Heart of a slave

Cold Hard Facts

Siwhetta woke that morning, wishing that it was a bad dream; that she was back at home, where she belonged, with her family. Nevertheless, she opened her eyes and glanced around. She was in her master's bed-chamber where her master had hurt her the night before. He had rescued her after she was attacked and had taken advantage of her vulnerability. She turned her head to see him still sleeping, one arm possessively around her waist. 

He was pressing her very sore bottom with a protruding erection. Siwhetta could not take it anymore. She was a strong woman but never imagined, in all her life, that she would have to endure such a fate. She tossed his arm aside and sat up groaning. She felt as if she had gone through a winepress. Siwhetta winced from the pain between her thighs and slowly tried to get off the bed, doubling over on her first attempt. He was at her side, so gentle, his eyes filled with remorse. She turned away and said nothing; she was naked and felt vulnerable all over again. Between her thighs throbbed and tears began to roll down her cheeks. She took a long, deep breath, stuck her chin out, and proudly walked across the room.

Dimitri watched silently as she moved to the other end of the room, head held high. He couldn't help but noticing the perspiration on her forehead. She was obviously in discomfort. He silently slid out of bed and across to her and swept her into his arms. Siwhetta muffled a scream; shocked. She began to oppose him but he fetched her to the bed and climbed over her. Frightened, Siwhetta shrieked fearing he would touch her again. She tried to push him away but he held her arms and placed them above her head. 

Dimitri's eyes roved admiringly over her perky breasts, stomach, supple thighs and beautiful flawless skin. She was absolutely a work of art. Siwhetta cringed in embarrassment at the way his eyes devoured her body. She remembered her mother always told her that it was only her husband who was entitled to do so. Now, he was humiliating her by gazing at her in such a manner: a complete stranger, someone she did not love who had selfishly deprived her of experiencing something so sacred with someone she actually loved. She suddenly felt like a whore. She turned around, upset at what was happening in her life. Did my god abandon me? Is this why this is happening to me? she inwardly asked herself and closed her eyes as if it were another bad dream that would go away. 

Dimitri saw the terror in her eyes, the hate, disgust, how much she really didn't want him to touch her. He felt something sear his chest; he had never seen such a look of disgust from any woman. He slowly dropped her hand and tossed himself to the other side of the bed. He was not going to apologize to her; she was a slave and his property now. She would just have to deal with it. As a matter of fact, his grandmother owned this estate and so he was at liberty to do whatever pleased him. He got up from the bed and dressed. Striding over to the door and giving her his back, he said, firmly, "You are not allowed to leave this room today, and that's final." He opened the door and, exiting, closed it behind him.

Dimitri went to the head maid-servant and ordered her to put a warm bath and some decent clothing for his guest. He also mentioned the incident that took place in the slave quarters the night before and requested that she bring any information that she could gather from the other slaves.

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Edgar became anxious about Siwhetta and went looking for her. She left someone to assume her duties and found her in the master's bed under the sheets, naked and disoriented. She immediately enquired what had happened. Siwhetta waited until the women who were running the bath departed before responding. Mortified, she told her everything except that his lordship had taken advantage of her and left her in pain. She turned away from Edgar's prying eyes and keen ears that were waiting to hear more. She said nothing else because of how ashamed she was of the situation.