Thread: A priaveteer recieves a gift  [Edward Thatch, Mary Elmwood]

Mary looked at him over the table and listened as he talked about how he had gotten into freeing slaves. Marco has been the boys name, a fine name indeed. Slaves are thought to be of a different species, no real thought is very put in as we are also living breathing humans like yourself. I guess they would think it too unimagable that slaves are like them. We bleed, cry, laugh breath and heart beats just like everyone else. All signs point to we are the same species. Even our insides. She said paling as she had seen men and woman slaves ripped apart by saws and the like. Before leaving the table she snuck some bread into her skirts and took a piece to go with. She ate it in haste and had followed him up the stairs. When he was bare and naked in front of her and she was as well. Her heart was beating so quickly she thought it would burst. Her dress was taken from her and she covered herself up with her hands. Her left arm covered her breasts and her right covering her crotch. If the gods were real why would they let their people suffer so. She blurted out angerily. She didn't believe in the gods at all. Why should she after unspeakable horrors she had seen and been thru. It is also their handiwork watching their supposed creation get torn to pieces their blood spraying over the ground. Their begging and pleading to their gods unheard. She said anger the only emotion she felt. I will adjust to be being nude because it is your command not for some god that doesn't exist. You are correct, lying to ones master is an offense. Punish me then, it's not like I haven't been before. She said passively. Check me if it brings you comfort. She said not apologizing for her misleading him and took in a deep breath. Her fiery side in full view for him to see. She saw the world as unbalanced and cruel. He had been trying to help her and be nice but she wouldn't allow herself to see it. She had been noble born into a wealthy house of Elmwood. Her parents had died in a ship sinking by pirates when she was 4, her uncle had taken over her life. Her family name was known through the kingdom. The queen even knew who she was, she had been trying to get Mary's uncles trade route and company for years. Salt in the wound that she would be brought before the queen herself as she knew who she was. Mary had sat on the bed and listened to the story of himself. Aetheor or a life energy for him came from sex she gathered and the woman gained youth or longer life span. The word climax thru her for a spin a moment as she thought about the word and didn't know what it meant after all. A climax? What was it? She racked her brain to think of what the word could mean. She was able to follow his elegant story easily. The part of the sarafice when it came to sex was interesting to her and she almost wanted to see what energy she could give him. But why? The thought startled her to her core. He was her master, not her lover or someone she even cared about. It had been only s few hours into her new role as his slave and she was confused as to why she cared. Her anger and frustration reached its limit. She had grabbed a sheet off the bed and almost glared at him. My scars and pain are all I have!!! I am nothing without them! I haven't been since I was 10. Being traded into Slave by my uncle a week after my parents were killed by pirates. I was going to be a lady of a grand estate but my uncles lust for money and woman weighed farther on his heart than his own blood. The agony, pain and torture are all I have to my name. It is who I have been made to become! The scars have reminded me that I am still alive and breathing, that I am human just like everyone else! It's all I have. She said and stood up pacing the room, the sheet still covering her. My full name is Mary Nicole Elmwood, my family owns the largest trading routes in the world. She said not looking at him. She had straightened her shoulders and stood with her back turned as a lady would stand, not a slave. The collar that was around her neck was visible, she had curled her hands into fists and punched the stone fireplace in front her one twice. She kept the cry of pain inside as her knuckles bled. If I ever see my uncle again. I'll kill him. She said in such a dark tone she almost seemed surprised in herself. She started to think of her past and her experiences and went to hit the wall again. I am not the daughter of a great house nor of a family who owns the greatest trade routes. A slave! That is what I am and what I will always be. It is the queens command. She said but silently tears were streaming down her face, she couldn't keep the emotion inside any longer. It had been too long since she cried. I am nothing without my scars, just a female with nothing as everything I knew was taken from me. She said flatly thru her tears. The Elmwood family owned most of the trade routes to other countries. The estates almost were as lavish as the queen herself. The uncle who's heirs would be his own children would know little to nothing of Mary or her parents. The anger and hatred her body was giving off almost seemed to restrict the air itself. Blood was dripping her from knuckles and she was sure she has broken a few with hitting the wall a third time even though her knuckles were broken. Blood was smeared on the wall from the hits. She didn't care and she had no reason too. She looked at the crackling fire that had been going to heat the room since before they arrived. It was a nice room because being on the queens good side had its perks. Sitting in a chair not facing him she took the chain her hands for her collar. The betrayal she felt for her uncle began to come back in full force. The anger and hatred for him, being this angry wouldn't help her in the long run but she intended to kill the man and explain to his wife and children later about it. She held the cold metal links in her hands as she thought of her first master. Her job had been to work in the fields dawn until dusk. The overseer had liked to punish the workers if they weren't working hard enough. Her thoughts got much darker as she thought of her first whipping. She remembered the splitting open of her back, the blood running down her ass and legs. She had been left to hang in the barn and wasn't allowed to be taken down until the daughter of the master had unchained her herself and taken her into the main house to her own room. The master had her removed with a fight between the father and daughter. She had begged to be taken back to her hut that she shared. She was 14 when if had happened, she was out of work for 2 weeks, the daughter would sneak balms and pain killing herbs to Mary. She touched the mark on her shoulder where the whip had lashed over to her front side. There was one marking on her front, it was from the fist lashing. It ran down her left side in a jagged line starting at her shoulder to her knee cap. I am nothing without my scars. She whispered her face hardening.