Chapter IV -- A Humbling Prelude to Hygiene
Thirty-Seven was right. My stomach has shrunk. It took some time to find the bread in this darkness, and by the time I did, my hunger had faded. I took only one bite, chewing slowly to savor its rich fennel flavor and only reluctantly washing it down with a few sips of water.
Now I wait, but I know not what for. The waiting is torture in and of itself. In the darkness, my mind paints pictures of the life I left behind. I imagine my mother and father, both proud and concerned. Allura is no doubt already dreaming of the riches and scheming of ways to spend them for me. On my Emancipation Day, I'm sure her smile will be the biggest—and falsest—of them all.
Emancipation. A thought I had dreaded. It seems strange now to be afraid of freedom, now that I have realized my childish dream was just that. I was a fool to think that Master Twelve would love me as I have loved him. How could he? To him, I am just another plaything--a conglomeration of parts for his amusement. Not a person, but a thing that doesn't mind being locked away in the dark when not in use.
I should have listened to Allura. I am not good enough to be a Tithe. Not only weak and without purpose, but also immature and idealistic. This household has no place for a toy that is already broken, and that is what I am--a defective rag doll that no one would want to play with. What I saved as a gift for my Master isn't fit for a farm slave.
I hear the lock rattle outside. Are they coming to take me to the farm already? Or will it be straight to the village brothel to be bound to a pommel horse, kept oiled so that I am always ready to accept the cock of any man with a coin in his pocket who doesn't mind looking at a wooden box instead of a lover's face?
The door opens and the gaslights flare to life. I curl into the corner and hide my face.
"You poor girl," says a soft baritone voice. "You've no need to hide from me."
His footfalls are soft and as he approaches, the scent of lavender fills my nostrils. I chance a look.
"My! You are the pretty one," he says as he stretches his slender torso. "Come now. Let me have a better look at you, please."
He laughs. A gentle, warm sound. "Didn't think you'd hear that word again, did you?"
His smile sets me at ease. Almost. "How am I to address you?"
"My name is Eighty-Eight. I am your groomer," he says. "You should address me simply as 'sir.' Not that it bothers me personally, but I must insist that you refer to yourself as 'this girl.' It really is in your best interest to get in the habit of it."
"Yes, sir," I say. "This girl is sorry."
"It's alright, Two Seventy-Six," he says and pats me gently on the head. He looks at his palm with disgust, pulls a cloth from his pocket and begins to wipe his hand as he walks away. "What isn't alright is the state of your hair. When is the last time you bathed?"
"This girl cannot remember, sir."
"Well, that is something we shall have to remedy," he says. "Now, come here so that I may get a better look at you."
I like this man. I want to please him, so I try to remember all of the instructions Thirty-Seven gave me regarding the proper way to crawl. His smile widens as I approach him.
"Very good, Two Seventy-Six," he says. "You're a quick study. Now stand for me."
I do. He gently takes my face in his hand and turns it first left, then right.
"Nice bone structure," he says. He runs his hand down my neck to my chest. "I just wish I couldn't see so much of it."
He looks me in the eye. I look away.
"Now don't you worry," he says and reaches into his belt pouch. He unfolds a small gray paper, revealing a small, blackish ball. "Close your eyes and open your mouth, girl."
He places the ball on my tongue and it is heaven. Pure, melting heaven. I don't know what this is called, but I like it.
"Ahh... you should do that more often," he says. "Ghandrillian chocolate always makes me smile, too."
Am I smiling? Yes. Amazingly, this gentle man has found a way to make me smile, even through this.
"Not a word of this to anyone. It's very expensive and Tithes aren't technically allowed to have it. I only wish it wasn't so fattening," he says, "but in your case... those mindless train guards! I doubt they even once stop to think of what difficult work they make for me."
Reluctantly, I swallow the chocolate, trying to memorize the sensation. Good memories seem hard to come by in this place. "Thank you, sir. It was delicious. This girl won't speak of it to anyone."
"I know you won't," he says. "If for no other reason than you believe there is more where that came from."
I hadn't even considered that. Though I like the thought of more chocolate, I don't like the thought that this man might believe my desire for more is the only thing that will keep my silence. Is that how things are here? Does no one do anything simply because it is the right thing to do? I shake the thought from my head. I have to believe this man's kindness is his nature, not merely his job.
"Now kneel for me," he says. "It's time to get you clean."
I kneel and he fixes a worn, red leather collar around my neck, attaches a chain leash and locks both into place. "This is just a training collar. It's seen better days. I'm sure Master will have a much nicer one for you at your ceremony."
Master Twelve. My Master. "When will that be, sir?"
"When you are ready," he says. "Anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. It all depends on you. Come along."
He opens the door, gives a gentle tug on the leash and I follow him out into the light. Sunlight! As a girl working in my father's fields, I grew to hate the sun on hot days. I take back my every curse about it. The morning air is crisp, but the sun's glow is warm upon my back. The grass here is immaculately kept and feels soft beneath my sore knees.
When I first arrived in Ghandril it was already dark. For the first time, I see the village in full bloom. Everywhere I look, citizens are going about their business: opening shop windows, sweeping out the dust of night, laughing over breakfast. It seems odd at first, but it is just like any other morning and very much like my home village of Palsinore. I guess I was expecting everyone here to be a Tithe like me, but as far as I can see, I am the only one on a leash. I am not the only one who has noticed this.
As Eighty-Eight leads me through town, eyes follow us. I can feel the critical stares of the village women, every inch of me on display for them to compare and reject. Some men glance and return to work, some stare long and hard. A hoot from an alley startles me. A drunk mocks masturbating as I pass. He doesn't bother me. What bothers me is the children in the schoolyard -- pointing, laughing and occasionally barking at this naked girl on a leash.
At length, we reach what looks like a storefront with a large window. Eighty-Eight leads me in and commands me to climb onto an oak table before the window and then kneel in the salutation position, cupping my breasts in my hands.
"In case not everyone got a good look at you," he says with a wink. He tethers my leash to a heavy iron rod that protrudes from the wall, takes a heavy padlock from atop the table, and locks the leash into place. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
He chuckles as he leaves the building, locking the door behind him. As I am secured to the wall by a chain, I assume that this is not to keep me in, but to keep others out. It isn't long before my suspicions are confirmed by the small crowd gathering outside the window. Within minutes, a sea of faces stares in at me--faces of both sexes and of all ages.
One old crone squints through the window and cracks a toothless smile. "They lower the harvest age again? My son has bigger tits than that!"
The crowd roars with laughter.
"It's true," says a dirty, bearded, giant of a man as he lifts his shirt. "See?"
"Put those away before you make me throw up," says a foppish young gentleman dressed from head to toe in the finest sky blue silk I've ever seen.
"What's the matter, Jaryll?" The giant scowls. "Got a problem with my tits, you little cocksucker?"
"Oh no," the younger man says with a smirk. "I love a big chest on a man. I was talking to the mousey little thing in the window!"
The giant roars with laughter. "I bet she squeaks when she takes it up the ass just like you do!"
To my surprise, the giant claps the young man, Jaryll, on the shoulder and they laugh together, then turn back to me.
"Eek! Eek!" the old crone says, pointing at me.
My lip begins to tremble. All eyes are on me. I can't stand their stares and their condescending laughter. My face burns with shame. I try to hide myself, covering my breasts with my hands and the crowd cheers.
