- And what exactly do you think of me? - he smiled, he asked.

- About that, - quite emboldened, I said, - That you are a coward.

“Interesting,” said Hassan, “I have not yet heard such audacity from anyone, much less from a slave.” You are brave. And why do you think me a coward? Who am I afraid of?

“Me,” I answered confidently, looking him straight in the eyes.

- Is that so? - Hassan's eyes narrowed, - And why?

“You still hold me tied up and in shackles,” I explained, “you are afraid that I will attack you.”

- Are you not going to attack? - he said sarcastically.

- I haven't decided yet. Untie it, but we'll see.

“But you are a slave,” Hassan tried to justify himself.

- And what from this? - I laughed. - So, you are afraid of all your slaves.

- Right all already! - he was indignant.

- Exactly, - I decided to go to the end, - I tied them up, I shut my mouths, I put them in cages.

- What would you do in my place?

“For the time being, I am in the place of a slave,” I answered evasively.

“But I would like to be a lady,” he continued.

“I wanted to become a philologist,” I replied.

- What for?

“I wanted to study Western literature,” I began to explain, but Hassan waved his hand.

- Empty, - he said confidently, - You should be only a slave. You are made for this. And you will be her. I promise you.

- Are you so sure that I will agree to the role of your slave? - I asked.

“The role of the slave girl,” Hassan grinned, sending another piece of biscuit in my mouth, “It sounds beautiful.” But wrong. You are my slave. See, you even get the food out of my hands.

- Are you an idiot? - I almost choked, - Tied me up, now are you kidding me?

- Yes! - he impudently answered, - I scoff. And I will continue to mock you!

“Why do you hate us all so much?” - I asked bluntly - What have we done to you bad?

- Because you are all whores! - Hassan suddenly jumped to his feet and ran around the room, - All of you - dirty whores and nonentities! And I will torture you further, until I torture or turn you into submissive vile slaves!

I noticed that his voice suddenly changed in a strange way. He became hoarse. The eyes of this neurosis were running like they were running. Hair, still neatly laid, now was disheveled and stuck in different directions.

- I hate you! - husky Hassan, - I hate you all!

“But still, you cannot do without us,” I said, “Every evening one of the girls is sent to you.” True, in the morning they return beaten and barely alive. What are you doing with them?

- Shut up! - Hassan shouted.

- Why? - I answered calmly, having drunk some already cooled tea from a cup, - What? Do not like the truth?

Hassan suddenly jumped towards me and squatted down.

“Tell me,” he grabbed me by the shoulders, “Why I tolerate your arrogance, and I would strangle any other slave without hesitation.” Why does everyone love you, everyone tries to help you? What do you have that I can't understand? Speak, slave!

“If you yourself cannot understand,” I replied with the last effort, keeping calm, “No one can explain to you.” And I can not, because I just do not know.

“You don't know,” Hassan repeated sadly.

“Yes, I don't know,” I shrugged my shoulders.

“So there’s no way out,” he continued, taking his hands from my shoulders, “Then I’ll have to continue what I started.”

“You are sick,” I said sympathetically, “You need a good psychiatrist.” Perhaps he can help you.

- To hell with these psychiatrists! - Hassan dismissed. - All to hell!

Having run away to the far end of the room, he sat down on a low short sofa and, clasping his head with his hands, fell silent. There was silence. I looked at Hassan and was horrified by my own thoughts. Nothing remained of the imperious, self-confident tyrant.In front of me sat a miserable, helpless little man, filled with his own fears, who turned him into a maniac and took possession of his consciousness. Was he always like this? Really nobody could, and maybe he did not want to help him?

I looked at the disheveled young man hiding in a corner and was surprised to find that the hatred that I had recently felt for him was replaced by the most banal feminine pity.

“Sir,” I called quietly to him.

- What did you say? - Hassan startled, - repeat what you said!

“Sir,” I repeated, dropping my eyes.

He abruptly stood up and approached me. I realized that I made a mistake. This man again became who I thought he was before. I cried softly.

- What do you want, slave? - Hassan asked arrogantly, looking at me.

“Nothing,” I replied, lifting my head, “I thought you were feeling bad.”

- To me? - he laughed, - What makes you think?

“I don’t know,” I replied calmly. “It must have seemed.”

“I'm fine,” Hassan replied without ceasing to laugh.

He sat down again at the table. His eyes pierced me like two black holes, penetrating deeper and deeper into my body, into my mind.

- What are you staring at? - unable to endure this torture, I screamed, - Enjoying your power over me?

And again he jumped up and ran around the room. And again, flying up to me, he squatted down in front of me.

“You want,” said Hassan in a choked voice, “I will make you the first of all my slaves!” You will live in my rooms, wear the best outfits, taste the most exquisite dishes! I will put pure gold chains on you!

“These will be very heavy chains,” I said, “You don't know that gold is a very heavy metal.”

“I know,” he croaked, “But we'll think of something.” Only one your word!

“But I will still remain a slave,” I sighed.

- You will be the first of all slaves! - He spoke with fervor, - You will obey all these insignificant bitches, all the attendants. You will punish or encourage them. You will always follow me - your master. No one dares to touch you except me.

“But I will still be a slave,” I repeated.

- Yes! - screamed Hassan, - You will be my slave and no one else!

- Not! - I answered firmly, - Never! Do you hear? I will never be your slave or anyone else! And you can beat me to death, you bastard! I will never submit to you!

- Bitch! - he swung and hit me hard in the face.

Not keeping my balance, I fell to the floor with the chair. Jumping toward me, Hassan started kicking me on the stomach, chest, back. I screamed in pain, writhing under his blows, but he no longer paid attention to it, but beat and shouted something in his dog's tongue. But I have not heard anything. I lost consciousness.

"Submission or Death"

I slowly came to my senses. And with the awakening I felt more and more how my battered body ached. I opened my eyes and looked around. Where I am? Around the twilight, through which break the swinging lights. Did they put me in my camera again? And now this stinky peasant will come here with his dessert.

- Got there? - I heard Hassan's voice.

- What do you need here? - I snapped.

He raised his chin with his fist, and I even closed my eyes, finally realizing where I was. This was the same torture chamber in which Elsa interrogated Mrs. Martha. I stood in the middle of the camera with my hands behind my back, completely naked and without a collar. There were no chains even on my legs.

Hassan removed his hand and sat down in the chair.

- Do you know what is “buck”? - he asked.

“Z-I know,” I immediately began to stutter, but still squeezed, “Inquisitor!”

“Don't be a hero,” Hassan waved his hand. “It won't help you.”

“Gone up the ass,” I snapped.

- Start! - Hassan waved his hand.

The chain clinked, and my hands went up, twisting the joints. Gradually began ... Read more →