Chapter 2 of Mindgames, my dark, dystopian novel about naked sex slaves

 

 

 

Want to start at the beginning?  Chapter 1 is here.  Or you can buy the entire book on Amazon, here.

Chapter 2: Animal’s wish is granted

 

Animal tried to look relaxed as he slouched on a bare wood bench in the throne room. Looking around, he saw that the other supplicants were as uncomfortable as he.  They all undoubtedly wished, as he did, that the Bearer was in a better mood that night.  The Bearer was now tongue-lashing a squabbling couple who came to him to determine which of them should get to keep their apartment, dog, houseboy, and antique oak table.  He leaned forward ferociously on his throne, gripping his scepter, spittle spraying from his mouth.  He bawled them out for wasting his time, for wasting the time of the other supplicants who waited to discuss worthier matters, for acting like slaves rather than human beings.  He paused for breath and then looked at them both from under his enormous gray brows.  “Are you certain you want me to make this decision for you?” he asked.

Interested and half amused despite his own concerns, Animal wondered if the feuders would have the sense to say no.  They stood uncertainly for a few seconds, and then the man crossed his arms and nodded.  The woman, a little slower, nodded as well.

The Bearer snorted disgustedly.  “Very well,” he said, indicating with a toss of his chin that the scribe should take notes. “Perry gets the dog and the apartment, Teena the boy and the table.” 

Both of them looked at him wide eyed with horror.  “But, Delarus,” Teena shrieked, her voice verging on panic, “That’s not fair!”

“SILENCE,” the Bearer roared, pounding the bottom of his scepter on the floor.  “I have spoken.”  He glared around the room, at the dozen or so people waiting to be heard.  “If any of you have disputes this idiotic, I suggest you solve them yourselves.”

Animal again wished he could have seen the Bearer on a day when his mood did not vent quite so ragefully.  Nevertheless, as four people who had thought the better of things scurried out of the room, he had to admire the Bearer’s tactics. 

He was startled and unprepared when he heard his own name called by the scribe.  The supplicants who had left had all been ahead of him on the roster, and he was caught off guard and in the brunt of the Bearer’s ferocity.  Nevertheless he stood up with pretended nonchalance, and ambled to the hearing area.  The Bearer glowered at him.

Animal bowed slightly from the waist, his uncharacteristically clean shirt crackling from the starch his housegirl had put in.  The movement was lost on the Bearer, who was flipping through the petition Animal had submitted.  At length he looked up and said, with an eyebrow raised, “You ask Riviera to cede you walls in the Great Revel Room.” 

Animal felt his face flush.  “I ask leave to paint a mural,” and he added after a moment, “Sir.”

The Bearer leaned back in his velvet-covered throne.  One of the other supplicants tittered.  At last the Bearer said, harshly enunciating each word, “You ask to put the entire community at great inconvenience so that you can cover the hall with egg yolks.”

The tittering broke into laughter, and Animal glared about him.  “I want to cover the wall with a great painting, Bearer,” he said.  “Only one of the pigments requires egg yolks.”  Inwardly he raged against the cretins who surrounded him.

The Bearer raised his hand for silence.  “Tell me,” he said, “What will Riviera gain by giving these walls over to you, other than not being able to use its best revel room for who knows how many solstice celebrations to come?” 

Animal realized that the Bearer was toying with him for the fun of it.  He also realized that there was nothing he could do about it.  He said, much more composedly than he felt, “Riviera gains a record of its civilization, which it will pass on to generations to come.” 

The Bearer pursed his lips. “Your petition would be best served without your sardonic tone, Supplicant.”  Animal felt his face flush again.  The Bearer continued, more mildly, “I would like to preserve the record of my reign.  Tell me, what exactly would you paint?” 

Animal took a deep breath as he sought an answer than would convince the Bearer.  “I would paint scenes of our life.  Families at the breakfast table, girls strolling in the early summer peony gardens, people picking slaves from the Exchange or attending revels; all that we do, I would capture it.” 

The Bearer drummed his fingers against his cheek.  Animal motioned to his housegirl.  “I have brought sketches with me, if you would let me demonstrate.”

The Bearer swirled his hand, indicating assent.  At a look from Animal, his housegirl, trembling violently, brought him two canvases that had been leaning backwards against the wall.  Taking one from her, he carefully turned it around to face the Bearer.  Hearing a gasp from one of the supplicants, he allowed himself a small smile. 

The watercolor was of the Bearer’s spouse, Yana, at a revel, perched on a chair, looking dreamily into a glass of sparkling wine.  Animal was grateful that it had the desired effect on at least one person in the room, as he had chosen it for the obvious reason. 

The Bearer, however, gave no sign of being placated.  He continued drumming his fingers against his cheek. 

Animal gave the picture to one of the Bearer’s slaves to hold, and took the second painting from his girl.  This was one that Animal would have turned over to use the back side of the precious paper, except that it was the sort of thing the Bearer might admire.  It showed a pink and orange sunset over the fields.  When Animal made it he had hoped to paint into it the glimmer of peace that sometimes comes when viewing creation, but he had been unable to capture it on the canvas and the picture was merely a sentimental sunset. 

The Bearer glanced at the painting.  “These pictures aren’t bad,” he said to Animal almost kindly.  “But,” he continued, “Most people would rather have a living slave hanging on a wall than a picture.”  He looked around the room and the supplicants laughed on cue.  “What practical value do these pictures serve?  Can you beat a slave into submission with them?”

Animal felt the tips of his ears go red.  “A painting helps you see what is not in front of your nose, Bearer.”

Ignoring or unaware of the insult, the Bearer said drily, “Or they hide what is front of my nose with the smell of rotting eggs.”

 In the laughter that followed Animal heard the door behind him open, and heavy footsteps enter.  He ignored the distraction, concentrating on meeting the Bearer’s gaze, until a man’s excited, slightly breathless voice said, “Bearer, I bring the Healer come from Harmony.”

The Bearer leisurely turned to the interloper, and Animal released a short sigh of relief.  “Jonquil,” the Bearer said, indicating with a movement of his head that he should come forward.  The man strutted into the room, obviously delighted that he had a matter with which he could interrupt official proceedings.  Behind him, walking shyly, was another man, about Animal’s own age.  His clothes were sun-faded and oddly cut.  His hands and face were meticulously clean.  His hair, so black that it was almost blue, was clearly self-cut without the aid of a mirror.  He was gaunt, his flesh as threadbare as his clothes.

All this Animal’s practiced eye noticed in a moment.  In the next moment he noticed the man’s eyes, gray like deep fog. Immediately Animal began to imagine him as the subject of a painting.  A portrait, but not like he painted of the bored woman and men who posed for him for the sake of having something, anything, to do.  More like the sketches he kept in his studio, like his second, secret portrait of the Bearer’s mate, towards the end of the revel, stoned and lackadaisically torturing a stray slave, nothing but a hazy ennui showing on her face. 

The man continued forward until he was standing near Animal, where he paused and addressed the Bearer.  “I am Gabriel,” he said, in a tenor voice that sounded clear but bone-weary.  “I have answered the summons carried by your son, to try to heal the injured lass.” 

Jonquil broke in, “That’s right, Delarus.  I found him at Holden’s Gate, and thought it only proper to show him escort.”

The Bearer stood, leaning his heavy frame on his scepter.  He said in a deep formal voice, almost rolling his r’s, “Healer, you are most welcome here.  You have answered the summons to look at my daughter, and for that Riviera welcomes and thanks you.”

Gabriel nodded acknowledgement, and it seemed to Animal that for all the Healer’s ragged appearance his dignity was equal to the Bearer’s.  Looking at the tableau, Animal thought he had the subject for his painting. 

The Bearer sat down heavily in his throne, assisted by slaves on each side of him.  “I trust my son has not further disgraced himself,” he said to the room in general.

Gabriel took a step forward.  “Your son did very well indeed, for a lad his age.  He arrived at Harmony two moons ago, ill with pneumonia, but he never wavered from his purpose.  By this time he is probably full well.” 

Animal was not the only person in the room to lift an eyebrow in surprise at the kindly respect in the healer’s voice.  The Bearer, however, merely snorted.  “Foolish boy, foolish quest,” he muttered, and then seemed to remember himself. “No offense to you and your errand of mercy, sir.  But first the boy lames his sister playing too rough, and he then he rides off risking his own hide, and yours as well.  Girl don’t need legs.  Plenty of slaves to fetch and carry for her.”

Gabriel looked around at Jonquil as if for a friend, and then quickly looked away.  “Indeed, sir,” he said, “I do not know if I can help her or not.  But if she can get her legs back she should have them.”

There was a shocked silence in the room.  Then, suddenly, the Bearer guffawed.  He laughed long and hard.  “That’s the first time in a week I’ve been amused,” he said at last, “and I thank you for that.  Hmm, hmm.  She should have her legs back indeed.”

The Healer stood with a quietness that seemed to come from his bones.  Animal felt sorry for him.  He didn’t know offhand how far Harmony was from Riviera, but surely it was a great distance, and from the look of the man not an easy journey. 

The Bearer must have had the same thought, for when he regained his composure he looked at Gabriel with some remorse.  “You must be tired,” he said, “and in need of food and comfort.”  He furrowed his eyebrows again, and Animal thought that it was amazing that he did not have permanent lines in his face from it being so often stretched into this position. 

The Bearer motioned to one of his assistants.  “The Healer will need lodging and slaves to see to his needs,” he said.  “Send a runner to the exchange, with a note.  Tell them we need a decent housegirl or two who know how to cook and fuck.”  He looked over to Gabriel and added offhandedly, “Unless you prefer boys, of course. It’s all easily arranged.  We have no prejudices here.”

Gabriel opened his mouth but before sound could come out Jonquil stepped forward.  “He prefers neither, Delarus.  In fact, he quite strongly disapproves of slavery and will have nothing to do with it.”  Jonquil rubbed his hands together for emphasis, all too obviously enjoying being the bringer of this news.

The Bearer sat back in his throne, looking momentarily perplexed, and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  “Hmm, hmm, of course,” he said.  “Harmony, rebels, all that.”

Gabriel interrupted him.  “Sir, my errand is really the lass.  Perhaps if I could look in on her ...”

The Bearer cut him off.  “Not tonight,” he said brusquely. “As Bearer it is my pleasure to receive you to Riviera, but as Diana’s father I am not ready to invite you into my home.”  He glared at Gabriel.  “Best thing to do is to get you settled.  Tomorrow, or the next day, is plenty of time to look in on my daughter.  She’s not getting any better, but no worse either.  Day or two makes no difference.”  He turned to Jonquil.  “You’ve cared for him thus far, Brother.  Take him home with you.”

Jonquil grimaced and turned red to the top of his bald head, raising his hands to ward off the suggestion. “Oh, no, Delarus.  Makes no sense at all.  None at all. A wall rag made her way outside the wall just this morning; I’ll need to tell you about that.”  Animal caught the Bearer’s deepening frown and his quick glance at his slaves.  “But then I must get back to my post.  And even if I weren’t needed, my quarters are on the other side of the mansion from yours.  And the lad’s got a horse he wants to visit, in the main stables. Much too far from there. Oh, no, not me.” 

The Bearer frowned.  “He should stay with me, I suppose,” he said mostly to himself.  “But that’s out of the question.”  He sighed.  “We need visitors more often.  No procedures in place.”  He looked around the room at the various supplicants, who each in turn dropped their eyes.  At last his baleful gaze landed on Animal.  “Well, Animal,” he said gruffly, “You ask Riviera to inconvenience itself by giving over to you the walls of its best revel room for you to paint mural.  What do you offer it in return?” 

Animal knew he was caught.  He swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned to the healer.  “There’s an empty suite in my quad,” he said, not quite managing to keep all the sourness out of his voice.  “It is near to the Bearer’s quarters, and the front stables.”  Seeing the Healer’s forlorn look, he added, gruffly, “You are most welcome.” 

The Bearer nodded approvingly. “I’m glad to see you’ve got some community spirit.”  He stroked his chin. “Tell me, how do you live?”

“I live alone.”  Animal indicated the housegirl who had handed him the paintings a few minutes earlier, and now stood quietly except for the rattling of her knees. “I’ve had my girl for almost two months now.  She is well-trained and obedient.”

As Animal spoke, the girl fell to her knees and placed her forehead on the floor.  Her shaking knees gave way to great tremors throughout her body.  The Bearer looked down at her.  “Stand up. I want to see you.” 

In a clumsy movement the slavegirl stood.  Animal saw that her face was positively green, and wondered if she might not throw up.  Serve the Bearer right to have to smell it for days to come. 

“Hands behind your head, and then turn around slowly,” the Bearer commanded.  Animal rarely had his slaves assume the standard position, and she hesitated a moment before obeying.  As she turned her knees knocked so badly that she nearly lost her balance.  When she had completed a full circle she fell back to her hands and knees, her forehead on the ground, still shaking.

The Bearer said suspiciously to Animal, “The creature is practically unmarked.”   

“I don’t keep slaves who require beating,” he responded, a little defensively. “She behaves well and I don’t punish her.”

The Bearer tsked.  “A pansy, are you?” He turned to the prostrate figure before him.  “I didn’t tell you to move,” he said, annoyed.  “Stand up and speak to me.”

The girl tried to stand but her knees gave way and she would have fallen if Animal had not stepped forward to steady her.  The Bearer said, “A housegirl who cannot stand on her own two feet can scarcely take care of you, much less the healer.”

Animal stated the obvious.  “You’ve frightened her.”  He added, after a moment’s hesitation, “But if you prefer, I will trade her in.”  Animal thought he heard the girl make a guttural sound in her throat, almost a protest.  Well, he was a lenient master.  All his slaves hated to leave him.  He never kept them for more than a few months, on the theory that if they had not yet started to take advantage of his kindly nature they would soon.

The Bearer ignored Animal.  “Girl, look at me,” he said.  She slowly raised her tear-filled eyes to his.  “How does your master call you?”

She stammered, “Please, master, he calls me Rose.” 

The Bearer smirked a little and leaned back in his chair, evidently enjoying himself.  “Your master says he doesn’t punish you,” he said.  “Is that true?”

Rose’s knees buckled slightly, but she caught herself.  Rescuing her from the trap the Bearer had laid, Animal said, “I have punished her, when she has deserved it. Lately she has been good.”

The Bearer looked annoyed. “My dear man, if you can’t allow your slave to stand by herself, at least allow her to answer for herself.”  He ordered Rose, “Turn and look at Master Gabriel.” 

Rose obeyed.  Animal saw Gabriel give her a tiny encouraging smile with the side of his mouth that was turned away from the Bearer.

The Bearer continued, “Your master is a pansy, and Master Gabriel is a rebel who does not believe in slavery.”  If Rose understood this, she gave no sign.  “But I am not a pansy, and I do believe in slavery.” His voice was deep and stern. “Master Gabriel is a visitor here, and an honored guest.  You show your master every attention, accord him every courtesy, and obey his every whim, do you not?”

Rose responded in a soft, quavering voice, “I try, Master.”

The Bearer nodded.  “Well said, girl.  All you do for your master, you must do ten times as well for Master Gabriel.”  Animal fought the annoyance he suddenly felt.  “Repeat that back to me.”

Rose stammered, “All I do for my master, I must do ten times as well for Master Gabriel.”  Her voice went up an octave towards the end, as Animal painfully tightened his grip on her arm. 

The Bearer continued, “Between your pansy master and the rebel, you may think you can cut corners.  But I will be watching you, and hearing about you, and I will punish you if you do not obey.  Do you understand?”

Rose answered in a hoarse whisper, “Yes, Master.”

The Bearer lowered his eyebrows at her, causing her to tremble even more.  “I am going to give you a small taste of my punishment now, as you have no doubt forgotten the kiss of the lash of late.”  He turned to Animal.   “I assume your master does not dispute my jurisdiction over you?”  Animal gave a half shrug to indicate his assent, keeping his face carefully blank.   

The Bearer leaned over to one of his attendants and whispered in his ear. The attendant strode out the back entrance of the throne room, and returned almost immediately with a largish tasseled pillow, covered with maroon velvet.  He placed it in front of Rose and said to her, “Lay your head on it.”  Animal let go of her.  In her haste to obey she dove for the pillow and lay full out on the floor, her head on top of the pillow and her arms encircling it.  The attendant removed a long, narrow whip that was coiled on his belt.  He stood over the prostrate girl, his muscles rippling, and looked at the Bearer, who nodded at him.

The attendant raised his arm and brought the whip down with a thunderous clap, leaving a huge red welt from Rose’s left buttock to her right shoulderblade.  She shrieked through closed lips and clutched the pillow convulsively.  “One,” the attendant said calmly.

He raised his arm and brought the whip crashing down, this time from one side of Rose’s back to another.  Rose sobbed.  “Please,” she cried, “please.”  She was bleeding where the two welts crossed.

“Two,” the attendant said.  He moved around so that he was standing over Rose’s shoulders, facing her feet.  “Spread your legs wider,” he ordered. Rose complied in an instant.  The whip came down vertically across her buttock, curling around her thigh.  Rose bit the pillow to stifle her scream.

“Three,” the attendant said.

As he raised his arm for another stroke, the Bearer stopped him. “That’s enough,” he said.  “The girl has tender skin, and this is just a warning.  She must be able to care for our guest.” He turned to Gabriel.  “You must consider this slave to be yours in all things.”

 

∞ ∞ ∞

 

Gabriel was too overwhelmed and exhausted to pay much attention to the arrangements made in the throne room.  He vaguely understood from Jonquil that his baggage, which had been toted from the stables by a slave, would be delivered immediately to Animal’s quarters. Gabriel carried only his medicine sack, slung across his shoulder.  He numbly followed Animal and the stumbling slavegirl Rose from the throne room.  Her back leaked blood in the places where the whip-marks crossed, and he wondered that she did not go into shock.  The clinical voice within him reported that the bleeding was not altogether bad, as it would prevent the cuts from becoming infected by her hair, which hung below her shoulders. 

As they exited the throne room through the grand doorway, Animal stood formally aside and gestured to him to proceed.  They went into a foyer, much larger than the throne room itself.  Animal ignored greetings people called out to him.  He crossed the room with a gait that was brisk despite a studied laziness and went through a side door.  When Rose and Gabriel crossed the threshold, Animal was already several feet ahead of them, striding quickly down a narrow corridor, all pretense of laziness gone.  Rose stumbled.  She straightened up immediately but then lost her footing again.  She fell and landed on her right knee with a quiet whimper.  Animal strode ahead, oblivious.  “Wait,” Gabriel shouted after him, as the girl was struggling to her feet. Animal stopped and turned around. 

Gabriel almost reached out to support Rose but stopped himself, looking at the man who in a less than enthusiastic way had offered him hospitality.  Animal was unkempt, with brown hair that straggled down his back and a beard that had been combed but not trimmed. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, waiting for Gabriel to speak.

Gabriel took a deep breath.  He had used this method to try to calm himself so many times in the last hours that it was a wonder he was not hyperventilating, he thought.  He took another breath, slower, and said carefully, indicating the girl, “The Bearer said I was to consider her mine.”  Animal nodded, his frown becoming more pronounced.  Gabriel continued, softly, as he might speak to an awakening watch dog, “If I look to her wounds, can I have your word that you’ll not punish her for it?”

Animal’s frown slowly transformed into an even sourer grin.  “Weren’t you paying attention back there, Healer?” His lips formed slowly around each word, as if Gabriel were simple. “I’m a pansy.  I don’t beat my slaves enough.  That’s why the Bearer took it upon himself to do it.” 

Gabriel looked uncertainly from Animal to Rose and back.  Rose struggled to her feet and stumbled over to Animal, where she fell to her knees, her eyes lowered.  “Forgive me, master,” she said in a low, frightened voice.

To Gabriel’s surprise, Animal almost tenderly scooped Rose’s hair from her back and pulled it over her right shoulder, removing it from contact with the whip marks.  “You’re not hurt,” he said with a gruffness belied by his actions.  “Get up and walk before I give you a real punishment.”   

Rose immediately stood up.  She swayed uncertainly.  Animal held out his arm, which she grasped.  “Okay, now,” Animal said.  He began walking down the corridor, Rose clinging to him.  Gabriel followed a few feet behind, feeling lost and foolish.  Animal looked over his shoulder and said, “The quarters aren’t far.  You can numb her wounds to your heart’s content there.”  

They passed closed doors, some of them with piles of rubbish next to them, and a few hallways leading off to either side.  At last the corridor ended at a doorway. The three of them went through it and Gabriel found himself in a cavernous room. The wall on the left was a huge picture window with a door in it, looking out into the pink light of dusk over the lawn.  Gabriel had never seen so much glass.  He gasped at the extravagance of it. 

Animal, with Rose still on his arm, turned back to Gabriel.  “Entrance hall,” he informed the healer.  He walked towards a hallway, grander and better lit than the one they had just left, opposite the window wall.  Gabriel followed behind.  Animal made a few turns, but they remained in broad corridors. They were empty of people, although Gabriel heard noises from behind closed doors.  

Animal stopped abruptly and opened a door on the right.  With uncharacteristic politeness, he stood aside and motioned Gabriel to precede him. 

Gabriel entered a meticulously clean living area furnished with an overstuffed couch and a couple of chairs, footstools, and small tables.  Behind it was a dining area, separated by a counter from a small kitchen.  The back wall, like the entrance hall, was made entirely of a picture window except for a sliding door in its center. 

Rose was lighting lamps throughout the room.  As she did so, Gabriel’s attention was drawn to the wall to his right.  It was covered with a huge painting directly on the wall, a painting that exactly captured the great lawn and the activities Gabriel had seen on it earlier.  Each tree was perfectly rendered; each person’s thoughts were revealed through their face or body position.  A woman reclined in relaxation; a man tiredly but happily threw a ball to a young girl; an older woman admired a rose bush, each thorn carefully drawn.  Gabriel’s eye was particularly drawn by a slave who pushed a lawnmower, his biceps hard and gleaming with sweat, his face showing focus and pride and fear. 

At last Gabriel looked over to Animal.  The painter stood motionless, watching, trying and failing to appear nonchalant.  It seemed to Gabriel that in that instant, in this hellish land, he knew Animal’s heart and all that was in it, and they passed from strangers to brothers.

 

Want to read more?  Mindgames is available on Amazon here.