| |
The first section contained really old looking people, the second one contained someone that looked like a shaman of some sort, and whom was most likely his acolytes. The third one contained people not as old as the first group, maybe the ones over fifty. A fourth one contained those whom were probably over thirty, a fifth one contained those most likely over fifteen, a sixth one contained those that appeared over eight, and a seventh one contained those probably over three.
An eighth one contained tribesmen and tribeswomen in chains, the ninth one contained some vicious looking dogs, and the tenth one was reserved for those who might have been slaves. Or people that were probably kept only to be eaten later, and they got to eat before the slaves. Everyone was waiting for Alexandra and the tribesman leading her to show up so that they could get started with the ceremonies.
Alexandra could see all of the tribesmen and women smiling lustfully at her, and she did not like the feeling that she got from their stares. It was almost as if they knew what the tattooist had done to her. The tribesman with her directed her to the tenth section where two men in sailor’s uniforms were tied to a large rock, and sitting in mud created by soapy water being thrown on them.
Her tribesman father sat in the fourth section. Alexandra was uncomfortable sitting close to the two men in her section because they stared at her for a long time. She knew that it was a matter of time before they called on her for some domestic task, or something worse that savage cannibals tended to inflict on others. If only her looks could kill, a stare to die for was what she gave all. All present were ordered to be silent as the shaman rose to begin the ceremonies or whatever he was going to do.
A deep diabolical voice came from the shaman's pursed lips, “On this day we will inaugurate a new lifetime slave that will do whatever you ask, and I do mean anything. Haha, anything, and I am going first. I call dibs, and back to the point. If she does not do something that she is told to do she shall be brought to the tribunal, and punished according to the task that she did not do.
“Her name is Alexandra, but she should answer to dog, or mutt, or whichever you prefer to call her. Of course this day we will have a great celebration of the flesh. Oh, it will be so good. Yes it will. We celebrate what nature has given us, and give into it, whatever it may be. Ah, the pleasure I am feeling now just pondering it. Oh joy.
“Whether that is eating whatever is available or doing stuff unimaginable to whomever may be around no matter if they like it, or not. Yes. Even eating your friend is up for grabs, oh the possibilities are endless. So, once the food has been given to all present, whichever you desire, take it from her,” The savage priest smiled at Alexandra lustfully, licking, and smacking his lips.
“If she does not do something that she is told to do she can be punished on the spot by any means necessary at your disposal. The more she cries out, the more she must be punished. Punish, punish, punish she will have to be punished. Ha ha ha. If she happens to die, so be it. Wooh lots to say, and I just want to punish her. Come here maggot,” The savage shaman called Alexandra up to him while slapping the palm of his left hand with the handle of a leather whip.
When Alexandra arrived before him, he ordered her to turn around, and hug a huge tree trunk. A rope was fastened onto her wrists, and tightened so she could not move. He then tore the shirt from her back, and began to whip her. When he stopped for a moment, she thought that he was done, but he continued whipping her with something that felt like it had metal teeth that dug into her flesh, which had to have at least nine distinct branches to the end of it.
She screamed, and screamed, the more she screamed the more that he whipped her. The other tribesmen could see the shear pleasure on the shaman’s face as each stroke of the whip ended with it striking Alexandra’s flesh. His clothes were drenched in sweat, and his muscles were becoming exhausted from the strain. The handle of the whip was stuck in his rictus contorted fist. His knuckles were white, and the blood in his hand was hot.
Hot snot ran down from his nose, and his eyes were cross-eyed from the strain. A vein throbbed on his forehead. Alexandra felt everyone’s eyes on her, and her torturer’s hot breath was on her neck. It made her skin crawl. Something twisted inside her broke free, and she began to laugh. The L’art’o were enraged at her indignation, and wanted to punish her for it.
She heard the whip being dropped on the ground, and the clink of metal as the shaman stooped to pick up something else off of the ground. His hurumph, and wheeze told her that it must have been heavy. Clearing his throat after spitting on the ground some chewing tobacco of some sort, he spoke.
“What is your name, dog?” The shaman commanded of her.
“My name is Alex ...” The shaman struck her on the back with the whip that she felt deep in her back, her lungs were on fire from the blow, and he spoke again.
“What is your name, maggot?” The shaman demanded in a harsher tone than the first time that he had asked her.
“My name is Alex ...” The shaman struck her in the back again with the whip, and then gave a hard kick to the left side of her head. She slammed into the tree, dazed. She fell to the ground as the ropes came loose, but not without severely burning her ankles, and wrists from the rope first. The shaman gave her another kick in her stomach before she could get up.
Blood seeped from the front of her head, and the side of her abdomen. Grabbing her by the hair, and pulling her to her feet roughly he spoke loudly to her, scrunching up his face with detest.
“What is your name, mutt?”
Crying her way through the words she said, “I am confused. You called me Dog, Maggot, and Mutt. My name is whatever you choose, you bastard?” A trickle of blood ran down her face, and mixed with her salty tears, and a pool of her own blood was at her feet turning the dirt to a reddish mud. The shaman grabbed Alexandra roughly by the shoulders and continued to speak to her harshly.
“That is a good slave, Dog. Now repeat after me. ‘I, Dog, am a slave of the L’art’o. My name is irrelevant, and will be given to me at the time of my duties.’ What are you waiting for repeat it?”
“I, Dog, am a slave of the L’art’o. My name is irrelevant, and will be given to me at the time of my duties.” Said Alexandra through an ocean of tears mixed with blood.
“Now repeat all that I say. ‘I will always be a slave. I will do as I am told when I am told it. I will not bathe so that the stench of my burden of slavery can be smelt. I will live in a hole in the ground, and will lay in my waste to further my stench.’”
She brushed the hair from her face, and said what she had to say, “I will always be a slave. I will do as I am told when I am told it. I will not bathe so that the stench of my burden of slavery can be smelt. I will live in a hole in the ground, and will lay in my waste to further my stench.”