Jatin was curled up into a miserable ball on the floor. With his hands and feet all chained together in front of him, he did his best to bury his head between his shoulders to block out the screaming. Naked on the stone floor, sick with fear, he was futilely trying to escape the sounds of the terrified pleas for mercy his brother was making to their Mistress, in between stretches of gut-wrenching shrieks.

With a sob, Jatin buried his head deeper, feeling the chains cut into him. It was his fault. It was all his fault. But how could he have done anything else? For the thousandth time he replayed the afternoon’s events in his mind, desperately searching for what he could’ve done to avoid the bringing his Mistress’ wrath down on them both.

From across the small, dark alcove Nashan watched Jatin’s misery with pity. It was not the boy’s fault that he was in this unenviable situation. At 24, Jatin’s brother Janov, a senior slave in their Mistress’ household knew the consequences of lying to their Lady. Nashan had no idea if this was Janov’s first lie, or the first time he had been caught, but fully believed he deserved what he was getting. Jatin’s only fault was being the only one in the household to know that his brother had lied to their Mistress. Loyal to his brother, who looked out for him in the harem, Jatin did not disclose his brother’s betrayal. Until this afternoon, when their Mistress asked him a simple question. Rarely known to raise her voice, his Mistress’ roar of anger had sent a shot of fear rippling through the harem, unlike that which had been felt for a long time. Nashan shifted positions and tried resting his eyes. None of the slaves were going to get any sleep tonight.

Through the curtains separating them from their Mistress’s outer chamber, Janov’s wailing grew louder. Jatin shaking with fear, retreated further into his corner, where he had been left two hours ago, as the punishment began. His brother’s voice pierced through him again. Janov was begging for mercy, begging for forgiveness. Swearing his loyalty to her again and again. His Mistress’ voice was too low to make out her words, which terrified Jatin even more. As slaves, he and his brother had received their share of punishments. He had once been tied down for days together when his Mistress first took a sexual interest in him, using him harshly and continuously, till he could no longer tell if it was night or day. Still, none of the boys had ever been tortured. The punishment for the sin of lying was well known, but had never been carried out. No one had dared lied to her before and he did not know what happened in the other Houses.

The screaming had begun again. Jatin was as unsuccessful in blocking out imaginings of what was happening in the next room, as he was at blocking out the sounds. As sickened as he was, he knew hearing his brother’s voice was at least proof that Janov still had his tongue.

Jatin retched again. Nashan reached out and wrapped his arms around his head for him, stilling him. Pity for the boy coursed through Nashan again, followed by relief that he was not involved. But he knew it would be short-lived. His Mistress’ continuing anger would be sure to affect them all in the coming weeks. And if his lady did indeed cut Janov’s tongue out for this mistake, his recovery would be a constant irritant to her that her slaves were not trustworthy.

Nashan had no doubt she would do it, in spite of Jatin’s frenzied prayers to the Goddess.

Mistress did not threaten idly.

Nashan glanced across the tiny room to its third occupant. Indifferent to both the screams enveloping them and the agony of the boy on the floor, Drush was still in the same position he has assumed for the last two hours. Leaning against the wall, chin on his chest, his face registered no hint that he was aware of the growing crescendo of screams outside. Senior amongst the harem, he had been with the Mistress since her childhood, and had probably seen and heard a great deal more than what was happening in the next room.

All of a sudden the sounds changed. Janov was gurgling and incomprehensible. Nashan and Drush’s eyes met across the room, in understanding. Nashan quickly leaned down to where Jatin still lay, lost in his misery and clapped his hands over the boy’s ears. Almost immediately a long, loud piercing scream rent the air.

Jatin couldn’t breathe. He dimly realised that Nashan’s hands had moved from his ears and were now clamped over his mouth muffling his own screams which were joining his brother’s.

Then there was silence.

It seemed like a long time later when they heard their Mistress’ soft voice again.

“Drush”

As though expecting it, Drush was up and through the curtain in an instant. Jatin struggled out of Nashan’s lap to turn and face the doorway.

Drush entered the room, and saw his Mistress sitting in her favourite chair near the balcony, sipping wine. He went swiftly to her, keeping his eyes averted from the table, where he knew Janov was bound.

Kneeling before her, he waited in silence.

“Take him to your quarters and have Nashan tend to him. A healer can see to him in the morning.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Then come back to me. I require your attendance this night.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“And leave Jatin as he is. I will clear his doubts of loyalty tomorrow.”

“As you command Mistress.” She dismissed him with a wave.

Drush rose and moved towards the table where Janov lay prone. Before he could register what he was seeing, he undid the bonds and hoisted the boy over his shoulder, moving quickly back to the alcove.

Nashan saw him come and followed him, leaving Jatin behind silently pleading for information. Together they carried him into their small quarters, and lay him down on one of the worn pallets.

Conveying his Mistress’ commands, Drush quickly turned and left the room, while Nashan examined Janov. There were burn and cuts and bruises covering him. Rope abrasions on his wrists and ankles from his struggles. Back whipped to shreds. He would be the only slave in the house with scars.

Steeling himself, Nashan looked at his face. With relief, he realised there was no blood. Yet Janov was holding his mouth agape, his eyes still wide with terror. With Nashan’s prodding, Janov opened his mouth and extended his tongue.

And Nashan saw his Mistress’ insignia branded on it.

***

With no news of his brother’s condition, Jatin spent the night in fitful sleep, alternated with sick fear for his brother. Parched with thirst and aching from his painful restraints, Jatin wondered if he would be given water or even allowed to relieve himself. Nashan and Drush had passed by him several times that morning without a word or answer to his whispered questions. Jatin realised his Mistress had forbidden them to speak with him.

It was only then that Jatin began to dread what was in store for him.

It was late afternoon when Nashan came to release him from his bonds. The long wait and tension had gotten too much for Jatin who had already relieved himself on the floor. His fear was heightened wondering if this would add to his Mistress’ displeasure, but Nashan still said nothing and wiped him down before undoing the chains.

Agony coursed through Jatin’s neck, shoulders, and arms. His back, having spent the night bent, was refusing to straighten up. After waiting a few minutes, Nashan tried to help him up, but Jatin couldn’t even lift him arms, much less feel his legs. Not about to keep his Mistress waiting, Nashan lifted Jatin, ignoring the boy’s fresh cries of pain, and carried him into his Mistress’ day chamber.

Jatin was dropped onto his hands and knees before his Mistress. She watched him struggle to get into a respectful position and press his lips to the floor. He was shaking.

And with good reason, she thought. She waited. Jatin began to weep again, as he had done before her yesterday when she had learned the truth. The boy had been extremely foolish in trying to protect his brother rather that confessing to her. She doubted he knew exactly how serious his mistake was. Disloyalty was worse than disobedience. And Jatin did not seem to realise that he had conflicted loyalties.

She would clear that up for him soon enough. And it would be a valuable lesson to her other slaves, in case they had any doubts as well.

“Did you pray all night for your brother?”

Jatin raised his lips off the floor.

“Yes Mistress,” he whispered.

“And did you pray for yourself, as well?”

“No Mistress.”

“Why not?”

“I know that my silence was a mistake Mistress. I would take whatever punishment my Mistress feels is due.”

“I see,” the lady leaned into the silk cushions behind her. “And yet you prayed for the liar?”

“I only prayed for my Mistress to show him mercy.” Jatin could no longer hold his position and struggled to keep his head up to answer her questions clearly. Frightened as he was, his exhaustion and desperation for news of his brother made his own punishment seem less impending. Until his Mistress spoke again.

“Nashan. I want him in a better condition when the trader comes to look him over.”

Involuntarily, Jatin’s head snapped up.

“Yes Mistress,” Nashan murmured from behind her chair.

“I trust I can obtain a better value selling him, over what I bought him for,” she said, looking back at the boy staring up at her.

Jatin could not believe what was happening. His shock made him speak out of turn.

“Mistress is selling me?” he asked faintly.

“I do not require the services of a slave who is disloyal to me.”

“Mistress… Mistress, please! I beg your correction!” Jatin’s voiced cracked and went up an octave. “I would never be disloyal to you again Mistress. Please, please don’t send me away! I beg of you…”

His Mistress leaned towards him and stared into his tear-streaked face. “I have no need for a slave whose loyalty is in doubt.”

“Mistress, please. This slave is loyal to you Mistress. Only to you.”, Jatin sobbed.

“Indeed?” Mistress raised an eyebrow.

“Shall we test that?”

Jatin felt a thrill of dread. This would be his punishment.

“As you command, Mistress.”

Mistress nodded to Drush, who turned and left the room. Jatin lowered himself back to the floor, his heart pounding with fear. What punishment could test his loyalty? He had taken beatings, but could not think how a whipping would prove him to be loyal to his Mistress. And if he failed? Jatin could not imagine life away from his Mistress and the harem. They were his family, his life. And he had never been separated from his brother. Would his Mistress really sell him?

Drush returned. He had brought Janov.

At the sight of his brother, Jatin’s eyes filled again. He could see the severe whip marks criss-crossing his back and continuing down beneath his waistcloth. Janov sank down to his hands and knees next to his Mistress with his head down. From his own prostrate position, Jatin could not see his face.

Mistress extended her leg and lifted Jatin’s chin with her foot.

“Who is this?” she asked, with a nod towards Janov.

“My brother, Mistress.” He saw her eyes flash and realised his mistake. Her foot connected hard with his chin, knocking him backwards before he could correct himself. Lights exploding behind his eyes, he cried, “Your slave, Mistress. Forgive me, he’s your slave.”

Mistress pointed to the ground before her and Jatin crawled back to his position.

“And who are you?”

“Your slave, Mistress.”

“The liar is no longer my senior slave. He’s a dog in this house. There is no one below him. And he needs to learn his new place. You will be the one to show him that place.”

“Mistress?”

The lady waved her hand. Drush leaned forward and removed the waistcloth covering Janov. Jatin’s eyes widened as he saw thin triangles of skin missing from Janov’s buttocks where the whip had sliced into him.

“Take him.”

“Mistress?” Jatin was horror-struck. Take his own brother? Surely she couldn’t have meant—

“Use him. Now.”

“Mistress, mercy!” with a sob Jatin went to her feet, his tears falling freely from his face. “He’s my brother.”

“He’s MY slave!” The lady slammed her hand against her armrest. “As are you. And the only reason you are here together is because you were clinging to his legs with such desperation, I did not have the heart to make the slaver tear you from him. But I will NOT have my compassion used against me.”

“Mistress… please, pleaaase…”

She regarded him silently. “There are worse things than selling you to a pleasure house.” Jatin looked up, frozen with terror. She nodded at Janov again. “I could sell him to the slave mines.”

Jatin covered his head with his hands, sobbing. He would never see his brother again. How could his Mistress be saying these things? They had been with her since he could remember. He had been her pet, her puppy boy, fetching and carrying and being rewarded with tid-bits off her plate.

Mistress extended her hand and Drush placed a goblet in it. She calmly took a sip of wine. “I will have your loyalty. Do as I command. Take him.”

Behind his Mistress, Nashan closed his eyes and silently beseeched Jatin to obey quickly. He could not disobey her. Willingly or unwillingly, Mistress would make him do it.

Jatin also knew he had no choice. He was her slave, her word his law. As though in a dream, his hand moved to his fear-shrunk member and he began stroking himself. His lips felt cold, and his hand was shaking. He closed his eyes.

“Eyes open”

Jatin opened his eyes immediately but could not bring himself to look at his Mistress or his brother as he crawled towards him. It would not hurt. Janov had been used by others, and Jatin had also participated in his Mistress’ pleasure games before. It would not hurt either of them. Jatin suddenly understood his Mistress had been compassionate here also. She had never made them do this to each other before. Until they had betrayed her trust. It was now his punishment and test of loyalty.

As he had done many times before, Jatin closed his mind to what he was doing. Janov made no sound other than a hoarse whimper when his wounds were touched. To his relief and surprise, Jatin came quickly. Perhaps the Goddess had been pleased with his obedience and was now showing him mercy.

Jatin crawled back to his Mistress’ feet and kissed them both twice. She reached down and cupped his chin, forcing him to look up at her.

“I hope I don’t have to repeat this lesson again.”

Jatin shook his head, his eyes dry. “No Mistress.”

“Half the day is over, and your chores still await you. You will finish them before you have your meal and rest.” Mistress dismissed him.

“As you command, Mistress.”

***

Dizzy with fatigue, Jatin reached his quarters and sank down to his pallet with a moan of pain. His eyes were half closed, when he saw Janov in his regular corner of the room. Fighting exhaustion, he crawled towards his brother.

“Jan?”

Janov opened his eyes, and smiled wearily at his brother. He then extended his tongue, showing Jatin the branding.

Relief coursed through Jatin. Whispering a prayer of thanks he realised his Mistress had once again shown compassion.

She was his Goddess. And he worshipped her.