The bedroom chambers was far from what Inayah had expected. The room was large and round. It was dark. All the textiles black and the wood the darkest she had ever seen. The moonlight comes through the black panels seemed to be diminished in the dark room.

Inayah stood shivering in nothing but the gown, her damp hair absorbing cold and sticking to the nape of her neck and temple. She fiddled with her fingers nervously eyeing the large fireplace that cracked and spat invitingly.

It had been built on the corner, far enough to deprive her of warmth. Inayah glanced about the room one last time then took a tentative step towards the fireplace.

“Make your way to the center.”

Inayah leaped, startled by the sonorous voice that sounded directly above her. She felt his presence a moment later, large form towering from behind.

The protest say steadily in her tongue but something else made her hesitant, silent. Perhaps it was the realization that they no longer stood in the woods where escape was an opportunity.

No, she stood in his chambers.

Without glancing at him, Inayah made her way to the center of the room, head bowed low in deference and fear.

Salem circled her like a predator. Each step was slow and purposeful, almost taunting.

“How do you find my home?” he questions and she hesitates.

Inayah’s eyes fixate on his bare feet, noting dark ink marks scribed along each toe and up his legs. “It’s… nice?” Nice was an understatement, his estate was grande. Far larger than she had ever seen.

And it stood in the middle of the forest.

“Nice,” the tone of his voice had her eyes riSalemg, seeking his face. His smile was dark then, the wicked curl of lips that exposed teeth far sharper than an average man’s.

She swallowed hard already feeling sick.

“This home will be yours until death do us part,” he stated calmly, “I have claimed your Maidenhead and sealed your fate to mine.”

Inayah starer up at him fearfully. He circled closer, looking down at her like he was seeing best how to dissect her.

“Remove the dress. I do not like white.”

“Do you have something for me to...”

“Do not ask questions, do as you are told,” he snapped loudly.

Inayah flinched and cowered from him, scooting away. Her hands went to the flimsy straps of the white dress and she slid them off her arms but held the dress up with her hands.

“Straighten and let it fall,” he demanded.

Inayah stood, stumbling twice as she stepped on the skirt of the dress, yanking it down forcefully. She let it fall and covered herself with her hands Salemce there was nothing under the dress.

“Move them,” he demanded.

Inayah was panting, looking around for an escape. He circled her again, like he was waiting for her to disobey to that he could act on it. She made her hands into fists and forced them to her sides as she squeezed her eyes shut. She heard his steps cease as he stood still. She imagined his eyes on her and she wanted to cover again.

“You are pale,” he said more gently. “Do you not sun yourself?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You will,” he demanded, still speaking more softly. She felt fingertips brush her arm and she jerked away, falling to the floor as she stumbled over the dress pooled at her feet. She yanked it up as she scooted and covered herself with it fearfully.

“Stand, girl. Release the garment. Now.”

He snatched the dress up when she let it fall and opened a small door in the wall, dropping it down a chute. He went to a wardrobe and pulled out a black pullover shirt like the one he was wearing. He tossed it at her and she snatched it off the floor to pull it on.

He continued pacing, watching her. Finally, he went back to the desk, wrote another note and sent it down the pipe in a tube.

“I am Salem, beast of the forest,” he suddenly explains and her mouth dries, “Al activities of mine happen at night. You will aid in the chores and cooking, sleep when I permit you and stay awake while I demand of it, waiting to see how you can serve me. You will call me Master.”

“Yes,” she paused, “master.”

Salem looked at her, his eyes going hooded as he regarded her. “I am not lenient in any way, do not mistake my kindness for weakness for I am simply biding my time and plotting an appropriate punishment. Mathilde is the head of all chores and oversees all other duties. You are to obey her, lest she punishes you.”

“You are rather small,” he states distastefully eyeing her, “Mathilde will provide you with material to make your own clothes should you need them.

He opened a drawer and removed a file; “Dinner will be eaten as one in the dining table. Breakfast and lunch will be separate…” he tossed the file onto the floor, “Mathilde will explain all other rules.”

“Okay,” Inayah kept her eyes down, trying to think of a way out of this.

“Get up girl. Go to the bed and bend over it. Lift the shirt,” he commanded, testing several instruments he had sitting out. A cane, a whip, a cat o’nine tails, a riding crop, a paddle and a belt.

He swung the riding crop a few times, then nodded with a grim smile. “I fear you may not last long, girl. You look like you will break easily and if you think I will go easy because of your size, you are mistaken.”

The first blow landed on her exposed bottom and she yelped and slid off the bed, scurrying away. He caught her arm and shoved her back over the bed. “If you move or try to get away again, I will cane your back. Stay there. Scream and cry all you wish.”

The next blow landed and she did scream and grip his blankets in her fists as she sobbed. Blow after blow rained down on her and she kicked and screamed and thrashed, but did not move off the bed. He spread the blows out, all over her ass and down her thighs, but soon there were no places that were not already so tender that she feared he was breaking skin.

Finally, he stopped, dropping the crop next to her on the bed. She wailed and panted for at least five more minutes, writhing with pain. She was on fire and the pain was so sharp and awful.

He took her arms and rolled her and she tried to arch her stinging and throbbing backside off the bed. He shoved the shirt up over her head, leaving the sleeves on her arms. “Keep your arms high,” he demanded, picking the crop back up.

The first blow landed right on top of her tender little nipple and she wailed anew, tosSalemg her head and wishing she had the nerve to kick him and run. He landed another on her other nipple, then began landing blows all over her small breasts.

There was no real spreading it out, her breasts were smaller than her ass, so he tortured her flesh for an eternity, until his own arm was tired from the effort. He finally turned away from her and put the crop away.

Inayah rolled to her side and curled into fetal position, rocking and crying.

A hand suddenly gripped her chin, forcing her tear stained face up to his. Those sapphire blue eyes staring down, “Next time you try and escape me, I will have your head on a stake.”