Muda

Errand (7.)

[A.Ham.]

Days came and went at a comfortable pace. All the way through the week, Muda earned her keep helping around the office and at home. She was always the first awake every morning, but also the first asleep, usually somewhere in my office when I do my evening work. Sometimes at my feet, others in my reading chair. I've noticed she prefers to stay near me whenever she's not busy. I don't mind, as she's always quiet and respectful of my work. She didn't make any excess noise in anything she does. Even cooking, she's sure to set down anything gently so not to disturb the quiet air of the house. The strangest part is, I enjoy her being here though she's never spoken a word to me.

She smiled when she's enjoying something, and the smile grows the more she enjoys it. Her brows will furrow and she would bite her lip when she'd focus intently on her chores, or when she'd try to reach something that's just out of reach. When she would kneel, her hands rest palms down on her thighs when she's near me or Washington, but on the floor if Jefferson's or Madison came near. If she's at rest, sitting indian style, her hands would be neatly folded in her lap. If she felt stressed or felt I was stressed, she'd lean her head on my thigh and let me pet her.

So far, though, my favorite moment would be when I carried her to bed. The smile then is unlike any other. And how she settles in my arms is absolutely precious. I believed this was why she has grown so comfortable around me. I show that I actually care for her, and when all is done, I'm proud to have her in my care. It's strange, there's already this... natural understanding that is Master and Slave, but also... friends. She is comfortable in her place, serving me, but also knows I wouldn't think less of her if she needed to rest early or couldn't fulfill every task.

For once, I'm slightly grateful for Jefferson being an ass.

Today, we were to go back to Hercules' shop to pick up proper clothes for Muda. It's late afternoon on a friday, just as we're about to leave the office. I prepared a note for Muda to carry with her.

"Muda!" I call, loud enough to hear the echo through the office hall. It's amusing to hear the soft shuffle of papers falling, then pattering of footsteps making their way closer, pausing every few moments to probably look for me. When she does arrive, she bows at the door, approaching the desk slowly. "I want to set the tone clear for how this is going to work out. I am personally opposed to slavery, but since you are comfortable working around the house, I won't stop you. It gets terribly dull if you have nothing to do." She smiles at me, nodding in understanding and for me to continue.

"I need you to trust that I will protect you, and that you'll stay should I leave you unattended. So," I hold up the envelope and note, "take this note and go to Mulligan's shop to pick up your clothes. The note is to supplement for your lack of speech. It's okay if you cannot carry all of the clothes back with you, we'll go back together another day." She steps forward to take the paper from me, but I hold them back a moment longer. "I will not go with you, nor will I send supervision. Just go into town, and back home. You could try to run away, but I'm trusting that you will return. I can give you a good life here, you know that. I won't be able to watch you every moment of every day we are out, but trust I will keep you safe even when I'm not with you. You know the way home?"

I wish I knew what she was thinking. Her smile faded as I talked, her brows pushed together like she was focusing on the task at hand. She nods again, extending a hand for the article. I hand it to her, a similar expression on my face.

"I will see you at home."

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As the sun started to set, I began to worry. Maybe I was wrong. It was a lie just to get an opening to leave. Damnit. Damn it all. I sighed as I resigned to my office, just to busy myself for the evening, when a knock at the door halted my progress. People really should give me some warning. I think people are starting to make a habit of visiting unannounced.

"If it isn't Aaron Burr, Sir." I grinned, shaking hands with the Senator.

"Alexander, I believe this belongs to you?" He stepped aside, showing a nervous Muda, a few dressed resting in her arms. "She seemed lost wandering just outside of town. Pity such a beauty is stuck with your sorry ass."

"Muda, I thought you said you knew the way back." I scolded her gently, ignoring Burr's distasteful comment. Her head only bowed further. "Go put your clothes away." She nodded, brushing past Burr and I to disappear into the house.

"I never pegged you for the slave-owning type, Hamilton." Burr continued.

"I'm not. Jefferson gifted her to me as a bribe. Though, I appreciate having the second pair of hands around. She's good company." I replied, digging in my pocket for twenty dollars. "Here you go, for bringing her back to me."

"Not a problem. And hey,  if you ever get tired of her, let me know. I'm sure I can find a good use for her." He chuckled, pocketing the money. Of course you could, filthy slug.

"In your dreams. Good night, Burr." I rolled my eyes, closing the door behind me. Now to deal with Muda. As I headed upstairs, it was already completely silent, meaning she's probably already settled. 

"Muda, how come you let me sound you out if you... didn't..." I started to talk, but lost my train of thought as I took a good look at what was waiting for me as I entered the room. Oh. My. God. I'm not sure how to exactly explain it, but a rational person would assume it is part of her conditioning as a slave that if she knew she had messed up, she was to be prepared for the punishment. The only problem was that I wasn't prepared. Muda had stripped of her dress and undergarments, knelt on the floor and bowed forward, her hair gently swept over her shoulder to expose her back. Her hands, palm down, were stretched as far forward as she could manage in front of her. She made no movement to acknowledge my entering, or that I had started to speak to her. 

Normally, this would have been a certainly erotic view worth having captured in a painting, but what's stunned me more were the marks in her skin. Some faded, some dark. They crossed her back neatly, parallel with her hips, probably dealt by a hand who has done it with practice. I stepped closer, slowly, like I was scared I would spook her if I moved too quickly. I knelt to her level, drawing my fingers to trace an especially darkened scar. I felt her flinch under my touch, but make no noise or movement away from me. She barely breathed, she was so still.

"Muda... Did Jefferson have this done to you?" I asked, though I didn't need to. Of course he did. Like I said, Jefferson has no regard for life. I stroked her back, my hand ghosting over her skin, just enough to feel her shiver at the touch. Inspecting her further, I could see the faint outlines of scars, thick and thin, lining the outside of her thighs, down her calves, same along her forearms. "Oh Muda... no wonder you're so good. You've been through so much." I stood back up, stepping back. 

"Get dressed, there is food for you in the kitchen. I made soup." She raised her head to me, finally, her eyes gazing sadly up to me. "You heard me. Get up, get dressed, Muda." I didn't think this moment would come so soon, she's been so calm and easy this whole time. I don't want to hurt her, but in moments like this, she doesn't need a friend.

She needs a Master. 

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09/23/17