A/N: Extra, extra long update. Don't get used to it! Hope you all enjoy, and don't forget to review ;)
Rose Hill, 1778
"Miss Quinn?" Rachel called out while Quinn read in the small library. Quinn lifted her eyes and an eyebrow, suspiciously. She could notice the change in Rachel's tone whenever she would ask for something, and it almost made her want to giggle.
"Yes?" she asked. She couldn't deny she was curious to find out what it would be this time.
"I was wondering…" Rachel fidgeted with her hands and kept her eyes to the ground. "If maybe I could get Sunday afternoons off?" She fluttered her eyes and looked up at Quinn. Something twisted inside her, and this time she couldn't hold back a scoff.
"Why would I allow that?" It was the most absurd idea Quinn had ever heard. How would she spend a whole afternoon without someone tending for her?
"Well, the slaves down the quarters have their Sundays off…" Rachel shrugged. Quinn had never seen her voice go so soft. It made her want to throw up.
"How do you know that?" Quinn asked. She didn't know it - Rachel could be bluffing and she wouldn't have a clue. And that scared her. It was way over time she learned more about the farm.
"I know a lot about this farm, miss Quinn," Rachel replied.
"Yeah, maybe if you didn't spend so much time prying you would have time enough so to not need an afternoon off," said Quinn, bringing her eyes back to her book. She wouldn't give Rachel the pleasure of her attention.
"Is that a no, then?" Rachel sighed.
"Feel free to have your afternoon off," said Quinn. She didn't have to look up to see Rachel's face lighting up - which just made it much more delicious to bring it back down. "If you're willing to move down the quarters and work with them. They work hard and deserve a break. You don't."
"I'll work harder, miss Quinn, I promise!" she tried once more, taking one step further to try and regain Quinn's attention. Her hands were clasped together, and Quinn hated to see her begging. She hated when Rachel gave up.
"It's ridiculous how you think that being docile when you're asking for something will make me abide to your wishes," Quinn chuckled. Rachel didn't take a step back. At least she still had some pride in her. "I know who you are, you are never docile. And you'll never work hard enough."
Rachel's eyes burned with anger and Quinn bit the corner of her mouth to avoid a smile from coming up. It was good to have the real, angry Rachel back.
"Father," Quinn said, as she walked in to his office. "May I speak with you?"
"Of course!" Russell stood up at her entrance, motioning to the armchair across his table. "How may I help you, my darling? What do you need?"
"Do you remember how we talked about you starting to give me lessons about the plantation and the farm in general?" she asked, folding her hands on her lap. She wouldn't let Rachel know more about her own farm than she did.
"I do remember, yes." He nodded.
"Well I would like to start those lessons," she smiled, responding to the excitement in his voice. "Today," she emphasized. Her father pulled a watch out of his pocket and checked the time, before turning to her again with an even bigger smile hanging on his lips.
"As a matter of fact, I do have the time for it right now!" Russell answered, walking to Quinn's side and offering a hand to help her get up from the armchair. "I have to say, I'm more than excited about your interest in this matter. I'm sure you'll run this farm even better than I do!" He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and lead Quinn down.
She couldn't remember when it was the last time she had headed down the quarters. She used to go there quite frequently when she was a child and played with the children slaves - but that had been a life time ago. Long enough for Quinn to forget the horrible stench that this part of the farm carried.
Quinn walked behind her father. She didn't have the courage to be the one opening the way among so many slaves - in fact, she was actually a little scared. They outnumbered her by too many, it was just too easy for them to do something against her if they wanted to.
She was waiting for the worst, and it surprised her to see every single one of the slaves bowing their heads as her father and she walked by. They respected him as a master, and she could only hope one day she would receive the same treatment.
"So, here are the quarters," Russell explained, pointing to the sequence of small wood cabins. The wood had survived to all the weather changes of a caribbean island and showed its age. Her father motioned for her to come inside and Quinn faltered. It looked too small and crowded and dark and it smelled terrible.
Inside, it was even worse.
She had no idea how the small cabin could fit so many people laying down to sleep. Quinn almost felt bad for the slaves when she saw how crammed it was, but then she remembered everything she was taught. Of how slaves weren't humans. Of how slaves had no feelings. Of how slaves were reassured and thrived under the way they were treated. It couldn't be that people had lied to her for her whole life, right?
Her heart clenched when she saw a few small children playing with corncobs on the corner. They were oblivious to their surroundings, immersed in a fantasy land where only children could come in. They had an innocence Quinn had long lost. Maybe it was better this way.
Her father gave her instructions. He taught her about how the cabins were organized to avoid infighting among slaves and to make sure families shared a cabin. He showed her the path the slaves were supposed to go down to the crops every morning, and how they came back for their meals with the loud ring of the bell. She absorbed everything she could, but she felt restless and she knew it was compromising her learning.
From there, they walked to the storage room. Quinn's mouth fell open when she saw the amount of sugar hogshead in there - and they weren't even in their most productive times. She knew their farm held a large production, but she had no idea how large it was.
"This, my dear," her father said as he walked to one of the hogshead and opened the lid, lifting his hand and letting the golden brown grains slip through his fingers. "Is the source of all our happiness. This is what allows this dream to come true. It maintains this farm."
He explained to her how the sugar was stored and how important it was that their farm was near the sea, which made it much easier to ship the sugar to other lands where they could get much money for it. Quinn saw her father as a genius. She couldn't imagine how he had been able to think about all of that before starting a farm. She could only wish one day she would know as much as he did about how everything worked.
"I think we're good for a first day, don't you?" Her father asked, and Quinn nodded. "I'm looking forward to our next lesson, dear."
"Me too, father!" Quinn replied with a smile that hid how nervous this visit had made her.
"Just remember," he stated seriously, holding her by the shoulders. "You are not to come down here without me, am I understood? Never."
She nodded, ignoring the shiver that went through her spine with his words. It gave her a bad feeling, and she had no idea why.
Rachel tied the last knot on Quinn's stays and patted down her skirt as Quinn watched everything by the mirror. Rachel had finally learned how to dress Quinn properly and she was disappointed in losing one of their sure tensions of the day. Rachel became more and more placid each day, and Quinn hated to see her stop fighting.
"Are you going to the city, Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked. Quinn replied with a mere nod, and waited for Rachel to ask to come along, as she had many times before. But the question never came. Rachel clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head. "Is there anything else you would like me to do?"
She couldn't give up fighting. Not this early. Not this easy. She couldn't take the only thing Quinn had. She couldn't rob Quinn of the only moments she felt truly alive in that prison of a house.
"You'll be coming along this time," Quinn stated. She watched Rachel's chest rising and eyes twinkling and knew how delicious it would feel to see it all fall again.
Quinn didn't tell Rachel why they were going or what they were doing. Her father had invited her to watch a public whipping in the common square, like they had done together many times when she was younger. It was her last attempt of making Rachel explode again. Even if it meant Rachel would feel terrible - Quinn didn't care.
Once they got there, it didn't take too long for Rachel to realize what was going to happen. She was far more intelligent than Quinn gave her credit for. Quinn watched her hands tugging tightly against the thin fabric of her dress and her eyes closing as a white man started to announce the whipping.
"Do not close your eyes," Quinn ordered in a growl, too close to Rachel's ear for her own comfort. She saw small hairs on Rachel's neck rising and everything inside of her rose along. But Rachel opened her eyes and looked down. "Don't try to be smart with me or you might be the next one there," said Quinn, pulling Rachel's chin up roughly.
Rachel swallowed dryly and Quinn turned back to her father. He had been oblivious to the two girls interaction and had his eyes stuck to the whipping pole. His smile was wide and shined so bright that Quinn couldn't help feeling her own lips curling up.
"Would you like to count, dear?" Russell asked, pressing Quinn's hand. "You know, for the old days." He winked and Quinn swooned. She would forever be her father's little girl. He had her around his little finger, and she knew the reciprocal was true. No one could change their relationship. She waited for the man with the whip to give her a sign, and then started.
Un. It sounded like music to her ears. Deux. Another whip. Trois. And another. Quatre. Her father smiled at her. He gripped her hand tighter. Cinq. Her father was proud of her. Six. She looked to the other side and found Rachel. Sept. She heard a small weep leaving Rachel's throat. Huit. Rachel's eyes looked like broken glass with dripping tears. It wasn't anything like the anger she expected. Neuf. Her heart sank. She couldn't stand. She would rather watch the slave being whipped than to watch Rachel reactions. Dix. Maybe she was just too old for that counting thing.
"It was horrible, it was horrible," Rachel sobbed, arms tightly wrapped around Abbie's waist as Dorea caressed her head and Lou Lee patted her back. She knew all of the help and empathy was supposed to make her feel better, but it didn't.
She felt like her soul had shattered. Seeing her mother die in a whipping pole had been the worst day of her life. Reliving that moment, even with Quinn's same counting voice as a background came as a close second. All the memories she had repressed of the groans her mother let out, came back at once. All the images she hadn't seen as a child were now playing over and over in her head.
If Quinn wanted to take her to hell, she had succeed.
"You shouldn't have cried, my dear," Dorea sighed. "That's all she wanted from you."
Dorea was right. Rachel knew it. She had been watching Quinn's frustration growing as she stopped acting out. She had simply followed the other slaves advices to avoid trouble, but Quinn wasn't a normal mistress. It had the opposite effect on her. The better Rachel behaved, the worst she was treated. She felt like she had nowhere to run.
"I couldn't help it," Rachel shook her head. "God, I just miss my mother so much… I will never forgive Quinn. It was all her fault! My mother would be here today if it weren't for her!"
"Well, we can't know that, can we? Something else could have happened," Abbie cooed. It didn't help at all. "But you know what is the best way of getting back at her, Rachel. Dorea is right. Just don't give her what she wants."
"Exactly!" Dorea agreed with a firm nod. Rachel wiped a tear on her sleeve. "Just do your job as your told and don't get worked up. Let her deal with her bitter heart and feelings alone. Don't give her the opportunity to lash out on you."
Rachel swore she would try, but it was easier said then done and she knew it better than anyone else.
Rachel was angry. She was hiding it, but she was. She wanted to rip every single one of Quinn's fingers as they lowered down and gently tapped a key of the piano. She wanted to punch the smile out of Quinn's face as she rejoiced on getting the right note. She wanted to pull Quinn's eyes out the moment she closed them, and squeeze them between her fingers until she felt the blood dripping through the slits.
But then she closed her eyes too. The music swayed between them and the instructions given by Quinn's tutor became nothing more than a distant whisper. She could watch the waves of musical notes flying from Quinn's hands and directly into her heart. She could feel tears pooling behind her eyelids and she hated Quinn even further for being able to touch her even while standing twenty feet away from her.
She wouldn't let Quinn see it. She wouldn't cry.
Quinn was angry. She wanted to smash the keys out of the piano. Rachel had made her feel things she never had felt before. She made Quinn feel bad for her. She made Quinn almost regret counting the whips. Rachel was angry and she made Quinn's heart beat like it had a purpose. And now she acted like nothing ever happened and Quinn just wished she had an excuse to punish Rachel and make her feel something again.
But she played. She closed her eyes and she let the music swirl around her. She prayed the music would make her forget the mess placed inside of her. She prayed the music was enough to make her feel something without needing Rachel to incite her. And when she opened her eyes, she saw. Rachel with her eyes closed and moving her head just slightly to rhythm of the song. The corner of her eyes glistened, and Quinn's heart skipped a beat.
She wasn't alone. They depended on each other. Quinn made Rachel feel, even if simply through a song. Rachel's feelings made Quinn feel. They snatched each other out of inertia. They depended on each other to feel. She was in trouble. But she wasn't alone.
"I'm ready for bed," Quinn stated. Rachel's eyes shot open in surprise, and she cursed herself for blushing when she realized Quinn had been watching her enjoy the music. The tears in her eyes disappeared like magic.
"But it's still 5pm, miss Quinn." Rachel furrowed her eyebrows, looking to the clock behind them. "Are you gonna skip dinner? Are you feeling well?" She cursed herself again for caring. But again, it was her job. And she was just to do her job.
"I will and I am." Quinn shut the piano and rose up, ever so graciously. Rachel took a step back, and didn't even know why. Something in the way Quinn looked at her was more unsettling than never. "I will be expecting you in my room. I won't tolerate any delays." Her voice made Rachel shiver.
She was in trouble.
"I will fetch your sleep gown, Miss," said Rachel, bowing her head ever so slightly and walking to towards the dressing room.
"Stop right there," Quinn grabbed her arm, tighter than she intended. She couldn't hold back. She bit her inner cheek seeing her nails digging in Rachel's arm and the spot going white.
"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to go to sleep," she murmured with a small frown. She pulled her arm almost by instinct, and Quinn gripped tighter.
"No," Quinn answered, reaching out her hand and grabbing the whip over the tea table. Rachel flinched instantly, letting out a small shriek and hiding her face under her free arm. Quinn giggled and let go of her arm. "I'm not gonna whip you, stupid. You haven't done anything."
"As if slaves were never beaten for no reason," Rachel murmured with her head still low.
"Shut up!" Quinn slapped her face. It was just an habit by then, Quinn didn't even think before doing. Rachel didn't seem to mind it anymore either. She grabbed Rachel's hand and opened her palm, running her index finger along the lines. "I wanna know what it feels like," she said, swallowing hard. She had wondered for a long time, but to actually get the words out of her mouth was much harder. "The whip."
Rachel took a step back, pulling her hand behind her back and out of Quinn's touch.
"I might not have your education and I might not be really smart, miss Quinn, but I'm more than aware of the consequences of injuring a white person." She clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. Quinn hated how firm she sounded. "If you are trying to get me killed, this is not how you'll manage it."
Quinn slapped her again. Something about that pretentious face just sent Quinn over the edge.
Rachel just couldn't do it. It's not that she didn't want to - oh how she wanted to. She wanted to wrap her hands around Quinn's throat until she was out of air. She wanted to grab the boiling hot poker and strike Quinn all over. She wanted to beat Quinn with her bare fists until Quinn passed out. But she couldn't. Her life wasn't good at all, but she still didn't want to die. It wasn't the time for it yet.
"You don't have a choice." Quinn scoffed, grabbing Rachel's hand forcefully and handing her the whip. "If you don't do it, I'm gonna kill you. It's simple, really. If you do, though, I might have mercy on you for being obedient and granting my wishes."
It sounded just too good to be true. Too unbelievable. Quinn must have been setting her up, and she wouldn't fall for it. She wouldn't give that taste of being defeated by Quinn. But she didn't let go of the whip - in fact, she held it with all the strength she had, just to make sure she wouldn't strike it out of anger. Her body shook with it, but she couldn't.
"Are you waiting until I lose my patience?" Quinn said louder, but not too loud. Rachel assumed she was ashamed of having other people hearing her. She should be ashamed of herself just for asking for that. Rachel would never understand how Quinn's mind worked. "I think you still don't understand how this works."
"What, miss?" She asked, taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to ask anything, but Quinn was in silence waiting for her to do so.
"You are nothing but a filthy slave." She almost spat between words. Rachel growled inside. "You are made for my use. You are to abide to my every wish without a single complain. Your will is obliged to surrender to mine. You are never having anything you want in your life."
And that's where Quinn was wrong. Rachel's thin arms had never felt so strong. Even if she didn't have a choice, she was going to get exactly what she wanted in life. She would revenge her mother, even if it lead to her upcoming death. She would make Quinn hurt like her mother had. She would whip her senseless.
"Strip," Rachel ordered, lifting the whip in front of her body. Quinn blinked too many times in one second, as if she didn't believe what her ears had heard. It was really happening. Rachel still wasn't sure if she believed it either but oh how she wanted.
She watched Quinn swallowing hard before turning on her back. Slender fingers wrapped around the loose ribbons in her back and undid the bows of her stays. Rachel took a look back to make sure the door was locked, and swung the whip against the ground. She wanted to test her hand on it, but Quinn winced, and a smile came to her face. Quinn was taking her time taking off her clothes, and Rachel was afraid she could regret her request before she was done.
"Faster," she said, whipping the floor again. Quinn winced again, but obeyed. Rachel had never felt so powerful. She had never had any power on her hands, and she sure wouldn't waste it. She watched Quinn's gown slipping through her body and falling limb on the ground, and she shivered.
She was responsible for dressing and undressing Quinn every day, but she had never seen her out of her shifts. Quinn's bare back dazed her. She ran her eyes from sharp shoulders to slim legs and wondered how someone could be so white. Quinn's skin almost gleamed under the sunset light. Rachel almost felt bad knowing how the smooth skin would look like after she was done.
Quinn looked back, as if waiting for further instructions. Rachel never imagined she would one day see Quinn surrendering - even if it was her own will behind it all. Rachel walked to her and grabbed both her hands, lifting them above Quinn's head and against the bed post.
"Do not let go," she ordered right by Quinn's ear. Quinn shivered and wrapped her hands around the post with a nod. Something twisted under Rachel's stomach and she held her legs close together to try and stop the feeling. Quinn closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the post, licking her lip and taking a deep breath. "Would you like to count? In french, perhaps?" Rachel asked mockingly.
Quinn didn't answer. Rachel wasn't expecting her too. Without any warning, she stroke the first whip. Quinn gasped and gripped tighter against the post. Her knuckles went white. A pink wound rose immediately against the light skin. Rachel had never seen a wound coming up so quickly - but then again, she had never seen a white person being whipped.
Another whip. Quinn's head fell back and a small moan escaped her lips. Almost like the moan she let out when they kissed. Almost as if she was enjoying it. Maybe Rachel wasn't doing it right. Maybe she wasn't doing it hard enough. She lashed her again. Stronger. Firmer. Quinn bit her trembling lip and closed her eyes tighter. Rachel was impressed that Quinn still hadn't let go of the post, like she had ordered. Who would have taught Quinn could be obedient?
Another whip. Rachel watched the first droplet of blood running down Quinn's back. Rachel felt something dripping down her leg. She closed her legs narrower and whipped Quinn again. Quinn whimpered. Rachel had never felt better in her life. She wasn't revenging just her mother, but all the slaves who had ever suffered in the hands of a white man. Something in her incessantly itched and burned with every whip and she could swear her body would catch fire any minute.
"Stop," Quinn cried out in a whimper. But Rachel didn't. She couldn't. She wouldn't lose this moment. She wouldn't lose this feeling. She lashed another whip, and Quinn sobbed. "Stop it!" She said louder, as if Rachel hadn't heard her on the first time. Another whip. Rachel wanted to see her plea. She wanted Quinn begging for mercy. On her knees. Another whip.
Quinn let go of the post and turned around. Rachel froze. That was it. Quinn would kill her. With each step the girl took towards her, Rachel's heart beat faster. Quinn reached her and she closed her eyes, waiting for death and wondering how would it happen. But Quinn didn't kill her.
Quinn took her by the hair and tossed her on to the bed. Rachel's eyes shot open. Quinn climbed on top of her and before Rachel could figure out what was happening, their lips were crushing against one another's. Quinn didn't kill her. Quinn kissed her. Quinn kissed with a hunger she hadn't in any of their previous kiss and now Rachel was just sure her body would catch on fire.
Quinn held her down and forced her tongue into Rachel's mouth. Rachel had never thought of fighting it. Quinn's mouth tasted sweeter than ever and Rachel tried to grab Quinn's bottom lip, but Quinn wouldn't let her. They had fought for dominance for far too long and now that Rachel had tasted it, she would never surrender again.
In a swift move, Rachel rolled them on bed making Quinn fall on her back. Quinn whimpered, and it crossed Rachel's mind how hard it would be to get the blood stains out of the sheets - but the thought soon vanished when Quinn pulled her hair again. Quinn's body felt unbelievably hot under hers and she ran her nails down Quinn's collarbone, feeling every inch of it.
Quinn didn't protest. Rachel wondered if Quinn would ever protest again. Rachel's hand slid down Quinn's nipple and Quinn moaned into her mouth. It was louder than any moan Rachel had ever heard slip out of Quinn's mouth. Rachel brought her finger back to the exact spot and grabbed Quinn's nipple between two fingers. Quinn bit her lip, and Rachel gripped hard. Rachel wasn't able to tell whose moan came out of their conjoined mouths. None of them cared anymore.
Quinn pulled apart panting and threw her head on the pillow as Rachel played with her breasts. But Rachel couldn't have enough. Her mouth needed more and she dipped to bite Quinn's jaw. She nibbled on the skin all the way to Quinn's ear, leaving a a wet path on the way and flickered her tongue on Quinn's earlobe. She could never have enough. She felt like every inch of skin was sweeter than the previous - and she wanted to ruin it all.
She bit and sucked and nibbled and watched as the color drained from Quinn's neck, leaving behind purplish bruises. She had no idea how Quinn would hide that, but she didn't care one bit. If the noise leaving Quinn's mouth was any indication, she didn't care much either.
"Touch me," Quinn whispered between whimpers.
"Shut up," Rachel answered inherently. It felt way too good to be able to say those two simple words at Quinn. Still, she didn't know what Quinn meant. She was touching Quinn. Her hands and mouth were everywhere. What else could Quinn possibly want? She didn't have to wait too long for an answer.
Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand out of her breast and lowered it all the way down her stomach until reaching between her legs. Rachel almost pulled her hand back in instinct - she knew she wasn't supposed to touch people there. But it was so wet and slippery and warm. It was so warm Rachel finally understood where the heat she felt was coming from. If she would catch on fire, this would be what would set her up.
Rachel slipped her hand further down and Quinn let out a gutural noise. Rachel had never heard anything quite like it. That's when she realized what was happening. That's when she understood why she felt something dripping down her leg ever since the first whip. Quinn moved her hand over Rachel's, leading her to touch exactly where she wanted. But Rachel was done obeying. If this was the moment she could take control, she would be fully on it.
Quinn didn't have a say anymore.
Rachel grabbed her hands and pinned above her head. She let out a small noise of discontent but Rachel shushed her and as soon as Rachel's other hand came back to between her legs she was moaning again. Rachel had never touched anything like that and honestly, she found it delicious. She loved how easily her fingers slipped through the folds and she loved every reaction of Quinn's body. She loved how powerful she felt. Quinn curled her toes, bit her lip, arched her back and moaned and moaned and moaned. Rachel had no idea how anyone hadn't heard them yet.
"Be quiet!" She ordered, but Quinn moaned again and shook her head. Rachel huffed and released her hands to cover Quinn's mouth. "If you move those hands I'll stop right now, do you understand?" Quinn nodded and Rachel lowered her head to hide a smug smile.
Her fingers worked fast in the exact spot she had realized drove Quinn the craziest. She tried to kiss her again, but Quinn's mouth couldn't keep up. It was all too much. And then, out of nowhere, Quinn started shaking all over. Rachel narrowed her eyebrows but kept her pace. Quinn shook harder and harder until it stopped completely. Quinn fell limp on bed and didn't move or speak at all. Rachel feared she had killed- well, she wasn't sure feared was the word.
"Miss Quinn?" she asked apprehensively. Quinn opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Rachel still could hear her panting. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm quite alright," Quinn answered in a sneer, licking her lower lip. She propped her weight on her elbows, trying to get up, but cried out falling with her back on to bed again. "My back is stuck," she whined with the smallest voice.
"Wait," said Rachel getting up and off Quinn. She came back with a wet rag and sat behind Quinn, dampening her back to soften up the wounds and make it easier for her to sit up. Once she did, Rachel almost regretted everything. Her back looked a mess, and Rachel could only imagine how much it hurt. But any empathy she had soon vanished when she remembered who Quinn was, and what Quinn had done in the past.
Still, she felt like it was her duty to help Quinn out after everything. She cleaned the wounds ever so carefully and bit her lip nervously every time Quinn winced. She was impressed that Quinn didn't attack her through it - any other day she would have been slapped at least a dozen times for that. In fact, Rachel realized it had been the first time they had kissed and she hadn't ended up with a slap in her face. Maybe things were changing. The night definitely felt like life changer - at least for her.
Once she felt like there was nothing else she could do to relief Quinn's pain, she helped the girl into her night gown and followed the night ritual as if it were any other night. Set up the fireplace. Close the curtains. Help getting Quinn under the covers. And then, just when she was leaving to go to her improvised bed in the dressing room, she felt Quinn's hand gripping her arm.
Rachel turned back and watched Quinn's mouth open and close a few times, as if she couldn't gather the courage to say what she wanted. Eventually, she gave up and just shook her head slightly, turning to the other side and closing her eyes. Rachel's smile couldn't be bigger.
Maybe things had changed.