Part 3: Hell is what you make it!!<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;">The carriage arrived at the house on Conti Street, as the late afternoon sun spun rays of gold through the budding oak leaves and the palm fronds rustled in the soft breeze. As Roger helped her from the carriage a Tall, dark skinned, blind man stepped from the house and onto the porch, his face distance as if seeing something no one else could. The milky white eyes lowered to look directly at Alex and a big smile full of perfect white teeth graced the face as he opened his arms wide.<br/><br/>Alex’s smile was dazzling as she almost ran to leap into the hug. “John Henry you old rascal has not the devil came for you yet” The hug they each gave was fierce as he chuckled. “Not hardly yet little cat, he has no use for a wrinkled old soul like this’ un I have. Yarn’s now tis another matter entirely and as such ya’ll should not be going round teasing the local fellows.”<br/>Settling her back onto her feet the 7’ tall man took her hand, and bent to kiss her knuckles, “milady you will always be welcomed at House DuMonde. It does this old soul good to see how well you are, how much you have grown, the iron now in you as well as the fire… and the mischief. You still break the rules do you not?”<br/>“Only when they need breaking, John Henry, only when they need breaking,” the smile in her voice was music to the man. He had seen her hurt and damaged struggling to find her way, and here she stood, beautiful, whole, the ichors in her blood singing.<br/><br/>John Henry led the way as Roger and the other servants began to unload her things, “you will have the room next to Baptiste’s, Mon’Chaton.” As he chuckled, “as you may remember there are adjoining doors.” The earthy timbre of his voice and the inflections in the words made her blush even as she smiled, “yes I remember.”<br/><br/>She followed John Henry up the stairs, the swirl and whisper of her silk dress bringing a smile to the man’s lips as he too remembered. <br/>Alex walked into the bedroom she had used those years before and turned to John Henry taking his hands in her gloved ones. Lifting up on her tip toes she kissed him on his lips, gently…delicately, then in a voice serious and filled with respect and care, “John Henry, I never truly thanked you…what you and Baptiste and Granger did for me allowed me to find the harmony in myself. Helped me too free myself of the fear and shame”<br/><br/>She could have sworn if the dark skinned man could blush he was doing so, then his lips curled in a smile, “Alexandra, it was MY honor as well as my….pleasure… to have helped you.”<br/><br/>It was Alex who blushed at the emphasis on the word pleasure as the dark skinned, milky eyed man turned with a grin and left “Dinner will be at its normal time and sometime later there should be another guest, you will like her I believe”<br/><br/>Turning to open the trunks that were being carried in, Alex’s memories went back those 5 years.</span><br/><br/><em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;">DuMonde estate 5 years earlier:<br/><br/>The days had slid by one after the other as she worked, ran, jumped, crawled and danced. Her demon was named John Henry, towering over her, his milky white eyes seemed to always see exactly what she was doing. He was called brother by Baptiste and ran the house and estate as well as trained those he felt worthy. John Henry was a hard taskmaster, but also caring, taking time to talk about things and teaching her to listen…really listen for there was music all around. It was that music she learned to move with, the form they called Capoeria, kicks, sweeps, jabs and cartwheels were all part of the music he taught her. Yet the music was also dark, murmurs of her fear with the beat of life made her at times stop trembling as she breathed. As she trained her body became toned and sleek and lithe and she was vaguely aware of the glances of the men her new look drew.<br/><br/>But that was only part of each day; the rest was spent with Granger, the other demon of her daylight. Baptiste called him ‘brother’ as well and Granger taught her how to shoot, really shoot. To fan a colt revolver and put 4 out of the 6 shots dead center, to draw and shoot as part of her being. She learned to clean the guns, how each could be used. Alex toughened her wrists and arms shooting with either hand. She learned to move in pants as well as skirts. She learned to be calm as she shot, yet deep inside the fear and shame still hummed and curled and spoke whispers.<br/><br/>Baptiste would take her shopping at first for dresses to be tailored for her use, places cut to hide all manner of things. But she often trembled when eyes of other men looked at her.<br/>After the second time, the dresses would arrive in boxes in her room.<br/><br/>Each day was marked by meals. Breakfast and talk of the coming day. Lunch and discussion of her progress with John Henry. Dinner and questions about guns as well as talk on the world around and the politics involved.<br/><br/>It was after she went to bed that the real hell started, the nightmares, which made her toss and turn. Dreams that made her sit up in bed ready to scream and run, as her hand traced along her neck. Often she would slip quietly out into the house, the silk chemise clinging to her as her hardened nipples pointed the cloth. She would walk and find a corner to set down and hug her legs to her. She thought a few times someone saw her but if they did nothing was said.<br/><br/>The words whispered to her with the fear and shame and arousal…slut…whore…slave…cunt.<br/>How she felt, helpless and alone, how her body responded to the harsh handling. How even now she felt aroused by it and ashamed.  These tormented her but even more was that she was afraid, afraid the whispered words were correct. Would she ever find some counter to bring harmony to let her see. See without the dark shame and fear that even at times made the path she had chosen seem silly and impossible. A light against the darkness? She could not even stop the fear and shame and arousal in herself.<br/><br/>She hadn’t realized that the sleepless nights were taking a toll on her. Dark circles under her eyes and weariness in her posture were clear signs to others. It had been almost 6 weeks she had been training when she came down to breakfast. This morning was different, breakfast was on the balcony, the bright summer sun shone warmly, already hinting at the coming heat of the day. Baptiste sat at a small table reading the paper as she sat down. A plate of food ready. “Today, Mon’chaton you will rest and relax and tonight you will retire early and sleep and the dreams WILL NOT bother you. You need the rest and tomorrow we will talk of what bothers your soul.” With that he stood and his hand touched hers gently, grey eyes looking down into her blue. In those lovely grey eyes there was deep fire, anger but not her. At what had happened to her.<br/><br/>That day was relaxing, the fear barely raising its head as she sat in the warm sun sipping cold lemonade, and that night she slept deep and dreamless waking more refreshed then she had in weeks. Yet when she looked in the mirror, as her fingers rose to trace along her neck, she knew it was temporary at best.<br/><br/>As she sat down to breakfast she was nervous and afraid. Her uncle had already begun eating as he talked with the beautiful woman that had joined the breakfast. Her skin was the color of honey, flawless. As she stood to greet Alex, her exotic eyes seemed to look deep into her. Eyes almond shaped with the hint of a slant and a brown so deep they were nearly black. Her hair fell in a river of black to the middle of her back and the gown that clung to her showed off her body. She was taller than Alex and older yet she oozed sexuality and grace like the sun gave off warmth. Baptiste stood as well and introduced her as Annette another of the New Orleans order of Loa and she had come to talk.<br/>Breakfast was small talk that left Alex nervous with the fear trying to build within, picking at her food.<br/><br/> Finally when she had pushed the food around long enough, Baptiste stood and offered his hand. Taking it all, three walked to what he called his study. The walls were lined with books and framed art.  The scent of old cigars and whiskey hovered just at the edges of the air. Everything was cut of finery. A trio of lush leather chairs stood around a table to the side near the big picture windows. The big desk seemed to command the center yet bring ease. It was made of rich dark mahogany, polished to a gleaming shine. Baptiste motioned her to one of the soft leather chairs as he took one and Annette sat in the third.<br/><br/>“Alex, we have watched you these past weeks and seen how much you have improved but also we have seen the darkness in your soul and your struggle with it. I have asked Miss Annette to join us as we talk. Tell us about what happened that week, I have not pressed you on this but its time and you need to talk of it.”  <br/><br/>She trembled, hugging herself as those days shown in her mind as bright as when they happened. Yet in here it felt safe. The words at first were halting, soft whispers. She spoke of how they are shot her father down, three against one and the captain’s hand holding back a crewmember. How the three had grabbed her as her father’s blood pooled on the wood floor, the captain nodding as they dragged her off tearing her cloths as they went. The words almost failed her as she spoke of that first rape… that first night. The three men had taken everything from her, used her sex, used her ass, and used her mouth. They had kept her wrists bound as they did so laughing and calling her names. Names, Baptiste gently forced her to speak aloud. She spoke of how sometime during that night, she wasn’t sure when the captain had arrived with a hammer and a piece of strange leather. How they had forced her head to lay beside a stone and hammered shut the rivets on the leather, how snug it felt around her neck. Words were spoken and the ‘collar’ tightened almost cutting off her breath then relaxed so she could feel it close fitting around her neck feeling as if it belonged there. That it was meant for her and what she was.<br/><br/>As she spoke of this, Baptiste’s grey eyes narrowed and met the brown ones of Annette and he nodded for Alex to continue.<br/><br/>She whispered of the fear and shame that filled her, and of the arousal…how her body responded, how the helplessness seemed to fill her body with desire even as her mind struggled.<br/><br/>She spoke of the three men leaving the afternoon of the second day. Going ashore at some stop as she curled on the floor of the captain’s cabin softly crying. How she tried to escape only to be brutally beaten then savagely raped by the huge bellied and fowl captain. She whispered of how her body responded as she was raped. She told of names, how it was her real uncle that had paid for her through others. She spoke of muffled words and phrases she had overheard. Through it all she spoke of a need, desires dark and shameful. Fears that made her belly clench and her body tremble. Tears filled her eyes as she spoke, dripping down her cheeks. More came out, each rape by a crewmember, each word and cut on her soul. <br/><br/>She spoke of the nights since. The need, like some outside force, that made her body aroused at such thoughts of the helplessness, the domination, the fear and how ashamed and afraid she felt. <br/><br/>It was mid afternoon when they finished talking, Alex crying, her face in her hands, as Annette knelt by her, a arm around her shoulders and soft words in her ear.<br/>Baptiste sat back in the chair the fire rolling from him then he took a deep breath and with a smile and cautious words and a hug he sent her off to her room, telling her they would talk more at dinner. A hot meal waited in her room as well as a warm bath already drawn.<br/><br/>Alex almost didn’t go down to dinner, the talk had drained her and made her afraid. Afraid they would see her for what she was…slut…whore…slave, the words whisper. After soaking in the bath, with oils and lotions she finally dressed and went downstairs. At the table this time sat not only Baptiste, but also Granger, John Henry and Annette. All rose respectfully as she came to the table and Baptiste pulled her chair. There was a tension but also a conviction in the air around the table as she ate quietly. Little in the way of talking went on as if everything needed to be discussed had already been so. When they had finished desert the three men rose and walked off. Annette stood and took her hand and walked with her to the study, taking the chair behind the desk Annette motioned for Alex to set in the chair facing it. As they sat facing each other Annette’s brown eyes looked deep into Alex’s blue.</span></em><br/>