An Idea formulated from a story read (Pieces of her Story)

It had been nearly six hands since she, started saving up for something she had spied in a little shop in the Market District of Ar. It had been in a display case with other odds and ends items. When she inquired about the item, the Merchant, who had been fairly nice to her, took it out and handed it over for her to have a closer look. Of course he could see she was nothing more than a slave, and slaves, for the most part, had no money, or property of their own.

"Do you know a sailor?" He would ask her. A slow smile graced delectable tiers as she nodded in response. "Yes, Master. I do know a sailor. How much do you want for it?" The merchant let out a boisterous laugh. "You cannot afford such a thing, slut. But if I were to humor you, I'd let you have it for two copper tarns. And I would even throw in that compass you were looking at earlier for free." Elizabeth knew that he was probably asking too high a price, but she so did want to give her Master something special. "Will you hold the items until I can save up enough money to buy them from you?"

The merchant looked from her to the man that was idly looking at things in the shop. He had seen the man follow scribbles into the shop, and was now curious. "Is this you beast?" Canoos, who was scribble's handler when her Master wasn't about, shook his head laughing. "She belongs to Agrippa Pontus, Administrator of Port Cos. I am just a guard in the unit that looks out for his estate. She," pointing to scribbles, "is part of said estate."

Looking back to scribbles, the merchant agreed. "I will hold them, but you will bring something to put down on the items each week. If, at the end of eight hands, you have not paid for them in full, I will keep what you have paid and the items. Do you agree to these terms?" He was a crafty merchant, and seen it as a way to earn coin, and keep the items.

Without hesitation and without much thought scribbles struck a deal, “Agreed!" Handing the item back to him, she offered him an ebullient smile, and was off to try to figure out how she was going to raise enough money to buy the items within the span of eight hands.

Of course this is where Canoos would come in. 'Crafty devil.' Even he had seen this as an opportunity to make some coin.

Each hand scribbles would make her way to the shop and turn over what coin she had earned. It wasn't much, especially after Canoos took his cut. By the end of the sixth hand she became discourage as she still owed a full copper tarn on the items. Going to the merchant she struck up yet another deal. He would make use of her skills as a scribe to get his records in order. They were in a horrible mess! It seemed she spent every waking free ahn she had at the merchant's shop, and it was beginning to become evident that she was up to something. She seemed, at the most inopportune time to be distracted when serving her Master, Agrippa. He even asked her, quite off handedly, where she was off to each day, but before she could answer the question put to her he had turned to speak to someone else. An arrow was dodged.

At the end of eight hands, scribbles was fairly certain she had met the goal, and went to collect the items from the Merchant. He brought her into his back office, and informed her that there would be only one way that he would give her the items that she had paid for by letting men use her for a few coppers. Sitting back in his chair, and parting his knees, he looked at her. "If you can pleasure me by only using your mouth, I will let you have the items, and send you on your way. Either way you will be sent on your way, the question is if it will be with those items you seemed so intent of having, are in your hand."

He had no idea what he had just agreed to, and just a hint of a devious smile touched lush tiers.

Scribbles would leave later that evening with said items. Did the merchant really think that the Administrator of Port Cos kept her because of her ability to keep books? No, there was much more to the demure slave scribe...so very much more.

The Necklace (Journal)

Had I known what the necklace was worth I probably would have been more apprehensive that I would not make it back to the house alive with it still about my throat.

As I was making my way to the square there was a suddenly shaking of the earth beneath my feet. I would later learn that there had been a great explosion at the docks, and this was what had the people running wildly through the streets. Children were crying, women were screaming, and men where shouting commands. I myself was stunned, and still stood were I had when the ground seemed to move. It was then, from across the cobble stone road that a man shouted at me to come to him.

I made my way through the crowd to the man, someone ran into me knocking my book from my hand, but I didn't dare stop to try to retrieve it. As I drew closer I recognized the man as one I had seen in the Inn only a few hands ago. He questioned me, asking if I were the slave of Agrippa Pontus which I replied that I was. He then placed a heavy, jeweled necklace about my collared throat, and pressed a piece of rence paper down between my breasts into my cleavage. "Give Agrippa my regards," he said before pressing a harsh kiss to my lips. Before I could utter a single word the Master turned and vanished with the same woman I had seen him with at the Inn that night.

I took a short cut to the house, leaving the main road, to take a well worn path through the woods. I had taken a very treacherous chance, but I felt apprehensive about having the necklace about my throat, and wanted nothing more to get it to my Master posthaste. When I reached the house instead of finding my Master right away I paused to look in one of the massive hanging mirrors in the main room at my reflection. I was taken aback by what I saw! The necklace was laden with what looked to be emeralds and diamonds!

It was then that I heard my Master's voice at the front of the house, speaking to someone at the door. The voices grew more clear as they moved into the main room, and when I spied the man and woman from the square I hid behind one of the columns in the great room. I listened as the man explained to my Master that he had sent him a gift by way of one of his slaves. My Master then called out for me as soon as he deducted that I was the dark haired, blue eyed slut that the Master was describing.

Stepping from behind the column Master Connor moved to me, and removed the necklace from about my neck and scolded me for not doing what I had been told to do. I wanted to protest! I had only arrived a few ehns before they to the house! When he flashed his teeth at me, I could see that they had been slightly filed, and it was then that a cold chill ran down my spine. He mention casually to my Master of wanting to perhaps make use of me when next he returned to Pork Cos, and that comment seemed to make my blood run cold.

I can not put my finger on it, but there was something about Master Connor that is ... foreboding.

Just as quickly as they had come, the Master and the Free Woman, they were gone. I was left to try to explain to my Master what had transpired, and I gave him the piece of rence paper, that Master Connor had tucked down between my breasts.

Agrippa,

I know I promised you a bit of intrigue, but once again I find myself in need to leave your fair city. Not without a gift perhaps. You will find a map through your under ground lake there is a portal where riches like the one your slave wears and more are. Perhaps it will pay for the repairs.

See you Soon

The Apothecary

Abduction (Journal)

When I was stolen from the park I could not fathom the turn of events that would follow. I had only been in the company of Master Cyrus twice, and truly knew little of him. I would quickly come to learn that he is a vile man, and his men are no better.

My Master had witness my abduction. It was a matter of being at the wrong place at precisely the wrong moment. He knew were Master Cyrus would go, and it did not take him long to come for me, but it would be no easy feat to obtain his property from the thief. By time he reached the old fortress Master Cyrus had drug me into the arsenal and chained me to the wall, but I could see the gates that had been locked behind us.

I could see my Master at the gates, hands coiled about the wrought-iron bars shaking them.

“Let her go Cyrus. The girl did nothing to you. It’s land and power you want, and holding her won’t get that for you.”

I listened to Master Cyrus state his demands for my release, and my heart sank. He wanted control of something from Master Lucian, a man who thought me an unruly slave. My Master shouted to me to, 'Stay alive. I will return for you!' through the locked gates of the old fortress and then he turned away and climbed up onto his mount and rode away; vanishing. I thought in that instant that I would die. Would it be the last command I would ever hear from him?! I cried out for him to come back, to not leave me, but he was gone.

"Beg to suck my black cock you whore of a kur!"

I would not beg, and as a result I was whipped with a heavy kurt. I suppose I should be thankful that he did not choose the whip instead. He berated me over and over, and screamed at me to 'Beg!' I sobbed only for him to stop.

"Is that what they call begging in the house of Agrippa?!"

He hissed at me and proceeded to whip me again. After an ahn he finally broke my resolve to not bend to his will, crushing me, breaking me under the whip, and he heard from me the words he wanted to hear, but they were such hollow, empty words.

It was then that he was distracted by his torture of me by someone at the gates; raona. He left me and moved to the gate where he reached through and grabbed her by her neck. She passed him a message and he opened it and pressed it against the gate while still holding her by the neck. He crumbled the piece of rence paper up and tossed it down to the ground. I don't know what the message said, but he unchained the gates and pulled raona in. He drug her to where I was chained and what he did next I could not believe; he released me.

"Go to your master and tell him you begging for cock but were not pleasing!"

I had remained alive, I had not pleased him, and I had, in a sense, won.

It was self preservation that got me through that gauntlet of men as they spat upon me, kicked dirt into my eyes, and assaulted me. It broke my heart that I had to abandon raona, leave her to the devices of this sleen, and I could hear her screaming, but I could only think of one thing; Him. I had to get back to my Master! I had to see his face again! I had to feel his touch! I had to show him that I had followed his command, and lived! I can never explain how I felt when I made my way through that gate to find him waiting for me on the other side. He had come back for me just as he said he would.

I would later learn that raona was exchanged for me. It was she that Master had Cyrus had wanted all along, but I secretly want to believe that my Master wanted me back at his feet because he could not stand the thought of losing me. I am so bound to him, so feebly fettered to him through invisible bonds.

A Night in Bondage (Pieces of her story)

For the first half ahn she writhed in her pitiful state of bondage, and with each movement the rope would roll to one side, or the other of her clitoris. The perfect tempo of swirling her hips was found, and she dry humped that rope like a slut with a mission. He had reduced her to behaving like an animal who had an itch that needed to be scratched. His slumber was disturbed with a throaty groan that escaped lush lips when she finally found release into that sublime pleasure. She then whimpered to be untied for the next half ahn. Finally after an ahn she fell quiet, resigned to the fact that she would be sleeping bound at the foot of her Master's bed; a first for her.

It would be a long, almost painful night in his bonds. She slept off an on, sometimes waking to just lay there in the dark, and listen to his inhale and exhale of breaths. She was beginning to feel the soreness set in at having to lay bound in that position on her knees, wrists tied behind her back, ropes intricately looped around her ankles, and her body. The need to feel the warmth of his body, to hold her breath when he stirred, to be able to watch him as he slept, as she had done so many times in the past...that was the agonizing part.

Agrippa had been the only man to ever tap into Elizabeth's psyche, and it had begun the first night her met her. Like a master sculpture he had slowly chipped away at her to reveal what lay beneath that demure persona. Not even she herself knew the depths at which he could find ways to control her, but she was slowly beginning to learn. His hold on her was deepening, a thing she did think was even possible. Just when she thought he could see no deeper into her soul he found another secret door, opened it, and stepped through.

The Fall of a Scribe (Pieces of her Story)

Marcus was an older man with a disarming charm. Elizabeth took to him instantly, and admired him often from afar. That was until one day, while in the great library of Woodhaven she caught his eye. From that day on he set his sights on her. Slowly he gained her trust with little gifts, and tokens of affection; a bouquet of flowers here, a hand sewn handkerchief there.

It was late in the library, and she was studying one of the oldest of its books. Elizabeth was admiring the hand written pages when Marcus crept up behind her. “Well if it isn’t the sweet Elizabeth.” She turned, startled, looking at him with wide eyes, and then smiled. “Marcus, you frightened me.” They had progressed past the point of ‘Lady’ and ‘Sir’. He stepped closer, and leaned her back over the book she had been looking at. “Do you still desire that I teach you how to be a real woman, how to make those young men desire you as their companion, Elizabeth?” For several hands Marcus had flirted with the young girl, and hinted at teaching her things she would never learn from her young suitors.

He slipped into her hand a satin bag. “Take this. Go into the field at the edge of the city behind the old mill, and put these things on. You see the secret is being able to become a slave to a man’s desires.” Elizabeth tried to squirm away, “What if I am caught?” He lifted a finger and pressed it to her lips. “Sh, this will be our little secret.”

Elizabeth took the satin bag, and made her way to the field. Drawing it open she saw that it held red enamel collar, and a set of crimson silks. Her pulse was racing as she donned the silks, and placed the collar about her throat without locking it. She lay back in the tall grass and waited for the man who promised to teach her things she had only heard other girls whisper about. In her thrill, and excitement she began to touch herself.

One can imagine her horror when Marcus appeared to her as she was masturbating. He had brought other men with him, and they were looking down at the scribe in all her lewd beauty. “Look at her. She is a slut, and she doesn’t even know it.” The other men chuckled and leered at her with a look that she had never seen in the eyes of men. It was in that moment, on that patch of grass in an open field, with those men looking at her with lust filled eyes, that she knew what she was; a slave to men.

“Put your robes on, Elizabeth,” Marcus commanded. Humiliated Elizabeth did as she was told. “Look at the way she is blushing, is she not beautiful in her innocence?” he said to the other men. When she was dressed he reached out, and pulled her back against his chest, his warm lips against the shell of her ear.

"You have been caught behaving like a slave, and now you will become one." Marcus hissed into her ear as he held her from behind. "You will be stabilized as you are, young and ripe, and men far worse than I will take pleasure in defiling you Elizabeth Mary Kedemar."

Unspoken Sensual Tension (Journal)

There is this underlying sensual tension between my Master and I that I cannot even begin to put into words. When we do not utter a single word to one another, the tension is there. When we do not even glance at one another, the tension is there. When we are in the same room, and he is conversing with another, and I am serving another, the tension is there. We know it…we feel it. Whether or not others sense it, or if it is just our little secret, I’m not sure.

I have learned when I am serving he is always watching me. Because of this I have learned to serve others as if I am serving him. I started out fighting, but no more. I am still learning to balance on that sharp blade though, to serve with just the right amount of sensuousness and obedience, but not so much that a man wants to make use of me. It is a fine line that I am made to walk for if one really wanted to use me for the night I’m not sure if my Master would say no. Bring him honor, and then return to him, that is my purpose in life, right?

Last night, after spending some time watching Mistress Ostia punish her girl mara my Master stole me away. He always makes threats to hurt me, but he never does, or at least hasn’t yet. With me he is gentle, and loving. It was another night of kissing, bodies caressing, testing how long we could go without being consumed with passion. It is as if we dance right up to the edge, and then pull back just in the nick of time. It keeps the rope tight, the tension on the surface, heated and felt. I am not sure why it is, but every time I spend time with my Master it is like the first time we have ever touched.

He told me that he was falling in love with me, and I tried to pick apart his words. I will never again do that to him. I am learning to trust him, as he is learning to trust me; trust and patience. I have a feeling that this comes hard for him, why I’m not sure. Last night I decided to give in, and take the journey with him.

A Bath with Bubbles (Journal)

He indulges me in ways he probably shouldn’t. The other night, while drawing his bath, he let me add bubbles. He knew I had been spending time at the library reading on what was the best way to blend certain substances which would create the most copious bubbles. He knew that I had spent the better part of the day down in the kitchen experimenting with different recipes. So he allowed me to test what I had come up with in his bath.

As he stood half in, half out of that warm bath topped with mountains of bubbles he told me to strip, and I did. I have learned that it is please to him to watch me remove my silks, the slower the better. After I had removed my silks, and was kneeling he drew me to the tub’s edge, bent me over it, and whipped me with his bare hand. I tried not to cry, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve have never been ‘spanked’ before, and he did not let up until I was red from the top of my hip down to the lower portion of my thigh.

Afterwards he allowed me into his bath and we simply soaked and talked. I had expected him to use me well, but he did not. It would probably amaze most to know how much my Master enjoys just simply conversing. He is an enigma I am still trying to figure out. There is so much to him that he keeps hidden, but I find he is slowly beginning to trust that I am here for him, and only him.

Disastrous Dinner Party (Journal)

How Long had I Waited for His Collar? (Journal)

How long had I waited for this night, the night that he would make me his personal slave? Master Agrippa has had me serve him while I remained a slave in the slaving house for over many a hands. I've come to know others of the city, those that he surrounds himself with. There are so many, after all he is the Administrator of the city!

The first time I saw the collar was in his office at the Inn. He had retrieved it from one of his desk drawer. We left the Inn, and made our way to the Pharos, that collar was in his hand. It was laid on the couch next to him as he had me serve his pleasures. I had made myself available to him, to his every whim for some time now. Neither of us said a word about that collar, and I was sent away that night. Yet I was sent away with a glimmer of hope that he actually found me, the simply slave scribe, desirable.

He had let me glimpse the collar for the second time about a couple of hands ago. He taunted me with it. While I was doing my work at a low table he pulled in front of his desk, he pulled open a drawer and withdrew the collar. He tossed it to the top of the low table. In an instant I felt my heart rate climb, and my breaths quicken. I looked to him, then the collar. I reached out and picked the collar up, traipsing the tips of my fingers over the cool steel.

"Did I tell you, you could touch it?!"

He snapped at me and yanked the collar away, putting it back in the drawer, and slamming it closed. I wanted to cry out, and beg him to forgive me! It felt as if I had been thrown a life preserver and a huge wave crashed over me and ripped it from my grasp.

The third time I was allowed to lay eyes on that collar was a night I shall never forget. I was working late for him in the office at the Inn. He caught me looking at a tattoo on his shoulder; I had never noticed it before. He pulled his chair away from the desk, and his strong arms seemed to beckon me to him. Once I was kneeling between his thighs he drew open that draw. My heart was thudding against the inside of my chest. He withdrew a straight razor and flicked it open. He drew it to the column of my throat, and I swallowed hard. If he ended my life, I would have died knowing that I found the one true Master that made my heart soar, him.

He slowly cut the leather collar that encircled my throat; it fell to rest on my shoulder, and then slithered down my silks before hitting the floor next to my knee. He coiled his strong hands around my throat, and I could feel the warmth of them. He could probably feel the beat of my heart in the veins in my neck. He drew his hands away, and took the collar out from the draw and settled it to the edge of the desk.

"You know it has been long enough it is almost like it doesn't matter whether that collar is on you or not. I mean, whose my scribbles right? You're my scribbles. That collar is just a collar."

"I will forever be your scribbles, Master."

He was right, the collar was just a collar. He made me understand he owned me without it being around my throat.

He drew my hands up and kissed the tips of each of my fingers, all ten of them, even the ink stained ones. He then let me touch the collar, feel the notches on the edge of the steel. It was inscribed with my name 'Elizabeth' and hanging from it was a tag that had the word 'scribbles!' on it. With the aid of his hand we both lifted the collar and placed it about my throat. I heard and felt the tumblers fall into place, and click close with a solid sound.

"Scribbles. You are so mine."

He then claimed me with the most passionate kiss. I think I have been his from that first night when he brought me back to the pharos with him and his sensual slave glory.

That night I was allowed to see a tender side of my Master. He spoke such beautiful words to me. These words I will not even put down to paper as they were for me, my ears only. I hold them in my heart, safe. They were his gift to me. I am fully aware that he is a hard man, and perhaps that is why I am so in love with him. He pushes me beyond the limits I thought I had. He likes to see me blush; he knows it is something I have no control over. He teases me, makes me cry, and my tears seem to please him, so I no longer hold them back.

I am now the slave of Agrippa Pontus, his slave scribe, his Elizabeth, his scribbles.

A Master and His Slave (Journal)

The night was sultry and I went to the cliffs in hopes of feeling a breeze rise up over the edge of the rocks. After cooling off for in the wind a few ehns I settled near a small fire that another had built, the book I had with me was lowered to my lap. I was reading about theories of why some free women sought to have a collar about their throat. You see, I was one of those women.

I was deeply engrossed on the section of 'Masters and their slaves' when a real flesh and blood Master and his slave arrived to join me near the fire. I watched him with his slave. He was handsome, she was beautiful, and together they were harmonious. I found myself unable to pull my gaze away from them, and I suppose he saw the way I was watching with curious eyes.

"What are you reading, slave," he asked. I timidly closed the leather bound book and blushed when he addressed me. "I am reading about Masters and their slaves."

There was no change in the expression upon his countenance, only a sudden snap of his fingers and a command given. "Heel glory, and you too slave."

I climbed to my sandaled feet and I followed that Master and his slave. When we arrived at what I assumed was their abode he taunted my slave belly with the way he touched his slave glory in my presences. The slave smoldered, and he was the fire that made her do so. I think he knew exactly what he was doing to me. He could see how I couldn't stop staring, how I blushed profusely; I could not tear my gaze away.

He dismissed me from their presences and told me to meet him at the Inn the next day. He had bewitched me and I was unable to sleep all that night. I tossed and turned upon the meager furs that were provided to me by the house I was a slave in. I felt unusually hot that night and found myself outside at the fountain, the three moons bathing my nude form as I sat on the stone edge. I dipped my hands into the cool water, drawing handfuls up to splash upon my collared neck and breasts.

Lar-torvis could not exchange places with the moons fast enough, I wanted…no need, to see this Master again.