Ignorance

1

Nyx's pov

The ground was wet under my bare feet. I could hear the men yelling at each other to load the supplies onto the wagon. I could smell how the baked goods and cooked food coming from the food stalls. "Move it you whore!" "You're in the way" "You blind bitch!" Words being thrown at me making me scurry along from the town market. The collar on my neck grew tighter as my master yanked it, sending me to my knees. The leather cutting into my pulse as it stole by breath. The supplies I carried from the market spilled on the marshy ground. 

"Grab it you bastard. I haven't got all day!" Master Glendale berated me, a promise of a lashing in his words. Scrambling to pick up the supplies and putting them back in the bag. Master and I returned to his home where he snatched the supplies out of my hands. His calloused finger ripped the rags he called a dress of me. "Stand in the corner you harlot!" He screamed. I shivered. I was going to get a severe lashing. 

The thump of the end of the horse whip hit the floor, as silent tears escaped from my eyes. It whistled through the air, slicing my already tattered skin. It continued for almost a hour. The repeated sounds of it whistling through the air and it slicing my skin. My legs finally gave up as the last hit reached me. 

"You know what's next, don't you?" He said a sinister smile in his voice. "Yes master." I said softly. forcing my legs to give me strength, I stood bending over exposing my arse to him. Spreading my legs shoulder width apart praying I didn't fall. Feeling the vibrations of him moving closer to me, I braced myself as he grabbed my hips before slamming himself into my arse. I could feel myself ripping from his ferocity, my bony structure forced to take him.

Once upon a time I believed that this is what life was like for every slave. But I knew deep down, some slaves had it worse than I did. Some slaves where whipped, mutilated, and raped until they were but a shell of their former selves. Being a slave since birth, being separated from my mother at the ripe age of six. Witnessing my brother hanged for being involved with Master Glendale's niece at age nine. It took a toll on my mind. 

But late at night when everyone was sleep I would overhear my mother telling stories of magic, shapeshifters who lived in the woods. At the time I believed her but over the years I realized it was just stories. 

Master came to his climax finally, pulling himself away from me. shuffling to get his pants back on, he grabbed my leash yanking it toward a hook. Tying my leash around he forced me to sit, resting my ragged back against the cool of the cobblestone.

I forced myself to stay awake even the threat of passing out licked at my mind. I felt the vibrations of Master pacing before he simply stopped, perhaps laying down to sleep.

I tapped my fingers against my legs counting the seconds before I heard his drunken snores. 1...2...3...4...5 Master shifted in bed. 25...26...27...28

I sighed softly as I heard the deep rumbles from his chest. My back ache with a sharp pain preventing me from moving too much. Leaning my head back, a piece of glass in my hand from a broken bottle. Holding it up to my face, I wished I knew what I looked like. Mother always said I was a 'beauty' with dark hair cascading down to below my arse and eyes resembling a cloudy storm. But now I probably resemble the exact opposite.

My hair was oily and matted. My figure was nothing but flesh and bones due to my malnutrition. My very flesh was dirty as it was caked with mud and dirt. I was as my master said 'ugly'.

Hearing rustling in the bed, I hide the glass shard behind me as Master Glendale woke up from his drunken stupor. Hearing a firm knock at the door, he answers.

"You sent for me, sugar." I hear the nasally voice of one of the women from the brothel. "Yes I did." Master Glendale said before the noises of her moans. Master's grunt, the sound of skin slapping skin followed by there groans as they climaxed together.

I felt like I would throw up. The smell of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air like fog in the early morning. The sound of quiet whispers hung in the air as the bed creaked and croaked with the rhythm of Masters pace.

***

Hearing the harsh caw of the birds I sit up from my crouched position on the floor.  I could hear no movement in the house, which either meant Master was still sleeping or he had gone out. Pulling on my leash it was on the floor, which meant Master had gone out. Standing up I put on a empty potato sack on, trying but failing to cover myself. I was careful of my back, I figured it was still red with irritation and slight bleeding.

Going to the kitchen I begin taking out scraps of food and putting them in a pal with water. I go outside to the pig pen to feed them. Pouring the slop into the trough, I go to the bathroom in the nearby bucket in the pig sty. Sometimes I felt no better than a pig. Wallowing in my own filth and misery. Mud and pig dropping squished through my toes.

Looking at the forest the call of freedom just yards away. My heart yearned for me to run away from Master. But I knew all I was good for was to be a slave. No matter how pitiful.

But if I did leave. One question remained in my mind. Where would I go? I have no safe haven. No one to call on. If I were caught, I would be burned alive at the stake.

Shaking the thoughts away I make my way inside Master's house. I take to doing whatever dishes are in the sink, before continuing with my daily duties.