Way down here I think of you..

How many years have passed us by since I last saw your face? Every spring the cherry trees bloom again and I scratch another mark upon my heart. I know you are here, I can feel you in the city, I hear whispers about a man like you. Sometimes, when I am walking, I pause and look behind me and I look up and I think just maybe I have caught a glimpse of your dark shadow. The blue in my eyes shines and all the breath in my lungs escapes me like I want to escape.. and follow you.

Are you watching me?

I want to throw down my basket, dash it to the cobblestone streets of this bustling city and climb the bricks and stones and towers until I find you and I can beg you for just one more of those kisses. And then another. And then another. Even if you hurt me for it. Even if you have to hate me for it. I love you enough for both of us. I love you enough to forget where you came from. Enough to make it not matter. Enough to break my own mind and throw off my chains.

But that's a silly joke, isn't it? Throw off my chains. What good would I ever be without my chains? Won't you come down and lock them up again? Push me down, lock me up, put me in your pretty cage. Come down to the ground and touch my hair. I'll tell you all my secrets and all my lies and all my truths if you would just come back down to the ground.

"Frigid the forgettable" The bald slave calls me when I drop the pot of cream, when she catches me looking too long out of the bakery window. I no longer smell of lye and bleach and astringent. Now I smell like sugared plums and tart icings. Sometimes the cloud of flour obscures my freckles and she and I will dance around the kitchens and pretend.. pretend we are the women of handsome men, rich men.. men who will touch us and show kindness. I've told her about you. She calls me a foolish slave. A woman's slave. But we smile. the bald nameless slave is the closest I have come to a friend since.. since Eliza fell to the collar. Since I lost my mind.

But I smile, everyday, because sometimes I still see you, out of the corner of my eye, watching me as I kneel by the fountain, selling pastries and tarts and hard candies. My Mistress demands I keep my hair tightly bound and I am never allowed make up to try and cover my freckles. My yellow and brown tunic is cinched too tightly at my waist. It hands long enough to hide my shapely thighs. My collar is plainer then Eliza’s had been and I still only wear the mark of my breeder. Where would a womanlike me ever be branded? There no.. space. I am no longer waifish and pale. My hips curve, waiting for your hand to rest there. My breast swells, waiting for your tongue.

Come back down... spider man. I want to be your Mary Jane.

Almost Whole

Sometimes in the late afternoon when my basket is empty I stop beside the fountain in the great square and climb up on the edge. No one pays me much attention there, I am just another slave of Ar and less pretty then most. I set the faded yellow basket beside me and slip my feet in the cool water. I am pleased to take such small pleasures these days. Life is not as crazy as it once was.

Sometimes I see her, Eliza.. or puddin' foot as I heard her called. She is still chubby but pretty now. Prettier then I am, I think. Her skin is like fine china and her hair so black it's nearly purple in the light. I saw her smile once, she had angry red whip bites along her calves. I wanted to run to her and throw myself at her feet. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, how it was all my fault. The only thing that held me back was my hair. It's the only thing that gets me much attention and I did not want the Baker to cut it again. If I spoke to Eliza, or made another scene in public she would surely shave me bald. Her other slave is bald.

My feet swish in the water, rippling my reflection. I like it that way, rippled. I do not want to see my self. Don't get me wrong though, I don't suffer form low self esteem and I do not feel sorry for myself. My life is happy enough. I am rarely beaten anymore, I have curves under the clean cotton I wear. I may still not be a mans slave or wear fine things.. but things could be worse. They have been before. Looking at myself though.. is hard for me. I still want to be so much more then I am. I still do not know what part I am missing. When I wiggle my hips and toss my hair like the other girls.. I look silly. Men pat me on the head or make fun of my freckles.

My reflection settles again and this time I leave it, watching my face shimmer in the water. There have been men I think I lived, known of them I knew very well but still.. I loved them. The man in the tower, the painter and his lover, the thief from Port Kar and the barbarian man.. the one with drawings all over his body, who I called a slave and probably made him hate me forever. It was him I thought of the night Eliza was sold.. when I didn't know what would happen to me, didn't know how to beg a man to buy me. I looked for him but did not find him. The Baker found me instead and decided I would work of Eliza's debts in the kitchens of her shop and on my feet in the public gardens. That's why I have a basket covered in pretty checkered cloth. I'm the pastry girl, I sell tarts. Ironic, isn't it?

On the back of my yellow sack dress there are big brown block letters proclaiming me property of the Twisted Tarn Bakery. I am a lucky girl really. I am happy. I laugh and smile.. but I am lonely.. empty. Something's still missing, something will always be missing.

I pull my feet up, resting my heels on the edge of the pool, the backs of my ankles pressed tight to the curve of my ass. Freckled arms, more shapely then they had been, hug my shins and I rest my chin on my right knee and tilt my head so my pretty red gold locks, thick with waves, falls over my side like a curtain. I don't have very long before I am expected back and I want to soak up every second of this moment.

Itchy!

Oh! What horror my Mistress has set upon me! That horrible elixir she bade me fetch! I fetched it alright.. on my knees and with aching jaw, much to the delight of the group of soldiers that sported with me. I was awarded not only one small vial but two! Two!

I had heard, you see, that they might rid me of my freckles. I do not hate my freckles really, I only hate the thick ones.. the dense grouping on my nose.. I much prefer the smaller ones, dusted and dotted across pale flesh.. I returned one vial to my Mistress, proudly offering it up to her the next morning.

The other vial I had rubbed upon myself the night before... And then I waited, I slept.. In the morning nothing had changed, my freckles were there and possibly even worse! And too.. I itched.. Holy God in Heaven did I itch! Hives! I was covered head to toe in hives..

I have always had a likelihood of allergy. But before it had been to grass and weeds and pollen, all things I could be given an injection for. But this! This tragedy upon my flesh, this folly.. this humiliation was the worst ever. I gave new meaning to the term Miserable slave.

And what, pray tell, would Tia say?

I Scream.

How can I ever put into words what has happened? My life has been shredded, torn apart and thrown to the wind. For 20 years I have lived under Eliza and her cruelty, but still.. I loved her. I missed her when Tia took me away to stay with her. All along I thought I would eventually go back home.

Until last night.

They auctioned off our house, all her things and then, to my horror.. They auctioned off Eliza herself. It was horrible! My mistress was distraught. The had chained her, naked and spitting like an angry ost at the men who held her. I cried for her, I tried to stop it but someone held me back on the floor. No one yelled at me and today that worries me.. I have shamed Tia with my actions. I was a hysterical woman last night. And for nothing. They sold my Mistress for a single gold tarn disk. It is a number that is hard for me to wrap my thoughts around. A single gold tarn. If I had been auctioned, what would I have sold for? Coppers most likely. Half coppers even. I am a flawed slave, not as pretty as even Eliza is. She will be a remarkable slave. She will be achingly beautiful.

If Mika Savant does not kill her first.

I have not yet seen Tia today, I do not know what to do with the tray of jewels I was given last night. They are not mine to keep are they? I am not really allowed to own anything. Too, is Tia owning them really wise? What if she is careless with them? And most important of all.. why did the Sin woman give them to me? I cannot believe she felt badly for my plight. I am only a slave.

Eliza too, is now only a slave.

Later, I shall write about the house.. I need to sneak back in and get into he wine cellar, quickly too before anyone.. finds him.

Fear

It has been days since the tax man last came. His words fill my dreams each night though.


"You have one month Eliza, and then we take the slaves."


There was only two weeks left now. As Eliza grows increasingly fearful of loosing Zeus she loosens her hold on me. I have spent far too much time in the public parks as of late. There are too many new men that now know my name.


It is delicious. It is dangerous.


Today Eliza has asked me to meet her in the gardens after luncheon; she has something for me to try on. I fear what I know them to be. The seamstress is coming for lunch.. Robes.


Can anyone understand how deep her hatred of me is? She will stop at nothing to see me never owned by men again. This entire situation frightens me. I have no choice but to grow stronger for it.

~scrawled on the bottom of the page was a note..~

Do not forget to tell Zeus to change the energy bulbs in the front hall. One gave off a spark when I tried to change it.

Who's there?

I was in a rather good mood this afternoon. I had spent the night before being a lazy bit of fluff with Portia and living vicariously though her new found happiness. This new Master has her in white silks, couldn't you just die? Ar has never seen a dirtier slutalicious girl as Portia and there she is.. in white silks! Still, I was pleased to have her company. There is often much competition between slaves but friendship is good too. sometimes though the way she looks at me.. I think she feels bad for me. I wish she didn't.

So I was happy when I brought Eliza her luncheon. I set the little tray of tea cakes and fruit on the table before her, the room was thick with the scent of her perfume. I wondered how she could afford that scent still, imported from Schendi, when she could not afford to pay her taxes. I had purchased the perfume on several occasions and knew it cost more then a set of good robes would have. Too.. I could not help but feel angry with her wayward spending.

I was hungry.

Lunch in the house is always the same. I kneel in silence and listen to the smacking of her lips as she eats. Sometimes if she is feeling kind, she will talk to me. Useless gossip and chatter. Even more rare is when she asks me to tell her a story, some little tidbit to make her laugh. She likes it best when it is me she can laugh at.

Today though there would be no stories for no sooner had the meal been served that a loud and heavy knock came at the door. Eliza and I both froze and looked at each other. I saw fear in my Mistress' gaze today. We both knew who was behind that knock.

The tax man had come back.

AfterGlow

"Frigid? Where is the doctor?" Zues asked in a hushed vioce as I slipped back in the house. It was well past dawn. I was smiling.

"Huh?... Oh.. The .. " My smile faded a little but the warm glow I was sure woudl last me days. I had been reminded of my purpose, of my beauty. I had been reminded, roughly, of men.

Zues had to go and smash my smiles all to bits with his worry for Eliza. I sighed. "No one would come without money.. What could I do?"

He glared at me, noting the wrinkles in my tunic, my messy hair and the look in my eyes.. I was never good at that whole hiding emotions thing. I always wear them right out on my face for all to see. For Zues to see.

"You stink like cheap paga."

"I know Zues.. isn't it wonderful.." I grinned.

He snorted and turned his back to him. "You better wash before she gets wind of you." His jealousy was as obvious as my elation.

"Yes, Master." I rarely called him that. it fustrated him when I did.. it was a name he could never live up to and we both knew it. He stiffened but said nothing. I shoudlnt tease him, I know. I kissed his cheek, making him sblush before I finally slipped away to the bath.

I hoped we had enough soap to fully remove the stench of stale paga and fresh sex from my skin.

Ding Dong the witch is dead...

Dead.. She was dead. I couldn't move. I couldn't breath. I couldn't look away. Minutes passed like that, Me on the floor of the foyer, hunched over on my knees and forearms, wide eyed.. Zeus at the top of the steps, his jaw slack, his soft lips parted in shock.

Eliza between us, her Her body looked tangled.. twisted under her silk. Her legs on the stairs, her upper body splayed across the floor.. inches from my finger tips. Her blood was pooling around her head.. it was crawling towards my hands if her last act would be to stain my skin with her very blood.

Only half a second had passed though, when the world jerked and moved again. I sucked in a breath and Zeus.. wailed. He ran down the steps, screaming her name like some kind of girly bitch and threw himself over her, sobbing. I began to slowly back away.. His grief and my own would be very different.

"Zeus.. maybe we should.." But he lifted his head, his eyes were red and wet and.. angry.. "Shut up Frigid! This is your fault! You killed her! You Killed her!"

Had I? Oh sweet Kings.. had I?

"Tannek.. where is .. Tannek?" Eliza moaned, stirred. Zeus recoiled from her, still sobbing but now with a sick from of joy.Eliza was not dead, at all. The blood on the floor was much smaller then I had thought. As she tried to get up, calling for the man in the celler.. I realized something.

I had wanted her to be dead.

Such a bleeding heart

The note.. how dangerous that note was for me! I tucked it on the tray of juice and tea that I bring Eliza each morning. Sometimes I sneak a little fruit along for Zeus, while she feeds him far more then me, it is still never enough I think and while Zeus disgusts me.. A little bit of me hopes one day he will be the man he should be and end this nightmare for us all. Until then.. I bring him slices of fruit and scraps of bread.

I crawled by to the door and knelt, waiting for the ear splitting shriek that ... never came. Eliza read the note, very slowly, and then silently folded it back up. I began to cry and shake. My Mistress is never silent, ever. I feared what she might be thinking.

"Frigid, it never ceases to amaze me how you can be found so pleasing by others and be such a wretched thing here, in your own home, where you are sheltered and cared for. Do I not allow you the freedom to have your own time? Do I not allow you to sleep not in a cage but in a room? Am I really so cruel that you cannot stand to be obedient?"

The kindness in her voice made my heart pound frantically. Zeus has sat up and was watching, as tense as I. Eliza is never kind.

"I.. Forgive me Mistress, I was frightened of the Man, I said no, I swear I said no.. I tried.. but there was so many of them and I.."

"Them?!..." Her voice rose now and she stood. "Them? How many men did you whore for, slave?!"

The silence in the room was as thick as work slaves body odor. "Seven, Mistress." I whispered. I dropped my head to the floor at once, my forehead pressed so hard to it that it pained me. I was just in time. With no whip on hand she kicked me.. hard.. so hard! From the room I crawled.. then rose and ran, stumbling down the steps. I heard her shouting from behind me.. I hard Zeus trying to stop her..

But where would I go? Nowhere. I am not a run away slave. Eliza was in a fury now. Her face was red, it matched the silk she wore. My mistress does wear red silk in her chambers. I always wondered if other Mistresses did too.

"Lying little sneak thief!" She screamed at me. "How dare you tell anyone about the cellar! What do you need a tongue for anyway you little.."

And there was a thud, a crack.. and silence. I looked up, horrified and met Zeus gaze. The world stood still.

The Tyrant Up the Steps

It all started with the smack of a wooden fan agaisnt my shoulder. A free woman commanded me to bring a message to a soldier she fancied atop the walls of Ar. Did she not realize how HIGH those walls were?? Crazy ass women, I swear. But I took the note and hurried along. I read it too, on my way, few of the free expected a slave to be able to read and though I struggled with the bigger words I got the gist of her surupy sweet note.

I hate heights and as I climbed higher still I grew to fear them even more. The wind tore at my tunic, it felt like the wind was testing me, teasing me.. like a child in a playground pushing the weaker one to see what would happen. I delivered the note and hurried away, but I went the wrong way, I couldn't find the steps i had climbed up. I walked slowly.. no matter how wide the top was.. it seemed so narrow to me! That is probably why I didn't see the warrior.

And what a warrior he was!

Tall and strong and unforgiving. I hated him for his subtle cruelties, but I loved him for them too. I never claimed to be a simple creature. I told him a secret. The secret in the cellar. It poured out of my mouth like milk though cheese cloth. I thought though.. that he didn't really hear me.. until later.

He used me, there on the wide walls of Ar. And again I hated him for it and loved him for it. I was beautiful under him, I was glorious.. I was every inch a woman and no freckles or bad habits or lying tongue could take away my brief beauty. I confess I asked him to take me home with him. Not to steal me, for though I may not be a very good slave.. I am a very loyal slave. Does it matter that my Mistress beats me for mistakes more often imagined then real? No.. not one bit.

But oh how I wanted this man, this virulent, vital, ferocious man to take me home whit him. Eliza could later peel the skin form my back but I will bleed with a smile on my face. I know there are many slaves who profess to guard their hearts. How foolish are they! I want to be in love every day, even though it hurts, even though it stings, even though I am whipped for my troubles. A slave, I think, has no right to guard her emotions. She must, without hesitation, display them freely. She must be eager to bleed for a man. Or maybe I am as strange as she says.

And then he broke my heart! I carried me off, my heart full of hope and then.. splish splash.. I was dropped in a dirty fountain and told to bathe, for he really did intend to give me to the guardsmen! As if he had that right! Horrible beastly rotter. Even while I cursed him.. he promised to see me again and I smiled.

When he left me there, with a command to serve the men.. as in more then one, well.. he left me too, with a note for my Mistress. I cannot even here.. repeat what it said. I was well used by the guardsmen and not beaten so I must have pleased them. The bruises on my delicate skin will cling for days though.. secretly I cherish them.

I left the note by Eliza's bedside and while I fear when sh reads it.. I think.. it just might be worth it.

His name is Atticus and I want to make him mine.

Missing Him

I miss you like the sky misses the birds

I miss you like a song without the words

And everyday away from you it hurts

Cuz I'm missing you like crazy

I miss you like the sun misses the day

I need you like the desert that needs the rain

And baby it's driving me insane

Cuz I'm missing you like crazy

I'm missing you like crazy

Sitting here, thinkin' bout how much you

You mean to me, you're my love, my baby

You're my friend my homey

What we got can't be replaced

I see no one, taking ya space

Anywhere you take me

I'll follow

Cuz everytime I gotta go,

I look into your eyes and then I know

You'll be waiting for me,

and no matter how long that may be

I know that you are always there for me

Oh baby, I can't wait until I have you here

Sometimes at night I get it bad

I think about the times we share

So I rush to call you hoping you miss me too

The speacial way you say my name

You soothe my heart, make it ok

ou're not here so I hold

My pillow

Cuz everytime I gotta go,

I look into your eyes and then I know

You'll be waiting for me,

and no matter how long that may be

I know that you are always there for me

Oh baby, I can't wait until I have you here

Baby, I'm missing you like crazy

And I'm hoping that you miss me too

I'm missing you like crazy

And throw away the key

Eliza called me home some days ago, maybe a week. I do not know how long its been. But all the slaves are gone, except Zeus and I. I wish I had been sold.. but I know that if I had been I would have begged to be brought back here. Home.. Perhaps I am a glutton for punishment. Perhaps deep down I like the way she treats me. If that's true I wish I knew!

I had barely been back the morning before it happened.. Eliza brought Master Tannek out form the wine cellar! Alive! But sickly looking, thin and naked.. and collared. I was horrified. I felt bile rise up in my throat.. my beautiful Master.. ruined, desolate.. nothing but a pile of bones and slack skin.

Eliza says we are to call him worm now. And that she had to do this.. because of me. For his own good. I do not pretend to understand everything she said. She made me whip him. She wanted me to make him bleed but I couldn't! I started to sob.. like a spineless creature I cried and begged her not to make me.. She smiled and patted my cheek.

And then she whipped me till I bled for him. And Tannek did not care!I wanted him to care as I cared for him and yet.. he was only concerned with himself. I hope he rots and dies in that cellar.

Mistress says tomorrow she will give me a note for a physician and send me to see one. It puzzles me though... Why does she suddenly care for the wounds she inflicts on me?

It frightens me.

Your secret is safe with me..

My head hurts! It is only to these yellowed pages I can tell my truths too. Not that I know any of my own truths, or his, or hers. I just think I do. I know the secrets, I see too much, I hear too much. The baker.. the poison woman in red. Amanita. I think she lies. I mean, she must lie. I saw her with my Damos at the whorehouse. Her threats were sweet and subtle. The promise of a cake. Her cake is.. very bad for me! I promised not to tell the Mistress that I knew.. anything.

Playing dumb isn't exactly hard to do.

You Prick

It was like watching a play. Noemi tried to kill a man.. a man that was there to take Damos away. The interaction was strange. He treated Damos like a slave yet.. not like a slave, perhaps it was his brother? All I did was serve tea and watch, helplessly as the twists and turns unfolded before me like an origami napkin in a fat mans hands. She had a needle but someone knocked it away.. Damos begged her not to kill the man. It landed near me but before I could hide it.. and I admit here, I wanted to hide it from them. I'm not sure why but I really wanted it. The man with Noemi snatched it up and smashed it. I mopped it up later.. it made my fingers feel numb.

I spent the rest of the night hiding in the kitchens. I haven't seen Damos since.

Hush Little baby

To ink and parchment I can only tell
The secrets kept down in my well.
And if you ask me
I cannot share.
The tales and snails kept buried there.

Whisper whisper in my ear
Sew my lips shut tight
I promise I will never hear
Unless you take my sense of sight.

Scatter scatter everywhere
The dirty birdie things you say
The things I almost cannot bear
Are filling up my day

To ink and parchment I can only tell
The secrets kept down in my well.
And if you try to
Make me tell
A flood of lies is what I'll sell.

Just Mine

Kiss Kiss Snip

My life.. like the great thassa..
ebbs and flows, swells and lulls.
It slinks up on the shore of my world
and wipes away the hurts of yesterday.

I was sitting on the great fountain in Ar's Square, the one closest to the Metallen district, but not quite in it. Where the streets are cleaner and the merchants only slightly more honest. I had stepped on a sliver of glass and was pulling the offending bit from my toe when a shadow fell over me. Always foreboding.. But when I looked up it was my Cirque. The Master of my heart.. this month. I do not deny being a fickle woman. I was frightened though and immediately wanted to cry. For he hated me last we met.

But he seemed to have strangely forgotten his anger.. more over he was twice as affectionate then I had known him to be before. He kissed me. I think I died a little bit inside. Or perhaps he stole a slice of my soul. A pretty treasure to keep in his pocket. I told him I loved him.. he thinks I am a whore though, he thinks I give my love freely to any who pay me a moments mind.

Perhaps he is right.

But can I be blamed for this? I am a product of my environment. And I do so crave attention. A gentle hand, a soft kiss.. a violent rape. I cannot help it! Any more then I could help myself a moment later...

"Prove it." He said. He called me his Angel.. more of my soul flittered from me to him. Does he know what I offer in my kisses? I am almost embarrassed about my behavior.. oh if the mistress had seen me she would have peeled the skin from my back and boiled me in oil! But I kissed him again.. I climbed up onto his lap and forced my tongue into his mouth. There is something funny about his mouth.. something metal inside it.. perhaps a dental device? I think hours passed like that, on his lap, our lips melted together like pools of molten fire.... How perfect the day had been.

And then he told me his secret. Or maybe it isn't a secret.. but it should be! He isn't from here.. he is like those idiot slave girls with their rough language and skittish behavior.. But he displays nothing of being their kind, from someplace beyond the oceans. He moved so fast.. shoving me onto my back so hard I later found a bruise on my skull.. his hand found my breast.. gentle and hard all at once. I think I cried, I'm not sure.. I was frightened of him... How could he have ever been one of those.. diseased barbarians?

I can't ever tell a soul. How can I want so much what I find so disgusting? Before he left me there..he said the meanest thing.. He said I would look good with pierced ears! Like a common street slut!

Secretly.. I was pleased.

Eat me

As soon as Wolf began to feel
That he would like a decent meal,
He went and knocked on Grandma's door.
When Grandma opened it, she saw
The sharp white teeth, the horrid grin,
And Wolfie said, "May I come in?"
Poor Grandmamma was terrified,
"He's going to eat me up!" she cried.
And she was absolutely right.
He ate her up in one big bite.
But Grandmamma was small and tough,
And Wolfie wailed, "That's not enough!
I haven't yet begun to feel
That I have had a decent meal!"
He ran around the kitchen yelping,"
I've got to have a second helping!"
Then added with a frightful leer,
"I'm therefore going to wait right here
Till Little Miss Red Riding Hood
Comes home from walking in the wood."
He quickly put on Grandma's clothes, (Of course he hadn't eaten those).
He dressed himself in coat and hat.
He put on shoes, and after that,
He even brushed and curled his hair,
Then sat himself in Grandma's chair.
In came the little girl in red.
She stopped. She stared.
And then she said, "What great big ears you have, Grandma."
"All the better to hear you with," the Wolf replied.
"What great big eyes you have, Grandma." said Little Red Riding Hood.
"All the better to see you with," the Wolf replied.
He sat there watching her and smiled.
He thought, I'm going to eat this child.
Compared with her old Grandmamma,
She's going to taste like caviar.
Then Little Red Riding Hood said,
"But Grandma, what a lovely great bigfurry coat you have on."
"That's wrong!" cried Wolf."Have you forgot
To tell me what BIG TEETH I've got?
Ah well, no matter what you say,
I'm going to eat you anyway."
The small girl smiles.
One eyelid flickers.
She whips a pistol from her knickers.
She aims it at the creature's head,
And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.
A few weeks later, in the wood,
I came across Miss Riding Hood.
But what a change!
No cloak of red,
No silly hood upon her head.
She said, "Hello, and do please note
My lovely furry wolfskin coat."

Twist my Toes

Day after day
I will walk and I will play
But the day after today
I will stop
And I will start my way

Why cant I get just one kiss
Why cant I get just one kiss

Believe me thered be somethings that I wouldnt miss
But I look at your pants and I need I need a kiss

Why cant I get just one screw
Why cant I get just one screw

Believe me I know what to do
But something wont let me make love to you

Why cant I get just one fuck
Why cant I get just one fuck

I guess its something to do with luck
But I waited my whole life for just one
Day afterday
I get angry
And I will say
That the day
Is in my sight
When Ill take a bow
And say goodnight

What the Seer Sees

"You don't think I know YOU?"

My memory of that night is like watching a play.. Tippet and I played the pawns. The drawn upon man, whose name I know now is Cirque, he played the male lead.. the Seer was the female lead and the woman in white.. Heidi, he called her.. she was the wild card.

Peaches and plums.. I told him I loved him and he sneered at me! Tippet begged for peaches and the juice was sticky on my cheek. I recall flashes of smiles, snippets of words. I do not think I will ever recall much outside of my ache. How I ached!

All of that is a blur. But what is clear.. is the Seer.. A sudden scream, she fell from the stone and into the mud. I tried to help her.. I feel some strange sort of subservience to her, or perhaps it is only an extension of her companion and how he directs me. It matter not.. I tried to help her. She got up and screamed again and before I knew up from down she had a knife in my face.. "You don't think I know you!" I cringed, I think I fell too.. I was sure this was, she was going to cutout my eyes and use them in some sick ritual to decide the fate of all the urts in Ar.. or something. I cowered, I feared.. and then.. The Seer left me there.. but as she walked away.. she pulled the veils from her face.

NAKED!

I gasped .. Someone had to do something.. She could be taken for that.. or.. worse! I know I panicked.. I think the white lady followed her.. I never want to see the seer again.. what will I ever say to her? What will I ever say to the metal worker? Should I tell him? Should I lie? should I hold another secret?

Tippet and I walked home together. I don't think I stopped crying the whole way.

New Possibilities

Supplication means simply, to plead humbly. It is a word I can feel. It is a word that goes hand in hand with my silvery steel collar. Yet I know a secret about the supplication of slave girls.

We can fake it.

When a man forces.. A word which here means to physically coerce, a woman to bow her head in supplication.. then the emotion he was looking for has fled, she is no longer begging him humbly because she wishes too. She is now simply full of...

Fear. I looked the word up and it means a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.

The metal worker, the Seer's companion, the man with dirty boots. Twice now I have seen him, both times I have pressed my tongue to the filth of his shoes. The first time I despised him, and his companion too. When I lowered my head in supplication to them it was solely (ha get it, sole? Boot? ) out of fear. But recently I happened upon the metal worker again, alone now. I shudder to think what the Mistress would think had she seen me crawl to his side. It didn't matter that he called me there. What matters is not only did I go but I crawled on my hands and knees.. and I supplicated. He has given me another name. I collect names like some people collect ugly nick knacks of fat children pumping wells. This one.. is Bitch. I tried so hard to be pleasing but the metal worker is unlike men I know in the most strange and wonderful way. When I say the wrong thing, he doesn't seem to think I have personally affronted him. I could love him.. if he were barefoot.

He wishes to purchase me for the seer. I am to meet him shortly to bring him to see my mistress. While it hurts me to see Eliza refuse such offers, I am anxious to see how she will handle this man. Her fuse grows shorter by the day.

Your don't have to turn on the red light...

A whore house! Ill repute! A brothel.... all the words for a place I never thought I would be. Even 20 years ago, when I first left the house of my breeder. I knew without a doubt then what life would be like. Simple, happy, I would work hard and be loved and cherished. I would be special. Some man would keep me for his very own and defend that ownership with his steel. .. Is every slave so foolish? Or am I perhaps special in the worst way of all?

She's left me here, in this place. A den of sin and debauchery. I have never felt so alone in my life.

I think, or maybe I fear that this is more then just a punishment. In my Mistress's home there seems to be some growing threat and shadow. Something coming to cloak us all in the wrath of Eliza. She's hiding something in the wine cellar. I have heard the please of a man. I once though it was Tannek.. but he is long since gone. Dead and buried she says. All because of me.

I could never find the words to fully describe my hatred for my Mistress. It is an emotional thing and yet quite tangible too. It has a texture, it has a taste.. it has a scent.

But now.. sleeping on the floor of a strange new place.. I miss her, I miss her with every fiber of my being. I miss Eliza.

The mistress here.. Ludmilla.. I do not like her. She's a wicked woman, a harlot. I suppose she is beautiful, but I can hardly get past her smile. It seems so welcoming for fleeting moments and yet so full of irony. As if she pities you .. because she's about to devour you whole. Then again.. perhaps she will take all seven days and eat me piece by piece.

Crime and Punishment

My Mistress is an imaginative woman. I confessed to her this morning about the coins, I crawled to her feet and begged to be whipped. But she choose to ignore me. She left me there to grovel and cry, to let my fear and apprehension grow until I could barely stand it. Why didn't she kick me away? Why didn't she send for the whip?

Her calmness unnerved me. I saw Zues in the doorway to the front room, half in shadow. She has poisoned him mind lately, he no longer has the same tenderness when he looks at me. My last ally in the house.

Finally Eliza finished her meal. I heard her snap her fingers and then Zues grabbed my ankle as Eliza chuckled. My punishment would be simple, quiet.. cruel. I was to be Zues' slave for the day. A reward for whatever he had done for the mistress recently. I was shamed to be used by a slave! But this.. wouldn't be enough.

"You will tell this man I wish to see him, to thank him for repaying the coins a stupid girl so carelessly lost. Your free to search him out later.. on one condition." Her smile was painful to look at.

When Zues was finished I learned the condition. A shackle was locked onto my ankle, the bells removed at last. But attached to this chain was a metal sphere, seven pounds in weight. Which is much heavier then you would think when its attached to your body. How could I possibly go out in public this way! I would have rather been whipped.
~Burned at the Stake~

Tear in your hand

all the world just stopped now

so you say you don't wanna stay together anymore

let me take a deep breath babe

if you need me, me and neil'll be

hangin' out with the DREAM KING

~*~

He hates me. There is something down deep inside me that ruins every chance I have. Who was I to tell him he was wrong? I cannot even believe such a thing came out of my mouth. Of course the money was only for Eliza. Of course. He cut me down last night, I bet he doesn't even realize it. They never do. Rip my heart out and take a bite. Its never put back the way it was. I was hurt when he left.

~*~

neil says hi by the way

i don't believe you're leaving cause

me and charles manson like the same ice cream

i think it's that girl

and i think there're pieces of me

you've never seen

maybe she's just pieces of me

you've never seen well

~*~

There was that woman agian, the one who made me lick a mans boots. I would like to say I do not know why she hates me, but I do. The same reason all free woman in their robes hate those of us on our knees. While my chains are steel, hers are made of cloth. Her hatred seemed to wane slightly after a bit. Perhaps my tears sparked some small sympathy in her..

~*~

all the world is

all i am

the black of the blackest ocean

and that tear in your hand

all the world is DANGLIN'...danglin'...

danglin' for me DARLIN'

you don't know the power that you have

with that tear in your hand

that tear in your hand

~*~

Haha.

~*~

maybe i ain't used to maybes

smashing in a cold room

cutting my hands up

every time i touch you maybe

maybe it's timeto wave goodbye now

time to wave goodbye now

~*~

I was hurt when they left, my chest ached, my throat felt tight. There had been another there with them, there before him, taking up a spot I wanted for my own. I had liked her before and I might like her later but then I wanted to kick her. But since she was bigger then me.. I could only kick her emotionally. "He likes me better then you." I said to her before I left. Childish and silly.. I dont care.

~*~

caught a ride with the moon

i know i know you well

well better than i used to

HAZE all clouded up my mind in the DAZE of the why

it could've never been so you say and i say

you know you're full of wish

and your "baby baby baby babies"

i tell you there're pieces of me

you've never seen

maybe she's just pieces of me

you've never seen well

all the world is

all i am the black of the blackest ocean and that

tear in your hand all the world is DANGLIN'...danglin'...

danglin' for me DARLIN'

you don't know the power that you have

ith that tear in your hand

that tear in your hand

~*~

I have to tell Eliza now.. about the money.

~*~

with that tear in your hand

tear in ...

A Simple Gift

I have been looking at this blank page for ages now but I am not sure I can translate into words what I feel. I lost the Mistress in a gaggle of horrid men, surely sent my Juba. They did not bother me, I kept quiet and away. My heart leapt into my throat though as someone grabbed me form behind, my hair was pulled back by the press of my back to his chest so I wouldn't look down. He covered my mouth, my tongue ran over metal on his hands. I should have known then but I didn't .. for I had never seem my drawn upon master move so fast. In my mind I have laid claim to him in the way slave girls do. But surely if you had seen the mystery of his gaze you would too.

He didn't take me to any dirty trash piles, for which I was pleased. He set me down nearby and smiled at me. I don't remember anything we talked about, only his voice and the way his fingers wrapped around the bars of a window.. why were their bars on that window anyway? He thinks I like Juba though.. my heart hurt! What if he was jealous? What if I hurt him? I could barely stand the thought of hurting him. But either way I didn't have long to think about it. We were interrupted by a dark haired slave.

I had lost my Mistress coin and her purse! Many things I have done to be beaten during my years with Eliza. But never have I lost coin before.. I was sure this would be the end, she shave me bald and make me a street whore, the ultimate shame. Tears had barely pricked my eyes when the Master did something almost as unspeakable was Jubas murderous act.

He gave me money.

Into my cupped palms he poured the contents of his pockets. 22 tarsk bits. A teeny time fortune to me. More then I needed. A few bits of string, a small black pebble. I was mortified.. a man giving slave coin like that! Its unheard of.. he should have beaten me right there and dragged me back to Eliza so she could beat me further. I do not like to be beaten, but I did deserve it. How could I have been so stupid?! He was angry with me for my reaction. I was not thankful, I still do not think I am grateful. I have a longing need to tell Eliza the truth. So many secrets I can keep but this one, about my own mistake, seems overwhelming.

I love him for his kindness.. but I despise him for it too. There is an invisible line drawn between a slave and man .. it is not drawn in the sand, easily washed away. It is not drawn on paper, easily burned.. it is set in stone, never to change, never to waver, never to blur. And he smashed the stone to bits. How should I have reacted to this? It frightened me in a way Eliza never has.

I sewed this small pebble into the hem of my tunic last night, a small bit of him I can keep with me. I wonder if I can find bits of them all to keep as my very own ...

Shh! Don't speak..

Juba! That horrid beast. It had been many months since I last saw him. Since he had tried to rape me in the woods and when I fought and scratch him he tried them to drown me. I had not forgotten his hissed threat.. that one day he would be free and I would be sorry.

And I am.

I was in the market, the great mosaic tiled square when he grabbed me from a darkened alley. Landra always said I shouldn't walk so close to them. He said something them, after our initial insults but he finished it with a kiss .. crushed me to his chest so hard it hurt my arms, I think he nearly bruised me. My lips felt swollen after.. I felt dizzy, disgusted and needy and .. wanting. I would have gladly laid on the dirt for him. But .. as Juba always does.. he broke the spell, he shoved me away, he shrank back and left me to deal with a free woman in white.

She was ethereally lovely the way she neared me. The curious glint in her eyes and the soft look of her intrigued me And too it frightened me. I know the masks a Mistress wears.. her softness only hides a spike tailed whip. But this woman did not chastise me for my display.. she seemed to want to speak to me. My mind must have still been fuzzy from the kiss. I am not often kissed. But I heard her ask about the drawn upon man. She asked if he owned me.. imagine that! And I laughed.. no man would ever want to really own me. Juba though, thinking she meant him.. seemed angered by the very idea and.. oh what he did! I cannot even lay ink to parchment and record the act here. It was too horrible, too sickening. My dear Juba has lost his mind for the love of a free woman. such a waste.

When he was gone.. the woman's robes were marred with blood. There is no one to blame but myself.. I offered to wash them for her... But we never made it that far.

Chewing on my Heart

"How does it feel.. when she beats you, how does it feel inside?"

Such a question to ask me! How could I .. I who can barely explain a happy feeling in words that make some sort of sense.. except to answer such a heavy question? As he could possibly understand the hatred Eliza has for me, or how she beats that into me. He has surely never been beaten, never been whipped by an angry woman. What does he know about pain and suffering!

"Like being eaten up form the inside."

But still, he touched my hands and let me touch his face. I want to bring him cool cloths for his wounds and wipe away the seeping weeping muck. I wonder though, if he did not sustain his wounds in a fight for sport.. then was he in a real fight? I have never seen a fight that wasn't for sport, though I have heard of men fighting over a slave. A romantic notion but I'm sure cannot be true.

The again.. Master Damos and the Poet lady.. does that constitute a fight? Or simply attempted murder?

On another note, I looked for the Poet the last few evenings. I made excuses to drift by the Great Theater or the house with the red door that I have heard is his home. But I have not seen him. I believe now that Eliza has finally won and driven him away at last. I stupidly mentioned the red door to her, only because the color.. on a door, seems so scandalous to me. But it draws me in too. I want to run my fingers over it, the color.. deep red reminds me of blood which reminds me strangely of Eliza. Everything comes back to Eliza.

I will not eat today for my mention of the poet and his door.

"Did you bring it?"
"yes Mistress, I have.."
"Just give it to me, shut up."
I had just reached the bottom step when I heard the whisperings at the front door. Our doors were always dark now. The house seemed to be losing its sense of.. home as Eliza lost her .. well her senses. I stood perfectly still, seeing the slightly stooped young man at the door, he passed my Mistress a grubby little package and she shoved a few coins into his greasy palm, they clinked softly. He saw me though, and I held my breath. If he gave me away, she would think I was spying on her!
"Mayhap's I can sample the pudding before I go.."
I wanted to throw something at him! Immediately I took the next step, hard, so the bells would give me away.. so she would see I wasn't spying! I clutched three towels to my chest. Eliza turned and glared at me, Even veiled I knew the smirk on her lips was cruel.
"You don't want to bother with her.. she's Frigid."
The man snorted and turned to leave. I didn't care that he was a greasy dirty man! I would have been so pleased to serve him, to leave this horrible house. I would have been pleased to be street whore over this life. It was easy to think this now.. As Eliza shut the door slowly and turned her glinting beetle like eyes on me. I wish I could say I was brave and strong and that I held my head high. And once that might have been true.. but no more.. years under the woman's boot had taught me how to be meek... weak..
"Please my Mistress! I was only bringing down the towels to be washed.. I wasn't spying, I heard nothing!"
She ignored me. I do not think it matters to her if I spied or not. I think she just enjoys punishing me. In her eyes.. in her world.. all of this.. her missing companion, the money gone, the state of the house.. its all my fault. Every lick of the whip on my pale skin serves to remind me.. this is all my fault. She does this to me to make me loveless, to make me empty like her. But it does not work, does it? It only makes me long more.. for affection, for love.. even brief love. I suppose this why I miss Damos, even though he despises me.. or why I seek the painter who pretends to no longer know me.. or why I kneel for the poet and try to emulate his own slaves when he thinks I am defective ...or why I serve the drawn upon man who quietly mocks me. None of that matters.. I just need their love, a smile, a touch.
Until Eliza is forced to live upon her knees she will never understand this about me.. my great need.. for a Master.

Previous Journal

http://littleredslave.greatestjournal.com/