-The Cartagan Orchard. Mid afternoon, 2 DSTR-

Tyreth was annoyed by the fact that she put her hands on his to try and force him to release his grip on her throat, but he would not act on it. She was a human, even if she was a lowly slave, and the instinct of self-preservation was still there. In fact, it could be argued that some slaves, perhaps not Cordelia, have the best sense of self-preservation. They are willing to go as far as to humiliate themselves and accept their lifestyle of servitude in order to keep breathing. Watching her walk away with a slight smile, the expression became very tight and filled with annoyance when he saw her straighten her back and posture as she walked.

What would it take to teach this slave her place?! She did not have the position in life that warranted the kind of pride that she had, to make it appear as if nothing had happened. She should be happy shoveling shit, not trying to ready herself for the Queen's Court. Snarling slightly as he followed behind her at a healthy distance, he lost track of her when she went around the corner of the house. Does she want to die? We will see, he thought as he came around the corner, half-expecting her to be trying to make a fun for it. Seeing her instead going to the front porch before turning to face the orchard, he nodded his satisfaction with her actions as he came towards her. Obedience, even it was simple minded and had to be instructed every step of the way, was better than defiance after all. Moving to the steps, he expected her to turn to follow him, but instead she stayed with her eyes lowered and her frame towards the orchard. Walking up the stairs, he spoke, "Follow me to my office, and be prepared to write."

[Sorry for the shorty. One of my dogs passed away so I'm just trying to get back in the swing of things.]

< Prev : Confused Next > : Leverage