Page 3 of Kingdom of Lies

“Bend the little bitch over my knee,” Clara instructs them as she seats herself on a large black stool and slaps the paddle against the palm of her hand.

The two slaves twist and bend me over her thick thighs. I can smell her rancid tights, and I catch a glimpse of the crowd that has gathered. The excitement in their eyes revolts me as Clara pulls my skirt up, bearing my ass to the hungry spectators.

“I’ve done nothing….” I feel the dirty rag pushed into my mouth before I get a chance to finish.

“Little bitch, Clara is going teach you a lesson,” she hisses at me.

I hear the dull sound of the paddle hitting my buttocks before I feel the pain that surges through my body. I scream into the dirty rag, and the tears swell in my eyes as the second hits.

Then, the third and the fourth.

2

KATHLEEN

Clara tossed me to the ground like a chewed-up chicken bone. The pain I am feeling is unbearable. I’ll stay here.

“Let that be a lesson to you whore,” Clara said and spat on me.

I could feel the cold air biting at my backside, and realizing it was still exposed, I pulled down my dress as best I could. I can feel the fibers crawl across the open wounds that now grace my ass, and it hurts.

I turn my head, my cheek rubbing against the gravel, and through the tears in my eyes, I can still see them staring as if I am some freak here for their entertainment.

“Get this lot back to work. Show’s over,” Clara says to the groping slave beside her.

“Right you lot, you heard Miss, back to it,” he shouts. I hate him. I hate Clara. I hate this place and everything my life has become.

“Fancy me some suru for tea,” I hear Clara remark as she disappears into her house.

I feel a breath on my neck and then a voice, “I’d offer to rub your ass better if you weren’t so ugly and smelt like dripir shit.”

And with a final insult, I feel a slap on my ass, and the pain soars back through me, and I can’t help but cry.

“For your trouble,” the other slave says and drops my food ration for the day wrapped in a stained piece of yellowing cloth beside me.

I must get up, but not until they have gone. So, I wait, I breathe, and try to rid my body of the pain, the exhaustion from my eyes, and the memories from my mind.

I hear footsteps approaching and look up to see one of the slave women kneeling beside me.

“It doesn’t get any better,” she says, and I recognize her voice from earlier, the one that stood up for me at the cook house. “Best you get yourself home.”

And with that, she leaves. I suppose the best advice she could offer, seen as helping me, would only bring her trouble, and who around here needs more trouble?

Now, I sense I am alone. I slowly raise myself from the ground to my knees. I won’t be able to sit properly for a while. I look at the cloth on the ground and pick it up.

Unwrapping it, I find a dirty piece of hard bread. All this trouble is for that meager scrap. But, at least Grandma Maud will eat tonight. I’ll get by with a nibble or two. I think about her, and the tears return, glad no one is around to see them. I cry a little harder because of that.

I get to my feet and brush off the fresh dirt from my dress and cloak. There’s already enough caked-in muck. I don’t need any more weighing me down. I’ve got enough weight on these young shoulders that will take a lifetime to shrug off.

The light is fading, but today, out of all these days, I need the river. I need to cleanse myself. Yet, the pang of guilt for Grandma is always present, but I don’t want to upset her at the sight of me. If I hurry, it will be okay.

The village looks just as bad, bathed in the twilight light as he does in any other light. I think only flames would turn it into a pretty sight. I make my way to the village square. I’m sure it might have been beautiful once, but now it is a haunted mess. I pass near the stocks that sit at its center, which always have a resident these days.

“Psst!” A frail figure of an old man, its latest guest, calls out to me.

I turn and feel sorry for him. His face is bruised by the past time of punching whoever is in the stocks the soldier elves like to partake in after a drinking session.

“Give us a kiss?” he says.

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