Prologue
Start wI woke up to find a girl riding me like a jockey rides a race horse. She was shining with sweat and making grunting noises.
Disgusting.
It took me about a second to piece together exactly what was happening to me as I came out of my sleepy haze.
I decided this “incident” would be the worst day of my life. Had anyone told me then that this pleasant little event would be second best in a few short years I would have laughed in their face...
Or punched them...
Okay, I definitely would have punched them...Anyway.
It was a servant girl who raped me. A common field wench. the kind who was up early and spent all day in the blistering sun. Their skin tan and hardened from that orb in the sky literally baking them day in and day out.
She drugged my meal and tied me up after I had fallen asleep. I woke up near the end of it. And found her sitting on me. I sluggishly realized my predicament... and had never felt so much shame in my life. So helpless. And absolutely disgusted in myself for reacting. I could do nothing but wait for her to finish, hoping to God that it would all be over soon.
When she had finished me off and was done herself, she gave me a quick sneer and the most disgustingly smug smile I have ever laid eyes on, and just left me. Bound to my bed. Defiled and deflowered. I’m not too macho to admit as I laid there bound and used, that I cried myself to sleep. It had been my first time. The first time shouldn’t be like that. It should never be like that. But it was.
The master of the house found me there the next morning tied just the way she left me. He made no comment on my appearance, of the bindings on my wrists and ankles or the tear tracks down my face. He just untied me. Somehow the silence made my feeling of shame worsen. Surely he could see what had happened, what had transpired a few short hours ago in this room. On this bed. Shouldn’t he be angry?
I asked him about it and got a shrug in response. He said I should be glad for the attention of the girl. Not many would even think of looking at a person like myself. Let alone sleep with them.
“She’s our best field worker. Knows exactly when to pick the fruits. And boy does she have a fine pair of melons.” He had said a lewd grin on his aristocratic face.
He was a lecherous bastard and yet he was the closest thing I had to a friend in this place. Nobody else wanted anything to do with the half-blood who was too smart for his own good. His wife hated me and I knew the only reason I even had the position of his personal servant was because he valued my opinions and skills. He was the only one who did. Maybe it was because we had grown up together. My mother traveled from Persia and through rotten luck wound up pregnant and in the service of my master’s family. She never complained about our situation. But she had insisted that I was taught alongside my master. I learned to read and write, even ride horses all because of her insistence. For that I loved her.
I’m often told how much I look like her. The master has told me often enough that if I hadn’t inherited my mother’s dark skin and the unfortunate freckles from my English father I could have easily passed as a lord or other such noble. I always thought my mother was beautiful enough to be a queen, but I didn’t see any resemblance between the two of us. She was lovely. I was ugly... a mistake. So many people had told me that over the years, I knew it must be true.
After I was untied from the bed, those ropes had been tight if I ever found out who taught her how to tie knots I’d have a few choice words to say to them, I was sent to work. The master deemed me physically well enough to complete my usual assigned activities. Meanwhile my mind was in turmoil, constantly replaying the scene, trying to figure out a way it could have been avoided.
Life slowly started to return to normal. I thought the I had seen the last of that situation, but after three months the issue returned. Much to the master’s and my discomfort.
It turned out that the field girl was with child. One night was apparently all it took. She was pulled out of her activities and taken to see the master.
His ruling was absolute. She would have the child and “bugger off” as he so nicely put it, leaving the child in my care. And that’s how I came to have Sareh.
