Slave Woman's Grave Keeper Pt. 09

On her first return she found, to her surprise, that the woman was still repeating the phrase over and over again, just as Ileana had commanded. "I am nothing. I do not even deserve a name." Her voice was cracked and gravelly. Ileana nursed her and relieved her of her wastes, then commanded that she resume her chant. Certainly, by the time she returned the woman would be broken enough to refuse to speak the line anymore.

Indeed, when Ileana returned for the second visit, the human had drifted into a light sleep, but the moment that Ileana touched her, she flinched and immediately began chanting the line over and over again. Her voice had been reduced to a whisper by then.

When she had last left, the woman was fast asleep - just as she was now.

Ileana looked over the human's soft features. Her face was relaxed giving her an innocent beauty unmarred by fear or the stress of isolation and abuse.

Ileana lightly kissed the woman's forehead. She saw the woman's eyes pop open, staring into the pitch darkness. She took a few quick breaths and finally said, "Are you here, my... my Goddess?" Her voice had recovered some but was still quite raw.

Ileana gently lay her palm against woman's face - slowly sliding it down under her chin and to the top of her chest.

The woman flinched at first, but she settled quickly, and began chanting again. "I am nothing..."

"Shhh!" Ileana said. "That's enough for now... nothing."

"Thank you, my Goddess."

Ileana watched the woman for a few moments. She began to wonder why the human was so compliant. Was she naturally submissive? Did she prefer to defer her thoughts and actions to a more dominant presence? The endless chanting of the single phrase... It must have been painful and mind-numbing - wearing her throat raw. But yet, the woman had done it and seemed prepared to continue. Also, she so easily assumed the task of referring to Ileana with a dignity that seemed to go beyond simple spoken words. From her previous experience, Ileana knew that humans were particularly proud and much preferred to call her demon than goddess.

But this human seemed to have accepted Ileana's conditions. Sure, it was early still, but humans before never bowed so quickly. Maybe it was the fact that the woman was a slave. Perhaps her status predisposed her to accept the power dynamic that Ileana demanded. Whatever it was, Ileana was intrigued.

"I think that you are trying to manipulate me," Ileana said. "I have no idea why. But you have acquiesced to complying with my demands so quickly, that I am almost disappointed. I had hoped to have a good reason to torture you some more."

"I am not acquiescing," the slave woman said. "I am consciously choosing to do those things that you suggest that I do in order to survive."

Ileana studied the woman's face, but said nothing.

"I cannot move or see. I am painfully isolated for most of the time. I can feel the loneliness eating at me already. You are right. In this grave, I am nothing. There is only you and you have all the power. You are my goddess. I will do as you say if there is any hope that I may survive."

Ileana took her hand from the woman's face and swung it as best she could within the confined space of the coffin, slapping the underside of the woman's breast with the flat of her hand.

"Ow!" the woman shrieked and Ileana watched as warm little streaks stretched down from the woman's frightened eyes - tears. After a moment, the slave sobbed, "Thank you Goddess."

"Do you want me to hit you again?" Ileana asked. She placed her hand on the woman's breast where she had struck. It now glowed with the heat of blood flushing the skin.

"No, my Goddess," the woman whispered as she gained control over her tears.

"Then I won't, for now."

"Thank you, Goddess."

"You are not like other humans I have encountered who are always so full of pride - so stubborn. What is there for you outside of this small box?" Ileana asked.

The woman did not hesitate to answer.

"Love."