As the animals do.

I watched as Ms. Mevan, still on all fours, wagged her rear in the air at him, beckoning him over to mount her.

Having eschewed the rest of his clothing, Samuel, after moving the Pillow, so that if she needed to, could rest her head upon it, knelt behind Ms. Mevan, caressed her genitals with his hand, before taking his cock with it. He stroked himself a couple of times, and aligned himself to her entrance, but did not penetrate her yet. Instead, he leaned forwards and whispered something in Ms. Mevan's ear. I do not know what he said, but a visible tremor ran all the way down her back, her head rolled back and a silent moan was plain upon her face.

Then, without further ado, he mounted her.

His hands were locked firmly upon her thighs as his hips worked furiously at their task. His head was pressed right up against her face, murmuring more and more praise upon her, about how her bitch orifice is making him feel, one assumes. Perhaps he was asking her how much she was enjoying her reward for her obedience. Maybe even promising her more pleasure and praise if she kept on being his good girl. Or he could be sharing the most deepest of deepest feelings and secrets he had with her. The secrets that only the most intimate of lovers could possible share with each other.

Whatever it was he was telling her, had her howling. It was a bestial, feral sound. One that you would never imagine coming out of a human's throat, let alone a woman's. But in that, there was a note of... freedom in it? From what I've seen and heard, the noises the people make here are as unbidden and as natural as can be when they're in the throes of passion, but with Ms. Mevan in her play-acting, she has no words, no language to draw from. Is it possible that with her limitations, she can only let out the purest and most honest sound of all?

By now, Samuel had somehow managed to inch his way to be almost on top of her, while also pushing Ms. Mevan's head into the pillow. Her raw screams were barely muffled as his hips worked themselves up into a frenzy. Reasserting his grip on her backside, he thrusted faster and grunted powerfully, "Oh here it comes Becca. Here it comes... Gonna fill your white girl insides up... Pump you full of my nigga seed... Becca... Becca... Rebecca!" He pressed himself deep into her, and she gripped the Pillow tight, groaning and gasping as his climax overtook them both.

In that moment, something dawned on me. I believe that, despite everything, Samuel has never quite truly escaped his station. From what I've seen tonight, and their Love for each other, though he was her "Master", he never truly was. At least not in the sense as we understand it. For some portion of his life, he was not human, but Property. To be bought and sold at a whim. And though he may now be free and of equal standing with Ms. Mevan, he was not. He was doing what she wanted him to do. And I truly believe, that that final statement from him, that I heard as I slunk back towards my home, may be what he desires. Like the Fremen family I met the other day, he would merely want his children to have a better life than the one he has.

I could be wrong of course, and those were merely words uttered in the heat of the moment, but the little **** does provide a clarity and honesty like none other.

But still, I can't help but wonder...