Slave Girl

He left her, going into the bathroom. He took a brush and met her back in the kitchen. “Follow me.”

He entered his living room, grabbed a cushion, and placed it on the ground. “Sit.”

“I can do it.”

“Sit,” he said. It was hard not using a name.

She sat down on the cushion between his knees. Her back presented to him. Running the brush through her hair, he was careful as he came to a knot. He didn’t want to hurt her. She had such beautiful hair.

Working the length, he smiled to himself, unable to believe that he was the only one brushing her hair. Sure, whenever he caught sight of her, he always imagined touching her, being close. She was his guilty pleasure but never once did he allow himself to give in to those kinds of feelings. It was crazy to even give himself the chance to want to.

In his line of work, she wouldn’t last, at least she shouldn’t.

She clearly was a favorite of his father’s. The scars on her body, they told a story.

“How did you get the scars?” he asked.

She tensed up. “I … I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t go back. You’d be shot or worse, sold, because you had taken my attention away. Don’t try to play dumb with me. I know you tried to learn to read and write. I’ve seen you.”

She gasped.

“Yep, it’s no secret to me that you hate being a slave. I’ve watched you. You admire the women who visit my father. You’ve seen them with books, with life, with freedom. Tell me it’s not something you’ve imagined.”

“You’re being mean.”

“Yes. I’ve got to be cruel to be kind. Now tell me, who gives you the scars?” he asked.

“I … your…” She stuttered and shook her head. Her shoulders slumped.

Raphael held on to the brush like his life depended on it, and in a way, it did. He wanted to fucking kill his father, but he didn’t. He kept his shit together. It had to be his father, had to be him.

Counting to ten inside his head. Just fucking awesome, he thought to himself. This was fucking crazy.

“Tell me what happens,” Raphael said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know my father. I know he likes things a certain way. Now tell me what it is he does to you.” He didn’t know if he wanted the truth.

“I … I have to get dressed in a single nightshirt. I can’t wear any underwear and one of his guards comes to collect me. Not every night. Not every week. Only when he wants to hurt me. I’m taken to his room, in his wing of the house. There, I’m forced to get naked. I’m always good but he says I have to be punished. I have to do as I’m told or else he’ll kill me, or sell me to a man who would have many men use me.”

He continued to brush her hair, wishing his father’s death as she released her secrets.

“He … he likes to tie me up so I can’t get away. He sometimes chokes me. He likes to hear me breathe hard for life.” She touched her neck. “He doesn’t do it often. He’ll hit me, strike me as hard as he can. Sometimes he has women with him and he makes them watch what is in store for them if they don’t behave.”

She sniffled and he leaned forward to see she was crying. “When there are no women there, I know the pain is going to hurt even more. He … he will put his cigarettes out on me. They are the worst. I know some of the plants in the garden can help. Mr. Salman is a really nice man. He helps me a lot. I can’t always hide the wounds, and when he sees them, he will bring me salve.” She gasped. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“I won’t. Does my father rape you?”

“Your father? Rape?”

“Does he force himself on you?”

“I’m his property. He can do with me what he wishes. It’s not force. I’m nothing.”

Raphael gritted his teeth. He hated hearing these words. She was something. No, she was someone.

He knew his father was a monster. He had an idea, but he didn’t know just how much. “Does he put his dick inside you?”

“Yes.”

“Where?” he asked.

“My mouth.”

“Anywhere else?”

She nodded.

“Where?”

She shook her head and covered her face.

He moved to the floor and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t move away.

“Please,” she said.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“He’s going to kill me.”

“I won’t let him.”

“He has the power.”

“I know.” He kissed her head. “Where does he hurt you?”

She didn’t say anything but her hand reached down and she tapped her ass.

“That’s where he fucks you?”

She nodded.

“Does he take your pussy?”

She shook her head. “He told me that I was worth more to him a virgin than not. If he wants to sell me, he’d get the highest price, and besides, there were enough sluts to keep his dick happy.” She sniffled. “Am I bad?”