The sun was relentless, beating down on me as I lifted the pickaxe for another swing at the cracked, dry earth. My hands were calloused and hardened from years of work as man-cattle. The ache was painful, and the only respite I could find in my soul was harkening back to simpler times, before all men were turned into slaves. I remembered my nuclear family, my loving parents and my moody brother. It was not that long ago when I could spend my days playing with them on our ranch, raising animals for a quiet living. Now, all I had was my loincloth and my pickaxe.

"You there! Why'd you stop?!" a firm, feminine voice rang out from behind me. I knew who it was without looking, and I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my neck. It was another leather-clad female enforcing the rules of her slave camp.

"I'm sorry, mistress, I remembered something of the past, and it made me—"

She gracefully twirled, and then lashed a black whip at the end of her spin, which struck my bare back with enough force to cause a searing pain to reverberate across my spine. "Man-cattle! I don't care about your old memories, just keep digging! The greatest thing that has ever happened to womankind was the full enslavement of men. We're proud to wear these boots of cruelty, and not ashamed! So again: keep working, you beast!"

I obeyed, but it was a struggle to lift the pickaxe after losing momentum, and of course, my back was on fire. The whip had struck the base of my spine with enough force to make it feel as if it had broken. But alas, I knew that if I stopped, I would be punished. So I gritted my teeth, and kept working.

This wasn't the first time I was whipped for slowing down my work. I knew thinking was dangerous, but a new line of thought came to me I could not ignore as I picked and dug at the dry earth with the pickaxe near the clean white Victorian house the headmistress of the camp resided in.

One of the mistresses, a blonde girl with a ponytail named Ashley, seemed to target me more than most. It was a hunch, but my last punishment just now was by her hand, and so was the one before that, and the one before that. Before that was another girl named Kayleigh or something, I don't know. But the point was, Ashley seemed to target me, and now I wondered if there was a way to confront her. Would there be any point? Probably not, and the risk was another lashing I wasn't sure I wanted. But when you have nothing, these little mysteries grow on you like mold on a piece of bread.

We weren't meant to speak unless spoken to. If we spoke at all, we were supposed to use the word "Yes, mistress," or "No, mistress," as my last punishment reminded me. But this one time, I wanted to formulate a way to speak to her directly. This might be a long shot, but it was worth it to me to try.

"Thank you for the punishment, mistress Ashley," I said politely to her when she returned, holding her whip in her left hand.

"What?!" she said loudly in an offended tone.

I ignored her tone. "Thank you for punishing me, mistress Ashley."

Ashley seemed to ponder this, gripping her leather whip a bit tighter. She wasn't used to men saying 'thank you' to her, as all slaves were told to respond when spoken to, and only respond with "Yes, mistress," or "No, mistress," and nothing else. But my unexpected response had her scanning me for plots or ulterior motives.

While she furrowed her brows, momentarily stunned, I took the opportunity to continue without stopping my work. "...I have a question about you, if you'll allow it, mistress."

"I shouldn't, but I'll allow one. And if it's bad, you'll be getting a lashing," she said confidently. She flicked her head a bit, letting her long ponytail dance with the motion. My next words had to be carefully picked.

"Do you interact with me more than the other man-cattle? It was just a hunch, but..."

For perhaps the first time in my life, I saw surprise on Ashley's face. She recovered quickly, but was still mildly phased. "I, uh, I should lash you, for speaking to me about this..." She looked around her, spotting her fellow mistresses busy with their own duties. "...but come with me, and don't talk. Tell anyone, and I'll actually have you dead."

I nodded with an expression of concern and uncertainty. Whatever I've set in motion, it's really begun now.

We walked up slopes, slowly exiting the dry canyon I was working in. The massive mansion-house I always saw loom over me was now growing closer, and I was walking in the direction of it. She pulled out a key, unlocked a door on the side of the house, and pushed me inside. The interior was dusty, this part of the house no doubt the only part of it in this state as it had been delegated for miscellaneous storage. It was the perfect place for privacy, but I was unsure if this privacy was danger to me as Ashley locked the door behind us.

Ashley stood in front of me, breathing heavily with an expression of worry as she stared at me. She appeared nervous, and that meant there was at least a good chance she wasn't going to hurt me. Finally, she spoke. "So... you've been remembering me?"

My heart began beating fast as I spoke. I didn't even mean to say it, but I did. "I'm going to be blunt, Ashley. Do you have a crush on me?"

Ashley stared at me like I was an idiot for a few moments. I could see the confusion and stupefaction in her eyes. "A crush?"

I nodded. "Yes. A crush. You know, back in the days before... back then. Girls would get crushes on guys, and they would date and stuff." I could tell Ashley was becoming more confused as I spoke. Her eyes were growing wide, and her head was tilted slightly.

"Tell me more about this 'crush' thing," she said slowly, trying to sound as if she knew what I was talking about. She wasn't fooling me, of course, but I played along as best I could.