitted she could not remain asleep, she sat up, the books scattered all about her. One by one she began replacing them, though she could not recall where they had each come from on the shelf and she hoped there was not a specific order for them; that would alert someone she had been in the bookshelves - and most of those books? They were not ones she wanted to even think about.
The woman was a quick learner, even if she was stubborn.. By this point, she knew the routine - get up, bathe, dress. She dreaded thinking what attire might be laid out for her for the day. She desperately wanted the tag out of her ear, she knew she had, at best, a day to three, to find some way to get it out so the hole could seal up; once that hole was permanent, her hope of every being released from this nightmare would be over, forever marked with a pierced ear. Hoping to not pass anyone except maybe a slave that could help her get her long flowing hair out of the sloppy bun so she could wash it, the sirik ensuring she could not reach her own hair - or that tag in her ear. She shuddered, thinking to herself "tagged... like a bosk in a field, like an.. an.. animal". A soft sob whispered from her throat.
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