Sep. 27th, 2008


In the days after that fateful conversation, Zahira watched as the other staff were moved from her quarters. That she was ill, only the senior staff told the others. She said nothing, knowing the real reason, and sat curled by a window, slowly adjusting to her state.

She looked the same, but she did not feel the same. Majid, or one of the 3 women, remained within sight of her, and she remained in the house, not venturing outside. It gave her a lot of time to think, remembering the things Lady Amani had said, and ponder her own reactions.

On the first day, the reactions she pondered the most was her physical one – the taste of the blood, the sensation as it took over her body, remaking her into them. The… desire… as it welled into her mouth was something she'd not expected, and now she could see and feel the weight of that loyalty Lady Amani had spoken of.

Majid watched her, pleased, as she watched him. Sometimes, while they were alone, he would ask her how she was, and her eyes would say 'I trust you' and talk a little. The skills were less of a shock than her body's reaction to the taste. She had to watch herself to not move too fast, and it made her slightly clumsy sometimes, as she had to right herself or stop something from being knocked off balance. The cut was easier, although she did notice how ingrained the thought pattern was, that this was no longer a threat. She'd have to watch that later – to not heal without thinking before witnesses – a threat to them all. But above all else, she could not stop thinking about her body's reaction to sucking on her mistress's wrist, and the taste of her.

It did not do for a proper girl to be passionate, but now she was finding the world behind closed doors, was very different to the public face. A lot like her.

That night she went back to Amani's rooms, and closed the door behind her, and bowed as normal. Majid sat outside, and she watched him as he watched her, as she went to the door, and disappeared inside. They spoke further, Zahira curled on a cushion close to Amani, listening, asking questions, and then… the bite, the taste, and her drinking her mistress's blood, her body flushing and firing as it went to work on her.

She was trembling after, her eyes dazed, but it slowed faster this time, as the yoke of servitude slipped a little tighter on her. The mask she displayed to the world slipped a little more, as her love for her mistress strengthened, allowing her to show more of the girl under her impassive exterior.

Amani was pleased. Everything she had seen so far was indicative of what she had expected from this one. She would turn out well.



March 2009

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