A couple years ago I had made it through a dungeon with my Master, Lord Jamil, and only two other slaves. With the treasure he had become king of his own kingdom and taken us, the servants who stayed, and the treasure up with him. Even now though, he still has a lot of complaints about life. Seems it wasn't enough for him. Since then he'd gotten more power, slaves, treasure, and pretty much more of everything. He's even got more women laying all over him. They often play jokes on me. The occasional punishment from him is already enough, but I guess I should expect it. He's always been clingy with me.
I stand behind Jamil as he bites into his supper. It looks delicious. He gets access to all kinds of foods now. "Want some of my corn?" He asks, poking at the items on his plate. I don't say a word. "No? Suit yourself." He pats the seat next to him, and I quickly obey. I don't eat, but he pulls me into his lap and has me feed him.
Once dinner is over some of the other slaves come in to clean, take dishes away, and such. The day is pretty much over and he gets up, motioning me to follow him down the hall. We reach his room as he plops on the bed, tugging me down with him. Helping him get his robe off, I massage his back. He talks and I just keep my hands moving as I listen. Before long he uses my body as he pleases, though I'm used to being so numb and vulnerable for him.
His face rests against my chest, arms wrapping tightly around my waist. He hums, his touch is warm against my bare skin. Soon he falls asleep. I don't know how many times I've been like this with him the last while. Jamil has really wanted an heir lately, and I have no right in this position to refuse him my body. But at least it serves as a distraction. Because when it gets late like this, it all floods in. I run my fingers through his hair, trying to numb myself out. To forget that I didn't like living like this. Forcing thoughts that reinforced my status.
I can't numb out, and I can't forget. It's overwhelming and I feel like I'm drowning. This feeling has bothered me my whole life as a slave. These nightmares. This fear. It's always, always been there. So why does it hurt now? I remember the dungeon, those creatures, those deaths, those murders. The slaves that lost their lives. Those of us forced to remember that nightmare. That guilt. The way it made him lose it. The way he beat us in there. I think of Morgin and Goltas. The three of us are still here, but I haven't spoken to either since then. And when those two boys died at our hands. It's all awful. I hold onto him and force my eyes shut. Force my mind blank. Because I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.