4
1601 Words
MEGHAN
The morning after, I woke up extremely sore; there was not an inch of my body that didn’t ache.
Fuck, I sighed, sitting on my bedroll.
After the previous night, it had taken an enormous effort for me to leave the kitchen, and not just because of the pain. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t know who was out there, if there was still someone around, and I didn’t want anyone to see me like that, with my clothes torn off of my body, my hair disheveled and my skin tattered with bruises from where Jackson's hands had been too rough, too demanding.
After a while, though, reason had won over my fear, and I’d wrapped my body in what was left of my clothes and tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to make any noise. If anybody saw me like that… by now, many of the people that had groped me hadn’t dared to assault me all the way because no one wanted to have the rape of a virgin on themselves, but if they saw me, if they realized I was no longer a virgin and that someone had paved the way for them…
It wasn’t safe.
Thankfully, though, I’d made my way towards the slaves’ quarters in the basement without anyone noticing me. All the other slaves were already asleep, exhausted from the hard day of work, and I’d been able to get a quick shower in the communal showers. Of course, we slaves were not entitled to any privacy, we could either shower together or not shower at all. That was the first time in months I’d managed to have the shower room all to myself, and therefore get some modesty while showering.
I’d taken extra care in scrubbing my whole body clean. Soap supply was limited for the slaves, but at the moment, I didn’t really care; I’d emptied a whole bottle just for myself, when usually we were allowed a dime size of soap.
That scrubbing and cleaning, though, hadn’t really helped. After everything, I still felt dirty. Still felt his hands on me, his manhood inside of me… as well as his seed.
When I went to the bathroom, I noticed my panties were stained with blood and a white liquid.
Should I go to the doctor? Is it normal to be still bleeding, after all these hours? I wondered, more to entertain my mind than anything else. Of course it was not normal to be still bleeding – and of course, as a slave, I was not entitled to healthcare: slaves only got a quick checkup once a year to ensure they were still fit to work, and that was all.
I cleaned myself and stepped again in the communal showers. Now that was morning, they were significantly more crowded than the night before, so I squeezed in to find a showerhead that was still free and walked right under the water. At least it was hot.
One of the very few benefits slaves were granted, alongside food and a roof. Calling it a shelter would have been too much. We would have been protected, in a shelter. We would have been safe.
And what had happened to me the previous night proved we were not safe.
“MOVE!” a woman screamed at me after barely three minutes, pushing me to the side to get under the water. My instincts screamed at me to push her back and put her in her place, but she was significantly larger and stronger than me, and had a wolf; I didn’t stand a chance against her. So, I just grabbed a cloth and walked out of the shower room.
According to the clock, it was already 7 AM; time to work. As Mylah’s personal maid, it was my duty to make her breakfast, bring it to her, wake her up and get her ready for the day – and considering that she had her last wedding dress check that morning, she would not appreciate me waking her up later.
I grabbed a new uniform from the supply closet and put in on, it covered the whole length of my arms, where the majority of the bruises Jackson had left me were, but did little to nothing to hide the hickeys he’d left on my neck.
Fuck.
Everyone would see them – realize I was no longer a virgin and … set their worst instincts free.
I needed to cover them – and it would be pricey. Still, it’d be better than walking around with those bruises, that would make me a target.
I walked up towards Jess, a slave girl a couple of years older than me: she was known to sell any kind of stuff.
“Do you have some makeup?” I asked her, skipping the plesantries. I had no time for that.
Jess slowly turned towards me, a sly smile on her face. “And what do you have for me?”
“My breakfast rations for a week.” I offered.
I’d surprised her, I could see that; however, she quickly regained her composure, and rummaged into her bedroll, taking out a bottle of foundations and some powder. I thanked her with a nod of my head and used the powder mirror to quickly cover up my hickeys before returning her the makeup.
I entered Mylah’s room through the servitude’s passages; it was dark, as the lights were off and the curtains were drawn, but after six months of doing the same things everyday, I knew my way around the room. I left the breakfast tray on the empty spot on the drawers and then I walked towards the curtains, slowly opening them.
“Fuuuck you.” Mylah groaned as sunlight filled the room, and I walked back to grab the tray.
“Good morning, miss Thorne.” I said, as I did every morning. Ever since I’d become a slave, she’d forbidden me to address her in any other way other than that.
I’m not your sister anymore, she’d said, her smirk wicked and cruel. I don’t want my name to be associated with a low, wolfless slave.
“It’s 7,30 AM, miss.” I went on. “Breakfast’s ready, will you have it in bed as usual?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Mylah grumbled. “Just leave it there and go grab another portion.”
Another portion?, I wondered, startled. Mylah never overate; she was super careful about her caloric intake.
“As you wish, miss…” I replied as I turned towards her…
And all of a sudden, all the wind got knocked out of me.
Mylah was not alone in bed, stirring beside her, still half-asleep, there was Jackson.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled as he stirred.
Mylah smiled, and leaned over to kiss him. “Good morning, honey… nothing’s goin’ on, she’s just going to get your breakfast.”
“What are you…” he groaned. He sat up – and that was when he saw me.
A sweet little virgin, so hungry for daddy’s big c**k.
“Meghan?”
Answer, a pleading voice inside of me begged. I had to answer, or I’d disrespect him, and then I’d get punished, and I really didn’t want that…
But I couldn’t.
I almost felt like there was a hand squeezing my throat, blocking the words, blocking my breath.
It was always you.
Slowly, that phantom hand holding my throat trailed down, on my chest, on my belly, my hips … and suddenly, it was a hand I could recognize all too easily.
I knew you’d feel like this.
My instincts, the fear took over. The second later, without a word, I slipped behind the service door and began to run.
“WAIT!” I heard Jackson scream behind me. “MEG, WAIT!”
“Jack, what the f**k are you doing?” Mylah’s screams were faint in the distance. “She’s just the slave!”
“MEG!”
I ran faster, desperate to get away from him. Why was he chasing me? What did he want, now? Did he want to rape me again?!
No.
I wouldn’t let it happen – or at least, I wouldn’t go down without a fight this time.
I wouldn’t let him humiliate me like that again – death was a better prospect, in comparison.
“MEG!”
Suddenly, I felt his hand closing around my wrist, and my run was chased to a halt. The momentum was too strong, and I jerked back against his solid chest, but I was quick enough to walk back from him before he could secure me into his arms.
“Meg, I’m so sorry.” he panted. “I… I don’t know how I ended up here, I swear, I didn’t mean to…”
“Let me go.” I heaved, trying to jerk my wrist free from his grip.
“I- I didn’t want you to see this, I’m sorry…”
“I said let me go!”
“I didn’t mean to sleep with your sister, I swear, you’re the one…”
“LET GO OF ME!”
I put all my strength in prying my hand from his grip – maybe too much.
I staggered back from the force of that jerking, and I missed a step.
Pure panic gripped my stomach as my gut realized faster than my brain what was about to happen.
Jackson's shocked and distraught face was the last thing I saw before I fell down the stairs.
- Writer
