Whiplash (9 page)

It was as I was drying off that I saw the handle of Julian’s whip peeking out from underneath the bed.  Any other time, just the sight of it would have sent me into a fit of the sweats.  That didn’t happen that night, though.  That night, I wanted to touch it – not just feel it.  I picked it up and sat down on my bed with it.  I slid my fingers over the braided leather, the smooth motion contrasting with the whip’s knotty texture. 

My fingers ran over something sticky, and upon inspection I saw a section of the whip stained with Mr. Fontenot’s blood.  A delighted smile came upon my face as I replayed the scene from earlier in the night.

Julian busting out of that closet… Mr. Fontenot’s eyes when that whip coiled around his neck… The sight of his naked body being tossed around the room like a rag doll… Him losing his bladder… That inadequate specimen of a penis…  

My smile led to a giggle; which led to two giggles that were followed by several giggles in succession.  It wasn’t long before I was laughing so hard that my side hurt.  I even laid down on the bed so I could roll around and really enjoy myself.

With my eyes squinted up and tears rolling down my face I repeated the scene over, and over, and over again in my head.   I’d never laughed so hard in my life, and by the time I was done I’d exhausted myself.  I came down slowly from my euphoria, and I allowed myself to just lay sprawled out naked on top of the bedding.  I’d just regained my composure when I caught a whiff of something.  It was warm with musk, and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand out straight.

I froze.  I tried to swallow, but my throat had already closed up and gone bone dry.  I opened my eyes and found Julian standing next to the bed, hovering right over me.  His fiery red eyebrows were furrowed over his blazing green eyes, but his lips were upturned in some kind of a grin.

Like I was catapulted, I shot up off the bed and scooted over to the far side of the mattress.  I rested on my heels and crossed my arms over my chest to attain some modesty.   I searched his face for an indication of what he was going to say or do to me, but his expression gave nothing away.  Julian said nothing and didn’t move a muscle.  He didn’t even allow his eyes to wander over my naked form.   He just stood there with both hands in his pockets while looking me right in the eyes.

The pendulum on the clock clicked at least twenty times before either of us moved.  Julian was first, and he sauntered around the bed and over to where I was perched atop it.  I followed him with my eyes for as long as I could until he escaped my field of vision.  Then, I could only hear the thud of his boots and the rustle of his suit jacket as he came to stand directly behind me.

“Master?”

No response. I licked my lips and pressed them together while I tried to decide whether or not I could make it out the door before he caught me.  I lowered my arms and put my palms on the mattress on either side of me, perhaps in preparation to bolt out of the room – I’m
still
not quite sure.  Sweat was coming out of every pore on my body, and sitting still was becoming more and more of a challenge.  I had to move.  I had to get out of there, and we both knew it.

The mattress dipped, and within that same second Julian’s frame was wrapped around mine, his hands firmly planted on either side of me.  He skimmed his nose down the left side of my neck while his left hand glided over the smooth, glossy sheets.  I regained my ability to swallow at that moment, and Julian chuckled at the hollow gulping sound.  Both my pulse and my breathing quickened, and I fought to maintain the consciousness that threatened to leave me.

Julian’s chest got even closer to my back as his left hand continued on its way, inching further and further across the bed.  His hand found the whip, and after wrapping his fingers around its handle he picked it up off the bed and stepped back and away from me.  And that was it.  He left my room without a word and locked the door behind him. 

Chapter Seven

The morning after the incident with Mr. Fontenot, Vivian came in to relay Julian’s orders regarding me.  I wasn’t to leave my room until I was presentable enough to whore for him.  I suppose that my battered face and torn nether regions didn’t make for a very alluring wench.  All of my meals would be brought up to me, and Eliza would bring up a bedpan and keep it changed out for me.  Anything else I needed would have to be brought up to me by Vivian, and under no circumstances was I to leave my domicile.

It took four days for the swelling in my face and the soreness in my bottom to go away.  During that time, I spent most of my time just staring out of my window.  Most of the fields and the small gardens around the slave quarters were nearly bare on account of the cold weather.  Even the cane fields had been affected, and the ones which were supposed to be harvested during the winter produced only about half of what they normally would have.

I noticed that a lot of the field hands had lost a good amount of weight, especially the children.  Low output meant punishment and deprivation for the field hands, even if the cause was something as uncontrollable as the weather.  That didn’t mean their workload was any lighter, either. No… it was quite the opposite.  Eli and Lucas drove them twice as hard in an effort to compensate for the below-par output of the crops.

But there was one field hand who seemed unaffected by the harsh winter – Beau.  Whereas the other slaves were noticeably thinner, weaker, and slower, Beau remained just as hearty and hardworking as he was in the spring.  On several occasions, I spotted him out in the courtyard carrying another slave’s load to the cane press.  Sometimes I’d catch him coming out of the blacksmith’s shed or the smokehouse.  A lot of times he was out in the stables, even all alone at times.

Before those four days of solitude, I’d never once questioned why it was that Beau was always outside.  His toffee-colored skin should have earned him a position out at the Big House – at least as a yardman.  The other slaves that labored out in the field and shops all day – men and women, alike – were at least as dark as I was.  Most of the men were so black that you couldn’t even see all of their scars; only the whip marks that tore through their skin were visible.

Beau seemed to be able to spend certain hours at his leisure.  Sure, most of the time when I saw him he was either busy with work or on his way to do some.  But there were pockets of time every day when he was nowhere to be found.  He’d disappear into the cane fields, and then I wouldn’t see him anymore until the next morning when he walked to the pavilion.

My mind traveled back to the afternoon we’d spent together out in the clearing in the cane fields.  He’d already had blankets on the ground when we got out there, but I hadn’t questioned that at all at the time.  Even when he’d saved me from drowning that day, he didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry to get back to anywhere.  Always, it was me that needed to get along right away.

When I wasn’t looking out of my window at the goings on outside, I was either knitting or reading.  I could read an entire book in just one day if I got started on it early enough.  During those four days, I read through three books.  One was a book of fables. Another one was a book about a group of friends who got into all kinds of trouble all over the world.  The last one scared me so much that I could hardly sleep.  That one was about a man who created a monster made of other people.  Each story was different, and I was just happy to be able to read without fear of punishment – for me
or
anyone else.

On the fifth day after the incident, I was just finishing up my knitting when nature called me to the washroom.  I’d decided to keep the bedpan in my bathtub so Eliza could come in and make an easy switch for a clean one.  I spent a few minutes cleaning myself up and then went back into my room.  The first thing I noticed upon re-entry was that my door was ajar.  Then, I saw Julian standing over next to my chair.  His back was turned to me, and he was holding something in his hand.

“Good afternoon, Ruby,” he said with his back still turned.  A few seconds passed with no response from me. 

“You know, Ruby…it is
very
discourteous to not respond to someone who has directly addressed you.  I find it to be quite crass behavior, and I won’t tolerate it from the likes of you.  Please do take this as a direct and final warning, Ruby.  I am not a man known for his patience. Now, we’ll try this again.  Good afternoon, Ruby.” 

His tone was firm but relaxed, and I found it to be very off-putting.  I still hadn’t able to get a firm grasp on just who Julian was or wanted to be.  The back and forth of his moods had me constantly walking a tightrope between sanity and madness.  Still, I answered him promptly and with conviction.

“Good afternoon, Master.”

“How has the solitude been treating you?”

“It’s fine, Master.”

“I see… and what, pray tell, is this?”  He spun around in one fluid motion, holding the sweater I’d been knitting for Beau in his hands. 

I had to think of something to say.  I couldn’t let Julian know that I’d become acquainted with Beau on my own time.  There wasn’t any reason for me to have met him before, and there
certainly
wasn’t a reason for me to be making him something. I didn’t want any trouble for either of us.  So, I lied.

“It’s a sweater that I’m making for myself, Master – to fight off the chill at night.”  I said it so matter-of-factly that I almost believed it myself.

“You don’t say?”  His right eyebrow was raised in suspicion, but he quickly recovered and put his stone face back on.  “I’d say that this shade of brown would only serve to masculate you, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, no…no Sir.  I like the color brown - I always have.” 

My voice was losing fortitude with each word I spoke.  Julian could surely see right through my flimsy alibi, but I still didn’t give in and tell him the truth – I just couldn’t.  Julian knew exactly what I was playing at – I saw it in his eyes.  But instead of calling me on it outright he played along, no doubt enjoying every second of watching me squirm.

“Brown, huh?  Alright then Ruby, if you feel it suits you then I’d absolutely love to see how it looks on you.  You are finished with it, are you not?”

“Yes Master, I am.”

“Well then, do please put it on – right here - right now.” 

He sat down in my chair and put his feet up in the adjacent one, crossing his legs at the ankles.  The look on his face was assuming, and I didn’t have the nerve to disappoint him again so soon.  I tentatively bunched the sweater up around the collar and lifted my arms to pull it over my head. 

“Stop,” was all Julian said, and that was all it took for me to freeze in mid-motion. 

I looked at him questioningly and followed his eyes as they swept down and back up my robe-clad body.    I knew exactly what he meant.  I knew what he wanted when he’d first asked me to put the thing on.  I suppose it was just my nature - always having to give one last effort to have things my way, or at least in a way that preserved some of my dignity.  I wasn’t one to go along without a fight, and no matter how hard Julian tried to break me down, he hadn’t yet been able to steal my resolve.

He slumped down into the chair and clasped his hands behind his head while he watched me undress for him.  When I tried to avert my eyes, he cleared his throat to correct me.  I pulled the sweater over my head and let it slide down my body.  It draped to just above my knees, and the sleeves covered my whole arm with several inches to spare. I tried pushing one cuff of the sweater up over my wrist, but before I could even reach over to the other one it fell back down over my hand.

There I was, caught in another lie.  My mind raced with ideas as to how I could subdue his anger, but no recourse was necessary.  Julian tilted his head back and forth, sizing up the fit of the sweater.  He bit his lip and frowned up his brows before shaking his head in disapproval.

“I will say that the sweater is indeed very nice, Ruby.  However, it does absolutely nothing to flatter a figure as feminine as yours.  I’ll bet it would fit me perfectly, though – how about you bring it over here for me to try on.” 

He was already standing to pull his coat off before I could even think about objecting, and by the time I’d covered the distance between us, he was completely naked from the waist up.  A smattering of coarse, red hair covered his chest, tapering off into a line between the ridges of his abdomen before being cut off from view by the top of his pants.  His skin was pale, lightly freckled, and flawless save for a faint scar visible through the hair on the right side of his chest. 

“Give me the sweater,” he coaxed with his hand outstretched and waiting.  I handed it over to him and tried my best not to notice the rippling of his muscles as he lifted and flexed his arms while putting it on.  His physique enchanted me for a few brief moments, and I became flushed and dampened with sweat.  I could feel and smell my body reacting to him, and I needed to cover myself up in a hurry. 

When I stooped down to the floor to pick up my robe, he stepped on it and pushed the slick fabric across the floor until it came to rest over near the bed. Without missing a beat, he turned and examined himself in the mirror.  It fit him perfectly, and I felt sickened with guilt for admiring it on the man I hated.

“It is very nice, Master,” I said when he turned back around to hear my assent.

“It is, isn’t it?  Thank you, Ruby. It has been an uncharacteristically cold winter – probably the coldest I can remember since I was a child.”  He draped his coat, shirt, and tie over his arm and started walking towards the door.  His first step unnerved me, and I reflexively reached my hand out in protest.  I jerked it back to my side as soon as I detected Julian’s displeasure, and my reluctance to part with the sweater wasn’t lost on him.

“Is there something you’ve to say, Ruby?”  My eyes had begun to sting from tears welling up in them.  A few drops spilled over, and I was afraid that he wouldn’t give me back the sweater, no matter what I said. 

“Well, Master… I – I was hoping I could keep the sweater, anyway.  I mean, even though it doesn’t fit me.  I could maybe alter it or unravel it and start over fresh.  It’s just that I – I…”

“Alright then, Ruby.  I can certainly understand not wanting to part with such a
fine
garment.  Can’t say I’m not sorry about it, but I suppose you’ll make up for my loss in one way or another.”

I was stunned into silence by Julian’s concession.  He pulled it up by the collar and let it slide up and over his body and head.  Then he folded it and laid it back down on the chair where he’d found it.  He put his own clothes back on, after which he went and picked my robe up off the floor and held it open for me to put back on.  I walked over to him slowly, turned around, and let him slide my silky robe up my arms and onto my shoulders.  I didn’t fare very well at controlling the shudder that his fingers caused as they slid over my skin. Reaching around me from behind, he slid the sash around my waist and tied it into a neat bow, right above my hip.

I caught his reflection in the mirror, and saw him standing behind me with a placid look on his rugged face.  He didn’t say anything or touch me, but his proximity and serene demeanor worked together to put fear in me.  Another tear ran down from each of my eyes before falling from my chin onto my bosoms.  The fabric of his jacket made a rustling noise as he reached into the pocket, pulled out a small kerchief, and laid it across my shoulder.

I stayed in that spot and cried silently until he left my room and locked the door behind him.  I picked up the sweater, and then I skittered over to the bed, launching myself up and onto the mattress.  My tears puddled on my duvet, but I didn’t stop crying until I’d expelled every bit of my angst.  Julian’s scent was all over Beau’s sweater.  I removed a few of his shed hairs from the neckline, and curled up into a ball with it.  I used the handkerchief Julian had given me to wipe the tears from my face until it was completely soaked.

Deciding that I’d be better off returning the cloth to him cleaned and dry, I went and rinsed it out in the basin.  I hung it out to dry on the metal rack mounted to the wall, and that’s when I saw it – a blood stain.  I’d seen the stain before, and upon my realization, my jaw dropped open and I raised my hand to my mouth in utter shock and disbelief. 

That cloth didn’t belong to Julian.  I don’t suppose it really belonged to anyone.  It was just a spare, tattered cloth – the same cloth I’d used to bathe myself after being raped by Caesar.  Julian had been there that afternoon when Beau and I made love.  He knew all about Beau and me and our rendezvous in the clearing.  Julian’s game was becoming more difficult to follow.  I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out what it was he wanted from me.  That drove me crazy, and even though playing cat-and-mouse with Julian was a dangerous game, I just couldn’t go on day-to-day without knowing his reasons for behaving the way he did. 

I knew that if I could just control my responsiveness to him – whether emotional or physical – I’d have a slight advantage.  Julian clearly wanted me to fear him, but I didn’t feel as if I needed to anymore.  If he’d have wanted to kill me, I’d have been dead already; of that I was sure.  The only other surety I had was that Julian wanted what all Masters wanted – control and subservience. So, my task then became to play his little game - right through to the end.