The Virgin of Greenbrier: The Greenbrier Trilogy, Book One

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Their pace slowed as they drew near the back entrance of the house. Lucretia was doing her best to keep her dignity about her. She kept her head up and her shoulders back. “But I’m…”

“There is more to pleasing a man than that one thing, Lucy. Much more.”

“Then I won’t…”

“I didn’t say that, but there are other ways and you will learn them.”

“I’m to be some sort of w***e then?”

“That is not what your father hired me to do, no.”

She halted and yanked her arm from his with a sharp huff. “Then what? Stop speaking to me in generalities. I am not an i***t, Dr. Addams. I have a mind and I have a will and I mean to know exactly what is going to be done to me.”

“And now, you will be punished for your lack of respect. Patience is highly valued here, little one. It’s time you learned to have some. Furthermore, that will be the last time you address me as anything but Master or Sir.” The whip that had gone forgotten at his hip was suddenly uncoiled and Lucretia found it wrapped around her waist, and her arms pinned to her sides yet again. He was not gentle and, for the first time, Lucretia knew real pain at his hand. He directed her off the path they had been taking and towards a cultivated part of the yard. In the middle of what must have been a beautiful summer garden, stood something Lucretia had seen used many times before, a wooden whipping post. She knew instantly that it was to this post he meant to take her.

“No!” Lucretia squirmed, losing the grace she had so desperately been trying to hold onto. “You will not do this to me! You will not!”

His fingers were in her hair, pulling it, dragging her in resistance to where she would go. Others glanced up from their tasks, but none moved to help, and none kept their eyes on the proceedings for more than a moment. Every time she turned to look for help, someone was helping him even though he gave no verbal direction. Her wrists were snapped into a pair of shackles and pulled up overhead. Her waist was lashed to the pole with a length of rope. “Crop and flogger,” she heard him say behind her back. After a string of curses that even she was surprised she knew, Lucretia heard, “Gag.” A small, leather ball, through which a piece of rawhide had been strung, was jammed between her teeth and tied into place.

All she felt was rage and hate. It was blinding. The hysteria was pierced by a sharp sting across her back. The pain only made her more furious. Over and over she was struck not just on her back but her bottom and her thighs as well. Each solid strike was more intense than the one before it. Lucy screamed through the gag, yanked at the restraints, cursing him over and over again in her mind. She was beyond tears at this point. She would not submit. She would die before she’d submit to this man.

“Now,” the single word was whispered in her left ear. The flogging had stopped. The doctor’s chest was pressed hard against her back. She could feel his heat and the soft exhale of his breathing on the back of her neck. “Is she going to behave and be patient?” He moved in even closer, pulling her head back by the hair. “I’ve given you a mere twenty lashes with a flogger, little one. Believe me; it is far from the most painful implement here.” The grip on her hair was gone and Lucretia’s head dropped to one side of the pole. “Untie this spoiled, little, rich girl.” He stepped back while others undid the restraints and gag. Lucretia collapsed to the ground.

The dirt and grass were sweet. Without tears, Lucretia bit her bottom lip and lifted her head. Her long hair covered half her face. Black boots stepped into her line of sight some two feet away. As her gazed lifted, it caught the tip of a crop that lightly tapped near the doctor’s knee. Her hatred was so strong that Lucretia felt a growl rise in her throat. He would not get away with this.

The business end of the crop struck her bare ass smartly. “Get up on your knees, slave.”

“No,” Lucretia hissed at him through clenched teeth.

The crop landed again, harder. “I said knees, now.”

She lifted herself, as if to do as ordered but instead looked up at him and glared. “And I said no. I will never submit to you.”

“Maybe a cage would better suit you.” He turned and walked away. He motioned to two of the nearby black slaves who had helped him before. They stepped forward and hauled her to her feet. “Take her to the kennels, away from the others, on the far end. No restraints, no gag, and no blindfold. I will retrieve her when it suits me. No one is to speak to her.”

Lucretia caught them by surprise and yanked free, lunging at the doctor. She was just about on his back when she was snapped back and held by powerful black arms. “You are a sick, sadistic bastard. Do you hear me? I will never submit to you or anyone! Never!”

The slaves held her secure as the doctor turned, gazing down at her angry, red face. “Yes, Miss Borgia, you are correct.” He grinned. “I am a sick, sadistic bastard; and, eventually, that’s what you’ll love about me.” He kissed her forehead. “Me thinks she doth protest too much. Get her out of my sight.” The two slaves picked her up between them and carried her away.

The cage was barely large enough to sit up in. If she pressed her back to one end, Lucretia could just straighten out her legs. It had a wooden base covered with sawdust and straw. Iron bars spaced about three inches apart covered the rest of the small prison. The whole things sat on a platform about knee level. Lucy was at the very end of a row of similar pens, isolated from all the others. This suited her perfectly as the others held Dr. Addams’ hunting dogs. They, at least, could move in and out of their confines, and their kennels had been draped with heavy oil-cloth to keep out the sun or rain. Lucretia had none of those luxuries.

Her blood was boiling by the time the two slaves walked away. She cursed at them with every word she’d ever heard and cursed their Master just the same. There was a gash in her leg and no doubt her arms and legs would be covered with bruises in a matter of hours. So much for going along with their game, Lucretia thought. He’d not leave her here too long. He wouldn’t dare.

But the day lengthened and the shadows began to grow heavy and dark. Still no one came. The edge of the woods was well within sight. Lucretia had never been out of doors this late on her own. Down the row, the hounds rustled in their bedding. Lucy’s throat was dry and her head was starting to ache. She lay on her side, but could find nothing that resembled comfort. Lights from within the house glowed with warmth while her stomach growled with hunger and shivers shook her every breath. He couldn’t mean to leave her out here all night, could he? It was the middle of October. She was naked without even a blanket to cover her. In the dark, scared, humiliated and isolated, Lucy cried.

They were silent and meager at first, drawing trails down her cold face. A peal of thunder rolled across the starless sky. “No,” Lucretia sighed. “Please no rain.” Her eyes spilled over even as they watched the pitch black clouds move in. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?” she asked the darkness. With more tears came more thunder. One drop of rain was joined by another. Lucretia tried to cover herself with her hands, but it was futile. Sobs flowed freely with the rain, and her cries were muffled by the sounds of the storm around her.

“Please,” she pulled herself up to her knees, gripping the bars, screaming towards the house. “Oh, please let me back in! Please!” But the wind, rain, and thunder drowned out her voice. Lucy shook the bars of the cage. “Let me out, damn it!” With her forehead resting first on the bars then sliding down to the floor of the tiny prison, she wept. No one could hear her. No one cared. There was no fight left in her. All she wanted was to be warm and dry again, to be fed and cared about. It was so cold out here in the dark. Had her words been so bad as to warrant this type of punishment? “Please, Master, please send someone,” she cried into her hands. Covered in sawdust, straw, and rain, Lucretia reached the bottom of her existence. This man her father had given her to ranked her no higher than his dogs and that thought she could not bear.

Still no one came – even when the storm had passed and the clouds moved away to reveal a Virginia sky bursting with stars. The temperature dropped. She knew it would only get worse as the night went on. Exhaustion dragged her down even more. But the cold and wet kept her from sleeping. Chills and shaking ravaged her entire body. Why could she not simply follow orders like so many others had before her? With her skin covered in goose bumps and her teeth chattering, Lucretia was sure she’d never live to see the morning. All she could do was pray, and now, after all this, she had begun to doubt the existence of a God she had so trusted in before. What had she done to deserve this? How had she offended Him so much?

Something slammed against the side of the cage, and she screamed, fearing it was some wild creature come to torture her through the bars, a wolf or coyote that found her cries a calling to come and prey on her weakness. Lucretia curled up into a panicked ball, “No! Go away! Go away!”

But it was not a wild beast of the surrounding forest at all. “Who is the Master here?” It was him. Lucretia found herself thanking all that was holy for his arrival. Now she would be saved from this.

“Please, please take me inside,” she stammered, wanting to reach out, but too afraid and too cold to do so.

“Who is the Master here?” he asked a second time. His cane smacked the side of the cage again, “Who?”

Hysterical with fear and need, she knew she’d say anything to be warm again, “You. Please…”

“Say it.”

“You. You are Master. My Master.”

“Take her out of there and bring her to my room immediately.” The cage was opened. Big, burly hands reached in, pulled her out, and dragged her to her feet.

Into the house they carried the soaked and shivering slave. Wrapped in a blanket that had thoughtfully been warmed by the fire, she was transported up the stairs, feeling half dead. All the lanterns in the doctor’s room had been lit and the fireplace roared with warmth. Quilts and pillows were layered on the floor before the hearth and into this pile of comfort, Lucretia was placed. What few words were spoken during this time were all done in hushed whispers. From one extreme to another she had been brought. Cruelty, fear, and terror had now been replaced with kindness, care, and safety. It was more tenderness than she had known in years.

Propped up on the pillows, Lucretia was fed broth and tea by Cassy, who spoke to her in a combination of French and English. Cassandra smiled the entire time, dipping chunks of bread into the hot broth, feeding them to Lucretia piece by piece. “I don’t understand,” Lucretia said.

“Don’t understand what?” Against her rich colored skin, Cassandra’s teeth gleamed.

“What just happened?”

“This is your reward, little sister.”

Lucretia was only further confused, “My reward?”

“For calling Master Beau your Master, too.”

“Did I?” She vaguely remembered. She let her head lay back heavy on the pillows, “Little sister?”

Cassandra’s warm hand stroked Lucretia’s cheek, “Oui, mon petite la soeur.”

“Your little sister. Je comprehend pas.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Cassandra smelled of foreign spice, musky and intoxicating. “I’ll explain another time when you feel better. Master Beau is here. He’ll take care of you now.” There was a tender kiss on her forehead, and Cassandra was gone from her side.

Without opening her eyes, Lucretia knew they were alone. She did not want to fight him. It was too wonderful being covered in all these blankets, nestled in these pillows, and feeling the warmth of food in her belly again.

And then he kissed her. It was soft and scented with warm brandy. Maybe he hadn’t kissed her, she thought. Perhaps it was just the warm liqueur that had touched her lips. But then it came again, and it lingered there, tasting her in the same way she tasted him. It was a kiss. It was the first kiss that Lucy had ever had from a man. The warmth of the blankets was suddenly nothing compared to the heat that moved through her limbs now. Is this what she’d been fighting against for the past two days? His taste was gone, and she sank back further into the pillows.

“Feeling better now?” Dear God how his voice touched her now.

Lucretia opened her eyes. “Yes.” The reflection of the fire danced in his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

The doctor looked away; and, for a moment, he almost seemed vulnerable to her. “Because,” he said slowly, “it’s what your father has paid me to do.”

“Is that the only reason?” She wanted him to kiss her again.

His head tipped thoughtfully and then with a grin he looked back at her. “Yes, my dear Lucretia, that is the only reason.” He kissed her again, on the forehead, like a parent tucking his child to bed. “You sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we will finish our tour. I’ve arranged a special lesson for you with Cassandra.”

Naked beneath the covers, Dr. Addams stared at the ceiling. She’d fallen to sleep quickly after all the lanterns had been turned down. The fireplace lent its glow to the room, allowing him to watch Lucretia as she slept for the longest time. In some ways she was just like all the others that had been brought to him, spoiled, rich girls with slaves of their own. Sometimes he wondered how he tolerated them all. Then he thought of the money. It was more than a decent living; and, along with the undertaking business, he’d amassed quite a sizable fortune for himself. He had not planned on kissing her the way he had, but seeing her there, looking so vulnerable and hearing the way she and Cassandra had spoken to each other in their quiet, French way had made something unusual stir inside him.

For as much as she resembled her sister slaves, Lucretia was equally as different. The others had fought the life imposed on them by others, but Lucy fought in a different way. She was smart, and she knew she was smart; and, given half the chance, Beauregard reckoned she could outwit most any man she chose to. Being an only child had lent a certain amount of strength to her character. Lucretia had guts and brains and wasn’t about to be out-smarted by anyone. That combined with the fact that she was quite lovely, even in her fits of protest, made her incredibly attractive to him.

For a while, he considered the notion that perhaps her personality would not lend itself well to submission. But tonight, he’d seen that, behind all the strength she had, was a simple girl who wanted to be taken care of. As long as she was listened to and her opinions truly considered, it seemed to Beauregard that Lucretia Borgia would make someone a very fine wife one of these days.