I care for the Scribe

Today I bear the marks of my Master, upon me are three bite marks.. to my neck, my hip and to my inner wrist, the bruising there fanning out over translucent skin where the veins can be seen. While that sort of pain is not pleasant, it was like the whipping.. I offered myself for more because I was helpless to do otherwise. His control over me excites me to the deepest of places.

I must admit to feeling a bit defeated today. Carefully guarded feelings are no longer mine, my fears having to be said while he tormented me with denial of movement, everything I was experiencing at that moment with the instruction that it would be said and it didn't start out so badly until he asked a direct question for me to answer. After having to tell him that I felt things deeper than before or that I could not remember feeling things as acutely, he then asked me what that said about time with Max and now time with him. I was caught within my own trap, no movement of aroused body to rely on, my having only the avenue of speech. I tried to evade his interrogation by vagueness and I told him I felt lost before and now I did not feel so lost. He left me sitting there, his touch removed and telling he that I was still lost.

At first I was content to sit there by myself for I felt I had come a great way in conveying to him what I was thinking and feeling but knowing he was on the other side of that bathing room door and knowing that I had committed the crime again of half truths.. it was not long before I was crawling to the side of the tub and confessed what had been so hard to say to him. I told him that I had grown to care for him very much and was afraid if I told him this that he would go away, that I didn't want to wander again wishing I could not feel. This ... this.. was the hardest thing ever to say. He told me that he will not go, that I am his property and he has shown that he does not take these things lightly. I earned his touch again, he pushing me to yield to him quite beautifully and his pleasure found in his slave who cares for him very much..

So begins a new day.. I am defeated by my own entrapment. I confess to caring for the Scribe.. I confess my fears by his having this knowledge. His possession of me deepens.. each day I lose more of my defenses, I am sure he thinks this is a good thing... I.. while it is hard to face a man such as he, to strip away everything to give to him .. it is his now to take. With all the clothing I wear, I feel so naked. Naked.. something he likes to see on me....

Today I bear the marks of my Master.. some quite beyond the surface..

The Gift

There was a surprise left upon the mat for me today. Admittedly it was not expected it and it brought the biggest smile. For the longest time I sat there with the silver wrapped package in my lap, my hands running over the paper trying to guess what it might be. I just had no idea what to expect and when the moment hit that I could not wait one more moment, fingers pulled the blue ribbon free - I just could not stand the excitement any further. Within was the most beautiful writing set ever and a note from my Master. The note will be tucked in this book along with the folded paper and ribbon. Already I write this with the beautiful quill.

To me, this is the most beautiful and thoughtful of gifts. This book always available for him to read as I must hide nothing from my Master.. he has said this so I shall obey. At times I try to hide within myself but it seems he will not allow that either. I must be careful with my feelings for him, perhaps I have no control of such things but I feel him drawing me out, requiring to know more about me, to see all of the things I don't let anyone see. The day I was so angry at him I was remiss in the mention of one of the things I spoke to him about. Something I wanted to deny because he did tell me what he desire in my thinking on this and it has been very hard to shift my thinking.

Guilt. I feel guilty for being where I am, I feel guilty happy in the collar that claims me to someone else. That does not mean that I do not love Max any less but it does mean that I am finding happiness. I think of him probably every day, the hurt and anger now begins to fade.. in honesty I think that the fading of these emotions allows me to turn more to my Owner, to serve him better and to feel for the place that I kneel at his feet. I know where Max will end up .. he is a very predictable man, habitually predictable, but I am beginning to come to terms with that. My Master is teaching me many things about the man Maximus Cabot. By example he does this, he does not have to say a word. My Master is teaching me many things about the woman called bela. Speaking slave is turning out to be a very hard thing to do but the one thing very clear of this exercise is that it keeps my mind on him and the lessons that he places me under.

Yes. I am very happy at my Masters feet.

He said last that I was not to feel guilty for being happy, that I was to serve him because he now owned me and I am in service to him. Each day that passes this is so much easier for me to obey.

Last night I served in the house of Caed and was taken with him to another house to serve, it is owned by a man called Rejar. It was an interesting evening as I saw the woman Mahalah.. hopefully she will not remember that I was the bela of Jaren, or that if she already remembers this that she just could not care less. One thing a bit distressing... the Master Jaeden asked the Master Caed if he could keep me. Thankfully Master Caed said no... kings, I would just be a miserable woman if taken from my Master.

I have known this but it was last night when Master Jaeden said this that I was struck with fear of being taken away from the Scribe. That would be the worst thing that could happen to me..

Gift from her Master

The shell must have an exit

While absorbing my Masters wishes of me I would have to admit to wrestling with a few emotions on the subject. Yes, in a way I want him to want me all to himself, to selfishly keep me from another mans touch, to be that prize in which only he delights in. I do know the role of a slave in society, very well I know this. Seeing Caed once more did remind me what kind of slave I used to be. I tried to read that note that Master wrote to Caed but could not see what was written. My Master did see a bit of that flirty side and it seemed to put a smile on his face yet I do not understand it. I am so conflicted but I imagine that would have a lot to do with so many years as a free woman and Max keeping me to himself. He did say I would serve other men at the end but that was because he was off doing whatever it was he does. Now, I have a Master who is part of my life, teaching me what it is I will be to him. It is daunting but so very exciting. I wake in the night dreaming of him and turn to listen to him breathing while I imagine myself beneath him, feeling his touch .. his weight. I realize with him that there is much of me that has gone dormant.

I try to see myself through my Masters eyes. I try to see myself as he spoke of his desires for me. Over the years I have become very shy and more than likely to watch other slaves service the men, myself very content to do so. I was watching some slave girls in my wanderings and took the time to study the habits of slaves that may not have been held to one man or a free woman. By watching them I learned that I have become very reserved in personality and that I have become more of a companion sort of slave. There are many men in which I have held conversation with in recent times but I have been happy just to talk to them, to tease them and enjoy them from a distance while keeping them company by conversation. I did not seek more. One man had made comment to that by mentioning he was surprised that I was not trying to seduce him but I did not know how to answer him. I was content as I was. One man did take me away for use before my Master purchased me and though I enjoyed the conversation I was of the mind to rush off home when it came to the use of my body. I didn’t, I serviced the man and well but my heart was not into it.

More recently, perhaps I am coming out of my shell a bit. I squirmed well against Caed last night when he kissed me goodbye, but I think it is easy to respond to the familiarity, he was a man I always enjoyed serving. Too, his son I followed around the arena for a bit and was comfortable with him, in actuality I am very comfortable around men, I just do not seek more. There was a man who I served in the main room of the house, I do not know who he was but I displayed myself well for him, hoping he and my Master would be pleased. The woman Sekret was thinking about luring me with the idea of trinkets for stories of old on the heathen Master, Caed. This could be a very lucrative deal for me.

Once back to my Masters room I crawled to his sleeping form and curled at his feet. I am missing him while he works long into the nights, he is a very busy man. As I laid at the feet of my Master, that kiss still felt to my lips, it was a slave I felt like and there is such a contentment settling inside. It is good to be owned by this man, it is good to be back in Port Kar. I do miss and think of my children often, finding I ache for them constantly but I know Aris will see to their well being, he is a good man.

Rebirth of a slave

It was the hardest thing to decide in the first place. I had to give up my hard won status of a free woman, my businesses of wineries.. I was very good at my chosen profession. The hardest thing of all was my children. They would not longer be mine. I think of them and Aris often, wonder where they have gone. When I submitted to Marcus.. he was a man who made me feel like a slave but he did not have the ability to get into the places the scribe seems to find and take possession without a thought. With Max I knew that it would be the easy life of a pampered slave so the decision of being a slave really wasn't all daunting..

Now with the scribe.. there is such a mix of excitement and fright. He wants to see the slave he has not seen and said he will bring her out in me and that I will learn not to think free and as his equal. He said he wanted to see what he had not seen before, use it for his pleasure and exploit it. How can I argue with that. I want to please him, before I wanted them to please me.

I balked when he said today that he would make my use available to a few ... this makes me nervous.. for the longest time I have been a one man woman. Granted I was free and it wasn't proper, plus I was completely devoted to my Companion. Once Max's slave again, being put out for use of other men usually meant a punishment and so when he said this I was sure I had been found displeasing in some way and I closed up feeling very distressed.

My anger was challenged today.. I felt insulted that perhaps he felt I could not be trusted and that he felt that I was shopping for a Master. For the first time that I remember in a very many years, I have a home.. I think He is the best thing to happen to me in the longest of time. Why would I want to lose that.... He made me speak my anger, that I would have no secrets from him.. I insulted him as well and when he spoke his view on things... well.. I do understand.

My Master, he can be so kind... these have been the hardest three days that I can remember and wept this to him as he comforted me for just a moment while not stepping back in just who was in control. How is it I suffer so by his training, his decisions yet it draws me more to him... begging and seeking, utterly miserable in my slavery yet so glad I am here.

I have become a woman of hiding, one who sits back and watches the world, lives just on the surface. Secretly, I miss that bela of old.

He makes me hunger.

Confessions

I sit and stare at this page....

I do not know where to begin.. I am not sure what it is but yesterday something overwhelming happened to me. He studies me, he asks me questions and he holds a conversation with me seeking the information about me that he desires. He listens to what I say, he watches how I respond to him yet, I am not sure he thinks I want to be with him... he is certain that I will someday beg to be sold to a warrior.....

He took me to a place I am not sure I have experienced and when I think back to Marcus... bound to the pole, his whip of my breasts and his rape... he did not even scratch the surface of the slave that I will be with the man, the Scribe.

I feel like I have been cut open and he is reaching in and dragging out a woman who is screaming and trying to go back into her shell.. the first light in her eyes so painful, consuming to the bone and so breathtaking that I am left so confused. I feel so alive, so raw.. so needful yet maybe some parts of me tries to continue to hide.

As he spoke to me, he allowed me against him and I enticed his desires by doing what came natural.. pressing me away from him he stood and led me into his room and once there I was a woman out of control, at his feet, servicing with a hunger from the connection made on the beach yet instead of taking his fill of me he pushed me away and ordered me to the ring in the corner and by wrist I was shackled.. it is quite something to be so vulnerable and helpless to a man and I will confess that I was hot and quite willingly displaying like a whore to earn my slave rape but he instead took a kurt to my flesh.

He seemed to take great delight in this but not in a sadistic way.. Master of slave and her body, he put me though my paces and found I writhed well under he and his whip. He asked if Max had been equally pleased by my writhing, saying I yielded well. I told him Max had never whipped me amid the turmoil yet so responsive body. I think this amused him and he said it was another of Max's mistakes as in such a state, I was beautiful. I will not say I understand what makes a man tick.. I do not understand why he thought me so beautiful at that moment but I do know I felt it and begged blantantly for sexual use. He took me as he was inspired to take me as he pleased, he was harsh and business like, using me simply, nothing more with the command that I was not to release.

Afterward, he put upon me his desires, for three days I can not touch him, I shall eat from his hand.. I shall sleep shackled to the ring. I accepted this, what choice did I have and besides.. I have spent many hands away from Max at the time so three days is a pittance. Yet, why did I seem happy by all of this .. being deprived and such.

He is a man to ponder.

Silence in a Schendi Garden

The ship arrived to Schendi without incident. Master kept me belted unless with him privately in his quarters and there seems plenty of work for me to do while we travel. He has business there that he takes care of himself.

After dinner I accompanied him to a garden and while my attention seemed to be on some bushes that caught my attention as well as the rest there, he garnered that attention to him with a grasp of my hair and a turn into his thigh. Yet it was once that we were alone that he surprised me yet again. Turning me to the bench he positioned me with the instruction that I was to be silent.. that if I made a sound he would take that as my displeasing him. It was the greatest of challenges to be silent while he touched me intimately and pushed my body to speak for itself.. not to be dependent on the pleasure sounds of a slave in heat.

At first I felt it was a sexual control and his desires of me to be silent but I learned quickly it went well beyond that, I was to use my body to speak the things I might say and while I looked at this as an exercise in silence, it was my body speaking so loudly and beyond the arousal he pressed upon me. I wanted to please him beyond the physical gratification so did so with that body of a slave girl. I was not prepared for how vulnerable I suddenly was, not in a physical way but his voice whispered to my ear, his touch just right making me squirm and writhe for more of his touch.. my Master exposed a place in me that was not his to have. Yes, I am a slave with an agenda. I want to serve and like the man.. I don't wish to feel again because of the hurt that sort of activity brings. I did not plan to give him a tear in my protective layers but that flaw must have been there to be found.

He is undermining my steadfast plan to not care again. He seems to know what to do to make me slip up and show myself and the most recent crime of his was that he brought me with him to Schendi.. he didn't leave me behind. On most occasions I am left behind.. he diffused my argument that he might just disappear by not even discussing it with me... just waking me when it was time to board the ship.

When he took his slave there in the darkness, that beautiful garden of the sweetest scented flowers.. the humidity thick in the air making my skin damp and hot to the touch, without a sound I yielded to him unlike I have to him yet, it was more than a hot slave finding release, it was a body speaking for the slave things she does not wish to say. He said next he would have me speak by word and I simply dread that day.

Where did my Master come from.. was it my fate that he would simply show up in my life?

The Scribe.. .. my Master.

Canvas for an Artist

My Master excites me. He caught me primping today and teased me saying he didn't know I needed to be primped in order to be beautiful, the Scribe has a wonderful sense of humor. He said I was non-refundable so would have to deal with the playful reasons why I needed to primp! As he sat at his furs I crawled to him and crawled like a sensual beast on the prowl -- his gaze upon me told me just how he enjoyed watching me come to him in such a way and as I tipped up to kneel then, splayed and luscious he in turn placed me back to my hands and knees and as the finishing touch the camisk I wear was whisked off of me to billow around my knees to rest. He is a subtle man and touched me in the slightest yet pulled so much from me without much effort, it did not take long before I was indeed feeling his presence before he was up and walking away to his desk, returning with ink and quill.

Once he settled beside me, he began to draw and make art out of his slave called, bela. What I found was an intimacy that I had not experienced from such an activity. He took his time making his drawings just as he wanted them, waiting for the ink to dry and while he worked on this art he found his slave relaxing under his touch, approaching an arousal that is simply not comparable to sexual arousal of just sex. I think that unassuming Scribe ventured further into a woman that I did not think could be penetrated past a certain point. Once he was finished and satisfied he then got some water and a cloth and washed the ink from my body... this was done with a minor change in my position as it was obvious I was a very soft and needful slave.. my cheek pressed to the fur as he continued to touch me, washing my skin clean of the ink. Once finished he pushed me down to the fur and rolled me over to my back. As I lay there looking up at him I realized that primping was not really a needed activity for at that moment I had never felt so beautiful as I did right there, flushed, warm, writhing beneath his gaze as he stood there watching what he had done to the woman he owns.

He said perhaps when the warmer weather came that he would paint a mural of a slave that looked like me, posing as I was for him, this time on my back it would be in color with a warrior or tarnsman watching this slave. He said something exciting... as I lay there I could do nothing but look up to a man that excited me more at that moment than I had been in a long time. He is different then most of the men I have known. He is taking his time and unwrapping me from outside to in.. digging for that hidden woman that he will possess. I told him how he excited me and he chuckled swearing me to secrecy.

Why our paths met, I will never know....