In a daze, I stared at Master Geoff with a broken spirit look, while I awkwardly massaged my wounded cheek with cuffed hands. I realized I'd sport finger-like bruises for at least a week. In my mind's eye, I visualized the stark-white indentations his hand had imparted on my smooth skin. I anticipated that the would-be bruise was already taking on blue shadows that'd quickly metamorphose into an ugly purple, edging towards a frightful black, before it slowly ebbed to hues of yellow.
With my initial outburst, the jungle drums had quickly spread the word and all activity in the village had halted. They'd come running, no one was about to skip this event. Everyone hovered in a tight knot scrutinizing us, waiting, as I squared off against Ronnie vicariously through his new sub. It wasn't her fault; but she, I could verbally assault. The crowd'd come for the entertainment. It was a first. A sub, and a new one at that, dressing down a Master, though overtly. To heighten the drama, I was the owner's kidnapped slave and for many it was the first time they laid eyes on me. It was a display to behold, one that would become folk-lore.
The horde, especially the Master's, knew an infraction of this magnitude carried huge consequences. They realized Master had to punish the behavior by publicly inflicting pain and humiliation. Everyone knew, even the newest acquired initiate recognized better than I, what was about to happen to me. Master Geoff's anger was palpable. Unfortunately, I was the focal point of his anger.
My mouthing-off had landed me in trouble yet again. Even as a child, most of my troubles started with my inability to control my mouth. While my new life was changing many habits, Master had yet to reinvent my innate personality faults. He was determined to recreate me into his style of slut and our battles were furious. Now though, with my actions I'd forced him to publicly teach me the error of my ways. His reputation depended on it.
My hot face boiled with humiliation, marred only by his hand’s imprint. If it's humanly possible, my eyes shot flames straight at Ronnie and Master. I’m not sure who I was angrier with, Ronnie for being Ronnie, or Master for landing me in this terrible situation. I was like a woman possessed. All my emotions that I’d pent up since my captivity burst to the surface, like a submarine blowing its tanks in a race to emerge from the inky depths of the sea. I’d taken on a shrew-like voice and even it was reduced to sputters. I was so angry.
"Suzie! Suzie! Stop!" Master furiously said, his voice laced with a tinge of pleading. Master's fingers dug into my upper arms with unbelievable force. I caught his movement at the last second. My cuffed hands flew up in self-defense. In a sliding move, he single handedly grabbed up held wrists pushing them downward. Against his superior strength, I felt my biceps strain in their losing battle. "STOP!" In an offensive action, he jerked back his arm, then, Master swung striking my other cheek with tremendous force. I was sure my jaw shattered. Stars burst behind my closed eyelids a second before I blacked out.
Shaking my head, groaning, I regained consciousness. I realized only milliseconds had elapsed as I was still pinioned upright by Master's hands. "OW! You're nails are hurting me. Please," I whimpered barely audible. The throbbing of his opened-handed punch or the ringing in my ears had not yet registered in my brain. I was in shock. Then the shakes started.
My lips quivered as tears rolled down my face. Oh, how I wished I could quell my crying. My tears defeated the strength of character I'd displayed. I felt weak when I cried. The snot smeared across my face was the most embarrassing. I'd have given anything to have fallen through a crack in the rock where I stood. Pride made me meet Master, eye to eye. I dared him to strike me again. It was a match, one I knew he could not allow me to win, but the unspoken battle was fought anyway.
My lips formed the words, "Please, Master, please," but they remained unspoken. I glanced up toward his cabin, my home, hoping he’d understand my plea. Silently I prayed he'd march me back to the privacy of his cabin and mete out my punishment. Anything, no matter how perverse if done in privacy, I would gladly withstand. But this public dressing-down was too much.
Gazing out over his clients, he ignored my silent plea. The throng was so quiet, you could hear the Ponderosa pine needles landing softly on the bare rock, where I stood. He hissed, "You push me to my limits, woman." For my ears only, he added, "I love you 'n' hate you. You certainly know how to push my buttons, you she-devil."
With his words, I felt as if he'd wrapped his strong arms around me. I believed myself to be safe. "I know," I mimed.
For the benefit of the others, "Suzie, you slut! You'll pay! We were goin' watch the training. Not now! You've just become the trainee for at least the balance of the day," he said vehemently. "You'll rue this day."
"Now, for the last time, march!" he said, his voice gaining in volume and strength as he clipped out each word.
Shaking off his hand, I squared my shoulders and proudly approached the double screened-doors. As I reached for the door handle my cape was caught by a strong gust of wind that ruffled it about my buttocks. It tickled. Its outward blast bared my breasts. The only upside was the gawkers were behind me. The downside was my bare ass was on view to all. Wolf whistles let me know at least some of the crowd appreciated my assets. I couldn't help but stand a little taller. I smiled.
Master laughed, he’d seen my smile.
Ronnie, the nosey bastard inquired, "What's so funny, Geoff? Ya got big plans for your fuckin' slut?" I wheeled holding the door open. My eyes narrowed to slits, my nostrils flared, as I fought for control. I knew attacking Ronnie would accomplish nothing and only add to my punishment, but it didn't stop me from fervently wishing I could scratch his eyes out.
I battled with myself, but I managed control. I met and held Master's eyes as I said softly in a wispy voice, "Master Geoff, please correct my behavior, sir." Gracefully, I turned and in a fluid move walked into my fate giving my audience an extra wiggle of my almost bare ass.
I let the door slam behind me. I stopped statue-still and waited in the center of the large rectangular room, not sure what to expect. From the dark recesses, a low guttural groan tore me out of my reverie of self-pity. Pirouetting, I glimpsed a darker shadow in the far corner. The moaning shadow seemed to fill my view. I recognized it, as a glimpse of myself.
With my arms wrapped around my chest in the universal symbol of being chilled or self-love, I wandered toward a sun-filled square. Standing at the French doors in the sun, I felt better, safer. The view was spectacular. A strong breeze blew up the valley whipping my cape. My nipples responded to its brisk kiss. Standing at attention, they begged for more. My cape billowed like Superman's, even matching in color. I looked up the near ridge bathed in the early afternoon sunlight and there on a rocky outcrop lay a large mother wild cat of some kind with two of the cutest bundles of fluff rollicking over and around her.
The scene made me think of my babies. A lone tear spilled, as my heart convulsed. Only a sharp intake of breath saved me from sobbing at my loss and untenable predicament. There was no way I could give into my grief. This was not the time for introspection. I understood, that again tonight, in the dark, I'd grieve. How long would the grief last? How long would I live? I knew that was the only real answer.
