Mindgames Ch. 14

Mariah had a flash of a younger man, sitting with his back against the wall, his leg out in front of him, scared. Thinner than Raul was now, and with longer hair, but the same. She nodded slowly. She couldn't remember much about the incident. She said thickly, mortified, "If that happened, I'm sure I was trying to get myself out of punishment." She couldn't meet his eye, wondering what else he might remember about her.

"Maybe," Raul said. "But I know every slave in the center jockeyed to get sent on errands with you. They knew you would keep them safe."

"Everyone hated me," Mariah said flatly.

Raul laughed. "After all this time, you still believe that?" he said. "Mistress Desiree had that mindgame wrapped tight around you, didn't she?"

He did remember. What she had been forced to do, had done, to the others. Mariah walked over to the footstool opposite Raul and sat down, suddenly exhausted. "Tariq told me . . . ." She couldn't continue. His words seared her still, after all this time.

Raul rolled his eyes. "That asswipe?" he said incredulously. "You cared what he thought?"

Mariah didn't answer. She had forgotten how much she cared, how much he had wounded her. To her embarrassment tears pricked her eyes.

Raul shook his head. "I'm sure you don't remember," Raul said, "but you whipped me. More than once."

Mariah shrank back, horrified. "It was fierce," Raul said.

Mariah tried to stand up, to get away. But her legs would not work. She felt exposed, like not just her body but her soul was naked.

"But no worse than most other thrashings I've gotten," Raul continued. "No worse than the one my mistress gave me yesterday for washing a white shirt with a red sheet." He grimaced.

"But she didn't . . . not like . . ." Mariah whispered. She gave up trying to stand up, and put her face in her hands. She couldn't look at him. "I didn't want to," she said.

To Mariah's shock, Raul laughed. "Of course you didn't," he said. "It wouldn't have been much of a mindgame if you'd enjoyed it."

They sat in silence for a minute. When Mariah finally found the strength to raise her head from her hands, Raul was looking at her. "I'm happy," he said. "My mistress is no pansy, but she treats me well as long as I behave. Her housegirl is . . ." Raul paused to consider. "Well, she's the best thing that ever crossed my path. On top of that . . ." He paused, and shrugged, grinning. "After despair, I'm happy," he said.

Mariah found her voice. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, sounding harsher than she meant to.

Raul put his knitting needles down. "If you ran off while I'm supposed to be watching you, I could lose it all," he said. "My mistress might send me away, or, worse, send Wendy away, to punish me."

"Not likely," Mariah said, the act of forming words tiring her. "Rose says your mistress favors you. She wouldn't punish you over something that's not your fault."

"Maybe," Raul said. "But the one who worked so hard to save me from punishment when I was clumsy isn't about to risk destroying my life, is she?"

Mariah glared at him. "If I saved you back then, it was because I didn't want to whip you myself," she said. "Master Gabriel would never make me . . ." She stopped, realizing what she had said. Once again she was giving in to the mindgame. With great effort she stood up and walked toward the door. She would go. She would. But when she reached it she hesitated.

"Rose heated you some gruel," Raul said.

Mariah tried to shrug indifferently, tried to reach for the doorknob. Instead she turned back to Raul. He had known all along that she wouldn't risk getting him in trouble. He had probably spoken with Rose and Master Gabriel about it. The thought made her ill. "Have you told them?" she asked weakly.

"What?" Raul said. "That I knew you once, and you saved my skin, and it meant so little to you that you've forgotten me?"

"No," Mariah said. "The other thing. The whipping, the mindgame -- did you tell them?"

Raul was quiet for a moment. "No," he said. "It never occurred to them to ask, and I think . . ." He took a deep breath. "I think that if they did ask me, seeing how much it matters to you, that I would manage to misunderstand the question."

The relief Mariah felt overpowered her. "Thank you," she whispered. Raul nodded and took another sock from the basket.

Mariah remembers

As far as Mariah knew, Master Townsend never noticed when she left. She had been in Master Edwin's household for a week. He had fucked her until she was sated, then had his girl do the same, and then he had whipped her for her neglect of Master Townsend. Then he fucked her again, and punished her again.

After a few days, when he had made her beg to orgasm and then had his girl shatter her with her tongue, Mariah groveled before him. "You may speak," he said.

"Master," Mariah began, "I . . . this slave begs to thank you."

Master Edwin patted the top of her head. "Now, now," he said. "Just try harder for your next master than you did for Townsend."

Present day

Mariah almost gagged on her first bite of the gruel Rose had left out for her. Of course she would not have flavored it when Raul was there, Mariah realized a moment too late.

Master Gabriel came in from the corridor. He glanced warily at Mariah before he turned to Raul to thank him. "My mistress says to tell you that whenever you need me, I am yours to command, Master," Raul said as he gathered up the socks and yarn. Gabriel merely nodded.

When Raul shut the door behind him Master Gabriel said to Mariah, "As soon as you're ready, we'll leave for the clinic."

Mariah had turned away from him so that he would not see how raw she was from her conversation from Raul. She steeled herself to recall the mindgame. "And if I say no, will you force me?"

Master Gabriel said, quiet and deadly calm, "Come with me, or walk out that door."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. What was this?

When Mariah neither moved nor acknowledged what he had said, Master Gabriel continued in the same tone, "If you're going, go. You've got your bracelet. Take a pack of food if you like. You've as good a chance as . . ." He stopped.

Leaving would be madness. Mariah knew it, Master Gabriel knew it, even Raul had known it this morning, Mariah realized. She could not stay in the mansion on her own, she could not make her way to the wall on her own, she could not survive outside the wall on her own. She was defeated. She shrugged, and lowered her head.

Master Gabriel took a deep breath. "If you're staying here, under my protection," he said, "you will afford me courtesy, and unless you have a good reason you will come with me when I ask you to."

Mariah turned around slowly. It was all the energy she could gather. "Is this how it works where you come from?" she asked, her voice low. "You pretend there's no slavery, but you give a choice that is no choice at all?"

Master Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment before he answered. He spoke slowly, as if to a very young child. "It's how friendship works, Mariah," he said. "And family. And community. People help each other. And in return . . ." He took a step towards her, then stopped. "I don't want to fight with you," he said, his voice suddenly neutral. "I just need to know that you're safe."

Mariah turned away under the pretense of bringing her bowl to the sink. "It's a mindgame," she said fiercely to herself.

Mariah remembers

Mariah jumped when her master slapped her ass. It didn't really hurt, but it was unexpected. She had not heard him come in. Reflexively she gripped the dish she was washing so it would not slip out of her hands. She placed it on the sideboard before turning around and falling to her knees.

Master Brandon was young, barely older than Mariah, and living in his own apartment for the first time. He didn't like Mariah much, she knew that. His parents had chosen her for him after a discussion with Mistress Desiree. The fuckslaves he ordered for most nights were giggly, soft, admiring. As his mother had explained to Mistress Desiree, he didn't know yet that those girls were fine for a few hours, but they were no good for keeping an apartment livable. Not that it took much to do that. Mariah sighed. Dishes, laundry, blowjobs, sweeping, cooking, occasional scattered conversation with her master. Master Edwin had drilled into her that these were her duties no matter how apathetic her master seemed. And, truly, Master Brandon was not as bad as Master Townsend had been. At least he knew her name, and his parents came by often enough to make sure he kept her on routine and healthy.

She knew the other slaves in the corridor found comfort in each other. Not physically, of course; but they managed to walk to the food exchange at the same time, or gather in the exercise yard. Mariah avoided them. She maintained carefully good relations with Aisha, the hallway monitor, who had some power to make her life easier or harder and, to Mariah's relief, did not abuse it. But she had no interest in gossip or, worse to her mind, friendship.

Master Brandon sighed, and indicated his crotch. Mariah dutifully unbuttoned his pants and took his soft penis into her mouth.