“You ain’t do so good, girl,” Ermie’s voice held stern reproof.
Stacie looked up, startled. The wardress was pointing to a lusty weed the hoe had missed. She pulled it up for exhibit.
“I’m sorry, I’ll watch more closely.”
“Best give you help, girl. You bend over and pull up that there dress.”
Why protest! Stacie obeyed. The slash across her buttocks was cruel and awful, but it was alone. She rearranged herself and wondered if she should offer thanks for her ‘help’.
Here was another kind of slavery, grim labour and swift grim punishment with nothing to look forward to . . . ever! With deep shame, but with increasing urgency Stacie wondered how long it would be before Mr. Moghere returned. She knew she would not again choose the sjambok.
“A commendable diligence, Miss Blair.”
Startled, Stacie looked up from beneath the wide straw.
Hamid Boshan was giving her his whitest smile. Sweaty and tired she felt a million miles removed from his immaculate presence. “You are enjoying The Estate?” he enquired politely.
Sarcasm, bitterness and anger were tossed aside. Stacie’s pride went with them. Passionately she desired no fencing with words, no saving of her face. Instant surrender was her most ardent wish.
“I’ll do whatever you want.” She managed a pale smile. “I’ll be a good girl.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “A great change from yesterday!”
She prayed he would not be stubborn and make her crawl.
The frightened girl searched desperately for the right thing to say.
“You have given me time to think. Thank you,” she said humbly. “I needed The Estate to make me understand what I am.”
“And what are you, Miss Blair?”
“I am a captive and I am a slave. I belong to a man.” He laughed his pleasure.
“You have found out all this while using your hoe?”
He was playing with her! Somehow she must reach him.
“Please, Mr, Boshan, I was a slave when you first met me in Jedrah. If a girl is a good slave it is hard for her to exchange masters overnight. I was a good slave to Mohammad Yasin. I would wish to be a good slave to whoever owned me.” She contrived a warmer smile, “I am only a girl, I am as afraid of the sjambok as I was of the kurbash.”
“Yet yesterday you chose it. Had I not intervened, your back by now would be sadly cut.”
She sank to her knees in the soft hot soil. “I owe you much. A thank-you seems so little. Yesterday I had pride, today I have none. I will yield my body to you gladly.”
He sighed, looking down at her, his smile departed. “I can take your body now, and I can leave you here in the sun with your hoe.”
“I am a slave. If that is what you prefer . . .”
For a long time they held their pose, the proud erect man and the kneeling subject girl. Hamid Boshan said no word, but suddenly turned and strode away. In utter desolation Stacie scrambled to her feet and retrieved her hoe. For the second time that day tears found their way across her cheeks.
The two soldiers wore wide grins and carried no guns.
They picked her up bodily and carried her to the smith. In a daze of chaotic emotions she watched the hammer and the punch beat back the stubborn rivets and free her feet. When the clanking metal fell from the anvil to the floor she knew a thrill of joy, but also guilt. Rannah’s feet were still ironed as were the others, they still hoed the long rows beneath the sun . . . Was she a traitress! She did not know . . . Stacie Blair was lost in an ocean of bewilderment.
“Rest after Labour is a pleasant thing,” said Hamid Boshan.
Stacie wholeheartedly agreed. It was infinitely good to kneel on the rug and sip the drink. It had been equally good to take the bath and fasten round her hips the scanty thing that was her total garb. Mr. Boshan’s premises were palatial. It was cool.
“You are exceedingly good in bed.”
Stacie tried not to blush. She was neither naive or shy. She had been possessed before, both as a free girl and as a slave. What they had done together was not new. It was these casual references between pedantic speech that were disconcerting. Her reply was genuinely sincere. “You are very good yourself, Mr. Boshan.”
“You will call me Hamid. I will call you Stacie. Why should we not be friends as well as make love. This small idyll we now enjoy may be short lived.”
“Will Mr. Moghere take me when he returns?”
Hamid shrugged. “Who knows! He was much enamoured of you. Certainly of the five you are his choice just as you are mine.”
“Why me?”
He laughed and gazed down at her with amused affection.
“You truly do not know?”
Laughing in her happiness at release she shook her head.
“No, honestly! What is there to know?”
“Has no one told you of your gift! You are a slave, the role fits you like a glove. In slavery you are totally natural, you glow. That night I first sat next to you at Dinner I had an erection the whole time.”
Stacie was delighted by his frankness, from him it did not offend. Perhaps it was the greatest compliment he could pay. She found it puzzling that he should tell her what Rannah and Yasin had said too. “But I only accept the inevitable,” she protested. “How else do you expect me to behave!”
“Oh, I am sure the whip has had a part in it,” he conceded. “Perhaps too it is the knowledge of what you once were. It has a piquancy . . .”
“How are the mighty fallen . . . !”
“Yes, there is that. It is a human trait regardless of color. But also this . . . this acceptance, as you call it, triggers something within that causes you to exude sex in a degree I have never previously known.” He grinned ruefully. “Our Leader confirmed your effect on him too, no man is safe with you.”
“Aren’t you safe with me now?” She twinkled at him mischievously.
“Only for a little while. I can feel you already undermining my defences.”
“You mean I’m a sexpot?” she pouted.
“Good Heavens no!” Hamid’s denial was emphatic. With you it is beautiful, but I have no name for it.”
“Hamid . . .” Stacie’s tone was thoughtful, “will Mr. Moghere allow my father to ransom me?”
“I do not think so. Your greatest value is in the seeking of advantage. The tables are turned, Moghere may offer you to Yasin for value to be received.”
“And if Yasin will not play the game?”
Mr. Boshan looked sad. “You must not allow what I tell you now to dwell in your mind, it may not happen. But it is known Yasin adores you . . . Some pictures of you being tortured might speed his compliance.”
Stacie had a hysterical need to laugh or scream. What an infuriating irony! “I am only a girl,” she said unhappily. “These men who trade empires . . . surely they are not going to part with kingdoms for a slave.”
“I would,” Hamid said simply.
She rose and replenished their drinks. When she knelt before him to offer his glass she kissed his hand.
They sipped in silence for awhile, happy with each other.
“Hamid, the other girls . . . What of them?”
“They will serve their time in the fields. When The Leader returns they will be grateful for his notice.”
“Hamid, why am I not chained?”
He laughed at her earnest features. “Must I tell you that too! You make love much better without them.”
“You trust me . . . to be free?”
He shrugged indolently. “Go. Run if you wish.”
“In the middle of the night I might.”
“I know what you are angling for,” he told her shrewdly. “You wish to be chained. Not ironed as in the field, but daintily. Am I not right?”
Stacie’s blush was answer enough.