Catherine's eyes blinked awake momentarily. She was lying on her side with her head resting under her palms, her legs curled upward; everything around her was dark and shaking. She was confused at first but as the sleep cleared from her eyes, thoughts of what had happened to her after the auction had taken place came back to her in bits.
An armed militant had led her back to her room and once again locked the door once she'd been inside. There she had remained like the previous night. She had been fed sumptuously, not knowing the fate of her parents or of the others. The following morning, being today, they had come for her and led her through a side door out to the back of the compound. They had chained her ankles and wrists then pushed her to climb into the back of a lorry with a tarpaulin cover to shield her from the sun; an armed man had climbed onboard to watch over her as the vehicle started its engine and soon was on the move. The road was hard and plenty of time she had complained and grumbled to no one in particular from the bumps she got as the vehicle jostled and drove over the rugged terrain. The armed bandit in the vehicle with her laid his rifle over his thighs. He looked at her occasionally but she couldn't detect any hint of light in his eyes. The combined weight of the ankle chains and the ones on her wrists were overbearing; she couldn't dare bring herself to jump from the vehicle even if she tried. Having nothing else to do she lay on her side on the open section of the lorry and tried to catch some sleep. She had taken a shower before they came and took her from her room but as she tried to catch some sleep she could perceive the foul smell coming from her and from her hair. Wherever she was being led to, she knew it would be nothing compared to where she had just left.
How long was she asleep, she couldn't tell. The last time she looked at her watch or anything that told her the time was like a century ago, back when she'd been comfortable with herself at the resort's camp while listening to the sound of her parents fucking in their assigned tent room. She sat halfway up opened her mouth and yawned. She rubbed her finger at her eyes, saw her armed occupant push back the tarpaulin clothing to gaze outside. The lorry drew to a slow stop. The armed militant indicated at her to remain where she was as he then pushed the tarpaulin wrap halfway aside and jumped out the back of the lorry. There was exchange of words, all in the same language they'd spoken to each other with back when they'd kidnapped her. Catherine could hear what sounded like other vehicles and lots of people either milling about of going about their own way. she struggled to sit up with her back against the lorry's bucket seat, if only she could just spy outside to know where she was.
Suddenly the tarpaulin wrap got pulled up and three men stuck their faces past it and looked at her. They had nothing but animosity in their eyes. They unlatched the back lock of the lorry and brought her down, unmindful of the shackles digging into her skin. She saw that she was in the middle of a courtyard. In front of her were a wide stairs leading into a mansion. There were lush garden with dynamic types of flowers on either side of the courtyard and people were bent over attending to them. Catherine was surprised to see that the servants were all white.
"Let's go!" one of the bandits barked at her, startling her from what she was looking at.
One of the militant men led the way forward while another marched behind her. The sound of her shackles scratching against the ground as she walked up the stairs followed them. A white servant wearing a white shirt and pants held the door open for them. He bowed his head as the bandits walked past him, not looking up until they had entered the house and then he closed the door and disappeared to whatever corner of the house from where he'd appeared from.
The floor of the house was marble and the sound of the foot echoed as they went further into the household. The one in front came to a large pair of twin doors and pushed the doors open and indicated at Catherine to step inside.
"Your Mistress wants to see you."
The bandit grinned at her as she walked past him nervous and shaky at whomever she was about to meet in the room. She walked in and nearly jumped when she heard the door close behind her.
It was a spacious living room with lots of French windows opened through which she had a near unsheltered view of the backside of the estate. The furniture were thick and cream-coloured, matching the curtains. A smell of incense percolated around the room; from hidden speakers in the wall wafted a piano concerto. Everything about the room spoke of wealth. She stood in the centre with her hands holding each other, not knowing what else to do except train her eyes around. There were three other doors at either end of the room. While she stood there some seconds later one of these doors opened and in walked a talk black woman dressed in equestrian gear with black booths and a riding crop in her gloved hand. Two servants trailed behind her, one male and the other female, both of them Caucasian, blonde-haired, and dressed in white shirt and pants. They bore some resemblance to each other like only brothers and sisters would.
The black woman circled around Catherine, looking her up and down and all over; the two servants stood next to each other closer to the door waiting. There was a listlessness in their eyes as if they were on drugs and that they weren't really there. Catherine would later learn that this was how the black Mistress preferred her servants to behave when in her presence—never are they to reveal any form of emotion or make as if they were observing anything, or else they would have their hides turned raw from what she would punish them with.
The black Mistress had a statuesque built about her: wide shoulders, well proportioned hips with long pair of legs. She walked with a certain nimbleness like only a model would. Her complexion was chocolate. Her hair tied behind her head in a bun. She had piercing dark brown eyes; Catherine felt intimidated by her presence. She came and stood in front of her, taking her hands out of her gloves. She slapped Catherine's face with the pair of gloves; Catherine winced from the painful contact of the gloves as there was nothing she could do about it. The Mistress' eyes burned with anger at her.
"How dare you look at me that way, slave?" the Mistress barked at her and once again lashed at her with her hand gloves. "Remove that pitiful look from your eyes at once, bitch! Remove them right now or I'll get a knife and cut those eyes out your face for you. Don't think I won't do it—I've done it before to a former bitch slave who looked just like you. Lazy and incompetent. You're not the lazy or incompetent type, are you?"
"No ... no, ma'am," Catherine replied.
The Mistress slapped her face once again. "Don't you dare 'ma'am' me, slave. Whenever you address me, and only when necessary, you will refer to me as Mistress Tiffany. Is that clear, or should I keep slapping it into your head?"
"No, Mistress Tiffany!" Catherine shouted out her answer. "No, Mistress. I hear you perfectly."
"This is my home, slave. My plantation. I manage it when my husband—your black Lord and Master Wale—isn't around. For now he's away on business, but will return soon enough to see what new slaves he has acquired. But know that every black man and every black woman you meet in here is both your master and mistress. Until then, know that you are no longer that which you once were before you were brought here. This is your new home, this will be your new life, and you're to stick with it for as long as your worthless life is mine to use and do away with whenever I so choose. I do not tolerant disobedience, stubbornness, laziness or any negative form of dereliction of duty. From this moment on, you're nothing close to a cockroach I would step on anytime. Should you disobey my words or fail to leave up to expectations, or at any time in the near future indulge your pea-brained mind to concoct some form of rebellion, I will snatch the life out of you." Mistress Tiffany shot her hand out and grasped Catherine's throat, making her utter a squawk of surprise. "And don't think that I won't end you life if I so desire to. Do I make myself clear to you, bitch slave?"
Catherine felt droplets of the woman's spit land on her face. The Mistress was a beautiful woman, but seeing her this way was like being up-close to a dragon. Catherine could only wonder what her husband might be like.
