Some of the men seemed thoughtful with the telling of the sonnet, a few seemed to be indeferiant to the tale, seeing it as just that. A tale to amuse them or rather break up the evening and pass the time. But two or three others spoke in their language to Akbar, he of course responding back in that same tongue.

Whatever they said could hardly be discerned. Maybe anger? Voices had seemed slightly raised though not overly so.

Omar placed a meaty hand to his chins stroking it as he thought about the matter. He said something to the others, dropped his hand away from his chin then flickered his eyes towards Akbar as he said something. A question perhaps given the inflection in his voice at the end of his statement. That and the fact that Akbar had said something to Omar in return.

After he spoke Akbar had turned to her, his brown eyes falling to Cassie before addressing her. "Thank you, Cassie, you may depart of."

As soon as she had left the room their had been a sea of voices in that language of their's. They spoke in raised voices rapidly saying this or that. But Akbar had not dismissed her from the building to that ramshackle that had passed as a slave's hut. He just bid her from the room.

Some of the body guards had pooled out of the room along with some of the men, Omar among them.

While he walked or rather wobbled out of the room Ali and Rahjan had been trailing along behind him as he spoke in that strange tongue to Akbar that walked at his side. Strange by his absence had been Hassan who must have that had been still in the enclosed room.

I left, a roll in my hips as the eyes watched something that none of them could have. For the first time since coming to this godforsaken place I felt good, even a little giddy. Maybe it was the wine. There was a heat in my belly, soft and curling there that made me enjoy having the men stare at me and now that like Lucerne they could not have me unless….

That was not such a good thought. I was chaste and pure. Maybe too much so as some of the things in the sonnet I truly did not understand. Rape for instance was the taking of a woman by a man and leaving her impure and unchaste. Exactly what that was had something to do with my privates and a man’s privates. Just a couple of days ago was the first time I understood even what a man’s privates looked like. I had put Akbar’s in my mouth in order to avoid the brand.

I don’t think either of us had found it pleasurable. And let’s not forget Hassan, I only knew that what he was about to do had to be rape and I did not want any of it. I had to wonder, but was cut short as Omar wobbled out of the room. I turned my back to him, the worm! Hmmpph.

That’s when I saw her, the old lady that watched over me…the scowl on her face. What had I done now?

While she might not have been able to see him Omar's eyes had been upon her borrowing into her flesh for a long while until he could ignore Akbar no longer. She had made him much after all, and while he held disdain for her father he had ignored her for the most part.

Moving on, Omar began to speak to some of his people as Akbar found himself flowing over to Cassie. A hand fell upon her shoulder as he had come up to her side.

"A most interesting sonnet," he stated. "Though the kitchen staff could use more wine."

He made a gesture towards on of the doors on this level. The task was usual reserved for a male slave and required brute strength but she was closest and he knew that she would manage by herself alright. "Brink them a case."

He did not ask her to of course, simply telling her to. If she were going to stay for the remainder of the party he would ensure that she remained useful.

The kitchen staff could use more wine, right, so what. Yet as Akbar continued it was becoming more and more evident that what he wanted was me to play fetch now that the story time was over.

ARRGHhhh, I wanted so badly to bite the hand that fed me. I was no servant, I was a lady, but that seemed lost on my host. Glaring at him I managed to not snarl nor yell which was quite an accomplishment in my book.

“Wine…by the case?” This had to be very poor wine, I had never heard of such a thing. “ I would think your guests would warrant your best. “

With a swirl of skirts I turned and sashayed out the door, my minder not two steps behind me clucking like a hen. It took some time to find my way through the clamor of slaves in the kitchen to get to the cellar were the food and wine were stored. While the earth might press in on your senses and the place smelled of dirt it at least was cooler than the rooms above ground.

The old woman had a smug look on her face as she pointed to one of the wooden crates filled with wine bottles. For the life of me wine had always been shown to me as a single bottle or a large oak cask. Straining with the crate I made my way up the stairs, resting occasionally while my minder urged me to be faster. With the heavy crate now in the kitchen my job was done.

There were nice dark corners to hide in and I found one as the kitchen staff bustled about preparing whatever it was that smelled so good and made my mouth water. However my revere was short lived when a man pressed a wine bottle in my hand and gibbered at me in that foul tongue of this region. Between red faced yelling and his pushing and shoving I was thrust once more into the room with Akbar and his guests…..

Serving wench I was not!

And while she had been bustled out of the kitchen with that thought in mind she had nearly ran smack right into Hassan who had been about to enter into the kitchen. Brown eyes settled upon her, his broad shoulders seemed tense as he inhaled though his nostrils.

Peace had not been etched on his face as he said something sharply in his own tongue. Of course she had not understood what he had said and while he repeated himself he pantomined a little as a finger pointed towards a nearby door and he repeated whatever it had been that he said.

His features softened a little as he smile at her and dropped his hand to his side.

Hassan! That two bit thief who’s very hands had groped my flesh in ways unholy. The man that had seemed bent on my defilement now stood before me and spoke gibberish. His pleas fell upon deaf ears for I did not wish to go anywhere with him given his apparent disregard for the virtues of a lady. He was a fool and I did not abide by fools.

“You are a fool and I will not countenance the presence of fools. You could have had riches had you returned me to my family and home, now…now you have nothing to offer.” I glared at him returning his smile with icy coldness. No doubt the old woman would soon be by my side and would take this young whelp by the ear lobe and throw him out like he deserved. With his breadth of shoulder I could not get through to door without touching him and I did not wish to touch or be touched ever again by this young punk.

So I stood my ground with the wine bottle in hand and thought about plain smacking him over the head. Perhaps that was when the icy stair shifted to a slightly wicked smile.

How dare she talk to him like he had been a whelp! Of course he had not understood what she said but that had been beyond the point. Her look of defiance had been on her face and she had been a woman. A woman! He felt his blood boil in his body with her refusal.

A sandy brown hand reached out with the striking speed of an asp. He took her flesh in his hand as he circled her wrist with his own. Jerking her closer to his chest he could feel her body pressing up against his own as he reeled her closer to him.

Through gritted teeth he had repeated whatever it was that he said though now he had yanked her towards the door.

Had he seen the bottle of wine in her other hand he did not yet take notice of it at the time. He seemed single minded, determined and of course a bit miffed at being treated with utter defiance.

Pain lanced up my arm as the fingers closed their steely grip upon my wrist. There was no tenderness in his eyes nor in his actions. Shuffling feet followed him as he moved towards the door his strength making me powerless to stop him.

Screaming with all the hot desert air my lungs could hold I let out a blood curdling whelp. I had no desire to go with this ruffian, this man that sought the end of my chastity. For surely he had changed none since our first confrontation upon the white hot sands of the desert.

Swinging my arm and by extension the bottle within my grasp I was rewarded with a bone crunching crash. The vibration of the contact between bottle and head sent tingles down my arm and loosened what remained of my grip upon the bottle so that it was lost in the shower of glass shards and purple liquid that showered us both.

So fast had time gone by that I swore no one had moved a muscle. Were they all asleep?

His forearm came up to ward off the blow though it had been too late. The scream rang out in the room causing many an eye to look that way as a sea of purplish liquid poured over Hassan. His grip on her slackened at once as he stumbled back, grasping at his head where he had been struck.

Words had issued out, words in that strange tongue while Hassan, still gripping his head, muttered out something then pointed towards Cassie as he did so. No one seemed to move as if paralyzed though at last that state seemed to rescind as Akbar pushed his way through the crowd.

His gaze fell upon Hassan who had still been saying something, Akbar flicked his gaze towards Cassie then struck her with the back of his hand upon her right cheek. Hard.

Omar, in the crowd, seemed to smirk at this as if secretly taking delight in her misfortune.

Pain erupted upon my cheek, knees hitting the ground amongst the glass shards. More pain from knees. Looking up I could not understand why I had been hit. Me---- the person who had not run off with this wild man intent on taking her into some closet or worse running off with her. Had I not just defended myself, my honor?

Stupefied, unable to speak, I knelt, the pain of glass cutting into skin adding to the pain and humiliation of that strike across my face. Mouth worked, or tried to.

---why?--- I mouthed, unable to from the word while the eyes grew blurry and the tears stained my crimson cheeks.

He slid his hand away after looking at it. Akbar slid it behind his back to the small of it though his other slipped around it too in order to grasp it by the forearm with the other. Whether or not to refrain from hitting her again could have been anyone's guess at that point.

Brown eyes focused on hers though their seemed to be venom behind them.

"After the party, my office," he said, his tone loud and sharpe as he spoke it.

What was I supposed to do? My gaze working around the room at the faces none of which none held much hope for me. Daggers or worse is what they seemed to hold for the only pale girl as if the novelty had worn off and life’s harshness was intruding on the party.

His office. No thought I, I had to get from here. Run far and fast so I might be free of these heathens and their wicked ways. Getting up I marched on out…intent on getting clear of the house. And then, well we would see wouldn’t we.

Strike a woman who is only defending her honor and virtue, who did he think he was!

Different culture ... different ways. What had Hassan said? Was it really important? She stormed off and Akbar entertained his guests as best as he had been able to. Use to be listened by women he had not thought that she would do anything but obey him.

Besides, where would she go? The desert had been a vast and unforgiving place that had served as a barrier of sorts. The ultimate guard in a way. He thus strode to his office as the party wound down and people filtered out flanked with their body guards.

And Akbar slipped quietly into his study that served him as an office after saying adieu to his guests.

I kicked at the sand as I walked, still smarting from that stupic man hitting me. Never in me life had anyone ever done such a thing to me. Now how to get out of here... whereever here was. That was the first problem.
Here!

The next was water. So enngrossed in my scheming I missed me minder's return. The old woman clucking as she scuffed at the ground. 'so what' I thought, let her stew. In fact let them all stew. If they could get angry then so could she. rotten men.

"so are you just going to follow me around woman" she said disgustingly and turned her back on the old crone. Camels...how did you ride a camel?

Akbar had not been privy to the thoughts of his latest acquisition. He had not thought too much of feelings and the like from his toys although he had not been in the habit of breaking them. Thus he sat in his office a pitcher of wine in front of him on his desk along with a half full glass.

And yet the old woman had once again she had appeared to guide Cassie in the direction that had been easiest to fit in without much of a fuss. Of course he had no idea that any of this had been going on though he could assume so. It was the duty of the older slaves to pave the way so to speak of the new arrivals. It had been an unspoken word among slaves though that was how it had been designed to work.

He had no idea that Cassie was in the midst of ignoring her in the here and now.