by Tillie Cole
Yet I didn’t let go of the chiri’s arms. Seeing I was calm, the chiri lowered her head. As she did, I studied her up close. My heart dropped. The disfigurement, what appeared to be a burn mark, was severe. Her hair was patchy, and her skin was red over her right cheek, neck, and ear. A wave of sorrow washed over me.
What had she been subjected to? How was this done? But worse, why was this considered normal? Why did seeing someone so brutally scarred not shock me?
Then I thought back to her words, as anxiety once again tried to hold me in its clutches. Drugs? The drugs? Opening my mouth, I whispered, “Drugs? You said … drugs?”
After a brief pause, the chiri replied, “Yes, miss.”
“Please,” I asked. “Explain. I … I find myself confused. My mind is a jumble of thoughts. I can’t pin anything down.”
The chiri paled. She shook her head. “I am not authorized to speak of such things. I’ve been sent to care for you, nothing more.”
“Please,” I begged. “Why am I here? How am I here? I need something to make sense.” My head pounded as I grew silent.
It was several seconds before the chiri replied. “You were with Mistress Arziani for a long time. You were not in the Blood Pit. But Master called you back. So you returned. That’s as much as I know.”
I closed my eyes, trying to remember something, anything, but nothing was there. “I don’t remember,” I whispered.
“The drugs,” the chiri repeated. Opening my eyes, I waited for her to explain. After rolling her lips together nervously, she said, “You were on the monebi drug. You have been subjected to it for years. When Master called you home, he ordered you be taken off it and instead put onto the High Mona formula.”
“Why?”
“I do not know why, miss. I was simply brought in as your chiri. I have been assigned to your care while you are High Mona. Every High Mona is assisted. It’s part of your privileges.”
A million questions clogged my fuzzy mind, but I picked out one to ask. “High Mona?” I shook my head slightly. “Can you explain? I don’t understand? What is a High Mona?”
The chiri looked up and with a deep breath stated, “Miss, you are Master’s new personal consort. You have been elevated to be his. And only his. You are no longer the property of other males, as you were before.”
All of the blood drained from my face as her words reached my ears. Releasing her arms, I stared down at my hands and saw them shaking. I searched my mind for why the news that I was Master’s High Mona was a bad thing, but I couldn’t remember. It was as though a high wall shielded my past from my mind’s eye. Obscuring the answers to the many questions I had.
“Why am I shaking?” I asked nervously. “Why does this cause me to feel fear?” I clenched my hands together into fists, gritting my teeth through the aching pain. My eyes then scanned the room, at the luxury and the opulence. Nothing looked familiar. Instinctively, I just knew that I did not belong.
As that thought passed through my mind, another took its place. I felt the soft bed beneath me, breathed in the clean fragrant air, and asked, “If I am the new High Mona, what happened to the last?”
The air seemed to fill with tension. As I glanced up to the chiri, I pushed, “Tell me.”
“She was killed, miss.”
My heart dropped. “How?”
“I do not know, miss. She was disobedient. I don’t know how or why, but Master put her to death. Publicly. In the pit.”
“The pit?”
“The pit is where Master’s fighters have their matches, miss.”
Lifting my hand to my head, I gripped my hair. “I don’t remember anything. Yet everything seems so familiar, if that makes any sense at all. It’s like I hold the answers to all of my questions, but they are lost somewhere in my mind and I can’t access them.”
“You will remember them again, someday,” the chiri informed. “The new High Mona drug you have been put on brings with it a clarity you were missing on the Type B drug. It takes awhile, but hopefully sooner rather than later you will remember things that seem out of reach now. The weaker drug is a better drug to be on, miss. Believe me. It shields you from pregnancy, yet it still gives you the need to be taken for Master’s benefit. Though it will not hurt you and drive you insane like before. Master likes his High Monas to be aware of his touch. He likes you to be aware of him at all times. He wants you to feel every single second of being with him. He wants you to remember exactly who you are servicing.”
“How do you know this?” I asked.
The chiri paused nervously, then said, “It is common knowledge among the slaves, miss. Master does not hide much.”
Freeing my hair from my hands, I let them drop as fear began climbing back up my spine. Fear of being the solo consort to Master. A male I had no conscious memory of, but a male that my mind told me I already knew. Well.
Silence filled the room, then I asked, “Why me? Why have I been chosen? Has Master … taken me before? I feel like he may have. I feel like he has touched me before now.”
The chiri’s shoulders stiffened, but she eventually whispered, “Yes, miss. He was the only male servicing you here in the first few weeks when the monebi drug still held you in its grasp. Since your initial need for his release calmed, he has been eagerly waiting for you to wake fully, with a clear mind.” Her eyes flitted to mine, then quickly looked away.
“What?” I asked with dread. The chiri didn’t add anything, so I shook her arm and pushed harder, “What? Tell me.”
“You have caught his eye, miss. More than I’ve seen before. He has been visiting you every day, waiting for you to open your eyes. That is … that is not normal for him. He is Master, he can have anyone he desires, but he is solely focused on you.”
“He is?” I asked, swallowing down my apprehension.
“Yes, miss. He will be very happy you’re awake. He’s been getting agitated. He hasn’t even taken another mona. He wants only you.”
Feeling my body aching, I slumped back against the pillows. The chiri hovered by, building up the courage to continue. “Miss, I’ve worked for the monebi all my life. Though you don’t remember what you have been through yet, you should eventually. If you remember, you will be thankful that you have been elevated to this new status.” She glanced down, then sighed. “The monebi life is one of violence and servitude. We are all owned and controlled by Master, but even though I am the lowest of the low, I would willingly take my chiri status over being a mona … the things they make you do.” She swallowed, cheeks flushing with red, and quickly added, “If you submit and obey every command asked of you by Master, you will find yourself much better off.”
The chiri then seized the opportunity to rush from the bed and commence her duties. I watched as she efficiently gathered fresh bed linens and put them in a dresser. Then she moved to a large bathtub and began filling it with water. She added some kind of liquid to the water, and the room quickly filled with the most beautiful perfumed scent.
I closed my eyes as the aroma washed over me. When I opened my eyes, the chiri was walking to the side of the room with a red dress in her hands. She laid it out on a table, then moved back toward the tub. She turned off the faucet and walked my way.
When she stood at the side of my bed, she said, “Miss, I have orders to bathe you. I was instructed by Master that the moment you wake I am to cleanse you, dress you and prepare you, then inform him.”
Panic blossomed inside me again, but I held it back. I knew there was no way out of this. Something, some unknown voice inside my head, told me that I could not fight this fate, whatever it was. Pushing myself to sit up, I accepted the chiri’s offer of help to walk. I leaned heavily on her until I reached the tub. The chiri undressed me and helped me slip into the hot water.
As my body was enveloped in warmth, I sighed as my muscles relaxed, my pain evaporating with the rising steam. I closed my eyes, my eyelids pulled down by tiredness. As I did, the image of a dark-haired female towering over
me came to mind. The vision was blurred, but I could see her ordering a male to take me as I writhed in pain on the floor. In the vision, I also saw the scarred male from my previous memory being restrained in the corner of a small room, a metal collar tightly fastened around his thick neck. And he was fighting to be free while I was on the hard floor, a deep, unbearable pain tearing me apart from inside. He was being forced to watch me being ravaged. And at the sight, his huge, built body radiated rage.
The scarred male roared as the one taking me released himself within me. But in that stranger’s release, there was a dampening of the pain I was in. The release brought a brief moment of peace. I remembered closing my eyes, and as I did, the female ordered the scarred male to kill someone. She promised him that if he killed, I would be freed. Even in my drugged state I knew that her words held no truth; by the look on the scarred male’s face I could see he knew it, too. Yet he did as instructed. In his expression, I could see that he would always do as she said … because next time could be the time I was set free.
The room I’d been kept in was cold and dark, but the male agreed to anything asked of him without question. Just as the vision began to disperse, a flood of guilt, shame, and sheer sadness blistered my heart.
I snapped my eyes open as I felt something from my left prick my skin, ripping me from my memory, ripping me from unanswered sorrow. The chiri was at my side, injecting something into my arm: a clear liquid. But I didn’t fight against it. I somehow knew not to fight. Knew that this happened to me daily.
This was my life.
2
152
I felt the liquid from the needle begin to rush through my veins, and with it came lightness to my limbs. The pain and the ache in my muscles dissolved until all that was left was a heady feeling, a feeling of warmth. Then my eyelids fluttered as that warmth began to travel south between my legs. A whimper left my throat at the tension building at the apex of my thighs.
“Miss?” the chiri called gently. I slowly opened my eyes, feeling a blush on my cheeks. She stood beside me, holding out a soft, plush towel. Rising from the tub, I let her wrap me in the towel, not questioning why. I knew I never asked why. There was no explanation of anything in my life.
The chiri guided me to a chair. A large full-length mirror sat before me, and I stared at the female looking back. Blue eyes, dark hair, cheeks flushed with pink. She was slim and fairly tall. Her skin was a light olive color.
I stared and stared, numbed by the effects of the needle as the chiri fixed my waist-length hair and made up my face with powders and creams. I stood when she guided me to stand, then let her drape me in a long silken red dress, the floor-length material held together by two straps fastened with silver clasps at the shoulders. A large slit sat on either leg, showing the now glistening, fragrantly oiled skin beneath. I rocked on my feet as the ache between my legs increased. I clenched my thighs together, searching for release, but none came.
Just as I was sure I couldn’t bear this searing ache anymore, a sound came from the door behind, and the chiri guided me to stand in the center of the room. The chiri immediately backed away and slunk into the shadows, keeping out of sight. Even in the light fog clouding my mind, I registered confusion at her behavior. She appeared terrified. Desperately afraid of whoever was about to show himself.
Then a male entered the room. A domineering, mysterious male. His dark eyes immediately collided with mine, and he stopped dead. He was dressed in a clean dark suit and green tie. His black hair was pushed off his head, his strong chiseled jaw dusted in dark stubble. I noticed that he was fairly handsome. Older than me by quite a lot of years, but handsome nonetheless.
Then he smiled.
And I stilled.
Before I could do anything else, a devastating wave of need took me in its hold, and a small cry left my mouth. The male’s dark eyes flared with excitement and he walked forward, slowly and controlled.
Predatory.
The strong musky scent of his skin washed over me as he approached. I rocked on my feet as another wave of heat filled me inside, scorching my muscles. In reaction to my whimper, the male lifted his hand to my face. He towered over me in height and breadth. His large hands were smooth and soft.
“You’re even more beautiful than a Greek goddess,” he murmured, then ran his hand down over my neck. Pressure built between my legs at his touch, my body yearning for him to slip his hand lower to relieve the pressure. I gasped, unable to keep my eyes open, when another rush of heat filled me. I grew wet between my thighs. Suddenly, the male’s hand dropped and cupped my core. I snapped my eyes open, my pulse racing with need.
The male’s nostrils flared at my reaction, and he leaned in, running his nose over the tip of mine. His fingers at my core began to move toward my entrance, and I sighed at the feel, needing him to push them inside my channel. “Beautiful,” he murmured as his mouth drifted to my ear, his fingers dancing along my hot flesh. “You need me, don’t you, 152? You need Master to take away the pressure? To make you feel better? To make that pussy calm?”
I moaned in response, but I heard him. I heard his every word. This male was Master Arziani. This was the male I was meant to serve. I moaned again as his free hand twisted something on the shoulder of my dress and the fabric fell away to the floor, pooling at my feet. The cool air kissed at my naked skin.
A low, hungry groan left his throat, and in seconds, his eager mouth was on my breast. As his tongue flicked over my tight nipple, I cried out. His hands at my core worked faster, bringing me to the edge of relief. Just as the ache was about to be soothed, Master backed away and ordered, “Bed. Get on the bed. On your back.” His voice had lowered to a stern rasp. I did as instructed as Master quickly shed himself of his clothes. The muscles rippled on his stomach as he approached, his strong thick legs covered in a dusting of dark hair.
Lying back, I spread my legs, inviting him inside me. Needing him above me. But when Master reached the end of the bed, instead of covering me with his body, he dropped to his knees and took me with his mouth. An ecstatic scream left my throat as I felt him flick over my bud with the tip of his tongue. I fisted the bed linen in my hands as a wave of pleasure crashed over me. But the pressure at the bottom of my spine didn’t leave; instead, it heightened. It built and built until my body was alive with the urge to be taken: rough, raw, and filled with Master’s seed.
A light sheen of sweat covered my skin, and Master broke his mouth away from my core, crawling slowly and steadily until he was above me. My back arched, searching for more: his touch, his warmth, his hands. Our gazes collided, and he licked his lips as his hand palmed my breast.
I rolled my hips as Master placed himself between my legs, the feel of his hard length moving to wait at my entrance. I tried to push forward, but Master’s hands reached to grip my wrists over my head. His grip was too tight to fight, and I thrashed, desperately needing some relief.
Master’s face dropped to hover over mine, and he pressed kisses along my cheek. When he withdrew slightly, he said, “I knew it would be like this with you. You were born to be a High Mona. Your unrivaled looks, this body … this insatiable need for me to fuck you. Your Master.” His pupils dilated and I bit my lip as I felt the tip of his length pushing inside me.
As he thrust forward, his grip on my wrists increased until a flash of pain crashed through me, eradicating the pleasure. But as I cried out from pain, he slammed inside me in one swift move, and I screamed at the feel. Too many conflicting sensations were running through me as he began slamming into me, each thrust bringing me closer and closer to the brink.
Master groaned above me, with me moaning in reply as his hard chest brushed against my breasts. Master’s warm breath ghosted over my face. Moving his mouth closer to my ear, he growled, “I own you, mona. I own every part of you. You’re mine.”
I cried out as his grip on my wrists tightened, causing a brutal pain to override the pleasure. “Do you hear me?” he asked, suddenly pausing
in his taking of me. His handsome face was stern and unyielding, staring me down.
I moaned in protest, trying to roll my hips to feel him move within me once again. But he held still, his eyes hard and crazed with the need for my response.
“Yes,” I replied breathlessly. I screamed as his grip became so hard on my wrists that I feared the bones would break. “Master,” he hissed, “Show your fucking respect, mona.”
“Yes, Master,” I corrected quickly, holding my breath immediately afterward. Master’s face softened, his anger dissipated, and his grip on my wrists slackened. “That’s better,” he praised, and released one of my wrists to place his hand on my cheek.
Ensuring I looked him in the eyes with a firm grip on my jaw, he scolded, “I won’t tolerate any disobedience from you, mona. You belong to me, as such I’ll treat you like a queen.” His mouth moved to my ear and he whispered, “But disobey me in any way, and I’ll make you regret the day you were born.”
He raised his hands and kissed my lips softly, sweetly—in stark contrast to the threatening words issuing from his mouth. Fisting my hair and abruptly ripping my head back, he demanded, “Do you understand, mona? Tell me you understand my every word.”
White-hot pain spread along my scalp under his grip, the unbearable feeling stood in contrast to the need between my legs. “Yes, Master,” I gulped, as tears left the corner of my eyes.
Master released my hair and a devastatingly handsome smile spread on his full lips. “Good,” he announced proudly, his fingers now massaging the scalp he’d just bruised. His smile dropped as his hard length twitched and pulsed within me. I waited for what would happen next, unsure if it would be pleasure or pain. Then, still inside me, he abruptly spun me around until I straddled his hips.
His hands ran over my thighs, finally gripping my hips as my palms landed flat on his broad muscled chest. “Fuck me,” he ordered, his dark eyes blazing in excitement. His hands tightened on my hips until I was sure they would leave a bruise. “Take me until I fill you.”