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Luke returns to The Window unable to believe he deserves her.
There are his wife's blue eyes and his child's eyes that like Master stare at me knowingly. Master is a man of mystery, and he doesn't leave much for my investigation. Instead he interrogates with his eyes. He watches me with his eyes.
One more set of eyes I will remember if I choose to leave here, his brother Michael. His eyes the same as Master's with much deeper intent. He willed me in a way that no man should ever will a woman. He watched me, as I masturbated on the bed for him. He lavished in the way that I didn't really want to defy my Master. Master is a word that relates to so many people right now. I could choose to run away with Michael, but only if he let me.
I have love for them all. It is the weird kind of love that sometimes people develop for their captors. The love I have for Shara makes me really start to think about myself and the way I have been affected by this journey. There have been punishments, rewards, and I have barely gotten enough information for a column, let alone and expose'. I'm damaged and healed all at the same time. I think a million thoughts, but the night is just beginning. I will make my choice in the morning.
At nine p.m. I'm brought to Master's bedroom. Someone else brings me. She is a tiny black girl that I've never seen before. I have no room for her, so I don't wonder about her. Instead I'm happy to be asked to the presence of Master. I've only caught glimpses of his room before, so standing inside this colorless room, I start to really take it all in. Master really likes the muteness of it all. There is nothing in his room that would distinguish him from any other white male of the south. He has no color. He likes to be able to choose to add people as decorations instead of items. For now, I am his artwork.
"You have a big decision tomorrow," he says beckoning me to his placid four poster bed, "I'm afraid that tonight won't make it any easier for you."
I still. Nothing he has ever done has made something easier for me. I stand in the middle of the room feeling far from easy.
"Do you want me?" I ask the question but I'm not sure what it refers to. I'm sure he wants my body, but he could have more if he only asked for it. I want him to ask for it.
"Do you want me?" I repeat with my eyes alight with as much fire as I can muster. I stare at him and past him at the same time. I wait for him to respond. I can't move until he responds.
"I want you on your knees," he responds in his gruff tone, "I want you begging like the nigger slut that you are."
I drop to my knees looking up at him and I can tell from the bulge in his pants that I've made him happy. He only gives me something solid when he's happy. I falter a bit on my knees now. There are so many emotions pooling through me. He sits on the edge of the bed nearly straddling my face. His hands reach out to my straightened hair. I move my face against his leg. I find comfort in the way he pets me. I practically purr against his legs.
"You are a good little nigger aren't you," he says lifting my face with only two fingers, "you have learned so much."
With those two fingers he lifts me to my feet. I'm facing him and his green eyes are set ablaze. He kisses me. It is passionate and all encompassing. His tobacco smeared breath is hot against my lips. I kiss him back giving him the full force of my tongue. His hands play gently in my hair. I moan against him. It is the first romantic moment we've had. I can't break the kiss.
His hands fall gently to my breasts. He cuddles them. Gently he presses and my nipples harden under his hand. He removes my right breast from the sheer fabric and places it delicately into his mouth. A tremor blares through me. Now his hands are at my thighs. The dress is removed and I can feel the weight of him pressed against my naked frame. He is so reckless.
He places me on to the bed.