The voice that sounded from beside him was not what he expected.  Normally, he heard the hollow, dead voices of slaves who had been long ago tortured to the point where their hearts and minds had fled to escape the pain. On occasion he heard the voices of women and men who took a deep pleasure in causing pain. Their cruelty digusted him. This voice was different. It was soft and warm. It seemed to wash over him like a loving caress as she spoke, and he found himself clinging to her words, much as a drowning man clings to the first thing he can reach.<br/><br/>If he'd thought her voice pleased him, it was nothing compared to the touch if her warm, soft, and caring hand. He couldn't help but relax as she soothed him, and allowed himself to sag back against the bedding. A long exhausted sigh escaed his lips and he turned his face, pressing his cheek into her palm without realizing he had done so.<br/><br/>When she pulled her hand away, he dragged his unbandaged eye open, peering through hazy, unfocused vision, to find her sitting there beside him. He watched, transfixed, as she pulled something small from her pocket and dipped a finger into it. What she did next sent his thoughts scattering into a cloud if bliss. She stroked the tip of her finger across his lips, leaving behind a healing warmth and relieving the dry, cracked skin. He actually moaned. The sound was low, earnest, and completely involuntary. Before he'd recovered from this latest assault to his senses, another came.<br/><br/>Water! He drank desperately, gulping as if he would die if he did not receive more, and more, and more.<br/><br/>And then she was speaking again. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion but he fought it, yearning for her to keep speaking. Her voice was healing on its own, but he found himself weeping as the meaning of her words sank in. This couldn't be true. He couldn't allow himself to believe it. It had to be another game set up for his mistress's pleasure and amusement. His pain had ever been her deepest joy. It wasn't real. None of it. But for now, as he drifted into blackness once more, he decided he would let himself believe it while he could. As he sank into oblivion, the tears remained on his cheek, unheeded.