by Cerise Noble
She snorted. “When he face fucks you.”
I wasn't sure I could survive this conversation without dying of mortification. “Y...yes.”
She snorted again. “I'm glad you find it pleasurable.”
For a moment I was stymied. Did I find it pleasurable? I remembered the gasping, the tears streaming down my face, the drool dripping off my chin, the gagging. If it wasn't pleasurable, why was my body acting like it was ready for another round with his thumb? I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. Her voice broke into my thoughts.
“Well, don't just stand there. Make yourself useful.”
I hurried to the chopping block, and she handed me a basket full of potatoes. “Scrub. Chop. Trim as sparingly as you can. Pile them into this pot when you're finished.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
I was nearly finished filling the large pot, my hands aching from the unaccustomed labor when Suzanna came in. She gave me a quick hug as she passed, carrying a basket full of some sort of squash in a variety of colors. “I hope this is the right amount. Jacqueline wasn't sure how many of the men would be eating dinner here today.”
“We'll make food for the larger number of whoever is likely to be. If they don't get back in time for dinner, we'll save it for them and they can eat it for supper.”
“Okay.”
I finished the potatoes and Lauren set it on the stove, filling it with water to cover. I looked at the jug of water she set down. “Is that straight from the river?”
She snorted. “Of course not. It's filtered and boiled first. That's why it's in the jugs.” I nodded, remembering the way my mother had explained that you needed to do that with some rivers. We were lucky – where we grew up the river was pure and clear, so she would just fill buckets from the little waterfall north of our place and lug them back home. I remembered how proud I was the first day I was big enough to help her. “We'll need to do a batch today, just like every day. You'll help.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”
The morning went by quickly. I was as careful as I could be to hide my winces when my sore bottom was bumped, and Suzanna seemed to settle in faster than I thought she would. But then, helping out in Lauren's kitchen was a lot more like home than hiking through endless forests had been. Jacqueline helped, listless and lifeless, hurrying only when Lauren spoke sharply to her. I worried about her, if she was being abused, to cause such abject misery.
My arms were aching by the time dinner was ready. Hefting jug after jug of water, chopping vegetables and fruits, stirring huge pots and ladling hot preserves into ceramic jars was far more labor than I was accustomed to at home. Still, I was grateful for the lull, the opportunity to settle in and make myself useful. Suzanna never complained, and obeyed Lauren flawlessly, which surprised me at least a little.
It wasn't until we were sitting next to each other, quietly eating dinner when I found out why.
Lauren had spoken first. “You've done very well this morning, Suzanna.” She smiled, and my heart swelled with her dimples.
I chimed in. “I'm proud of you, little sister.” She smiled at me too. “I think even Mom would be surprised at how hard you've worked today.” Her smile faltered, and I regretted reminding her of the uncertain loss.
Lauren crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back and contemplating my sister. “We reached an understanding this morning, Suzanna and I, didn't we, girl?”
She blushed now, and looked away. I frowned, not liking the tone Lauren was using.
I leaned forward, my voice rising to demand. “What do you mean, an understanding?” Lauren raised an eyebrow at me and I sat back, chastened.
“Suzanna learned that children are not exempt from corporal punishment in this house.”
“What?” I stood up, outraged.
Lauren simply eyed me. Jacqueline looked up, and then her blank gaze slid off, uncaring.
“Don't act so indignant. She told me you were both spanked at home. It's not a big deal.” My face flamed, and my buttocks throbbed. It was a big deal, if my own spankings were any indication – and I deflated abruptly. I realized what Lauren was trying to tell me. Suzanna was a child. She hadn't been subjected to anywhere near the harshness I had been. In fact – I eyed her – she seemed to be sitting quite comfortably. I released the breath I'd been about to yell with. There was structure, and hierarchy, and discipline in this house, so she'd been informed of her place within it. I took another breath.
“You're okay?” I couldn't help but touch her shoulder in concern, but she shrugged me off, teenage mortification all over her face.
“Yeah, of course. No big deal.” She tossed her head and I half smiled, reassured. Her ego might have been bruised, but that was about it.
Roy was absent from dinner, as were Jeffery and Devon. Curious, I asked Lauren about the last man's name.
She pointed to the man next to Tobin. “That's Gerard, Tobin's half brother.”
After dinner, the absent men's dinners packed up and put away for them, Lauren handed Jacqueline and me pails of soapy water and a variety of rags. “You, upstairs.” Jacqueline turned to obey, and Lauren pointed to me. “You, downstairs. Start at the far end of the hall. Don't do the dungeon, start with the bathing room first. When you've done that, come back here for instructions on the other rooms. There are different rules for each of them.”
I stood for a moment, unsure if there were further directions, but she snapped a towel at me. “Shoo! Get moving.”
I jumped, and hurried towards the hall, careful not to spill the bucket.
I found the bathing room. It was lined with ceramic – a pattern of small tiles in different colors on the walls and floor. A large window looked out on the land surrounding the building. I leaned out, letting the breeze ruffle my hair and tease my skin. I looked down. The ground nearby was pebbly, and in the distance I could see the river forking around the ground. If I squinted, I thought perhaps the stand of rocks hid a building of some sort. Movement caught my eye, and I saw a man with a weapon in his hands, walking slowly along, as if he were patrolling. Maybe he was? Maybe the building was on an island in the river, and they were guarding it? I hadn't had any chance to look around when we'd first arrived. I tried to remember the ancient map Daddy had in his study, if there was a broad river with islands on the way to Caladonia. Once again I lamented the misfortune of our map – and wondered what had happened to our packs.
Sighing, I turned my attention back to the room. There were two chamber pots, a large barrel of what appeared to be clean water, and a pipe that looked like it led to the river outside. That, I surmised, was for the piss. There was a toilet seat in the corner, a tall basket filled with plant material and wood shavings directly beside it, and two closed pots beside that. Nature called, and I decided to relieve myself before cleaning. Lifting the toilet I saw it was very like the one I'd grown up with, down to the small step on the front that put my knees higher than my hips. The dress was easy enough to pull around my body, and after I was finished, I wiped with a clean cloth from the stack beside the seat, and reached for the pots. The larger pot was full, presumably matching the one currently in the toilet I was seated on, and the smaller one was what I was looking for – a soaking bin for used cloths. I tossed in the cloth and closed it again, then stood up. There was a small basin with soapy water in it, so I washed, then poured it down the pipe. Drying my hands on a towel hung on a peg, I refilled the basin for the next person with a scoop from the barrel, and looked around for the soap. After a bit I realized there were shelves behind me, and there was a jar of tiny round soap beads. I dropped one in the basin, then took a scoop of the plant bits and wood shavings, sprinkling them generously on the contents of the toilet pot before closing the lid.
I turned back to my cleaning pail. I wondered if Lauren intended for me to clean the chamber pots also, and decided that I ought to show I could be proactive. I decided to leave them for last, however, and start with the great wooden tubs in the corner. They we
re tipped up on their sides, and didn't seem to need any washing, but I didn't want anyone to say I wasn't earning my keep. So I took out the largest rag and wiped them down with the soapy water from my pail, rinsing them out with clean water from the barrel, as little as I could manage. After spending most of the morning on sterilizing water for use I had no inclination to waste a drop more than necessary down the pipe. Leaving them in the middle of the bathing room, I washed down the shelves, shifting the contents back and forth, then washed around the basin and the table it was set on. Returning to the corner the tubs lived in, I washed the walls, standing up on my tiptoes to reach as high as I could, and stooping to reach all the way down to the edge of the floor, continuing around the room.
One wall was set with a large mirror, and I paused, looking at my reflection. My hair was jagged – early on in our run, I'd realized I didn't want to deal with my long hair, so I'd gathered it up in one hand and hacked it off with the knife in my other. It had grown out a little since then, but it was still short. The blonde was variegated, of inconsistent shades, sun streaked. My eyes were red-rimmed and dark shadowed – no wonder Suzanna was worried about me. My lips were still swollen from Jeffery's pleasure, and I touched them gently, smoothing my fingertips over the dark pink flesh. I tried on a smile. It didn't help much, but maybe a little.
I took out another rag and washed down the toilet seat and the outsides of the pots and basket. I started to wash the floor, and the tails of my dress got in the way. Not wanting it to be wet or dirty, I found myself tying the length around my legs to keep it up as I worked. I washed the floor from one corner almost to the door, returning the tubs to their corner and leaving myself room to get to the pipe. My water was looking decidedly grayer by this point, so I washed the chamber pots, adding an additional tiny soap into each one before pouring in some water from my bucket. Finishing the chamber pots, I emptied them down the pipe and wiped down the outsides, setting them back where they were. Then I took a final rag and washed the floor as I backed out on my hands and knees. Upon reaching the door, I realized I'd forgotten to put the cleaning rags into the soaking pot, so I took a couple cautious steps forward, hoping my knees were clean enough not to mar the freshly washed floor, and tossed them in. Finally, I sat back on my heels and surveyed the bathroom. It was satisfactory to my eyes, and I hoped Lauren would agree. For a moment, I remembered my mother's voice, instructing Suzanna and me on washing our bathroom, and then it morphed into her voice, the urgency in it as she told me not to look back, not to wait for her, not to stop. To go and keep going, to take care of Suzanna. I looked at my hands, wrinkly from the water. I'm trying, Mom. I'm trying. This isn't quite the way you wanted me to take care of her, but it's the best I can do right now.
It wasn't until Lauren came to find me that I realized tears were tracking down my face, dampening the top of my dress.
She squatted down beside me, taking my chin and turning my face towards hers. “Everyone has a history. Everyone has pain. Like it or not, for better or worse, your future is tied to this House now.”
I couldn't meet her eyes. I didn't feel like it should be – our future had been tied to this house by force, by happenstance, not by choice. Or, if there was a choice, it was the choice to choose the known fear over the unknown one. She shook me a little.
“Look at me, girl.”
I raised my eyes, rebelliousness in my mouth.
She half-smiled. “For what it's worth, this is a good one, a better one than the majority of the ones you could have stumbled on. You could have been killed, or taken as a slave by a pimp, tied down and raped hourly in one of the bigger towns.” I blanched, shivering despite the warmth of the air. “Here, you are valued. You are worth more than a momentary pleasure. Don't forget it.”
The set of my mouth softened, and my shoulders slumped. She was right. I straightened up again. I would do better. I would please them, show them they were right to keep me. I swallowed. “Thank you, ma'am.”
She patted my cheek. “That a girl. Up you go.”
She helped me up and I remembered my skirts tied awkwardly around my legs. “Leave it.”
I obeyed, hefting the bucket and taking it back to the kitchen where she poured it out the pipe there. She filled it again with water and soap, and then pointed out the broom and dusting rags. “You're going to start with Jeffery's room. That way if you mess up, you won't get in trouble with two men, just Jeffery. Now, wash the shutters first. Then dust and polish all the furniture. Don't take anything, don't break anything, and if you see something that seems to need attention, tell me. Replace the cloths pot with a clean one.” She handed me a small ceramic pot with a lid. “And strip the linens off the bed. Fluff the mattress, then put clean linens on the bed. You'll find them in the hallway closet. Finally, sweep the room, and wash the floor. Any questions?”
I shook my head. “No, ma'am.”
“Shoo.”
I turned quickly, trying to balance everything without dropping it, and returned to the hall. There, I hesitated. Was his room the third down or the fourth? I cautiously opened the fourth, and was relieved to see my guess was correct. Remembering his admonition to earn a good report, I set to work.
The bed dominated the room. It was huge, with a large latticed headboard and footboard. The mattress was thick, and I wondered if they'd made it themselves, and if so, how long it had taken to collect the feathers. Or if they bought it. The shutters were mostly closed, and the room smelled of sex and sweat that made me blush. I washed the shutters quickly, then pushed them open, letting in a gust of fresh air. It smelled of the river, and I smiled for a moment, reminded of home and safety. The feeling faded as the breeze died, but I pressed on, determined.
There were hooks on the wall – a series of big ones that held another pair of overalls and another shirt, and a series of massive ones that held nothing. I touched one, a prickling feeling in my spine. I had to reach up to touch them, and they were so solid... I turned away, focusing on the business at hand. Wiping them down, I continued on to the wardrobe. It was wood, and again, I wondered at the wealth this House seemed to command. Either the members were very talented at making things, or they had things of high value to trade. There was a smaller wooden chest beside the wardrobe, and I polished it as well. The cloths pot I found near the head of the bed, the lid askew, the handkerchief I'd wiped my face with peeking out. I blushed again, remembering the feel of his hand in my hair, his cock in my mouth and down my throat. I brushed my fingertips over my lips, and I found myself ripening, desiring his attention as my mind drifted back over the explosive pleasure his fingers could trigger.
Shaking myself, I forced myself back to work. Stripping the bed was difficult alone, but I managed eventually, leaving the linens in a heap on the floor. Making it back up again was worse – I'd always hated doing it, trying to remember how to tuck the corners so it wouldn't come undone. Given how it was tucked to start with, I couldn't imagine that tossing a blanket on it and calling it good would work. So I struggled, tugging and straightening and tucking, then redoing it, until I had it as even as I could manage. I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand and surveyed my work. It wasn't completely even – I jammed a bit of one corner under the mattress again and hoped it wouldn't show – but it wasn't horrible. I hoped. Kicking the linens into the hallway, rolling up the carpet to take outside and beat, I began to sweep. There was sand, and bits of dirt and vegetation. I made a tidy pile and realized I'd forgotten the dustpan. So I returned to the kitchen and grabbed it.
There was a new woman in the kitchen. I didn't wait to be introduced, merely bobbed a half acknowledgment - “Ma'am” - and continued back to Jeffery's room. Once I'd gotten the detritus swept up, I realized I had no idea where it was supposed to go. Mom used to just toss it out the door – there wasn't a door here, but there was a window. Unsure if I was doing the right thing or not, I crossed the room quickly and dumped the pan out the window. Setting both broom and pan in the hallway, I
started washing the floor under the window, steadily working my way back to the door.
I heard his footsteps before I heard his voice. I'd just backed into the hallway on my knees, my arms stretched in front of myself, wet with cleaning water, the skirt still tied around my thighs.
“Nanette.”
I whirled around, my heart thumping.
“Yes, sir?”
Jeffery dropped to a knee behind me, his fingers unerringly finding the crease in my buttocks, sliding down to my vulva, pressing my dress in until it dampened with anticipation. His fingers pressed against my bottom hole and I flinched. He pressed harder.
“Mine.”
My voice was a whisper, humiliation and fear warring with recognition of the pleasure he gave me. “Yes, sir.”
“I hope you're being a good girl, Nanette.”
I nodded frantically. “Yes, sir! I am!”
“Good. Because I want you in my bed tonight. If you aren't there, I will be very disappointed.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You don't want to disappoint me, do you, Nanette?”
“No! No sir!”
His teasing fingers left me and returned with a resounding slap. I flinched and whimpered.
“I don't have time to play now.” His voice was regretful. “But I will play with you later. If you're a good girl.”
“Yes, sir!”
He stood and walked into the room, removing something from his trunk and returning. I stared in dismay at the footprints he left on the just washed floor.
He saw my expression and leaned over, grabbing a handful of my hair and tipping my head so he could whisper in my ear. “Be a good little slave and wash it again.” I couldn't say why his words and his hot breath in my ear excited me, but they did. He was gone before I had the presence of mind to do more than kneel there, blinking against the blinding arousal.
And so I returned to the kitchen and asked for a fresh bucket of wash water for Jeffery's room. Lauren raised an eyebrow. I answered, my voice low. “He told me to wash it again.” Even saying the words thickened my nether lips – obeying the man who claimed me seemed a greater thing than obeying the woman who ruled the kitchen. I returned to the room and started under the window again, lingering on each footprint, careful to leave no trace of dirt on the floor.
