The Captain’s Slave part 10

SEVEN

I shouldn’t have slapped him.

He insulted me. The right response would have been to lash my tongue out at him, not strike him. I have overcompensated in disrespect.

Malik sets my blood on fire in confusion and frustration, but he has not been cruel to me. I will not forgive him for insulting me, but I will recognize that he let my friends go and he protected me from my previous slaver–even if it was by spilling his blood.

This man came from the wilderness. Marked with scars that no warm, oiled bath could ever wash away. He has fought for days and nights–destroying much in his way. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he has protected, too.

Is he a good man? I don’t know. He is a murderer. Is his mercy enough to make up for his sins? I don’t know that, either.

I’m a simple slave. A girl with nothing; not even a name. I spend too much time wondering these questions, as if they would make a difference.

At the end of the day, I’m a servant. Looking after this house and scarred male are my only job.

It’s not a sad existence. I’m fortunate to have a purpose. An honorable one. I dare to think that I contributed to the freedom of my friends. It’s a peaceful thought that keeps me warm at night.

So I will make peace with Malik. I will not beg for his forgiveness–I have too much pride for that, even if I have nothing else. I will just allow him to get even.

I approach the porch solemnly. Not looking forward to the humiliation of being punished like a child. But we must get even.

I sit on the top step. Malik watches from a distance, waking me in. I would pay what little luxuries I have–perhaps my long hair which I’ve been offered coin for–just to know what is in his mind.

He starts his approach, one heavy foot coming after the other. My thighs press together with every step. Squeezing until they feel numb.

Malik sits beside me, and the wooden porch creaks loudly under his weight. He sits with his legs spread apart, making space for the monster that lurks between them.

He’s the complete opposite of me. Relaxed and comfortable while I try to make myself smaller, trying to disappear.

“Come across my lap. Belly down.”

My clammy fingers uncurl as I force myself up. I stare at his lap with fear. He is giant. I could disappear in his embrace.

Malik sets a hand on his crotch as I lay myself over his lap. He tried to be subtle, but the movement didn’t escape me.

I can feel his hand against abdomen. He’s hiding something. And I have a good idea of what it is.

I set my hands against the wooden boards for some balance as my breasts press against his thigh and my ass is perched in the air like a sacrifice.

A heavy hand falls on my ass. My heels snap together as thunder bolts through my body.

He’s touching me…there. Only my ratty old clothes separate us.

His hand is utterly massive, covering my entire cheek. If he shifted his fingers just one more inch, he would likely find a damp patch.

“I will not strike you today,” he says. His powerful voice rumbling through his body so that I feel it across his lap.

I dare to peek at him through my hair which covers most of my face. “Then why…am I here?”

“To show you that I could,” he says. “I could spank you like a child. I could…” He trails off, glancing at the hand over my ass.

I wonder what he was going to say. What is the offset to spanking me like a child? Making me feel painstakingly female by making me drip down my thighs?

He stares at me as he slides his hand down the curvature of my ass and toward the back of my thighs.

He rakes heat across every inch that he caresses. He studies me closely as he journeys down my ass, watching me bite my lip. Biting back pleas for him to strike me instead of caressing me because that would positively be less torturous.

But he already knows this. He can see it in my expression that resting over his muscular thighs and being at the mercy of his heavy hand is driving me crazy.

He is making me feel things I’ve never felt before.

“Tell me everything about your past, and I will forgive your slight. We will be even.”

He wants me to speak while I can barely muster any reasoning? His hand is so distracting I can barely remember my own name.

“Who were your parents? You have some human in you. I can tell.”

“Don’t recall. I’m an orphan,” I reply, licking my lips. “Only met one other person mixed with human.”

“Did your slaver pick you off the street?”

I furrow my brow as I struggle to concentrate. “He found me at the orphanage. I was terminally ill. He offered medicine in exchange for my servitude.”

“What medicine was this?”

I struggle with the next part. My heart grows heavy. I’m not proud of my past. I’ve sinned, and that’s why I always figured that slavery befitted me. It was a way of paying for what I’ve done.

“A…a blood transfusion. I didn’t know…”

Well, I did. It was implied that he would hurt someone to get the blood for me. And I ignorantly agreed.

I’m alive and healthy now. But at what cost?

“Good. You did good.”

Malik removes his hand. For the first time, I feel his raging erection against my belly, if only for a moment. He grabs my hips and lifts me off his lap, returning me to my seat.

I’m unharmed. He didn’t strike me. And yet I feel thoroughly thrashed.

I hug my legs to my chest, trying to crush the small, asinine desire to misbehave some more to receive more punishments.

Why am I so self-destructive?

“Things are going to change rapidly around here,” he says. “I need you to know that.”

He’s giving me a warning…but not a way out. He’s not telling me that I am free to leave along with my friend and start anew elsewhere. He’s just asking me to prepare for the storm.

I think he has decided that he will no longer be generous. I’m an his. My window to leave has shut.

I shudder, the quick motion making me realize just how wet I’ve become between my thighs. If I were to stand right now and walk away from Malik, I’m sure he would hear the squelching.

“What do you mean by change?”

He stares at the horizon calmy. I wonder how far into that thin line he has traveled. How much of the world has he conquered?

How many unsuspecting, naive young girls like me has he left an impression on?

“I’m going to investigate the increase in slavery around these parts, and I’m going to do something about it.”

“What?” I frown. “But if the military hasn’t done anything about it… how can you, a single man, handle it?”

“The military doesn’t know about the increase in slavery. They think the practice is practically extinct.”

I shake my head. “And how would you know anything about what goes on in a military camp?”

His eyes fall on me, and his eyes darken as he thinks deeply.

It takes a minute for him to reply, “What if I told you that I used to be General of the Zolan army? Leader of thousands of masters, entertainers, healers and officers. That I had my own treasury financing hundreds of tents, meals, weapons, and medications. That I could free a man from my prisons with a shrug or order his beheading with a wave of a hand?”

I chuckle. “Quite the imagination you’ve got there. You wouldn’t last a day as a General. Too violent.”

“Violent?”

“Respectfully, you killed two men in the week that I’ve known you. Surely, you would decimate your own army.”

I laugh, but he doesn’t. I sober up quickly. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to be rude. Were you really…were you really a General?”

There is no way. How could a General retire to his land without an entourage of servants and coffers of gold? I know Malik is a wealthy landlord, but a General? I don’t think so. He is too reserved, too independent. A retired General would have his soldiers repair his home instead of getting his hands dirty and repairing it himself.

He cracks his knuckles. “I was a soldier.”

I shared much of my past, but today, he shared just a droplet. I’ll take it. Knowing Malik, this is a huge revelation.

I dare to dig for more and ask, “were you high ranking?”

“Somewhat. Nothing close to being a General. But that is behind me. Enough now. Return to your duties. I will be busy cutting wood and repairing a ceiling panel, so do not disturb me.”

I wonder if he’s letting me go first because he doesn’t want me to see the tent in his pants.

I rise and walk away as ordered, trying to picture Malik in military armor as I enter his home.

General of the army? I smile. Such a silly thought.

READ PART 11>

A/N: War begged Malik to become the next General and Malik was like “nope, deuces” 😭😭😭