Chapter Ten
A year several months later…
“Ah! White Silk, come meet my friends.”
“Yes, sir,” I patter to his side with a smile on my face.
“She was American,” Sir tells them. “And a real peach.”
“Lovely, Jorri,” a finely dressed woman exclaims. The man at her side is equally impressed by me. “And you’ve owned her how long?”
“A year and five months.” He’s very proud of me, showing me off like a trophy.
My master is an elegant man and very civil. I don’t know where we live, or how, or the reason for his distinctive features. I suspect he’s from , perhaps of mixed race with some Caucasian in his bloodline. His hair is very dark, neatly combed and his eyes are dark as well. He is as meticulous with his slaves as he is with himself. He thrives on form, inserting his will into everythin
