Love's Slave (manxman)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

(Avan Jorgia, my idea of Jameel)

Jameel...

"Oh no, no, no he is coming." I thought as I heard the door to my prison open. I didn't know whether to be relieved or afraid. I'm so tired, and every square inch of my body hurt. I don't know if I could label myself as hungry because the pain in my throat and my stomach went far beyond the description of such a simple word. Master hasn't fed me in days, maybe weeks, I have lost track of time. I thought that he was finally going to leave me here to die.

I don't know what I did to displease him. After not seeing him for the few days, I started calling out to him even though he has severely warned me never to do that, but he never answered and I had no choice but to soil myself chained as I was to this bed. Not even Mahmood had come to grudgingly feed me and let me bathe at Master's request. It was like I was forgotten, something Master had constantly crowed about when he used me for whatever punishment he was doling out or lesson he was trying to teach me .

Now, he is back and I hope he was going feed me before punishing me for soiling myself. I don't think I could survive so much as a slap without at least a sip of water beforehand. I tried to moisten my mouth but nothing happened, my throat was bone dry and I wanted to cry from the pain burning there. It felt like I was trying to force down shards of broken glass.

Bright light flashed behind my closed eyelids and then I heard someone gasp, then there were steps hurrying in my direction. It couldn't have been Master and I couldn't find the strength to turn around to see who it was. In my weakened state, I couldn't even manage to curl myself up to protect myself if this person was going to start beating on me.

I heard two deep masculine voices speaking in a different language. I tried to pay attention to what they were saying, but I felt like my head was floating. I couldn't focus on anything and I just wanted to cry, but no tears would come. The men continued to talk urgently amongst themselves, and I just wanted something to drink. God, I would gladly take whatever they wanted to do to me as long as one of them gave me something to drink.

Ignoring the searing burn in the back of my mouth and my tongue that felt like cotton wool, I tried to make myself heard as I muttered, "mīn fāḍlīkā, mīn fāḍlīkā (please, please)..." My throat wouldn't let me get the rest of the words out, and I almost cried in relief when a gentle hand landed on my shoulder instead of a painful blow.

Focusing as much as I could, I listened to one of the men's deep velvet smooth voice bark out a rapid fire set of words that I now recognized the foreign language as English. I taught myself the language when Fatima used to sneak me books about the different places in the world. That was before Mahmood took over as Master's main servant. Then everything and anything that was pleasant in my life stopped and my punishments got even worse.

Two firm hands gently held onto my shoulders and helped me as I was rolled over. They strong and sure as they helped me to sit up as well. I lowered my head in shame because I was sure that this gentle stranger could smell my filth. I scooted a little further away from him. Even over my stench, I could make out the clean scent of his skin and the expensive cologne that clung to him. He smelt like heaven.

That deep voice rumbled a question at me and I had to concentrate on the words even though he was now speaking my native tongue. The man asked me my name, and I gathered myself again enough to answer him. He muttered a word I didn't understand and then suddenly I felt his big warm hands on my arm, first one against my wrist and then on the other and even on my ankles too. He was trying to get my leather bindings off and I felt a relief so great I almost tipped over onto the floor. I heard another set of foot steps as someone came running into the room and I cringed, praying it wasn't that despicable Mahmood trying to stop this kind man from helping me.