Thanks again for the wonderful comments! I hope this chapter meets your desires for more rebellion, lol. As always, all characters are over the age of 18.
*****
Jemma slowly woke up, stretching lazily till she remembered where she was. The comfortable bed, silky sheets and cozy blankets were soon forgotten as she looked around the room. She sighed as she realized she was alone, for the first time. Swiftly she slid out of bed and ran to the door. It was unlocked! She looked both ways before walk-running down the hall to the elevator. Surely in a place this size, they have to have a set of stairs. There were no signs indicating such, and she was leery to start opening doors with letters on them. She didn't want to meet another trainer. She continued looking around until she found an indiscreet door with no special markings. She hesitated only a moment before trying the handle. It was unlocked as well. She slipped inside the dark area behind the door, giving her eyes a moment to adjust before she moved on; pleased she found a set of stairs leading up.
Unbeknownst to her, Master and Sir Jarrod were watching her every move from a set of monitors in the security room.
"I told you she would try to escape," Sir Jerrod argued.
Master just watched her, fingers connected beneath his chin, "Perhaps. But give her time. I feel she will be a welcome addition to the harem."
The two men continued to watch as she stealthily climbed three flights of stairs. She wasn't sure why she was panting for breath; she shouldn't be this winded. Of course, she had no way of knowing they were able to reduce the oxygen in the stairwell, to prevent slaves from escaping. She continued on, finding a door at the top of the third flight of stairs. It was locked. She continued her trek. Fourth floor was also locked. But the fifth floor wasn't. She slipped into another hallway, elevator to her left. She tiptoed down the linoleum flooring, shivering at the cooler temperature. This hallway was nothing like the one downstairs. No carpet, stark white walls and no artwork anywhere. This must be the way out.
Only one door looked promising; so she entered it, making sure no one was following her. This room was dark, darker than the stairwell. She took a tentative step forward. A sound behind her caused the blood to drain from her face. The door locked behind her. She quickly turned, pulling and tugging on the handle, frantic to get out before she was caught. His laugh was the next sound to cause her to stop.
He slowly raised the lighting in the room. Her eyes grew wide as she looked around, taking in all the items in the room. Some she recognized from historical accounts, but there were so many things she was clueless about. Her gaze stopped on him.
"Kneel." She dropped to her knees, noticing the floor in here was wood, rather than carpet or linoleum. Her thighs automatically parted the required amount, hands resting on her legs. Her body quivered, knowing she was caught and would likely be punished. Suddenly she remembered.
Her pleas were music to his ears as the sight of her kneeling was a feast for his eyes. "Please Master, please don't use the gel. I was lost. I didn't know where Sir Jarrod went, so I went to look for him. Please Master, I am good, I don't need the gel."
A sob caught in her throat at his silence. An eternity passed before he spoke, "Look at me, slave Jemma."
She looked up, tears slipping down her cheeks yet again.
"I've already told you that I use the gel as a last resort. And I rarely have to do that. Yes, you will be punished, for two things. One: you left the room and tried to escape. Secondly, you lied about it."
