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.