She avoided her reflection in the mirror as she ran her bath. She stepped into the hot water and sank down into the tub, enjoying the way the heat seemed to burn the pain out of her aching muscles.
After soaking for a few minutes, she washed her hair, her body and shaved all of her body hair except for her arms. She didn't think Master Paul would see her naked today, but wanted to be fully prepared for him just in case.
As she gently rubbed the towel across her wounds, which had begun to sting again, she looked in the mirror. Her face was still purple and blue, but not quite as puffy.
'At least the swelling is going down', she thought.
She sprayed herself with the perfume Master Paul had bought for her and put on the slinky slip dress she always wore for him. The only makeup she applied was lipstick, since the bruising around her eye would ensure any color she added would not be seen. She combed and dried her hair and curled the ends under. Master Paul had asked her to always wear her hair this way for him.
Then, just as she finished, she heard the doorbell and faint voices. She strained to hear what they were saying, but heard only muffled conversation and laughter.
'At least that's a good sign.' she thought.
Finally, she opened the bathroom door and went into the living room where the two men were smoking and talking casually. She knelt at Master Paul's feet in front of the chair he had brought to her apartment for this purpose. It was a large, well cushioned recliner. He had said it made him feel like a king.
"Master." she said as she knelt, head bowed and eyes lowered.
He leaned toward her.
She thought he would lift her chin and kiss her or brush her forehead with his hand, but what she felt instead was a searing pain on her left arm as Master Paul touched the burning end of his cigarette to her flesh. She cried out and Sir Thomas caught her arm and jerked her aside just in time to spare her a blow to the head.
"Was that quite necessary, Paul? Have some decency!" Sir Thomas said.
She could hear the anger in his voice and had never heard him speak so sharply to another man.
Master Paul stood and yelled at Sir Thomas, "How dare you interfere in my affairs! That is my property you're handling. Give it to me!"
He stepped forward, trying to grab her and Sir Thomas pushed her behind him. For a moment, Master Paul tried in vain to reach around Sir Thomas, but he was no match for him and Master Paul soon turned away, seeming to have given up.
Before she knew what was happening, Master Paul's fist connected with Sir Thomas' chin. Sir Thomas hardly flinched, but Master Paul looked about to try again.
She yelled, "Stop, Paul, please!"
The mention of his name not being given the respect she usually afforded him seemed to catch his attention.
"You call yourself a slave? You're trash! A filthy whore who bows to any man who drops his pants in front of you. Dirty bitch!" he said as he tried to grab her again.
This time Sir Thomas was the one who landed a punch. There was a horrible crunching sound as his fist, so much larger that Master Paul's, landed hard on the center of his face.
Master Paul turned away and put both hands to his face. When he turned back, she saw his face covered in blood.
"You bastard!" Master Paul started to swing at Sir Thomas again.
She quickly blurted out, "I don't want to belong to you anymore, Paul!"
Master Paul stopped mid swing and looked at her and said, "That's no longer your choice."
"It is always her choice who she serves, Paul," Sir Thomas said. He moved toward Master Paul, no longer her Master.
