Today, it rained off and on as it has been doing since Summer faded to Autumn. As the Gods poured buckets on my head, I spotted a woman carrying far too many things, with no cloak. I'm not sure why, but I felt a pang of sympathy for her and offered to carry some of her things for her.
I spent the rest of the day with Kiana, following her about and watching what she did. We eventually met up with her slave, Felcor, and I have to admit, hearing him call her Mistress struck a chord in me, making me miss Master all the more.
Felcor is nice, but when Miss Kiana dismissed us for dinner, I...slipped up. It's not entirely my fault! Seventeen years without a name, nineteen years without me, mine, I...I was not a person. I was not a person except in my head! My speech is practiced, and even four years of being on my own, it is hard to curb my tongue to pretend to be normal...
So Felcor knows I was a slave, am a slave in my mind, will be a slave again...probably soon. I hope soon. Even Miss Kiana seems nice, and I am not overly fond of women. In fact, I saw that awful lady, Orabelle, for the first time in years and I had to resist the urge to bolt. The brand on my thigh burned anew and the indignation of her coaxing me softly to spread my legs for her in the bath....I do not like that woman.
I simply wish to be in Master's arms again. This is too much for me. This world is too large, and while I try to make it smaller, it seems only to grow. Oh Master, why did you have to die? I miss you so...
Friday, February 6, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
This slave: Wretched Freedom
I couldn't bare to write in here for the longest time.
It stayed in the little bag at my waist with my quill and my ink while I enjoyed a brief stay with the couple Mistress Wendiharan sold me to.
That was so very long ago. I'm so very removed from the time when two consecutive Masters died and my Mistresses did not want me. I sold my dress, my collar, my leash to survive. I did not know what else to do. I do not know what else to do. I have scraped by, barely, and I have learned not to be seen. I am small, and when I am dirty as I often am, they barely notice me. I am afraid to go into the Square, near the baths. I am afraid of the men in the baths, their leers and the women's glares. The few times I have tried, the idle remarks and the general unfriendliness has caused me tears, which...is very embarrassing. I do not do it often.
It is difficult to get things to eat, but I mend things, and I can cook a little bit. The people in the alleyways are grateful for someone who can read them things and mend their tents, but most of them are very unkind. I tried for a little while to be a whore, but I was so ashamed after the first week that I just gave up. Besides, some were questioning the brand on my thigh.
I have decided: Freedom is ridiculous. Once a slave, always a slave. The Tyeni have it right, and I was not made for this scraping, grasping wretched life outside of bonds. I will turn myself in, and they will deal the cards accordingly.
It stayed in the little bag at my waist with my quill and my ink while I enjoyed a brief stay with the couple Mistress Wendiharan sold me to.
That was so very long ago. I'm so very removed from the time when two consecutive Masters died and my Mistresses did not want me. I sold my dress, my collar, my leash to survive. I did not know what else to do. I do not know what else to do. I have scraped by, barely, and I have learned not to be seen. I am small, and when I am dirty as I often am, they barely notice me. I am afraid to go into the Square, near the baths. I am afraid of the men in the baths, their leers and the women's glares. The few times I have tried, the idle remarks and the general unfriendliness has caused me tears, which...is very embarrassing. I do not do it often.
It is difficult to get things to eat, but I mend things, and I can cook a little bit. The people in the alleyways are grateful for someone who can read them things and mend their tents, but most of them are very unkind. I tried for a little while to be a whore, but I was so ashamed after the first week that I just gave up. Besides, some were questioning the brand on my thigh.
I have decided: Freedom is ridiculous. Once a slave, always a slave. The Tyeni have it right, and I was not made for this scraping, grasping wretched life outside of bonds. I will turn myself in, and they will deal the cards accordingly.
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