First Touch: She captivated him-A NOVELLA

Prolouge

1858

"V

enus, get yo' behind in her' now!" She jumped at the sound of her name. Picking up her tray, she scurried along, quickly running into the parlor. Her master, other wise known as Mr. Williams, sat in his chair. The same dominance and power emanating from his frame. Her eyes met his and she almost looked away, frightened by his menacing gaze upon her. But she knew better then to look away, for doing so would only result in punishment. "Yes, masta', she said in her soft southern accent. His eyes roamed over her small frame. She was a girl of only 17, and her body had in turn started to develop. She felt a silent chill roll down her spine and again fear struck her in its entirety. Suddenly a sinister smile erupted upon his face. He sat up in his seat and put his hands together, the pipe in his mouth twirled. "How old are you now, girl?" He said in his deep booming voice.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I's 17 sir." He smiled, as if taking some silent pleasure in knowing her age. He stood; his large frame growing as he came to his full height. She felt her heart go ramped inside her chest. If she ran away, she would be beaten, but if she stayed her fate would be much worse. He came towards her, he was so close that she could smell the whiskey on his breath and could feel the warmth of his body. He whispered her name and dread filled her to the core. She suddenly felt a surge of panic. She took a step back and turned on her heel. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back in his direction.

She screamed and with all the strength she could muster, she hit him. He grunted and thus let her go. Her serving tray fell to the floor with a loud thud! She paid no mind to it. The adrenaline in her young body pumping as she ran. As she left through the parlor door, she heard her name. "Venus! You'll be whipped for this, girl!" Her heart dropped but she merely ran faster, no longer caring about the punishment to come. Her breath came in little puffs now; she ran until she no longer cared, until she could no longer feel. She reached the slave courters and she pushed the door open. Her heart suddenly felt at ease. She felt safe here. Sweat cascaded down her soft brown cheeks. She wiped it away and took in a sigh of relief. She was no fool; she knew that her beating was soon to come. She walked over to the broken mirror that sat on the mantle. There she gazed upon herself.

She never truly felt beautiful. Though she had been told that she was quite a sight to behold. Her brown eyes were light, resembling the color of whiskey. Her face round and when she smiled, a little dent in both her cheeks appeared. Her complexion was dark, a trait she had inherited from both her mother and father. But it was her hair that she loved. It wasn't very long, it touched the top of her neck, but she loved it the most. Her hair formed curls all its own. While others would use methods unnatural to achieve curls, her hair achieved them all by itself.

She heard rustling outside the courter door and fear strike through her again. She quickly moved towards the door for the field workers and opened it. She sprinted down the meager amount of steps. She ran towards the horse stables. No one ever occupied them at this time of day. She pushed open the doors and as she entered she hit something. Her body slammed against a hard frame and she winced in pain. She opened her eyes and came face to chest with someone. She quickly jumped back.

Her eyes suddenly met the deep blue eyes of a half naked man. Her eyes grew wide. He looked down at her, giving her a look of pure curiosity. He donned his trousers and nothing else. Water dripped from his seemingly chiseled body. As they stared upon one another, she realized who he was. Anxiety seeped its way into her frail mind. He was the masters' son. She sank to her knees. Now she would surely be caught. He would take her back to his father, where she would be beaten. She felt the tears as they ran past her cheeks and down her neck. She put her hands together and gazed upon him. "I-I's so-oo...sorry masta'." She hiccupped loudly. He narrowed his eyes down at her.