The Captain’s Slave part 22

Previously…

I fuck her until her pussy is puffy and swollen, just like I like it, and then I hold her up with one arm and reach between us to pinch and tweak her lips, stroking her sex with four fingers as I drag my teeth across her neck and my cock deep inside her.

She cums for the world to hear. Loud and animalistic.

And I take deep pleasure in bottoming out and spilling my cum in her guts. Panting against her neck as my cock and her pussy pulse simultaneously, and rumors of our fresh fuck begin to circulate around the camp.

PRESENTLY…

GRACE

Malik gently scrubs my arms with a wet, soapy rag. The water in the tub trickles with every movement.

He’s frowning at me, feigning upset, when I know that pleasure is thrumming through his body like it is through mine.

“Will you please stop frowning?” I ask.

“I can’t, Grace. I shouldn’t have gotten lost in the moment. I should have stopped your advances. It didn’t feel right, taking you under the sun like an entertainer. That’s not who you are.”

“So what am I, Malik? A doll meant to be kept indoors to either beat or polish, depending on my owner? I want to make my own decisions from now on. I want to explore life and try new experiences. I don’t want to be looked down upon as some poor, submissive slave. And that includes you.”

He lowers the rag into the water.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? Because there’s no need to prove anything to anyone.”

“Not to you, perhaps. But I wanted to show the entertainers that I don’t judge them for spreading their legs for any master, and they shouldn’t look down upon me either. I also wanted to prove to myself that I can grow. That I can become more than a slave girl with insecurities and regrets.” I smile. “I’ve held a lot of guilt for a very, very long time. Feeling like I was paying back for my sins by servitude. But I’m letting go of it and I’m allowing myself happiness.”

And it feels good, because I didn’t allow myself to even daydream of becoming more than a slave. Malik helped change this with his kindness and patience. With his demand that I let go of my slave name; Seven. But I have also been putting in the work to forgive myself and forgive life.

I am more free every passing day.

“I am beginning to fear you, Grace. Do you know that?”

My smile falls. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re taking more from me every day. When I first found you in that run-down home, being dragged around by your bastard slaver, I felt an undercurrent of attraction. But now I feel it in every drop of blood. Seeing you grow like this…” he exhales. “It makes me want you more than what I thought was physically possible. And I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how far I will spiral.”

I smile so hard that my cheeks hurt. Because this callous master that used to walk around the house like a dark shadow, intimidating and menacing, has shown me vulnerability. Has shown me that I am powerful enough to peel back his layers–something more beautiful and confident women had not been able to do.

And his love for me feels like a gift. Because it validates my experience as a person. I’m just starting to develop my identity as a free, assertive woman, and that is enough for him. I don’t have to be anything close to perfect because Malik accepts my scarred past, insecurities, and mistakes.

He adores me as I am, and I love him for it.

“And here I thought I wouldn’t get to see another day when you asked me to bend over that fence.” I chuckle. “You looked so angry that day that I swore it would be my last one. But now you’re the one that’s fearful? Funny how the universe works.”

He huffs. “Don’t remind me of those infuriating days. Ancestors, woman, you were so cheeky.”

“And yet you wouldn’t stop chasing these cheeks, would you?” I ask as I lean in for a kiss.

“The day that I do, I’ll run myself through.”

***

Three weeks later, a lot has changed in the camp.

Malik and War have gotten closer. Their relationship seemed a lot more professional at the beginning, but now I see the two men laughing more often. They became friends.

Joan is a busy woman as she oversees the entertainers and servants, but she has made an effort to be warm to me. Bringing me clothes that I added to the large pile Malik got for me.

We sometimes sit beside each other during the fireside chats, enjoying the entertainer’s performance and giggling over how War and Malik present themselves as intimidating beasts when they’re really soft in the privacy of our tents.

The entertainers have opened to me as well. Inviting me to speak during the firechats which I’ve yet to gather the courage to do. A few girls share the latest gossip of the camp when we sit together during breakfast.

They even helped me pierce my ears so I can wear pretty dangling earrings. Falling into my feminine era as I dabble in fashion.

Oftentimes, when I’m bored out of my mind and Malik isn’t around to rant about how I’m no longer a servant, I sneak off to the kitchen to help the servants clean and cook. Some of the girls have shown gratitude by sliding me desserts. I think I’ve gained a few pounds in my belly and thighs, but Malik seems delighted by it because he can’t keep his hands off the extra weight.

Malik throws himself into his work. Vehemently scouting the flesh markets that I’ve mapped out for him. He has been collecting intel these past weeks, and there is a lot more work to do before we can control the widespread problem.

Things between us have been joyful, but not perfect. It’s never smooth sailing. Malik sometimes loses sense of himself with bursts of jealousy. He doesn’t lash out on me, but he’s all snarls and glares at the masters whose eyes wander toward me. Most have learned their lesson, but it’s only a matter of time before a master holds their ground and fights him.

I’ve had conversations with Malik about the danger of his rage. He’s not sure how to control it. The healers suspect it’s a withdrawal symptom of the numbing medication he took when he was a soldier.

For years, he felt very little as he took the numbing drug that protected his mind and soul from the gore of war and the pain of loss. But since he got off the numbing medication and met me, he was swamped by emotions. And it will take time to find balance again.

I love him for communicating with me. For not trying to hide this concerning a new, possessive side of him. I know it bothers him to lose control and attack the men he fought beside for years, risking his brotherhood. But he is working through it and I’ve whispered to him many nights as I lay on his chest that I’ll support him.

I’m enjoying this new life, although sometimes I miss the quiet days when it was just him and I.

But this camp means something. We’re making a difference by fighting to free slaves. I am doing more than cleaning and cooking like I was during my slaving days. And I couldn’t be prouder of us.

As I stare at the sky that’s darkening with looming clouds, I inhale deeply and enjoy the scent of moist soil.

I exhale and open my eyes, my gaze landing on a solemn Malik as he approaches me from the direction of the healer’s tent.

“They’re here,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me close.

“What?” I blurt, my eyes wide. The clouds above us that are heavy with rain no longer seem so refreshing.

“The law is here for you, Grace. It’s happening.”

We knew they would come. That they wouldn’t accept the disrespect of Malik coming to their land to free their slaves or murder and assault their slavers.

They want to pin me down, and they want to strip Malik of everything: his freedom and his lands.

My freedom comes at a cost. And they want me to pay.

READ PART 23>

a/n: The showdown is here! Aren’t we proud of Grace for her growth?

Also: I’ve been working offline on a new story and it’s killing me not to share it yet. But I’m determined to first: 1) complete some stories to clear the schedule and 2) outline the hell out of it and release 5-10 chapters during launch so you guys can binge read the beginning!