A Jewel in the Dirt - 10. Honey-sweet (whip)kisses

"Enough!" Miss Carolyn's voice turned to a screech and Dante raised his head in time to see her slap her daughter.

Mistress Alice took a step back and touched her cheek with her fingertips, her face reddening and her lower lip trembling. Was it anger? Or shame? Humiliation? Dante wasn't sure, but after he had explained his point of view, the rest hadn't mattered. Punishments were decided by the women. He now understood why Tom had seemed so absent at his sentencing. Miss Carolyn had listened to Tom's version (which sounded neat but still wasn't true) but she hadn't asked Frank. He sat slumped on the couch, intimidated; Miss Britney had put a hand on his arm- probably meant to be reassuring, but to Dante it seemed more like she was trying to keep him from talking.

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

It didn't matter. Now he was considered a thief and a liar and would be punished. He hadn't caught the sentence, but that didn't matter either. Twenty, twenty-five, thirty lashes or more - what difference did it make if he was unjustly punished?

He received a smack on the back of the head. "Get up!", Miss Carolyn ordered him, and obviously not for the first time.

He rose and looked at her, only to be promptly slapped in the face.

"We can't have someone like you around here!"

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

Dante obediently lowered his eyes and listened only just enough to the shouted orders to follow those directed at him. It felt as if Miss Britney had taken not only the honey jar from him, but his emotions as well, for the flash in her eyes, her fine smile, and Tom's name had been enough to make him realize that he had no chance.

However Tom had done it, but this was his revenge.

Mistress Alice grabbed Dante's upper arm and escorted him out like this, and although he didn't understand what Miss Britney was saying, it couldn't have been anything nice, because his mistress's grip became exceedingly tight for a moment.

It took a while for the household to assemble.

Dante was ordered to the center and undressed while Miss Carolyn told of attempted theft and lying.

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

Blaise tied Dante's hands together and hooked the rope. "Seriously, son, honey?" he muttered, and Dante thought he heard disappointment, but he didn't raise his eyes. Blaise sighed a warm cloud against his bare arms and disappeared.

"Jessy," Miss Britney said overloud in the tense silence, "you count for us."

If the girl answered, it did not get through to Dante. He had his eyes closed and was waiting for the first strike- it hit him square on the tense shoulders.

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

"One." Jessy said quietly.

The second lash hit him in a crooked line above the hip.

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

"Two."

The third lash hit his butt, the fourth hit the back of his knees.

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

I didn't steal. I'm not lying.

It was an echo reverberating in his head, so loud that there was no room left for anything else.

Tom had gotten his revenge- nice for him.

Dante had walked straight into the trap- not so nice, but couldn't be helped.

His mistress had wanted to protect him- laudable, but she too had to obey her matriarch.

Miss Carolyn protected her property- perfectly natural.

The question why he had believed that he and Tom could become friends after all, he had already pushed aside unanswered earlier. He didn't belong here, was a glittering foreign body in this natural world, and wasn't it normal that such things happened to put this troublemaker in his place?

Dante blinked- and blinked again, for the image he saw made no sense. He was moving toward the house, but he was not aware that he was walking. His head was somehow hanging too crooked for that, too, and anyway... was he being carried? Only a rushing sound filled his ears, his mouth was dry, the world was swaying.

~

The buzzing in Dante's ears became voices from time to time, mainly Mistress Alice's voice, which kept calling his name.

But now she was accompanied by another woman. "As I was saying, Miss Mitchell- it happens. But the slaves who manage this feat mostly prefer death over coming back," the woman explained sternly.

"No, Dante does not," Mistress Alice objected.

"Then," the woman sighed resignedly, "you can try to bring him back. You can order him to, but as I said- he must want to."

"I'll try, thank you very much," Mistress Alice gave back, now almost coolly, and footsteps moved away, a door clicking shut.

Dante felt nothing at all, and his sleepy-eyed mind wondered if his mistress had really been so gracious as to force painkillers into him. Only then did the spoken words really seep into his brain, but before he had time to think about it, the footsteps came back.

A sigh. "Oh, Dante... you're really costing me nerves." Mistress Alice sighed again, something cracked, and then very close to his ear she said: "Dante, open your eyes."

He blinked at her involuntarily, saw the relief on her face.

"Great Mother..." she whispered, touching him gently on the cheek. "You've been completely out of it for two days, Dante. Doc Willers says you've been detached from your body because you..." She paused, and Dante could do nothing but look at her, her crystal blue eyes and her lips so beautifully curved in a forced smile, yet with a slight tremor. "I'm sorry. I'm not a good mistress."

Dante wanted to disagree, but his mouth didn't come close to obeying him.

Mistress Alice lowered her eyes, her fingers sliding from his cheek into his hair, but the touch was faint, as if it were little more than imagination. "I should have... I... Ma is..."

Stunned, he saw tears shimmer in her eyes, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't move a muscle to comfort her.

"I can't just leave." she whispered, looking at him intently. Somehow, this confused him.

Footsteps sounded again and Dante managed to turn his head enough to see Seth handing Mistress Alice a large cup with a straw.

"Thank you." she said quietly, and Seth withdrew. "Drink." she then turned to Dante and held the straw to his lips. Obediently, he opened his mouth and closed it around the thin plastic. "Broth. Like I said, you've been completely out for two days and to feed you something when you can't be turned on your back... well."

He took a sip, only now realizing how dry his mouth had been. Greasy, rich meat broth made his taste buds explode.

"I'm sorry," she then repeated. She looked shaken. "Ma wouldn't even listen to Frank... but I know you didn't steal. Honey... this is ridiculous." Of course it was. He had free access to the kitchen and basement pantries, why would he steal a jar of honey?

He continued to drink his broth, trying to place what his mistress had revealed there in a few words.

"Can you speak?" she asked gently.

"Tom..." was the first word he managed to get out.

"Yes," she nodded, "Tom. Maybe he let Britney in on part of his plan, maybe it was a spontaneous action with a happy coincidence, I don't know." She gritted her teeth and lowered her eyes so he drank of the broth again. "Doc Willers said some slaves would succeed in detaching themselves from their bodies in situations like yours. Most die because they can't find their way back or don't want to. I beg you, come back."

They looked at each other, but he felt nothing, only inner emptiness. As if he consisted merely of a disembodied head.

"Not for me." she then suddenly added, with a wry smile that immediately disappeared. "I'm a terrible mistress. But Frank... Ma punished Frank."

"Why?", Dante wanted to know, dumbfounded, since Frank had apparently not been allowed to comment on the incident.

"Because he took your side. After the event, but he did. He went after Tom."

"He what?" A strange jolt went through Dante, sickening pain seeping through to him from far away.

"Verbally. But he did. Ma's awfully mad, and Britney..." Mistress Alice sighed, "It's all out of place here right now."

"Because of me," Dante muttered, and she nodded. He realized that his mistress was staying on the farm to protect her little brother, who either wouldn't be allowed to leave- free man or not- or wouldn't want to leave. "You should sell me," he suggested, and she sighed.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Now it was she who looked at him in surprise. "Slaves sold through transit merchants are restricted from being sold for four months. Since this was your first time with a middlewoman, you're subject to a six months ban," she explained seriously.

"That means..." he said strained and his mouth went dry again, "I'm stuck here."

"Whether I wanted to sell you or not, yes." She tilted her head in agreement. "When your restricted period is up, we can talk about it again. But it's still true- or truer than ever- what I said a few days ago: Frank likes you. He didn't just bust Tom's chops for the sake of justice."

"I didn't do anything to justify his trust," Dante muttered weakly; the dull ache growing stronger, demanding attention.

Mistress Alice sighed and shrugged before stroking his forehead. "I can't judge that, Dante. I can only see that my brother likes you. Now... drink up your broth, will you? If you're planning on surviving here, you're going to need your strength."

~

Dante very obviously found back to himself and with this came the pain. The next two days Mistress Alice took care of him carefully, but said almost nothing. He had a slight impression that she wanted to undo their conversation after he woke up. She gave him mild painkillers to help him sleep, and Valentine stopped by briefly on each of the two days. The touch on his gloved hands was professional and by no means as careful as the welts demanded.

"At least Blaise was prudent enough to let you sit in a couple of days," he murmured on his third visit, stroking a welt on Dante's butt before his fingers traveled down his thighs to the back of his knees.

Sitting sounded good. After Seth had made him pee in a bottle, Dante had forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom the next time, tearing open several welts.

"Move gently."

A sinuous motion ran over Dante's body, just as Valentine had demanded the first time.

"Okay..." A few careful touches here and there on the back.

Mistress Alice made a questioning sound in the background.

"Okay. Two or three times a day the ointment, very thin, no more washes. That sassy hothead of yours has got ants in his pants." Valentine sounded a little amused and condescending, but at the same time he made Dante feel like his healing was going well.

He turned his head a little. "Thank you, sir."

Valentine nodded at him. "Since there's no inflammation at all so far, it looks really good. But besides your body, you should also take care of your pride."

Before Dante could reply, Valentine turned away and pulled off his gloves on the way out. Mild anger flared in Dante, but he pushed it aside. His mistress didn't have to do this, didn't have to lift a finger for him, didn't have to bother Seth or Valentine or anyone. But she did, anointing his back, helping him stand up and lie down, bringing him food and water. He knew of no mistress- neither his own, former ones, nor other women- who would have done such a thing for a slave she had not even wanted. Immediately after that came the question of why she did it, and he found no satisfactory answer to it, for he knew too little for that.

Not long after Valentine had left, Mistress Alice returned and gave him a weak smile. "I have... news."

"What kind of, Mistress?" He was uncomfortably aware that he had lacked respect and gratitude toward her, though admittedly he lacked the proper ways to express it as well.

"I'm going on a trip with Val for a few days."

"Oh." That didn't sound good- not good to him.

"Not right now," she said quickly. "In about two weeks."

He nodded slowly; by then he would be healed enough to return to work.

"A few things I still have to think about and... Well. I wanted to give you a heads up." She nodded, smiling wryly, and he nodded as well.

"Thank you, Mistress."

A knock forestalled any further words, and with a slight frown Mistress Alice disappeared toward the door.

Frank's deep voice reached Dante's ears as a hum and a little later he entered.

Dante turned as far as the pain in his shoulders and upper back would allow, but his smile froze when he saw the ugly bruise on Frank's lower jaw; there was a scratch on his right cheek that reminded Dante very much of the scar on his own cheek- stone-studded rings were painful.

Frank's smile collapsed as well, and uncertainly he stopped beside the bed, kneading his fingertips. "How are you feeling?" he finally asked, while Dante was still busy pushing the equally ridiculous and terrifying image of Miss Carolyn beating her son, who was a good two heads taller, out of his mind.

"I've been better," Dante replied, somehow conjuring up a smile on his lips again. "But I've been a lot worse, too."

"... good." Frank nodded.

"Your ma has-" Dante began, but Frank interrupted him brusquely:

"I disagreed with her decision. I deserved it." For a tiny moment, a somber storm flitted across his face, and for that same tiny moment, he looked considerably older than he was. Dante sensed a certain fire in Frank, deeply hidden and concealed, but that was hardly surprising considering the temperament of other family members.

"Thank you." he said simply, and Frank nodded gravely.

"May I?"

"What?"

"The ointment."

"Oh, sure." Dante nodded and Frank reached for the jar of ointment on the nightstand before kneeling beside the bed and pulling away the thin blanket. Hissing, he sucked in the air and Dante knew again why he hadn't even bothered to look in the mirror.

"Surely this isn't the first time you've seen something like this..." he said cautiously nonetheless, with a questioning undertone.

Frank sniffled before replying, "No. But it looks bad. And... if I'd said something earlier, you might have been spared this."

"I guess not." Dante shook his head gently and turned a bit to get a better look at Frank. "Your ma still would have punished you for talking back, and maybe punished me on top of that for inciting you to lie."

Frank contorted his face in agony and twisted the lid off the jar of ointment. Although he made no verbal reply, Dante was sure Frank agreed with him inwardly. He lay back down neatly and Frank cleared his throat. "Let me know if I hurt you, okay?"

"Okay." Dante nodded at that and gave Frank an encouraging smile, who nodded back and then slowly and carefully spread the cool ointment on the topmost welt. After a moment, the highly concentrated expression gave way to an almost dreamy face. Dante, on the other hand, closed his eyes. Yes, the touches hurt, but it was bearable, and anyway: Frank was infinitely gentle and careful, almost tender. Although Dante was freezing without the thin blanket and actually did nothing but nothing all day, he dozed off.

Dante only realized that he had dozed off when he opened his eyes and suddenly found himself looking at the wall instead of Frank. He was massaging Dante's neck with his fingertips at that moment, gently rubbing the places where the heavy slave collar rested, and then very slowly wandering along Dante's spine, skipping over the welts. When he reached waist level, Dante got goose bumps and a shiver ran down his spine as the fingertips reached his tailbone.

To be touched so gently was nice. Still, he turned his head and before he had finished the movement, Frank withdrew his hand.

Frank was flushed and whispered sheepishly: "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," Dante returned softly. The touching itself was really nice, no doubt about it, but the circumstances unsettled him a little. Why had Frank done this? Had he noticed that Dante had been dozing off? Probably, or he probably wouldn't have done so- and that was a little disconcerting.

An embarrassed silence hung in the air, then Frank very carefully pulled the blanket back over Dante's body.

"Thanks."

Frank smiled, still embarrassed. "Look..." He pulled something out of the pocket of his sweatpants and held it out to Dante. He sucked in a hissing breath as he recognized the small honey jar, which looked actually tiny in Frank's big hand.

"Frank!"

"I figured if you were going to steal honey, I could bring some by for you." He punctuated his words with a conspiratorial wink.

"That's a pretty painful joke, Frank." Dante grumbled, more annoyed than delighted, but Frank passed over the objection completely.

"It's raining."

"And?"

"You see"- he opened the jar, dipped his non-ointment-smeared left forefinger into the honey, and held it up to Dante's face- "I'm made of sugar after all."

Dante couldn't quite follow his train of thought, and he blinked in confusion first at the golden honey and then at Frank, who was now grinning wryly.

"Honey is made of sugar."

"I guess..." Dante said slowly, still confused.

Frank's finger came closer. "Come on..."

If Dante misunderstood the request, it would turn embarrassing now. He opened his mouth and hastily licked off a bit of honey. "Exquisitely sweet." The heavy aroma of honey filled his mouth and seemed to stick all the way down to his stomach as he swallowed.

Frank grinned, but didn't withdraw his finger. "Told you. I'm made of sugar."

Dante shook his head, but grinned as well, doing Frank the favor of licking- or rather sucking- on it a second time, as the viscous honey crept sluggishly along Frank's finger.

But this time Frank withdrew the arm- including not overlookable goose bumps- and then put the finger into his mouth himself. A fine blush crept into his cheeks.

Dante thought the whole situation pretty weird, but found no words.

"I'll be off then..." Frank muttered instead, now obviously a little confused himself, placing the jar of honey next to the jar of ointment on the bedside table and rising.

"You can't leave that here!" Dante protested, bracing himself despite the pain. This was all he needed, for someone to find a jar of honey on him now, of all times.

Instead of an answer, Frank stowed the honey almost rudely in the drawer and hurried out.

Confused, Dante looked after him; he had no idea what kind of strange action that had just been.

~

Carefully, Dante sat down on his bed and exhaled slowly. He was finally wearing a shirt and loose shorts on his body again, he could sit and move reasonably pain free, although he still spent most of his time laying on his belly on the bed. Tonight, he would even get to eat downstairs with the others again. His stomach growled at the thought and he was just considering asking Mistress Alice for an apple or something when she entered her room and said loudly:

"Dante, you have a visitor."

"Visitor?" he echoed in surprise and stood up, confused by the clanking of chains. Puzzled, he paused in his doorway.

Tom was just entering Mistress Alice's room, his hands tied behind his back and with chains on his feet which must truly make climbing stairs an adventure.

"What do you want here?", Dante wanted to know tonelessly.

"Talking.", Tom answered neutrally.

Mistress Alice pursed her lips. "I keep an ear on you."

Dante stepped back into his little room almost reluctantly and Tom followed, managing to close the door to a crack. "Speak.", Dante prompted him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to or wanted to face Tom. That the work slave was in heavy chains was almost disturbing.

"We're even," Tom said quietly.

"Even?" Dante echoed incredulously.

"At least in my reckoning," Tom explained, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I mean, we can keep this going, too, but I'm afraid it's rather unhealthy in the long run."

"Excuse me, but you started this shit," Dante said, now clearly annoyed, and Tom sighed.

"Yeah. I know. Sorry."

Dante snorted. "As if."

Tom took a deep breath. "We... got each other off on the wrong foot, okay? And... I didn't realize Frank liked you that much."

"Are you jealous?" Dante tried to make it sound mocking, but didn't really succeed.

Tom shook his head. "Bullshit. But to make a long story short, can we start over? In all honesty? As friends?"

"I don't know why." replied Dante brittle, pressing his lips together. "Apart from the fact that a simple sorry is not nearly enough of an apology for this. Or how about an explanation?"

After a soft sigh, Tom nodded. "It was a spontaneous idea and I never thought it would lead anywhere. But Britney-bitch is obviously more jealous of her little sister than expected, and Carolyn obviously likes you even less than she likes me, which is quite an achievement." He gave a small shrug.

"Telling the truth is obviously not your style", Dante replied, "but you could have asked for mercy. As I did."

"Yeah but you told the truth about that plug to your sweet mistress and that wasn't necessary." Something fiery sparkled in Tom's eyes. "There was no need for this to escalate. So, yes, this was payback. We're even. We can start over."

In a way, Dante even understood Tom's reasoning. If he mentally took a step back, he would have believed this story if someone had told it to him. But he was part of this story and it was painful. "Why should I agree?"

"For Frank." was the prompt reply. "Look, I willingly let myself be put in chains so I could talk to you, and only now because Frank's tantrum has been ringing in my ears for so long, not to mention the telling off from Blaise."

"A hollow body makes for good sounds."

For a moment, Tom pressed his lips together. "Frank wants you as a friend. Frank wants us to be friends. I love him like a little brother and I don't like to see him being hurt by what I did." This was probably the most honest and genuine thing Tom had said so far. "You're an intelligent guy, a very good-looking guy, and I thought we made for a good team in the woodshop."

Unmoving, Dante returned his gaze. "I don't trust you."

Was it frustration flitting across Tom's face, before it turned into a helpless expression? Dante wasn't sure. But Tom shrugged with a crooked smile. "We can start over as friends. Or", a bit awkward due to his chains he shuffled closer, "as something else."

Skeptically, Dante lifted a brow. "Like what?"

Tom came closer still, Dante didn't budge. He leaned in, in his dark eyes again something sparkling, a now real smile curving his lips.

Being kissed was the last thing Dante expected. Stunned he stared, as Tom leaned back.

"A peace offering." Tom basically whispered against Dante's lips. "I swear to you, I'll never touch you again unless you want me to. You and me, we're equals."

"We're not equals," Dante objected quietly, but he knew he was really just saying that for the sake of principle. And judging by the look on Tom's face, he knew that too. "What do you want from me?", Dante wanted to know after a moment, fearing he already knew the answer.

But Tom simply smiled. "Anything you're willing to give."

Sure thing, Dante thought and suppressed a snort. He had no idea what game Tom was playing, why he was playing, but two could play games. And since Mistress Alice would most likely sell him at the end of his restriction period- especially if he really asked for it- he could afford to take a calculated risk. She had given him the possibility for some own choices- and he wanted to make them.

Therefore, he leaned forward to the still very close Tom, and kissed him.

Tom flinched slightly in surprise, the chains clinking, but then answered the kiss and opened his lips, inviting in Dante's tongue.

A warm tingle filled Dante's belly, the desire for a gentle touch or warm embrace. He broke away. "I accept your peace offering," he murmured.

Somewhat relieved, Tom smiled. "You taste like honey." he then noted in wonder, and Dante grinned. Before Tom's appearance, he had been in the bathroom not only to pee, but also to wash the honey off his fingers which he had been savoring earlier. He didn't say that, though.

"You know, honey is considered a divine gift. And Dante is a son of the Great Mother."

"So I was just touched by the divine."

Dante winked at him, although he hated jokes on his name, and Tom laughed as he took a cautious step back.

"Thanks, Dante."

"I hope you mean it."

Tom nodded silently and licked his lips as if searching for something there.

Smiling, Dante mirrored the gesture. Let the games begin.