The dreams are back

Butterflies.. I see butterflies and pools of blood. I see a handsome young man smeared in it dead on a floor inside of a grand estate house. The worst part was the face of the dark haired woman with the dark eyes pinned in my Master with that devious look in her eyes. She had intent to kill him. I hope my letter reaches him in time. Its revenge... I just dont see for what. The dreams are not always true nor absolute so I am hoping for his sake this one if just a figment of my over active imagination. He's coming home soon.. I just cant wait to kneel at his feet and hold him again. When he returns.. I am giving him back my book. He can read it.. and see... I think its true what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder..

 



I sat today on the stairs leading up to the door of Greystone talking to the guardsman as he did his job. My own chores were finished, and my Master was still in the city at his office so I was waiting for him.. but not..you know? I knew he would be home eventually, and I was content to wait there, to greet him when he arrived.. but I did not think I was overly eager in doing so. The guardsman said I was a liar. I was rather shocked at first but as I sat there thinking about it, he might be right. Have I become the slave I usually make fun of? Waiting like a favored pet at the door for my Master to arrive home so I can bring him his slippers and his news scrolls? A warm fur, build up his fire place, make his favorite places more comfortable.. Shit. I am that slave. Why?

 

I think on it, often, the feelings I have developed for my Master. They scare me.. because the last time I opened up to a man.. and let him have my whole heart.. he freed me and companioned someone else. It was... horrible and it took me this long to finally let him go, and sometimes I wonder if I have truly because I dream of him in the dark of night sometimes when I am alone in my own bed. Its not always good dreams but he is there in my mind still. But I digress, I was speaking of my Master now... Demetri. Builder of Ar. Brother of Divina. Master of me. Sometimes I know its too late. That my heart as well as my body belongs to him but I try sometimes to forget so that I can still have a sane place in my head to fall back to when it all gets to be too much.



Hands Later.

My Master has left Ar.. he had gone to Ar Station and opted to leave me here in Ar with his sister. It was a bitter sweet goodbye... because he didn't tell me he was leaving until the last minute... but in that last night I think I spoke volumes about my feeling for him. Maybe he knows now. When I awoke in the morning be was gone... but there was a note... and my journal.. sometimes I get scared he wont come home. I love him. Its true.. I love him and I miss him terribly. I hide at home when I am finished with my chores because he bid me stay out of trouble and I have known his wrath now.. so I endeavour to do as he asks. When he comes home.. he might just discover my revelation for himself. I drew him a portrait.. and sent it with a letter to Ar Station.. so he can remember me.. maybe it will inspire him to hurry home to us.



Suprise!

He took a damned belt to my ass and whipped me like an impertant child in front of my former Mistresses daughter and the whole of Ar.. fucker. I suppose I might find out the reason for it when he comes home. Is it weird that I was slightly thankful for the reminder? Yes I think it is... I might be going a little crazy..

Thinking Back

As I look back on the time I have known my Master.. and all the times we came into each others presence, the sneaky games my Mistress played, the conversations at the fountain, I remember one thing. My Master has always been separate from me. He was always well spoken and honest, stern when needed, stronger when I was weak, honest to a fault, but always separate. As I reflect on the times we have spent and shared.. Ive noticed that wall has slowly been disintegrating.
I may of displeased him.. I may not be the perfect slave for him... yet. He has said that I need refining.. some fine tuning to better make me the slave be desires me to be. I never would of thought in a million years I would again kneel at the feet of a man and really be worried about such a thing. But when he said he would be working with me... I was scared shitless.. but also almost excited by the fact that he gives enough of a shit to want to change me for the better... to make me his perfect slave. His. Perfect. Slave. 
He had been working long hours at his office. I know it seems corny but I missed just sitting there by the fire watching him work from his desk at the estate so I packed him up a little picnic lunch and I headed into the city towards his public offices. Everyone else was packing up for the day and heading back to their homes, their own women and families so when the last of them walked from within I slipped inside. My Master was hard at work as always so it took him a moment to realize me and my basket had arrived. He called me to him.. and you know me.. I always liked to give him a little show so I made my way over and knelt aside his chair. My Master has this way about him, and I have noticed more so since I have become his own slave, of starring right into the heart of you as you kneel before his feet. Its like... you could be covered in layers of thick concrete and he would still be able to read your core. Anyway he watched me.. and then we spoke. The details of his part are vague to me but its what happened after that that still kicks my ass. He cleared a place on his desk so I could set out his food. I placed the platters of meat and vegetables and biscuits out the way he liked, I was meticulous about the way everything looked.. right down to the two candles I placed on the desk and lit. I got his best wine from the cellar, I popped the cork and filled the finest of his goblets and then when I was finished.. I mearly knelt again out of his way. That's when the shit hit the breeze...
Please remind me to never hand my Master a goblet of wine without the proper offering. Suffice to say I will not be making that mistake again. I have never seen my Master angry in that way before.. His wrath  is not pretty..
He ordered me to serve him properly.. he handed me the goblet.. I could tell my the tick of his lip he was contemplating dumping it on my head.. but instead handed it down to me and demanded proper service. At that moment I saw a light in green eyes I had never seen before... he was pissed. He stood there and watched me as I took the goblet and trailed it over my flesh in a visual offering until it touched my lips. His eyes narrowed then and I lowered my head to offer him the wine. He took it.. and set it aside.. and not a moment later his hand wrapped my wrist and I was on my feet and kissing the top of his desk.. all without spoiling the placement of his supper. It was then that he punished me. He was not gentle, and he did not hold back, he definately enforced upon me his dominion. When he was finished, and we both lay there me smashed below his weight on the desk top I knew.. the wall was down, he would have all of me... and I would have no choice but to tumble into his arms his willing and abject slave, a sponge for every single lesson he wished me to learn.. a reflection of all I would be taught.. moulded in his image and made new.
He is my Master... I am his slave... I think... no I know the more I am in his collar and the more I see behind that wall.. I know without a doubt he sees me... and I love him for that.

 

 

The Jilted Wench

- Written on a scrap of parchment since he had her journal locked in the secret compartment on his desk -

The time for the surprise came.. I gave it my all.. I think.. in the end he was pleased.. and I don't have to wonder if he knows any longer .. how much I already belong to him.

I danced for him. I spent a lot of time working the variables, the best places and ways to make it happen. To surprise him to the best of my abilities.. I talked to people, networked, used my connections in the city and ended up at the Jilted Wench in the Anbar. The Tavern Master has always been fond of me. I nursed his sick child once.. and in the collar I nursed him in more ways then one. He was more then willing to take the coins I offered in order for me to rent his musicians and his private dancing sands in the attic rooms of his tavern and so I dragged my Master, willingly surprising from his work and to the very place I laid it all on the line for him. I danced.. I feigned anger at the stagnantness ( That's my new word ) of my position.. I danced joy at being who and what I finally was.. and in the end.. there was the need to be his.. to be used.. to be owned. He did not disappoint when I sank to my knees in those final moments.. naked and totally vulnerable, arms lifted and offered in total submission.. he took claim of my hand.. and then my body.

He lifted me from the sands and he shifted our bodies so that my ankles were locked around his waist and he was buried inside of me so deep I became a part of the wall. I still have bruises on the places where my vertebrae pressed into the wall.. on my tail bone and my hips.. and I love them. He used my body like he had never before.. claiming me inside and out... the grunts and groans and finally the panted words in my ear left me more so secured in my place. My knowledge that perhaps I am not the only one tangled in this web. I think he knows now..

When we finally made it back to his house, and his rooms, covered in sand and sweat, looking worn out and well used, ( The both of us ) me bruised and bitten and he scratched and perhaps a bit bruised as well, suffering from road rash from the friction against the sand, we collapsed in his furs, and he used me all the more and harder.. made me his again and again until that knowledge was literally over flowing from within.. I whispered in his sleeping ear.. " I love you my Master..My Master. Mine. I am totally yours.. I would be lost now without you.

 " I do not think he heard me.. and I am glad.. I can not have him knowing and use it against me..

 



The Sardar fair.. and learning my true feelings.

My Master and I traveled with the Ar caravan to the Sardar Fair this season. Apparently my Master had never been and he wished to be a part of the merriment it had to offer. Today.. when we arrived we set up our camp within the camp and went exploring. I was exhausted already.. and when we came to the Sparring tent to watch some fights we ran into my former Mistress and her new companion. He is one dashingly handsome fellow.. I can see why my Mistress might deny her claim to Ar to become the elusive Ubara of Cos. Apparently it was the night that their contract for companionship was to be renewed and they asked my Master and I if we would like to witness the occasion. My Master saw how badly I was flagging off and sent me back here to the tents. When I arrived.. I could not sleep to save my life. Is it bad that I have already in this short time become so accustomed to sharing his sleeping couch and his furs that I can not get comfortable or even entertain the notion of sleep without his body securely pressed to the back of my own? That is why I am here now writing here in this book. I can not sleep.. and let me tell you I am exhausted beyond measure.. but my head keeps rolling all kinds of strange thoughts and ideas as to why he is not yet back around.. and its got me too amped to sleep.

( The page was folded as she went back to trying to sleep to no avail.. to be picked up later. )

 

He came back. He smelled of spicy perfume and wine and paga.. I think he may of visited one of the paga tents.. I was worried for his safety and all this time he was off fraternizing with common whores the like. It is not my place as a slave to remind him of what he has so readily already in his tent at home.. but I was tempted. We slept.. or at least I did.. fitfully with my anger dwelling in my chest.. but eventually I slipped from his embrace and taking a couple coins from his pouch I went in search of things I will need for the surprise when we return to Ar. I hope this will wash away any doubts for the both of us how the other may feel...

 

( TO Be Continued ) 

 

Changing of the guard... again.

She sold me. I am his.

( To be Continued )