Stiff Conversation

-The Orchard; Morning of 2 DSTR-

Cordelia stared at the ceiling, contemplating the events from the weeks that had followed. Turning her head to the empty pillow next to her own, she half prayed Alyona was dead. What a shame it would be for her to be found a runaway slave. Looking back up to the ceiling, she lifted her hand, eyeing the lack of dirt beneath her nails. The rummaging of women putting on what Cordelia dared to call clothes, coaxed her out of bed. Dawn had hardly began to strike, but the house was alive.

Her loose, white canvas night gown fell past her knees; her long brown hair cascading to just above her rear. Making her bed slowly, her eyes continued to fall on the space where Alyona had stayed. Confusion and certainty surrounding the reason why she left. Since the death of her Master, Maxine had kissed Tyreth’s feet, loving on him with lust for equality. Stupid woman. Shimmying the gown above her head, she folded it neatly and placed it in the second drawer. Her daily attire glaring at her, signifying her status amongst the rest of the women who lived here. Staring into the mirror that laid attached to the dresser, Cordelia began putting her hair into a loose, thick, French braid. As she had done for her previous Master, it well suited her features. Her eyes scanned her own curvature, hating whatever God there may be for blessing her. What an odd thing, to hate being beautiful.

Fixing her gold-plated g-string panty, aligning the veils with the outline of her toned stomach, she turned to the side. The side of her bottom revealed, she ran a hand down her smooth skin before forcing her breasts to cooperate with the metal cupping. Thumbing the laces in the back, she took extra care to ensure its stability. The red leather collar sat on her dresser, mocking her. Strapping it around her slender neck, she eyed the body that no longer felt like her own. Clearing her throat, she found her way to the door, and made way down the hall. Her eyes bore into the door of Tyreth’s bedroom, recognizing the laugh that only recently had become sickening. Maxine’s features poured with joy, and Cordelia attempted to mask her emotion of hatred for her.

Hearing a faint slap, Cordelia turned her head towards the wall and gagged. Lilly, who came from one of the other rooms, saw her reaction and giggled. Cordelia made her way to the dining room before they could notice her, and stood at the doorway. The rest of the women, waiting for Tyreth, staring at the doorway where Cordelia stood. Hearing the footsteps come closer, she turned to Tyreth and gave no emotion.

"Sleep well? And ready?" Tyreth asked.

Cordelia maintained her eye contact, making sure not to look at Maxine. As well as a slave can sleep, she thought. Instead, her response was mechanic. Nodding, without a change in feature, she turned back towards the women in the room. Resting her shoulder against the doorway, she cocked her hip. The veils falling to reveal more of her side. Watching the women eat the food that they had worked hard to prepare, she watched as Tyreth ordered for Yvette to leave with the other. Whore, she thought.

“So, what is it you want to know from us,” Cordelia paused before finishing her question, “Master?” Her expression cold, but her stomach flip flopping at his presence. Whether she wanted to admit it, she was attracted to him. It could have been the fact that she was at his mercy, or simply their long conversation on the night of the Masquerade. Whatever it might be, she made conscious effort to ignore it.