[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
throughout the day supervising the daily activities of the
Personals—women who lived the whole of their lives
permanently ensconced within the mountain fortress, pets to
the whims of the masters. They were guarded always,
zealously kept separate from the rest of us. We were all
Lessers compared to them, and compared to us they lived like
goddesses.
The Personals had a large complex of rooms located far
above the Pits, which is where the Lessers' sleeping barracks
were, as well as the dining and Assembly halls, the Chore
Stations, library and hobby rooms, basically any place slaves
such as myself were expected to be seen. But the Personals
were so far removed from us that one had to walk past each
of the masters' private living quarters just to get to the first
well-protected room.
I was not permitted inside the Personals' area. Master
Boyden left me standing with the two guards standing sentry
just outside the large, ornately carved double doors.
"If you move from this spot," he told me, "I will personally
give you your first real whipping."
61
Judgment
by Denise Hall
He even turned me around to face the wall, my hands and
that hairbrush clasped behind my back as though I were a
penitent child, before stepping through those double doors
and closing them softly behind him.
Though I knew I shouldn't, I couldn't help but
surreptitiously steal glimpses at the doors when I thought the
guards weren't looking. Though there were lights everywhere,
being fully enclosed within the mountain left anyplace not
fully under a light almost gloomy with shadow. But even
without a light directly overhead, from where I stood I was
able to pick out certain images in the wood carvings that
decorated the doors. Canes were the most prominent feature,
but I also saw benches and bonds, the thorned vines of
blooming roses twined through the chained links of manacles
and collars, and birches applied to bent girls with open,
screaming mouths and tightly clenched eyes.
The art work was beautiful, but the depiction horrific, and I
shifted nervously as I looked from one distended mouth to
another. Along the bottom of both doors, female figures
posed in acts of humility that were at once appalling and
oddly seductive. The three poses of abasement were there, as
well as many positions that I was certain were intended to
beckon a master to mount, rather than whip, the supplicant.
The door opened and I quickly snapped around to face the
wall again. From behind me, a low voice drawled, "Was that
movement I just saw?"
With a hint of amusement, one of the guards replied, "To
be fair, she did glance at the wall once or twice."
"That's what I thought."
62
Judgment
by Denise Hall
My disobedience had not gone unnoticed; my heart sank.
The doors swung closed, and a huge shadow grew up on the
wall around me as Master Deaton approached from behind.
Unlike the other masters, who had accepted Boyden's
explanation of me and my required interruption of their day
without comment, Master Deaton did not take the hairbrush
from my hand and simply beat me. What he did was much
worse; he talked to me first.
"Why are you here?"
Though the depictions on that door had dwindled my
bravado and by now one would think I'd have learned to keep
a civil tongue, as I stared at the wall ahead of me, I heard
myself say, "Because you're all sadistic."
"No." He loomed over my shoulder, dressed all in black,
melding with the shadows. Huge and calm and speaking to
me as though he were a lover, not a monster about to hurt
me. "You're here because you mouthed off to the wrong man.
And you're doing so again now. Not very wise. Do you know
who you are?"
"Callie—"
"No," he interrupted smoothly. "You are nothing. You are
New-Comer. You are Red, until we decide to give you
something better. Or until we decide you aren't worth the
considerable trouble you are making of yourself and we flush
you, with the rest of the refuse, from our halls."
He held out his hand. After only the briefest of hesitations,
I reluctantly lay the handle of the hairbrush into his palm.
Maybe it was the soreness of my already swollen and battered
backside, or the fact that he was only one in a long line of
63
Judgment
by Denise Hall
men assigned to beat me—number seven to be precise,
leaving me to endure the cruelties of twelve more devils just
like him before it could all be through—but his words were
having a horrible effect on my morale.
"This is a gentle punishment reserved for children and
Personals," he said, turning the hairbrush over in his hand,
looking at it soberly. "Tane must have a soft spot for you to
allow so gentle an introduction. Were the choice mine, I
would send you to the Black Room and treat you to your first
Demerit caning. Our seasoned girls have learned to be stoic
under the rod and can sometimes withstand up to four cuts
without falling completely apart; we give them six, just to
make sure we have their undivided attentions. But for you, a
full count of twelve will leave you quickly broken of all this
defiance. It would save time in the long run, be well-deserved [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
throughout the day supervising the daily activities of the
Personals—women who lived the whole of their lives
permanently ensconced within the mountain fortress, pets to
the whims of the masters. They were guarded always,
zealously kept separate from the rest of us. We were all
Lessers compared to them, and compared to us they lived like
goddesses.
The Personals had a large complex of rooms located far
above the Pits, which is where the Lessers' sleeping barracks
were, as well as the dining and Assembly halls, the Chore
Stations, library and hobby rooms, basically any place slaves
such as myself were expected to be seen. But the Personals
were so far removed from us that one had to walk past each
of the masters' private living quarters just to get to the first
well-protected room.
I was not permitted inside the Personals' area. Master
Boyden left me standing with the two guards standing sentry
just outside the large, ornately carved double doors.
"If you move from this spot," he told me, "I will personally
give you your first real whipping."
61
Judgment
by Denise Hall
He even turned me around to face the wall, my hands and
that hairbrush clasped behind my back as though I were a
penitent child, before stepping through those double doors
and closing them softly behind him.
Though I knew I shouldn't, I couldn't help but
surreptitiously steal glimpses at the doors when I thought the
guards weren't looking. Though there were lights everywhere,
being fully enclosed within the mountain left anyplace not
fully under a light almost gloomy with shadow. But even
without a light directly overhead, from where I stood I was
able to pick out certain images in the wood carvings that
decorated the doors. Canes were the most prominent feature,
but I also saw benches and bonds, the thorned vines of
blooming roses twined through the chained links of manacles
and collars, and birches applied to bent girls with open,
screaming mouths and tightly clenched eyes.
The art work was beautiful, but the depiction horrific, and I
shifted nervously as I looked from one distended mouth to
another. Along the bottom of both doors, female figures
posed in acts of humility that were at once appalling and
oddly seductive. The three poses of abasement were there, as
well as many positions that I was certain were intended to
beckon a master to mount, rather than whip, the supplicant.
The door opened and I quickly snapped around to face the
wall again. From behind me, a low voice drawled, "Was that
movement I just saw?"
With a hint of amusement, one of the guards replied, "To
be fair, she did glance at the wall once or twice."
"That's what I thought."
62
Judgment
by Denise Hall
My disobedience had not gone unnoticed; my heart sank.
The doors swung closed, and a huge shadow grew up on the
wall around me as Master Deaton approached from behind.
Unlike the other masters, who had accepted Boyden's
explanation of me and my required interruption of their day
without comment, Master Deaton did not take the hairbrush
from my hand and simply beat me. What he did was much
worse; he talked to me first.
"Why are you here?"
Though the depictions on that door had dwindled my
bravado and by now one would think I'd have learned to keep
a civil tongue, as I stared at the wall ahead of me, I heard
myself say, "Because you're all sadistic."
"No." He loomed over my shoulder, dressed all in black,
melding with the shadows. Huge and calm and speaking to
me as though he were a lover, not a monster about to hurt
me. "You're here because you mouthed off to the wrong man.
And you're doing so again now. Not very wise. Do you know
who you are?"
"Callie—"
"No," he interrupted smoothly. "You are nothing. You are
New-Comer. You are Red, until we decide to give you
something better. Or until we decide you aren't worth the
considerable trouble you are making of yourself and we flush
you, with the rest of the refuse, from our halls."
He held out his hand. After only the briefest of hesitations,
I reluctantly lay the handle of the hairbrush into his palm.
Maybe it was the soreness of my already swollen and battered
backside, or the fact that he was only one in a long line of
63
Judgment
by Denise Hall
men assigned to beat me—number seven to be precise,
leaving me to endure the cruelties of twelve more devils just
like him before it could all be through—but his words were
having a horrible effect on my morale.
"This is a gentle punishment reserved for children and
Personals," he said, turning the hairbrush over in his hand,
looking at it soberly. "Tane must have a soft spot for you to
allow so gentle an introduction. Were the choice mine, I
would send you to the Black Room and treat you to your first
Demerit caning. Our seasoned girls have learned to be stoic
under the rod and can sometimes withstand up to four cuts
without falling completely apart; we give them six, just to
make sure we have their undivided attentions. But for you, a
full count of twelve will leave you quickly broken of all this
defiance. It would save time in the long run, be well-deserved [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]