And still, I sometimes miss his abusive streak. I have a hunch, however, that once I feel that darker passion rise in me, Boheme will feel it in him, too. Before long I’ll have my long-awaited feast of pain.
9/28 - Just when I thought Boheme had given up on the vile abuse that began our lustrous affair, I’m aptly reminded how we began, reminded of my place, reminded that I am still a slave. First and foremost, I am a slave …
We left Cannes yesterday, taking the train north headed out of France altogether. The feel of the train gets inside me, the gentle sway, the cachug, chug chug, the smell of fuel and the landscape that passes so fast I can never gauge from where we’ve come or understand what lies ahead.
Last evening, I was settling in to read a book, while Boheme sat across from me in our cabin reading his. Like two old shoes. I looked up to wonder if something important had slipped through our fingers. When there was a knock on the door, I jumped half out of my skin. Boheme answering the knock with a gentle yes, the door opened and two men and a woman appeared.
“Is she ready?” the woman asked.
Boheme nodded.
“Ready for what?” Just a month before I’d have never asked when a sudden change took place. The assumption was always in the forefront of my thoughts that I could be swept up at any minute and be used for sex. This was so far from my thoughts last night, I found myself protesting as the two hulking men pulled me from the comfort of our private car and took me toward the back of the train. My last glimpse of Boheme, he bore a stern expression that I’d seen many times, an admonishment to behave myself like the good slave I am.
Past the parlor and dining cars to the very last baggage car, I was pushed to a chair and told to sit there, and not move. Obviously we were waiting for something. When the train began to slow and lurched to a stop, I almost fell off my seat. I was held there only by a strong hand on my shoulder. With no windows in this car, I couldn’t see out to understand where we were. But it wasn’t minutes before three men climbed on board, coming in from the outside letting the heavy door behind them bang.
“You have good flesh to offer?” my companions were asked.
“Prime. Just look at her.” The bodice of my soft dress was abruptly ripped from me, the torn thing hanging limp while my naked bosom showed.
One raised eyebrow on one interested man, he nodded as if he was pleased. Pulled to my feet, there was another swiping at my clothes and I was standing naked in the presence of them all.
“She’s highborn, according to her papers,” one of my companions said, handing a packet to the men who stared at me.
Perusing the documents, he stuffed them back inside the envelope and handed them back.
“The train leaves in two hours, she’ll need to be back then.”
“My master’s in the station house, this should take no time,” one of the men informed those who’d claimed me from Boheme.
Transferred from one group of three to another, I wondered how many times I’d be passed along before I reached my final destination. I didn’t have long to think about that, however. With a cloak thrust over my shoulders to cover my nakedness, I was taken from the train car, and escorted inside the station. I could see by the bustling activity throughout the large building, that this was a major city. Tucking my head inside my cloak, so that I wouldn’t be easily noticed, I managed to avoid the glances of most people as I was led through the main staging area into a corridor and then to a room behind the offices. Once inside the room, my job was simple. The cloak removed, my escort backed away and I stood as an offering before the waiting man.
Such arrogance greeted me, I can’t remember when I’d seen that kind of expression. “I am Ruel,” he said.
I recognized the name and face from long before the time they became recognizable. “And I’m Rowena,” I replied, exchanging haughty glances.
“So you are?” His smirk was both charming and frightful. The man was massive in build so much taller than me, I could easily have felt dwarfed. And such stunning eyes, green I think was the color; though they appeared to change depending on how the light hit them. His hair was like mine, a flaxen gold, though his did not shine as mine did. Brushed back from his face his features stood out boldly, the strong nose, wide mouth and furrowed eyebrows. Ruggedly handsome, just as I knew Ruel would be, just as my visions had told.
“You’ve gained notoriety for a slave,” this leader of one faction of warring rebels continued.
“So I have.”
He looked as if he admired me, and then his face turned into a scowl.
“But you’re still a slave and I’m still Ruel.”
I noted that with a nod of my head.
“Tell me how you knew to write about me.”
“I explained that in my treatise.”
“But I want to know how it was my name came to your mind.”
“When I saw your face in my visions, your name instantly appeared next to it. I can’t explain how this happened. It simply does,” I answered. “I saw the details of your life, ones that I’ve never published.”
“What were those?” He asked looking curious.
“I saw the way your father beat you when you were a child. How your mother stood by and didn’t raise a hand to stop him. How you harbored your hate and anger, while you cultivated a personality that would charm people into doing as you liked. I saw how you vowed to turn your past into a revolution against the state, how claiming to be the only sane choice for the sake of peace, you seek to woo people to you. You hold them enthralled by your gift of persuasion, tell them that you’ll be the reasoned answer to their fears. You give them hope, because giving them hope gives you power and control over them, which is what you want more than anything.”
“You see all that?” He looked impressed and annoyed.
“And more.”
“Tell me more.”
“I also know your darkness, that blackness of anger, regret and pain that remains in you. I know what motivates you, Ruel, and it is not the kindness of your heart. You are not a magnanimous man.”
“Humph,” he chuckled under his breath. A sneer on his lips I almost recoiled from. “So, you want to enter Prussia?” he said with an abruptness that took me off guard.
“Yes,” I agreed. “If that is what my master has planned.”
“Then you’ll have to get by me, slave. On your knees.”
Only then did I appreciate my nakedness, and the sexual facts about our meeting. I was an interesting commodity being Rowena, but I was also a slave. To cross the border into Prussia, I was the barter that gave our train safe passage.
Ruel pulled a thick, meaty cock from pants that he forced between my lips. Seconds later, it slipped down my throat as if the man was trying to choke me. With both hands he pulled on my hair to force my face into his crotch. Something I’d done a thousand times was nauseous until I finally relaxed. With words inside my brain to remind me who I was, I finally relented, letting my own anger go. Once it passed, the rebel sensed it and withdrew.
Dragging me to my feet, Ruel lifted up my body as if I was a downy pillow, and then moving toward the cold outside wall, he pressed me to it with his body. Ruel’s cock going inside my opened cunt thrust and thrust again. His groans were harsh, his harsh hands ruthless, and his lips against my mouth something I surrendered to without a protest. For twenty minutes I was pounded by that large prick. Only when he stopped to slap my breasts was there any reprieve from the vile attack. When he finally finished off, it was with his chest pressed to mine and our lips bound together. For an instant I was left to wonder if somewhere in this lifetime or another I hadn’t had this body and this man before. He was as familiar to me as my lover waiting on the train.
“You are a pleasure, Rowena, Goddess of Sex,” he said with a scowl as he dropped me to my feet, my vagina dripping with his sperm. “We will meet again, you can be certain of that, when we both have more time to pursue this.” Rapping his wet cock on my side, he slipped it ba
ck inside his pants. “Do what you wish in Prussia, but know I can’t protect you or your company. It’s dangerous out there.” He looked as if he was about to leave, but turning back, the perpetual sneer greeted me again. “You will take care of my men before you go. It’s been a long time since they had the opportunity to have a female body as fragrant as yours. What we get in the hills and trenches are just the filthy whores this war’s produced.”
I was only left alone for a few minutes, then joined by several men. I took them in turn, doing what I was trained for. At first I was afraid that I wouldn’t make it back to the train before it was time to go. But Ruel was quite right, these men had not had sex in some time, and they all were quick.
9/24 - We’ve traveled further into Prussia than I’ve been since Boheme bought me, farther than the capitol, into the mountains. I left these mountains several years ago to change my life. And how it has changed. How the mountains themselves have changed. This territory had been the seat of my father’s power, but with him dead the seat of power moves with whatever lord or rebel is heard the loudest. Boheme told me we were traveling in this place because of the lovely atmosphere. He wants to know if the high elevations will affect my visions. I think that’s a strange idea, but then my life is strange, why expect anything less?
We quit the train yesterday in a small town whose streets and buildings look familiar to me. For a moment I wondered if it was the village of my birth. But then it struck me that we’re just in a neighboring town where I spent some of my wild youth, before the rebellion in me stuck and I left home. The palace where my parents lived is only a few miles away. Boheme has said we’ll be leaving in the morning, but before we do, there’s a task that must be accomplished. He was quite clear about that when we dined at midday. Resting after the meal, my master suddenly popped up from his chair and motioned me to follow him. We walked together hand and hand for a least a mile, coming to a graveyard, unexpectedly taking its path.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
“Graveyards are peaceful, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” I replied, looking around at the mountains and the green grass on the hilly slope and the stones that marked the dead.
“I thought perhaps you needed to see this place, just once.”
I didn’t realize what he meant until I stared down at two graves with a freshly placed stone. “Elibris and Johanna Dulciat” the dual stone was engraved.
“Darthganton’s grave,” I said.
“And your mother’s?”
“You know?” I turned to him shocked.
“Perhaps I too see visions,” he said.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.
“You have no reason to rebel against your father anymore. You won, my love. You needn’t be a slave to any man, least of all me. I wanted you to have the chance to cut the ties to your past.”
I stared from my lover/master to the graves that bore my parents. “They buried him with my mother, that surprises me,” I observed.
“While his bride still lives.”
“Does she?”
“Somewhere in hiding the rumor says.”
“They’d love to kill her I’m sure.”
“Dead the moment her face resurfaces,” he agreed.
“I wonder if this makes me vulnerable?” I asked him.
“No one will ever have to know who you are, Rowena,” he said kindly.
I was crying in spite of myself, crying for my father, who’d been blind to truth and blinded by power. He’d loved me as little girl. I used to sit on his lap and he’d sing me songs while I bobbed up and down on his knee. His eyes would capture mine and hold them in their dancing light. Thinking of those moments, I realized whose eyes mimicked Elibris Dulciat, Darthganton. They were Ruel’s. That was why the man was so familiar to me. No one’s sure who killed my father, but I believe it was Ruel, killing the man most like himself. This belief isn’t a vision, just my female intuition making a heart-felt guess.
Chapter Ten
For two days I waited for Gatov, my boss, to make his move. Not a word was uttered nor eyebrow raised, nor one indication at all made to me that he even knew I was now his sexual property. For a time I thought perhaps I had just dreamed those several days, that I still belonged to Sergei, and was seriously endangering my contract with the man by not showing up at the bordello.
Thinking that, I’d then shake myself awake and remember the truth. Gatov the father, Max Gatov the son, and my signature on the new contract. When a telly message appeared on my machine indicating a bank draft for 1100 culiars deposited to my account, I knew for certain.
It was late in the afternoon of the third day, I was sitting at my desk typing copy into the telly, my mind at least for that moment free of thoughts of everything but the work in front of me. As sometimes happens at that time of day, my eyes drooped, then closed and I was jerked awake by my body trying to take a nose dive to my desk for a brief nap. Jerking my eyes wide open, I realized that Ginnis was at the door of the foreman’s office, motioning to me. Already half the primary staff was on its way for some unscheduled meeting, and I, sleepy as I was, lagged behind. Bolting from my desk, I made up the distance to the private office and entered with the others.
The meeting was a no-count one, procedure changes, and a lecture from Gatov meant to highlight a few sloppy policies that our tired minds had succumbed to. Duly admonished, we were dismissed. I hadn’t even thought about my seat inside the office, how far it was from the exit door; but when it was time to leave, I knew I’d be the last to go. Maybe subconsciously I planned it that way. Make the man declare himself. If he thought he’d have me on pins and needles he certainly had.
“Chloe.” As I was about out the door, I heard his voice, but questioned that he’d actually spoken. Turning around I looked to see if my mind was playing tricks or I was right.
“Sit down,” he motioned me to the chair before his desk. He eyed me for a few minutes then spoke, “My father completed my purchase of your contract a few days ago, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’ve given you a few days to get used to the idea.”
I appraised him back, suspicious as always. “No,” I shook my head in disagreement, surprised by the venom I was still able to pour into my words. “You’ve given me a few days to squirm, live in dread and fear, and to torture myself with expectation.”
“Is that what I’ve done?”
“You want me as a slave, I’m a good one,” I continued to speak boldly. “Use me as you will, I’m yours.” I never would have spoken to Sergei this way, but there wasn’t much to stop me.
He laughed. “This is going to be a good match, Chloe Duchet. A good match.”
I didn’t see it that way, but then I wasn’t going to argue the point. Chloe Duchet was a slave, and slaves didn’t do themselves any good fighting anything. I’d still spar with Gatov, but I’d also relent. I had no choice.
“I have two other slaves,” he went on. “They work the bordello in the old ghetto. Before I place you there, however, you’ll stay with me. You’ll move into my house tonight. I’ll have movers pack your things and bring them.”
“No,” I replied to his plans with an unexpected look of fright.
“No? I don’t think you have the right to question me.”
“I was told the contract would be the same as mine with Sergei.”
“And it is, except for a few changes.”
“I wasn’t told of any changes other than the money.”
“Too bad, the magistrate must have been in a hurry.”
“Oh, I think it was done on purpose,” I countered him.
“Think what you like. After we’re home tonight, I’ll pull out the document and we’ll take a look. I don’t want you to think you’re being taken advantage of, because I’m sure that isn’t so.”
“I assumed you were a despicable ass, but … but this is still my life,” I charged. “Except for sex, I am in charge.”
“And just a few
other matters.”
“Well, then, maybe you should spell out the changes so there won’t be more that hit me in the face like a brick.”
“Actually your living arrangement was the only one,” he answered. “The arrangement makes you available to me whenever I want, which is exactly what you agreed to with Sergei. He just didn’t choose to exercise his rights with you the same way I intend to. The thirty hours maximum still stands, you’ll just be serving it in a more immediate way. Besides, you can give up your apartment. Save the cash.”
“I don’t want to give up my apartment.”
“That’s pretty ridiculous,” he suggested.
“But I have a personal life.”
He smirked. “Like reading the diary that you stole from my father’s shop. If it’s that you’re worried about, I’ll be sure the treasured volume is delivered right into your pilfering hands.”
My face was hot, instantly blushing from embarrassment.
“If you think that my father didn’t know from the very beginning that you’d taken it you’re a silly fool of a woman. Actually, he found it quite amusing your secretive measures to extract it from his shop without his knowing.”
“How would he have known?” I found myself asking, when I really didn’t want to. I was sure that I’d only have more humiliation heaped on me hearing the answer.
“The value of my father’s goods requires measures to ensure him against thieves. There are cameras hidden in every corner of the shop.”
Damn! How foolish I was not to consider that possibility. I was a passionate, obsessive and reckless woman the day I took the journal.
“So he’ll want it back?”
He chuckled. “No. He just wants the satisfaction of seeing the results of your research when you’re his to screw.”
“You’ll give me to your father?”
“I’ll give you to anyone I want. That is the nature of the arrangement.”
Not an argument was available to me. I sat in the chair in front of the man trying hard to keep from crying. He couldn’t see that, ever. I’d never let him see the pain or the humiliation in my face. But maybe he already had. In the long silence that followed I was determined not to break. I’d leave that for him, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing another thing about my current state of mind.
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