Sold into Slavery by Claire Thompson

him. She wanted to swipe the glass of water and chug it down, and then grab the fresh fruit with both hands and stuff it into her mouth. At the sight and smell of the fruit, her stomach had come awake with a vengeance.
    Still, kneeling was better than crouching like an animal on her hands and knees, her bare breasts swaying. She crawled to the pillow and set her bottom down on it, drawing her legs up in an effort to hide some of her nakedness.
    Khalil shook his head. “No, no, do not cover yourself. A slave girl never covers herself. It is a sign of great disrespect.”
    Fuck you, you dirty, filthy, nasty bastard. Hoping her face remained neutral, Leah forced her legs to unfold. She felt herself blushing as Khalil eyed her body, his dark eyes glittering.
    “Much better.” Turning back to the table, Khalil lifted a tiny coffee cup and took a sip. “I trust the beating you received and the one night under the stairs will be sufficient to remind you that slaves only speak when spoken to. Or more to the point, only when asked a direct question.”
    He selected a piece of pineapple and placed it in his mouth. He chewed slowly while Leah salivated. “As to how you must address me going forward, sir is a gesture of respect, but it’s not enough for a mere slave. You will call me Master. Understand?”
    For the first time since she’d been captured, fury overcame terror. She felt her mouth turning down into a frown, despite her effort to keep her expression neutral. Khalil picked up the glass of clear, lovely water and tilted it to his lips, taking a long drink. Setting down the glass, he chose a plump, red strawberry from the bowl of fruit and popped it into his mouth.
    Leah nearly whimpered with need.
    Play the game. They’re just words. You won’t be able to escape if you end up dying of thirst.
    Forcing herself to speak, Leah managed, “Yes, Master.”
    Khalil nodded, as if he were a king accepting his due. Who the hell was this man?
    “Are you thirsty, slave?”
    Again the fury threatened to bubble over at his degrading appellation. Leah was nobody’s slave! But thirst won out over pride. Leah nodded, even managing to add, “Yes, please, Master.”
    She watched as he lifted the glass of water and handed it down to her. A brief and sudden fantasy of throwing the water in his face and then breaking the glass over his head flashed through her mind, but Leah knew she had no chance against this strong, well rested and well fed man, not to mention two thugs who were probably waiting just outside the door.
    She drank what was left of the water, quickly draining the glass.
    “More?” Khalil asked, lifting the crystal water pitcher.
    “Yes, please…Master,” Leah forced herself to say. If Khalil noticed that her hand was trembling as she held up the glass to be refilled, he didn’t remark upon it. Once it was full, she drank again, the pure, cool water flooding her parched mouth and throat.
    “Care for some fruit, little one?” Khalil plucked a raspberry from the bowl and held it out between thumb and forefinger. Leah noticed the thick gold ring he wore on his index finger. His nails were manicured and buffed to a shine.
    She reached for the tiny piece of fruit, but Khalil shook his head. “I’ll feed you. It amuses me to do so.”
    Leah opened her mouth, silently congratulating herself on not trying to strangle the bastard. Food was more important than dignity right now. She chewed the delicious berry, watching hungrily as he selected a chunk of banana. He continued to feed her several more pieces of fruit, the net result of which was, her appetite now thoroughly whetted, she was hungrier than ever.
    But instead of offering her something of more substance, Khalil lifted a thick linen napkin and daubed at the corners of her mouth as if she were an infant. “That’s enough for now. You shall have a meal later this morning, once you are showered and properly groomed.”
    Before she could stop herself, Leah began to