A Cruel Passing of Innocence by J.D. Jensen Page B

threat to his authority. But Nassara noticed that the vigilant guards, tall and muscled, were armed with sheathed knives, and cold tentacles of hopelessness ensnared her.
    Already the minds of slaves were reduced to the inevitability of their slavery, and the need for shackles was gone.
    The slaves were led across the courtyard, through an arched doorway into the cool, gloomy interior, and down a flight of stone steps. The lead boy walked jauntily ahead, his whip over one shoulder, never looking back, as if certain of his authority, knowing that slaves would follow obediently.
    Batteries of oil lamps flickered from iron frames along the walls. As the slaves descended it became hot and steamy. Nassara became increasingly anxious, wondering what fresh ordeal awaited them. What dreadful place was this that belched steam and heat from the bowels of the ground?
    But the humid air was sweetly perfumed, and they came to a huge pillared chamber where, beneath the vaulted ceiling, a vast pool of dark water stretched out, a misty haze of vapour hanging over it. At one end was a passageway, and the peaceful place echoed with the gentle lapping of the water.
    Beside the tiled pool stood several fat men, their arms folded across their immense chests. Nassara had never set eyes upon men of such girth and bloated dimensions. Hairless and with beady eyes the fat men were stripped to the waist, wearing only lengths of towelling wound around their flabby bellies. These strange men stood silently watching the arrival of the naked slaves, yet Nassara noticed they seemed not unkindly in their demeanour.
    The slaves were separated, the lead whip-boy motioning impatiently for the male slaves to go to one side of the vaulted passageway, the slave girls to the other. On either side were a number of arched doorways leading into small cubicles, and the fat men stood expressionless, waiting for their respective slave. When Nassara came to the chamber she had been directed to, one of them pointed for her to go inside.
    Stepping warily into the confined space, and feeling her anxiety growing with every second, Nassara found herself standing in front of a raised stone platform as long as she was tall. With her heart beating faster she tried to imagine what fate awaited her, yet somehow the fat man behind her seemed strangely reassuring. Now she could see him close up his countenance was almost gentle and kindly. His lumbering movements were slow, without any appearance of malice or cruel intent. Perhaps he was a slave, too.
    He moved close and instinctively she drew away, but he put a firm hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the platform, and spreading down a large towel he motioned for her to lie facedown upon it.
    Oiled hands rested upon her shoulder, massaging and rubbing her skin, and she realised the servant girl from the courtyard who had given her water was standing silently nearby. She moved forward and poured warm, scented oil onto Nassara’s skin from a jar, and further back in the shadows was one of the servant boys. He held a bowl, and catching her puzzled eye, gave her a timid smile of friendly innocence.
    The fat man’s podgy fingers moved progressively down her back, working the oil into her flesh. His firm but gentle motions pressed and soothed away her aches and pains, leaving her glowing with a luxurious inner warmth. Kneading the muscles of her flanks and waist, his hands moved down to the small of her back, gradually reaching the steep rise of her buttocks. More oil poured from the lip of the jar, spreading over them and into the valley between.
    His fingers paused, as if considerately, at the thin welt dissecting one cheek. The cut was still inflamed, a vivid streak ripening into a raised ridge. The fat man applied some ointment from another bottle, before his hands continued again in their previous rhythm. Reaching the upper crests of her buttocks, Nassara felt his fingers slide between the dividing scarps, and more oil flowed