Over the turnings it is no longer a secret that I am with child. I suppose it is somewhat rare to see a slut with a collar about her throat with such a round tummy. It is just not done. Slaves simply never ever forget to drink their slave wine.  If they do they find themselves in the condition I am in, and it is taken care of by a physician. I don’t like to think on such things. In all honesty I am just too delicate of heart to have something like that done to me. It would do irreparable harm to my psyche, and I’m sure Agrippa, my Master, knows this. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself. In fact I’m quite sure of it.

 In any case Agrippa, my beloved Master, has allowed me to keep the child; our child, but I never say those words to him. To him ‘it’ is just property. To me ‘she’ is so much more. My belly has grown round like a pumpkin, and my breasts have doubled in size. They still have their teardrop like shape, but I’ve noticed how much Master seems to be enjoying them. He likes to point out skinny blondes to me lately, and remark on how pretty they are. And in most cases, they are pretty. But, he pointed out one the other day that was just sadly only skin and bones. I could tell she was not a well fed slave, and felt sorry for her.

He doesn’t seem to understand that I love my curves, and plump heart-shaped derriere! I love the way parts of my body jiggle that in the past didn’t. The physician gives me jars, upon jars, of thick cocoanut scented ointment. She tells me to apply it to all the parts of my body that are growing at least three, if not four times a day. I swear on some days I feel like I’m one big butter nut squash that is about to be put on a spit squashed in between to vulos.

The most extraordinary thing has begun to happen. The baby is beginning to move inside me. At first it was just little flutters, but now if I press my hand to stomach I can feel her move. I swear I wanted to go running to some, anyone and tell them to put their hand on this spot so they could feel what I am feeling, but as I stood at the kitchen sink I remember there was no one there but me, and my beloved Master. I do so love the man, but I thought on how he might react. He had been quite grumpy lately, and I’m fairly positive that my condition doesn’t help the situation.

A Secret

I had managed to keep the secret that my Master had gone. For the longest time I knew he was still around because I would find pouches of coins on the counter at the apartment. Then they stopped; the coins that is. I continued to keep drinking the slave wine until I ran out, and that was just before I went into hiding myself.

Venturing out to the Market one day I was followed by a slaver, and was almost lost forever as he was in the process of smuggling me onto a ship to take me to Port Kar. That is when my beloved Master appeared, from where, I don’t know. But, he snagged me from the slaver when the Man wasn’t looking back. I was following him as I was afraid of being left alone, and by that point I thought my Master had gone to the city of dust.

That slaver was the only man that had ravaged my body since my Master’s return. And since then I had bled. In the excitement of having him, Agrippa, back I failed in my responsibility to go to the physician and begin taking the slave wine again. By the time I noticed that I wasn’t bleeding like usual, every five and a half hands, it was too late.

I fled to the physician, and she told me that I was with child. Since his return, and the time I found out I was with child, my body had been defiled by my beloved Master only. I was both excited, and frightened at what he would think, and how he would react to the news that I was pregnant. I just knew he would at least free me for the birth of our child so it, as I had not been informed of the sex of the child, could be born a free.

When I finally got the courage to tell him, his reaction was not what I expected. I thought he would be proud to know that I might possible be carrying a male child that could be born free to carry on his name. I was so wrong! He was furious with me! When he informed me that the child I carried was nothing more than his property, and that it would be born a slave, and sold as a slave I was speechless.

I continued to try and change his mind. I didn’t understand how he could call me his love slave, but not love the child I carried in my belly. I begged almost daily that he set me free for the birth of the child. I was convinced that I could change his mind.

One night he had, had enough of my mind set, my begging, and pleading, and he beat me severely, leaving welts up and down the back of my body. From the front I looked positively radiant, but from the backside it was clear that I had been whipped harshly. Not only was there crimson welts, but in several places I was left with purple bruises.

After that beating I wished that I had never found myself in the situation I was in. I wanted everything to go back to the way that it was. I waited for him to take me to the physician and tell them to remove it. Then the day came. He took me to physician, after physician, after physician. And in each case they assured him that the child was a female.

I then waited for him to trip me, or push me down a flight of stairs to cause an ‘accident’. I begged to speak freely, and told him of my fears. He sat back, and just as always what came out of his mouth left me dumbfounded. “You are going to have the child, and you will do so while wearing my collar. That child is my property to do with as I please. It…is…property.

From that day on everything about me has changed. I never thought that such a secret could give me such elation. I wanted to shout it from the roof tops that I was having my Master’s child. He could call it property all he wanted, but in my heart ‘she’ was a piece of him growing inside of me. There would be a child mixed of our blood together out in the world, slave or not.

Punishments

Awhile back, just after my Master returned, he told me that I was no longer allowed to pleasure myself! Admittedly I found this very hard to do as he has always encouraged me to do so. He knows how much I love touching myself; especially at night…it helps to lull me to sleep. He expressed that he didn’t find that I craved him as lustfully as I had in the past, and that was when he told me the punishment I would be under until he decided otherwise. He suggested that perhaps it would make me a more lustful slave.

It took me awhile, but I finally accomplished what I thought was the impossible. Yes, I still fondle myself, but I stop just on the brink of coming. I do find that I twist, and turn in my sleep more, and that all I do is dream of him. I mean I have always dreamt of him, but now my dreams have taken on a darker, more sinister tone. I dream of him doing unspeakable thinks to me. I do try my best not to rehash my dreams during the day, but when I am about him I find it next to impossible.

I even daydream about the time when we stayed at Mistress Ostia’s house in Port Cos. The light from the tre moons spilled through the windows, and he took his time being gentle with me, and even told me that he loved me. Of course I‘m sure he wouldn't even remember the night, or wouldn’t admit to it if he did. I swear I walked around on cloud nine for a month.

Just the other day I was given a message to pass on to him about the things there were salvaged from the fire at the apartment. He look very intensely involved in his work at the moment, so I decided to wait until he looked up. The problem was that as I watched him the message slipped my mind because I was thinking of the dream I had of him the night before. Consequently, when I did remember to pass the message on to him, he was highly displease with me. I was paddled until my whole body shook, and I was red from the crook of my knees up to the curve of my ass. The back of my thighs were quivering, my flesh was on fire, and the red welts throbbed with each pulsing of my blood through my veins.

I thought he would never stop! The pain was so blinding that my mind slipped into a place where there was nothingness. When I tried to cry out in pain he covered my mouth hard, and told me to think of the neighbors. Yet, when he was done, I found myself blushing at how wet, and aroused I was, and I begging for him to fuck me. He instead sent me to sit in the corner, and think about what I had done.

This crushed me! Not because he didn’t do as I had begged, but because I had displeased him with my actions. I had a long time to sit and ponder my mistake. From now on whenever a message is given to me to pass on to him, I will write it down. And, it will be detailed, and I will ask questions if there is anything more that he might need to know about.



I have been his slave scribe for almost six En’Vars, and still I am learning. I will spend the rest of my life learning what pleases him. Even after all this time I feel as if I did the first time I realized that I love him.

Indescribably bliss.

A New Collar for His Slave

I now have a new collar about the column of my throat. It is different from the old one which I have to admit I miss. It use to fit more snuggly, and had a tag that dangled from it with the inscription of what I am most oft called; scribbles. At one point he had mention that there was a story behind the collar which had three notches etched into it, but he never explained what it was, and I never asked. I had a feeling that for some reason the story caused him pain, and I had no desire to bring up anything that made him think of the past. I was aware that there was a slave before me that he cared deeply for, and I was hoping to help him forget the pain of her loss.

I will have to get use to the way this one fits. It is a Turian collar which hangs more loosely; more like a necklace. I was thrilled to see that he had, had it engraved with his name upon it. I know this took time, and money which makes it all that more special to me. Just last night he showed me how easy it was to curl his fingers beneath it, and draw me to him swiftly.

Speaking of last night, he brought me to his new office in a building that he will be using for lending. The office reminds much of the one he had in Port Cos. He explained to me what his new venture is going to be, and how it will work. Already he has given me the task of advertising that he is able to lend coin to those who might need it. It will feel good to go out once again without fear of someone trying to take me away from him. Perhaps I will see my beloved chain sisters which I haven’t seen in ages.

I just learned that Iris is now with Master Hagan. As for Lily I haven’t heard any word on where she is. I’m not even sure if Master Hagan still owns her. As for Master Hagan has been kind enough to allow us to stay at his guest house until new living arrangements can be made. Master keeps telling everyone that I burned down the apartment! I have told him several times that it wasn’t me, but he keeps insisting one saying it was. So, I will go along with whatever he says.

Last night he also informed me that he purchased a slave that he brought back to the Inn we were staying in after we had ran into Master Hagan. Her name is Desire. Am I surprised that she is a blonde? Not in the least. I know he has always had a liking for blonde head slaves. The only reason he settled upon me in the beginning is because I was once a scribe, and he found my education useful.

Desire is a very lusty little tart, and he told me that she was going add her as an addition to our little family as he calls us. He said she would be our new little toy. He does know how I love to have a chain sister to snuggle up with when he is away on business. I do not know her very well but from that one night we spent with her she seemed as if she did not mind my touches. There are some slaves that do not like to be sensual with other female slaves. At first even I didn’t know what to do when my Master paired me with another female, but he taught me not to be ashamed of my desires.

It is amazing how far I have come since he first purchased me. I would have never have dreamed that I could be such the lustful little slut that I am. Of course when in public I sometimes still revert back to that shy little girl that was raised as a proper high caste free woman. But, with just a look…a touch…he makes all of those memories, and facades melt away.

A Daring Rescue on the Streets of Ar

I am writing on pieces of rench as my journal was burned by the slaver. I have not yet asked my Master to gift me with another as just having him with me again is the all that I really need in my life.

My Master! After two turnings he has returned, and I still feel as if I am dreaming. It is all so very surreal to me. I had submitted my body to the slaver as I truly though that my Master had abandoned me. I let the rumors seep into my mind like planted seeds. They grew until I lost sight of what he had told me. He had told me how to contact him if I truly needed him. Canoos, one of his most trusted guards had stayed at the apartment for over a turning, and made sure that I had everything I needed. Even after he vanished, probably to help my Master in his ventures, there mysteriously was a pouch of coins left on the counter ever few months.

I have to admit that I used said coins to hide away in the apartment. It was more than enough to provide me with everything I needed. I was safe there. No one asked me questions; no one eyed my body with desire. If I were to have gone out more I wouldn’t have been able to tell lies, and it wouldn’t have been long before someone would have reported me as an abandoned slave, and I would have been claimed by the city of Ar. After all, I was nothing but a mere slave. Yes, I had a collar, but people become greedy and try to take advantage of situations.

It was on one of those few occasions that I ventured out to the market that my luck ran out, and was followed by the slaver. Those few days, the fire, the trying to escape the city still is all a blur to me. All I do remember is spying him, Agrippa Pontus, my Master standing on the street as clear as day. He had been in the city, and by the blessings of the Kings was on his way to the apartment when he seen the flames, and actually spied me with a bag on my back following another man. He followed us, and cut through the back streets to come out in front of us.

I am not sure if words were exchanged between my Master, and the slaver, or if I was just drawn into the alley by my Master before the slaver turned back to notice I was missing. When I saw my Master I ran to him, and crumbled to my knees before him sobbing. He was solid! I feared that I was seeing things! But, it was not my imagination. There was no time for greetings, or celebration. He whisked me off quickly. There would be time for all that later once I…we were safe.

Burning the Past So A New Journey Can Begin

Picking out fruit to bring back to the apartment I happened to spy a Master that I thought was my Master, Agrippa. I dropped the fruit as my breath caught in my throat which drew his attention to me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him as I stooped down to gather up the dropped items. It was then that he sauntered over to me, and asked me what I was staring at. I told him that he reminded me of someone, and he smirked. Walking off, leaving me to pay for the fruit, I thought he was gone. I have never been so wrong in my life.

For so long I had been extremely careful when going to the apartment, but this time I was followed. As soon as I unlocked the door I was shoved inside, my mouth covered, and a knife held to my throat. I was told if I screamed that I would be killed without a second thought. It was the Master from the Market square.

No one knew where I was so he took his time in questioning me. Within ahns he knew all of my secrets, my body was used, and I was on my knees before him begging for him to save me. Save me from what? I knew that I was an abandoned slave, and it was only a matter of time before I was claimed by the city, and perhaps sold. This Master, this slaver, stoked the flames in my bara that I no longer felt the heat of. Was it a rash decision to submit to him without even knowing anything about him? Perhaps. Yet, there was something about him that made me feel alive... something I hadn't felt since I realized my Master was never coming back.

That night he burned my journal...leaving me with only my memories of my former life. He bound me, and tied me to the end of my former Master's couch while he slept upon it. This slaver was a beast, and upon awaking the next morning I was having second thoughts. He quickly picked up on this, and told me that I was perhaps not the slave he thought I might be, and threatened to leave me behind.

Forcing my hand he made me make my decision. Have my life erased, and be with him so that he could mold me into his slave, or be left behind. For the second time I was filled with dread at the thought of being alone again. Beast or not, I begged him not to leave me. After considering my words I was told to gather my things.

Upon emerging from the back room with a sack filled with my favorite silks, cosmetics, perfumes, and whatnot I discovered that the slaver had set fire to the apartment. When I frantically asked what he was doing he told me he was burning my past. He remarked that it would throw people off of our path, and perhaps even have people think that I had died in the fire.

He sauntered out the door. He did not tell me to follow, yet I did. I looked back as the apartment as it went up in flames. Already there were people scurrying about to put out the fire. The apartment would be a complete loss, but the adjoining apartments would be unharmed. How much time it would buy us I wasn't sure, but it did give us a head start. We were heading to board a ship that would carry us to Port Kar, a city I had never been to.

I am now dependent on him for everything! Is he a beast? Yes! Do I desire him? Yes! He is strong, demanding, and dominate. Everything that I thrive on. I have a strong feeling that what he demands from me will be more challenging than anything I've been through in my life thus far, and I find myself craving his approval; wanting to please his every whim.

Since submitting to him I have already struggled several times with what I have done. Yet, all I have to do is look at him, and something deep inside me tells me that I have done the right thing. My future now lays with this excruciatingly handsome Master...bald, tanned flesh, muscles that ripple with each movement he makes, mesmerizing green eyes.

I am ready to forget the past, and begin a new journey with the...beast, the slaver, my Master.

A Realization

After a full turning she has come to realize that her beloved Master is never coming back. Although she was being rented by Master Dor, and his companion she has slipped away to return to the apartment which Agrippa left to her. He told her if he never returned that she would always have the apartment for her and her former chain sister to escape to. She realized when he met with her last that he knew he would never be returning. He gave her last minute instruction that she followed to the tee. Yet, she sill holds on to what he had her do, not knowing who to turn it over too. He also left her enough coin to last her for a long while, but the coins are growing short.

She has began serving one Master under the cloak of night. Why she has chosen him to trust is beyond her. Perhaps it is because she has a bit of history with him. After all Agrippa had sold her beloved chain sister to him, and she was praying that through him she could make contact with her again. Yet, who is she kidding. She needs the guidance of a Master...the touch of a Master...a Master who she can serve as she did her beloved.

Given as a Gift (Journal)

I wasn't expecting the turn of events that have brought me to the house of Master Dor, and Mistress Gina. I have, on several occasion, had the honor of serving the Mistress, but I had no idea she had found me pleasing enough that she had mentioned her wanting to rent me. Her companion, Master Dor, appeared at my Master's door one evening inquiring about the possibility of my being rented. He wanted to present me as a gift to Mistress Gina for their renewal of their companionship.

Master Canoos, who is one of My Master's most trusted guards, was more than pleased to 'unload' me onto someone else and the prospect of earning coin while doing so was just to sweet a deal to pass up. He had been left in charge of me when Master left.

After realizing that it might be some time before I am reunited with my beloved Master I began to wither. Master Canoos tried to force me out of the apartment, and when I was out I did fairly well. Yet, as soon as I returned to the house all the reminders of Master, Agrippa, came rushing at me like a drowning wave. His chambers, his favorite chair, his desk, the balcony on which he branded me, the scent of his furs...everything...every room held something that made me feel a profound lose.

So, renting me out was like Canoos telling me to swim for my life. I would have gladly drowned in that wave of reminders, but there was something deep in my soul that told me he, my Master, would be so displeased if I did so.
Serving Master Dor, and Mistress Gina gave has given me the opportunity to honor him, and his collar that encircles my throat. I am the branded property of my Master...that will never change.

Master Dor, when he told me to pack my things, did not allow me to take any of my belongings save for the silks that I wore that day. He did finally cave and told me I could bring the small stuffed larl that my Master had won at one of the fairs. I still remember that cool evening like it was yesterday. I don't think he ever realized what it meant to me when he gave me that little token of his affection.

I was presented to Mistress Gina that very night when Master Dor brought me to their home. Since then I have became quite close to the Mistress. She allows me to sleep on a couch at the foot of her bed. I am in most respect her handmaiden. I tend to her needs mostly, and take care to pay attention to every little detail. Serving her, and Master Dor has allowed me to breath once again, and eases the pain of missing my beloved Master.

I'm So Lost Without Him (Journal)

My worst fears have come true, and I feel like my world has been torn asunder. What I had overheard in the library that day was true, but I could not begin to fathom to what extent. My Master had been appointed to a secret mission; by whom I did not know. It all happened so fast, and I was not privy to most of what was going on about me.

His selling of Iris to the slaver, Master Hagan, should have clued me in that things were going to be far more difficult to endure than I had imagined. Master was always pleased with Iris. He would not have branded her with his personal brand if he hadn't been. That was only the first of my hardships that I had to suffer. When he was away on long assignments it was iris' body that kept me warm at night. Now, I had neither of them.

Before he left he sat me down, and explained the danger of what was about to take place. He didn't explain to me why he sold Iris, but now I believe it was to reduce the chances of her being killed, and also--he needed my skills as a scribe. It was better to have my being watched by Canoos while he was away so that he could have easy access to me without having to go through others.

I arose one day to find him gone. The hand wasn't so difficult, but the second one began to have me worrying. It was two hands before he made contact with me. He was garbed in the robes of a scribe, and he found me at the paga den. Fortunately there was no one about but me, and the kitchen Master. He whisked me through the den, through the kitchen, and into the back alley. I didn't know it was him because he had the hood of his robes drawn down about his visage.

I had lifted my arms as he pressed my body against the wall. With forearms flush, and body crushed under his weight he reached down to run his fingers through the plush folds of my pussy. He found me moist which is somewhat a constant state of being for me. "Whore," he uttered against the shell of my ear. "I've been told that you are a good fuck," he continued.

My face was turned to the right, and I was unable to look back, but his voice I would know anywhere. Then there was his scent; unmistakable, and so intoxicating. "Master?" I questioned even though I was certain it was him. He proceeded to assaulted me right there in the alley. I can't remember ever going that long without feeling his touch, and I can assure you that I came, and came, and came for him.

When he was done he lead me out of the alley onto the street. There were people bustling about, but no one seemed to take notice of the scribe with the slave scribe. He told me if I needed to make contact with him how I was to do so. He reiterated the danger, and told me that what he was going to have me do in the near future could have both he, and myself killed. I would certainly be killed without question. Then he departed. It was the sweetest half ahn I had ever known in my life. It left me with hope.

Our next encounter was when he had me hooded, and chained, and brought to a cylinder by scribes. I was left standing before a desk, and I could hear the movement of sandals as I was circled and the hood was removed. He remained behind me, and instructed me to fetch a particular book from the shelf. Again the sound of his voice was music to my ears. I exclaimed, "Master!" He smacked the curve of my ass, and told me that I must never act, or show excitement when seeing him. I was to act as if I had just seen him a few ahns ago; like all was normal.

The third time he came to me was at the apartment. He had brought a book to me, and had me memorize a page from it. Then he explained that he needed me to duplicate the document I had just been shown down to the last detail. He was sure with my skills as a scribe I would know exactly what type of rence or velum, and ink to use. I told him that I knew of ways to age the copy to make it look exactly like the original. I was given further instructions, but before I knew what was happening he was all over me. Neither of use could keep our hands off one another.

The electricity between two human beings should never be so impassioned. What he did to me, and always does to me, drives my mind into another dimension and every touch, every caress, ever kiss feels utterly sublime. He is my drug, and I knew that he was about to leave me once again. I never cry, and beg for him to stay which one might find unusual, but I know this is as hard for him as it is for me. To say I am not left broken hearted each time, and do not cry hysterically once he is gone would be a lie--I do. The pain is felt physically throughout my entire body until eventually I am numb.

It has now been nearly five hands since my last encounter with him. I have, on several occasions, went to where I was told I could find him if it were urgent that I contact him, and never once have I seen him. With each passing day I fear that something tragic has happened. Was he caught? Has he left the city, and gone abroad? I will not even allow myself to question if he is even still alive, or not. I have become a wandering soul, and I fear that people are beginning to notice that something is amiss. Canoos is growing more, and more agitated with me because I have become a kajira that seems to have lost her way.

I have lost my way. Agrippa Pontus was the light that I followed down any path.

The Gift of His Brand (Journal)

When I arrived home last night the furniture was in disarray, and I could smell something burning. A wave of panic washed through me that something terrible had happened. The curtains were billowing into the main room like some phantom ghost floating through the air, and of course this meant that the doors to the balcony were open. When I went to close them I spied him, my Master, standing there gazing out over the vista of the city. From our balcony one can see the whole city, all its high bridges that are strewn with lights. It truly is a glorious sight to behold.

I asked him if something was wrong, and he turned, and took several steps, and snapped his hand out to grasp a fistful of my hair. He reminded me that I must kneel before I spoke to him. This is a lesson I learned long ago, but in my panic I was thinking only of him, and if he was alright. He forced me to my knees, and expressed that all was well. He released his hold on my hair, and again looked out over the balcony. From my knees I could see the same thing he spied through the thick columns.

After a moment I asked what I smelled that was burning, and he moved to the corner of the balcony, and drug a pot filled with incandescent coals across the tiles. The sound of the feet of that metal pot sounded much like someone scrapping their nails across a chalkboard, and it sent a shiver up my spine. My first thought is that he had branded my beautiful chain sister Iris! I asked hesitantly if he had done such, and he replied with a rhetorical question. "Would I brand your sister before I branded you?" Oh Kings how that question caused my stomach to flutter, and an overwhelming feeling of desire came over me.

How long have I begged for his brand? Many times over the turnings that he has owned me. He always told me that there was no need to brand me because he knew I was not going to run away. Of course he was right...I'd rather throw myself off of the cliffs than leave him. He is my world, and I love him so much that I do not think it is even possible to put into words, or express how much I do. He is like a drug to me, and I am a hopeless addict.

He lifted the branding iron from the pot, and let if drift down between my parted thighs so I could feel the heat emanating off of the white hot end against my inner thigh, and cleanly shaven mound. He was watching, observing my reaction, judging what that feeling did to me. My hands slipped down between my splayed thighs, and I covered my sex protectively. I believe he spied a spark of trepidation flash across my visage for he turned, and shoved the iron back into the hot coals. He said something to the effect of that he supposed that he was wrong about me, that I still held some hope of someday being a free woman again.

The pitch of my voice must have went up several octaves as I told him how wrong he was! I know my Master is never wrong, but on this point he was so terrible mistaken! I crawled to him, and begged piteously for his mark; his brand. He proceeded to test me, to see just how far I'd go...what I'd do to prove to him that there was truth behind my words. He degraded me as he has never done before, and I didn't flitch away. I accepted what he did to me; welcomed it...reveled in it. There have been times when he has made me orgasm so hard that I swear I felt as if I was going to pass out, and he did this to me once again. Each time I am left with a feeling of amazement that he can bring my mind, and body to such an explosive high.

When he was done testing me, he tangled his hand in the mess of my hair, and pulled me up to my bare feet. He pressed my body to a new ornament that was on the wall of the balcony; a Victorian cross. Deftly he strapped me down, my wrists, ankles, calves, knees, and my waist so that I could not move. I was still so intoxicated from how he had just made me feel that blinding ecstasy that I didn't even realize what was happening. He then turned, and as he walked to the iron pot, stripped his tunic off so I could gaze at the way each muscle rippled under that brown flesh. Kings if Goreans believed in mythology one could compare him to a Greek God, or at least that is what he is to me.

Returning to me with the brand in hand, he pressed his free hand against the plane of my feminine belly, and waved the white hot end of the branding iron before my face so that I could see the beautiful, and intricate little dina flower. He allowed the hot metal to again float down so that I could feel the heat against my inner thigh then without warming he pressed it into my supple flesh, high on my left thigh. The blood curdling scream that escaped me must have made anyone that could heard think that I was being killed, or perhaps they would recognize the sound of a girl being branded.

The pain shot through me like a electric fire, and he seemed to hold it there forever. In that very moment I knew I was a branded slave. I had been given his mark; branded by his hand. He finally pulled the iron away from my burning flesh, and tossed it to down, and it clattered across the tiles. The scent of my own burnt flesh wafted up to my nose, and I breathed it in as if it was the sweeties ambrosia I had ever smelled. I was now more his than I'd ever been, and I simply didn't want to come down from that euphoric plane of existances. Again he used my body, and told me that I was his forever now. Had he not known I always had been his? That I would be his until I passed to the city of dust?

He has told me that the brand was nothing special...that I wore the same brand that a thousand other girls wear, but he is wrong. Yes, it was a beautiful little dina, a brand seen on many slaves, but he had branded my body, and my soul with his own hand. It was incredibly special!

I can't stop glowing, and I have found myself many times looking at the brand in the mirror, admiring what I had dreamed of having since the day he placed his collar about the column of my throat. I am now the branded, and collared slut of Agrippa Pontus. No longer do I consider myself a slave scribe, but merely just a slave.

I have emerged from the cocoon to open my wings as the creation of my Master...An ethereal beauty with the soul, and a mind of a molten whore.