Apparently, judging from the reviews and the number of reads, y'all are still interested in this story. I'm glad I decided to finish it even though it's been a while! Thanks again for all your input, and I promise that we're getting closer to the end...but we're not quite there yet:-)


The hot sun baked her skin through the thin white fabric. Her arms ached, and every movement sent painful jolts of fire across her back. Her face was soaked with sweat, and her damp hair clung uncomfortably to her neck. Elizabeth had been out in this field since before dawn, and she knew she would likely be here until sunset.

The strange farm tool that she couldn't quite remember the Earth equivalent for had long ago rubbed fiery blisters on her palms and fingers. For the millionth time, she raised it up and plunged it into the hard soil. She lifted and turned simultaneously in a motion that had quickly become routine as she prepared the field. Not that she had the slightest idea what good she was doing…for all she knew, being forced to do hard labor with no useful outcome could just be a cruel component of her punishment.

Lift, thrust, lift and turn. Over and over again. All day long for the second day in a row. The work she'd done for Phaestus had been hard, but this was grueling.

As she raised the heavy tool once again, the pain in her back flared stronger and she gasped. Clenching her teeth and attempting to breathe through the pulsing agony, she tried not to think about the scars she would inevitably carry from this experience, both emotional and physical.

As soon as she arrived, they had taken her inside the large plantation-style house. She was slightly surprised; she had expected to be put directly to work or taken to the slave quarters. Instead, she was led to a small room with thick carpet and elaborate paintings on the walls.

One of the men unlocked her restraints, and they turned to leave. "Wait here. Your Master will come for you shortly."

With no other options available, Elizabeth waited. A few moments later, a side door opened to reveal the man from the city market, Damien. He had his long hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and that terrifying lustful look had returned to his face.

He stepped aside and gestured for Elizabeth to enter the room. As soon as she stepped through the door, she froze. It was a bedroom.

Before she could think to retrace her steps, Damien shut the door behind her. She struggled to breathe normally and force her brain to come up with some way out of this situation. Meanwhile, Damien advanced slowly, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her.

"It seems I made a good purchase," he smiled sickeningly. "Let's find out, shall we?"

He was almost upon her and reaching for the shoulder ties on her dress when something inside Elizabeth finally snapped into place. The fear was gone, replaced by a fierce determination. Suddenly, she remembered all her combat training sessions with perfect clarity. She held perfectly still until the instant both of Damien's hands touched her dress. She immediately threw up one arm to knock his hands away while the other sent a fist flying directly into Damien's face. His hands flew to his nose, which was gushing blood, and Elizabeth took this opportunity to shove her knee into his groin with all the force she could muster. He gasped and doubled over, moaning in pain.

Elizabeth saw her opening and sprinted for the door, praying there weren't a dozen guards on the other side.

There hadn't been a dozen, but there were guards. She'd been recaptured before she even got all the way out of the house. As soon as he recovered from his initial shock, Damien had been beyond furious.

He'd ordered her taken outside and chained to a tall post. Then he came out, whip in hand and blood still dripping from his obviously broken nose (which Elizabeth had to admit she was immensely proud of, despite what it cost her). Thankfully, he'd only given her between five and ten lashes, but each one had caused more pain that Elizabeth had even known she'd been capable of feeling. They'd left her there for the remainder of the day, and the next morning she'd been sent out to the fields.

The only good thing Elizabeth could find in this whole situation was that she doubted Damien would attempt to have her again anytime soon. She shivered despite the heat when she thought of what could have happened.

Shaking off those unpleasant thoughts, she shoved the physical pain to the back of her mind as best she could and returned to the monotonous work of the past two days. However, before she had cleared even three more feet, she noticed one of Damien's cronies approaching from the direction of the house.

"You, come with me. Now."

She sighed with relief, but then narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the man. "Why? What's going on?"

The young man was obviously bored, impatient, and frustrated with being assigned such a menial task as fetching a slave. "Something about a prospective buyer, I think…stop asking questions and move!"

Elizabeth's spirits dropped a bit further at this news. She would once again be put on display, scrutinized like a piece of livestock, and sold without a thought. And I thought this day couldn't get any worse…