Well I have got to be honest I would have bailed from the slavery experience after the river shack part, non monogamy is a no no! However that would not make much of a story would it? So my foolish self has to keep following where he leads, scary. Would you?
The leap of Faith
We never once spoke of the dynamic between us, it was a silent assent. There was no usual discussion of parameters, safe words, or preferences. I learned swiftly I was a slave, a situation where things were non-negotiable, and none of that mattered. I rose to his challenge, and the daredevil in me reveled in the often steep learning curve. I was young and impetuous, and as far as I was concerned there was no turning back.
He led, and I followed. With it came at first an incredible rush of freedom. I know that sounds dumb, how can one be a slave to another and feel free in any way? Yet here I was, free to just be me, nothing more and nothing less. My smallest connection to society stripped away, I didn't have to conform, all I had to worry about was HIM. So that is what I did, and I set about being the best slave girl ever.
It had been a rough adjustment at first, I will not lie. A real struggle to get into the mindset of owned property. Yet as the weeks passed I found a rare peace in it. I learned all I could about this man, the things he enjoyed, those he disliked, and I strove to pleasure him like no other.
*****
Summer blossomed, the gulf ready and edgy as hurricane season approached, but it was to be a quiet summer. I cannot say the same.
The visits of his friends had become increasingly rowdy, and frequent. During this time I learned that Master had a penchant for heavy drinking. Not just light beer either. I have never seen a man consume the volumes of strong alcohol I had seen him stow away. His American friends were no match for him, with little effort he drank them all under the table.
To begin with this was amusing to watch, but I noted with some fear that even though he protected me from his drunken friends he was becoming less diligent in this, even delighting in the occasional slip up. This led to our first fight.
After one particularly bad weekend late that June I no longer felt I would be safe, I confronted him over it. I bravely told him I would leave, I did not know how, as I did not have a car, but I intended to just the same.
Until this time I guess I had only seen tiny snippets of the beast within. At my pronouncement he looked sideways at me through his wild blonde mane, his one green eye firmly fixed on me. I saw him snarl baring his teeth, he had pointed canines like a wolf.
He turned, his hands alighting on my throat wrapping them about my neck. I was not expecting this. I froze under his threatening grasp. He pressed my throat, not hard, but enough to begin to reduce my air intake. I stood very still, I did not wish to further incite him.
"When have I let anyone hurt you, huh? Don't you listen to what I tell you girl?" He snarled menacingly.
I could not help thinking he looked like a wild animal.
"YOU ARE MINE!" He exploded angrily, shaking me.
I clawed at him but he did not notice, his eyes bored into mine and I desisted. He never took his hands from my throat.
"Do I really need to show you just how much you are mine?" He growled.
I realized then I had been foolish to be combative. Silence was my friend. I was fast learning during his sudden, savage, anger attacks to remain passive. If I did not fight him he would calm down and he would stop.
So began his degrading monologue, one I will never forget.
"So Lidia why am I with you? I ask myself that. I could have any woman I wanted." He teased.
Though I had to agree he probably could. His rough hands left my throat, his index finger stuck into my breastbone, hard.
"Look at you, redneck trailer trash girl. I know what they call you. Too skinny, cries too much, no titties. No idea how to really please a man...Yes, Lidia, why am I with you?"
I did not know what to say I looked down at his bare feet, I had worked so hard of recent weeks to be all he desired and more, and I had to say I was suddenly fearful he would abandon me. I felt his large hand under my chin, he was lifting my face to look into his. He was so much taller than I. I had to look right up.
"Be a good girl Lidia or I will get a better one, that I promise."
I did something I have not done since. I broke from his hand and ran out into the trees. Anywhere to be away from him. I heard him run part way after me yelling for me to return. I screamed and wailed, and cut myself on the brush and branches. When my tirade abated I lay in the warm sand exhausted and crying a flood of bitter tears. I was determined he would not just use me and throw me away, slavery was forever.
*****
July four, and this year at our annual party I was not the Lidia of the year before. I no longer socialized with my cousins, or cared what my sister was doing. The relationship with my family was very estranged, and we did not stay for more than a polite visit. Besides he had other plans for the day...
The road to the river shack wound back into the swampy bayou, the trees hanging with Spanish moss, dense and dark. Master Frej said he often came here to fish, he caught good catfish here, something I had never liked to eat myself. I was not crazy about fishing to be honest, but he liked it so I acquiesced deciding to bring a good book to pass the time.
Three of his work buddies were already there, their lines trailing in the water, drinking beer. It was not long before the other two of his friends arrived and they all sat on the muddy bank talking, backs to me, smoking, drinking, and catching very few fish. I must admit I felt like a spare prick at a wedding and wished I had of stayed home.
Master would every now and then turn to look at me as I sat on my chair reading, bothered by the plethora of insects. I really did not like fishing, but since that day we had argued, if you could even call it that. I really felt pressure to please him. I sincerely hoped he had noticed.
He had been there fishing quite unsuccessfully for about an hour, and I could sense he was impatient and I hoped he might be considering going home. He rose from his chair and smiled at me, he had the capacity to make me melt every time. He led me into the dilapidated river shack, if it was indeed any ones it had not been frequented for a very long time. It was small, just a single room and mostly made of iron, little more than an old tool shed on pylons.
Even in the shade it was decisively warm within. The floor was made of well worn wooden planks and in its center stood an old iron double bed, sporting a very threadbare and soiled innerspring mattress. He looked at me and then at the bed. It was as he often did an unspoken suggestion.
There was no way I wanted to lay there, it was filthy and I am sure it was crawling with bugs.
"Not here." Was all I said softly, hoping he would listen, he was not very good at it.
