by Cerise Noble
After them came Zeke, Daniel, and Angelo, with one wife, Bella, shared amongst them. Their labor multiplied ours, and suddenly we were making swift progress on another building to house the lot of us.
But it was the day that Sarafina showed up that was the best yet. Shy, she hid behind her husband, the thick-bodied Charles, when she came. Shaking hands with Roy, he set up her spinning wheel, and before I knew it, she was turning out long skeins of ridiculously thin yarn from a huge barrel of wool they'd brought. I watched her, fingering the clothes she'd already made. Formed of a tiny knit, she made them with slender needles so smooth I couldn't see how she held them. There were skirts and shirts of varying sizes, and she gifted ones that fit to Jessica and me. I ran my fingers over the soft fabric, wondering aloud how long it had taken her.
She never slowed her work as she answered. "About a week. Each."
I petted the fabric again, and then knelt beside her. "Thank you."
She gave a funny sort of shrug, her hands steady on the wool, a small child tucked inside a fabric shawl that crossed her bosom.
"The lord of my lord is my lord."
"What?"
"Your lord. Your sir. Your master. He is now my husband's. My husband has pledged his loyalty, and will serve him. My lord's lord. Your lord is now my own, as well."
"And so?"
"And so I give my labor to you."
"In return for what?"
"For the love and protection my husband gives me. That he is better able to give me, here, with your master."
I touched her boot. "Thank you, anyway."
Sometimes the yarn was thick and chunky, and she made soft socks, but mostly it was the impossibly fine thread and knit. Roy and Tobin focused on a house for those two first, and at one end of the island they helped Charles create a cozy little home with big windows for light and air, and nooks and shelves to store Sarafina's supplies.
Roy asked her one day, "Where do you get the wool?"
As usual, she was in continuous motion, her needles flitting past each other too quickly to follow. "Charles trades for it in the village."
And so it came to pass that Roy sent a delegation into the village across the river and up one of the smaller feeder streams to our west, bringing with them some of Sarafina's garments, some of Jorge's boots, some of Gerard's bows, Angelo's fishing nets, Daniel's wooden boxes, Jeffery and Devon's brined fish, and Zeke's baskets. I was not part of the delegation, but Jessica was, accompanied by Roy, Charles, and Nicole.
They returned with a trade agreement that would come to help us immensely in the future.
For a long time, I was too busy to worry about anything but working. Given that my primary skill was in laundry, I found myself making vats of soap, scrubbing and rinsing and hanging, folding and distributing, again and again and again. And whenever the laundry was finished, there was cooking or helping the leatherworker in his craft or the net maker in his. It was only the open breeze that keep me sane—that and Tobin's new habit of grabbing me about the waist when he happened on me, kissing and biting my shoulder. I came to relish the marks on my skin, found myself touching them over and over in anticipation of the night to come.
Nights were the best part of the day. In the darkness I lost my inhibition, releasing my body to Tobin's lust with abandon, crying to the stars when he sated my own. It was harsh, but I was content.
It was when Jacqueline came that life became more difficult for me. Alabaster skinned, doe eyed, curly haired Jacqueline. I hated that her hair was nearly the same color as mine. I hated that Jessica found great pleasure in tugging her dark ringlets, when all she ever did was smooth her fingers through my straight locks. I hated that Jacqueline could kneel and profess her obedience and mean it, could behave like a lady and not a harpy.
And yet, I am only what I am.
My voice sneered at her. "That's not how you make soap. You're stirring it too quickly."
Or berated her. "You took the laundry out without rinsing all the soap. Do it again! Yes, fill the entire tub again!"
Or cut her. "You're useless! And you won't ever be more than useless. You're hopeless!"
That was when Jessica told Tobin my regular dose of pain was insufficient.
He found me that evening, passing out the last of the cleaned clothing for the day. Most people were still up, gathered around the fire to talk and relax before retiring to their beds. I had noticed that the other women no longer spoke to me, a grim refusal that should have warned me I had crossed a line.
Since my temper was publicly known, Tobin decided to make a public example of my punishment. I handed out the last item, and he took the empty basket from my hands.
"I hear you've got too sharp a tongue to speak in polite company."
The other women tittered. Only Jessica leaned back, a queen through and through, amused at the comeuppance of one of her subjects. She beckoned Jacqueline to her, and the young woman went, kneeling by her side, eyes wide with fear and curiosity.
"I speak as I wish."
He smiled, and I should have known then that things were going to change.
"Not anymore." He showed me the braided leather cord in his hand. I stared, wondering what he was up to, my skin prickling as I eyed the short whip. "Lashing about with your tongue will earn you a lashing every time." He looked around at the others. "I expect to be told when this brat acts out."
I colored, humiliation rising in my face. "What are you doing, Tobin?"
He grabbed the back of my neck. "Illustrating the consequences of behaving as you have been." His grip was hard, and I felt fear rise, my heart thudding against my ribs. "This should not have gone on as long as it did. And any other person who speaks as you did can expect the same punishment." He glared at the people around the fire. "Is that understood?"
"Tobin, please!"
He ignored me. Instead, he turned me from him, forcing me to my knees, and then down, my head pillowed on my forearms against the ground. This left my ass high and exposed, the skirt riding up my back. I sucked in my breath, pleas already spilling from my lips.
"Quiet, Stephanie."
I whimpered, and then felt his boot between my knees. He pushed them apart, rendering me completely exposed to all eyes. I closed my own, grateful only that he'd waited until after the children were asleep.
"Sir?"
He didn't deign to voice an answer. Instead, shocking pain exploded across my skin. I tucked my hips down, wriggling with dismay, my voice startled and afraid. His boot nudged my back.
"Arch your back. Stay still, Stephanie, or I will tie you down and whip you twice as long." I arched my back, conscious of my exposure. The whip struck again, a flash of pain, with throbbing after. I wriggled, unable to control myself. "Gerard?"
His brother came, soft leather straps in his hands. He tied my hands together above my head, and then, with another strap, fastened my collar to them. I wanted to plead with him, but I could no longer lift my head without sitting back on my heels, an action now forbidden. He had a bar in his hands, too, and the straps on the ends of it fastened around my thighs right above my knees, holding them open. Another strap from the front of my thick leather belt to the bar between my knees, and I was forced to hold the arch he wanted.
I had hoped that compliance while Gerard bound me would result in some clemency.
It was not to be so.
As soon as I was immobile, bound exactly how he wished for me to take my punishment, the whip began to fall in earnest.
I cried out, each stroke an explosion on my skin. He didn't stop. He didn't slacken the grueling pace or the vicious weight of each stroke, raising welt after welt. My buttocks throbbed, crisscrossed with swollen lines. Heat flared on my skin, and my cries became more and more desperate. Still, he didn't stop. I struggled against my bindings, my toes drumming the ground, but I couldn't shift out of the line of fire. Again and again the cord snapped down, burning the sweet spot between buttock and thigh. I keened, the itching throb too
much to bear.
Bear it I did. No respite. I took my whipping, unable to resist or refuse. He leaned forward, and the whip's vile tip began snapping against my thighs. I screamed.
He didn't stop.
I broke. I knelt where I'd been placed, my chest heaving with sobs, no longer straining against the straps.
The lash continued to fall, and I slid under, into that softness of relief where the pain recedes.
Then, when I no longer cared, he stopped.
I stayed bound, left to recover alone as Tobin walked away from me.
One by one, the women I'd alienated with my tongue came by to touch me. Some stroked my back, helping to quiet my crying. Some ran their fingers through my hair, brushing it away from my wet face. Most of them whispered the same thing.
"I forgive you."
Jessica was last, her soft hands smoothing the raging welts on my skin. I moaned, a low, pained sound.
"You're my beloved, Stephanie. Nothing changes that. You just need to learn to curb your tongue sometimes."
Jacqueline petted me while her mistress spoke, a silent solace.
Chapter Six
Eventually I was unbound, and I stumbled, disoriented and aching, inside to my bed. Sleep was fitful. The sheet dragging across my razed skin woke me. Tobin tucked me against his chest when I whimpered, and I clung to him, grateful for his punishment, even more grateful for his forgiveness.
Roy woke me the next morning. I looked blearily around at the others, sleeping in little clusters, then let him pull me up. He took me outside, and we walked down towards the river.
"You are strong, Stephanie, and we need strength."
I felt shame that he had to explain these things to me. "Yes, sir."
"But you must turn your strength towards building up, not tearing down."
I hung my head. He turned towards me, lifting my chin with a finger.
"I know you want pain, crave it. But this is not an acceptable way of getting it."
"I'm sorry."
He shook his head, his lips turning up at the corners. "I'm going to spank you. Every morning. And Tobin is going to spank you every night. And even so, if you mouth off again, you will get your ass whipped again. Do you understand me?"
I swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good."
He came to the rock he was seeking, and sat down, patting his lap.
"Now?"
I backed up a pace, my hands covering my bruised bottom protectively.
"Now."
I felt the tears prickle my eyes, and I resisted.
"Please?"
His voice was a growl. "Now, Stephanie."
I obeyed, going to him and bending over his lap. He adjusted me, shifting my bottom higher and my thighs wider. Tears started to trickle out of my eyes. His big hand smoothed over my welts, seeing for himself that I bore no lasting damage.
"Please? I'm so sorry!"
He didn't answer, merely lifted his hand and began to spank. His broad palm would have been painful on the best of days. On top of my recent welts, it was devastating. I held tight to his right ankle, my toes digging into the ground as I strained to hold my position. I gave myself over to the pain, grasping at the hot splats, as if by welcoming them I could mute the sting. Over and over his hand fell, the slaps echoing against the rock behind us. I began to cry. He continued, a steady spanking that left me limp and subdued.
I thought my bottom was glowing like an ember when it was finished. He shifted me back to my knees, and I cried harder at the pressure on my well-spanked bottom. He caressed my face.
"You are beloved. You are important. You are part of our family, part of our house. But being part of our house requires that you submit, to me, and to Tobin, not act out when your feelings are hurt."
I nodded. "Yes, sir." He caressed me some more, and then let me shuffle closer, sobbing into his trousers. "Does Tobin hate me?"
He tipped my face up. "Why would you ask that?"
I tried to look away, my heart aching. "I'm so bad. And he sounds so unhappy when he whips me."
Roy chuckled, and tucked my hair back out of my face. "No, little brat. You were being punished. He was angry with you, and disappointed, but he doesn't hate you. I don't think he could."
I leaned my head on his knee, calm stealing over my sore heart. "I'm glad."
He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "Time to get up. You have work to do today."
"I'm tired."
He patted my cheek hard, not enough to really hurt, just enough to sting a little.
"All the better to keep you from getting in trouble, if you have no energy to spare for anything but your chores." Reluctantly, I stood up. He did, as well, tucking me against his chest for one more hug. "Be good."
I nodded, then followed him back to the buildings where people had woken up, starting breakfast and other duties.
The day dragged on, chore after chore. I had only one test to my resolve to obey, thankfully. A small child kept tugging at my skirts when I was hanging the laundry. Already a tedious task, and one that reminded me of my spankings with every bend, I wanted to spit fire at the urchin. But I bit my tongue, grumbling inaudibly, and taking every chance I got to try to shoo it off. I could feel the rope that bound my temper fraying before Jessica finally noticed and sent the mother over to retrieve her child. Afterward, she petted me.
"Good girl, Stephanie. You're learning. I'm proud of you."
I swallowed hard, wondering why her approval dissolved the desire to throttle the babe. She let me rest my forehead on her shoulder for a moment, and then she tipped up my chin, kissing me lightly before dancing away to the sewing she had been working on.
That night I knelt to eat, trying to limit the pressure on my swollen buttocks. I'd stood for dinner, but everyone sat for supper, and I didn't want to look like I was defying my master.
As it was, Tobin noticed, but did not mention it. He merely ascertained that I ate well, and kept an eye on me while I socialized, politely, with the people nearest to me.
When most had gone to bed, Tobin took my hand and pulled me to standing. I leaned into his embrace, feeling the comfort of his love seep into my heart. His voice in my ear.
"Time for your evening spanking."
I whimpered, my heart racing.
He led me to my bed, tugged me over his lap and flipped up my skirt. I took a deep breath, stretched out on the low mattress, my legs extended into the walkway.
"You'll need to be quiet, Stephanie. Most people are asleep already."
"Yes, sir." I clenched my fists, bit my lip, and resolved to keep silent.
He took my fists in his hands, caressing and smoothing the tension. "No, Stephanie. Relax. Submit. This is not to punish you. It's because you need it. Let the pain take away your tension."
I let him gather my wrists together behind my back and took a deep breath, as deep as I could manage, lying over his hard thighs. He stroked my shoulders, down my spine, over my hands, then from the backs of my knees up my thighs and over my ass. I moaned softly. His hand left my skin and smacked down.
It was quiet, quieter than I thought it would be, but the flare of pain was instant. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing and keep my focus. Again, a spank and a flare of pain. He continued at the same slow, steady pace, giving me time to force my muscles to relax, to let the soreness spread and grow. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. I wiggled, not protesting so much as reacting to the heat building in my bottom. He petted my thighs.
"Shh, Stephanie."
I took a deep breath again, my lips trembling with the urge to cry out.
His hand continued to fall. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Relentless—not cruel, but thorough. I understood he would continue to spank until he felt I had sufficiently submitted. So I tried. I relaxed my arms, tried to relax the muscles in my legs. I breathed as slowly and deeply as I could, even as my eyes watered with pain. The spanking continued, my bottom swollen and stinging, the ach
e working its way deeper and deeper into my flesh.
"Good girl, Stephanie." I reveled in the words, holding tight to them when I wanted to cry and flail to get away. "Your pain belongs to me, remember? If you need it, I provide it. Why didn't you come to me?" I shook my head, uncertain. I had been accustomed to my own practice with my blade for so long. Not having it was a hardship, but I had not yet become accustomed to the only substitute I was allowed.
"No matter. I will continue to spank you every evening."
I moaned, softly. His words caressed my soul, took away my choice in the matter, and offered me what I needed.
His hand continued to spank, and I moaned again, as quietly as I could. He stopped, caressing my flaming bottom.
"I think that's enough for tonight."
He turned, pulling me around to lie straight on the bed, and lying beside me. I snuggled close to Tobin, grateful for his sternness, thankful that Roy understood what I needed and that, between the two of them, it could be provided.
***
Months passed. I learned to curb my tongue, and my daily spankings from Roy gradually ceased. It was just as well. The settlement's population grew, with new houses being built every day on the south end of the island. Roy had started on the main house, the one that he would live in with his core men, and I was kept busy helping Jessica. She was round with child, and glowed even more than she usually did.
Jacqueline attended her, but I was her right hand, creating protocols for our household, sewing dresses such as pleased her to see the slave women wearing, conveying her specific wishes regarding the house to her master. There were two wings of the house, one for the men and their women who had no children, and one for the men and their women who did have. In the middle were a great kitchen and a massive dining room, large enough to seat three dozen guests beyond the ones who lived there.
Roy found a supplier of metal in the village, and managed to entice a household of blacksmiths and metalworkers from there to one of the outposts. These were clusters of buildings being erected along the riverbank for people who did not wish to live on the island.
