Scraps of Parchment 3

I was taken to Thentis. He, my Master thought it would be nice to show me what it is he does when he is gone for so long. I was content to be taken instead of left behind but I was left alone all the of the time I was there. Once or twice I was taken for a tarn ride over the mountain range it was beautiful. I can see why he loves his city but I am not that interested in it. Sure I was given blackwine, thick and syrupy caffinated goodness that it is.. and I enjoyed it, but that was only twice and it was to warm me after the tarn flights. I was up all night on those nights with nothing to do but think. Once upon a time I was rented by a paga den owner from Mallick to attract attention to his den. In that service I was given to spending long periods of time with The Scribe and Madeline. The Scribe and I have been friends for many many en'vars and have on more then one occasion settled into quiet contemplation in sprawl on the grass in a park or at the den. There has never been the call for sex and violence between me and the scribe. He was safe in the way that I knew I would not be violated upon arrival at his feet. I cared for him like he was a great friend, because he was. More often then not we would talk about random and normal stuff like I would speak to my other friends. About my Master, about his slave who was also my friend... The Scribe I miss. He became sick just before I left for Thentis. Tale being told he abandoned his slave and just vanished. Madeline now belongs to the woman who mothered one of the scribes sons so long ago. Catastrophe. A physician here in Ar. I have seen her since.. she is different, wounded in some way that will probabally never change. I heard tale of a certain floppy haired Scribe returning to Ar. I wonder of my friend has returned with him....

Scraps of Parchment 2

I spent one night in the collar of Zeb Bronson. I went to the den where I sat in a corner and was pissed off like no other. That night I went to my kennel and decided I would not let the loss of Mallick bother me. I woke in the morning and went to the market and purchased foods for a nice breakfast. I cooked for him. It was a large breakfast with eggs and bacon and toast with fresh fruit, and juice and jam for the toast. He was pleased. He was enjoying the breakfast.. but mostly ignoring me like usual when out of no where... in walks my former owner. In full regalia like he just walked in from some military parade. Instantly tears came to my eyes. I could not believe I was seeing him after all this time. My Master.. He watched me. While speaking to Zeb he watched me a moment but did not call me to him. That was when he noticed my collar.. he was not pleased. He called me to serve him breakfast. I went and got him a platter.. it was alot of confusion after that but in the end I left with him. I went to the metal smith and he replaced my old collar after some minor repairs. Its tighter on my neck then before.. but Im ok with that. That night I slept at Smoke and Mirrors for the first time in a long while. He did not use me. He kissed me and sent me to the mat. He did not even chain me. But he did tell me that he would not be traveling as often.. but his work in Ar would be keeping him busy most days but I would see him more often. I havent seen him since but he has left me notes and reminders that he cares. The Scribe... I saw him at the arena the next night after the fiasco with the collar. He had an odd look on his face when he looked at me as I came into view at the tunnels end. I could feel his eyes on the back of my head when I knelt at the bottom seat of the stands and lowered myself to the floor. He called my name and I looked up at him and he wore a frown. I did know why. Sooner rather then later however I ended up at his side. He pulled me closer.. eventally shifting me so that I was in a better positon at his side. His fingers in my hair.. my cheek to his leg. The semblance of control. I think he gets it. For a few moments I felt calm. Then something happened with Madeline. She started squirming and I mentally paniced. I didnt know why. It happened when I got closer and when he closed his legs around her. I thought she was over the issues with being restrained.. I suppose the large arena with all the people around spooked her. I just pray it wasnt me so close that caused it. When He, Mads and I parted ways.. he told me to come to Stylus before I headed back to the Smoke and Mirrors... I had buisness with someone who had rented me back when I was in Zeb's hands so he told me to come the next day. I suppose I should do that...

a piece of parchment

( Random scraps of parchement stuffed into her satchel until she stuffs them in her journal ) Madeline has my book, I will have her keep it, maybe to keep it away from him. He, he sent me to the metal smith and had my collar removed and replaced with a collar of a den slave. One thing I never wanted to be again was a paga slave. Billboard, sure.. paga whore.. no. Perhaps I will beg for freedom. Mallick.. he came to me and said it would be different. Then Zeb over stepped the line. Maybe it was to force Mallick's hand, maybe it was his greediness.. who knows. Has not changed a fucking thing. I went to the den last night like always.. and was ignored... like always. I used to care.. now I am just a shell. Im so disenchanted by the whole idea that things could of been different. IM a puppet.. hollow and dangling from the strings that control me.. or in this case.. the strings that leave me to hang in a limbo I can not understand. The Scribe will be furious I think, God in heaven knows I am.

In knots

I feel violent inside. I want to bash my fists into peoples faces for no reason. I want to kick and scream and scratch my eyes from my face. I dont know where this anger, this rage is coming from but it's horrible. I feel like an abandoned child in a jungle in the Amazon waiting for the missionaries to find me and make me whole. Feed me, give me education, inoculations, and love. I know these things are not something Gorean.. and I know I am just being angry.. but one time.. for five minutes I would love to feel half of what I used to sitting on the Irish coast, Happy and at peace with myself and my world knowing where I was going and why. I would love to feel the of the breeze, the salty air... to know I had a goal.. a mission.. But no. I am here.. under the rule of men, not my God, and I feel after 90 plus years.. that I will never feel that way again. I had it for a time with Tarm. Peace.. Love, focus, a goal.. but he is gone now. I thought I had it when I was free.. feeding children, offering help when I could... taking care of things for people.. learning the ways of warriors and scribes alike. But no.. its not there now.. and I wish I could feel it. In control of myself, controled by a purpose.. by another, a stronger mind then my own to guide me on a path to righteousness... worth, and love. I am torn.. in threes, knotted up in ropes I can not free myself from. Love, Friendship, and Adoration. In that order. What do you choose? Who's path do you place yourself on? How long can it go on before you crack? I sure as shit hope I dont have to find out. He came to the clearing while I was preparing to write this. The Scribe, something happened with Portia that I missed while I was out of the den. I will have to inquire from the dark beauty later..... ( entry ends here because Zeb called her to his feet )

He knows...

He said it to me yesterday, " I know " but I don't know who, or what he was talking about. He could of been talking to Madeline.. because she was there too. Maybe he was even talking to Portia.. I am not sure.. there were alot of us around the man. At one point I was kneeling there beside him, and next thing I know his nails are pressing into my scalp.. and he is guiding my head down to his thigh. I wasnt sure what I did to cause it.. but then I was there. At one point his grip tightened.. I was in pain.. but I think I may have almost smiled. That was when he said it... I dont understand... maybe.. I will ask him some day. He tattooed Madeline again. On the tender side of each of her wrists are tiny red and black letters. One L and one S. It's amazing to me how much better she is under his steel. She's fuckin beautiful. I wish.. for five minutes I could feel like she does. I miss feeling that under control. I was in the den the other night. There were a few other slaves in attendance and I think even the Scribe and Madeline may of been present. I served him, Zeb. I went to his feet with a water skin and offered it to him. For the first time in I dont know how long he looked at me. I could feel his eyes on me.. and he commanded me not to move from the upstretched position of my serve. The leer of his gaze was intense... I thought for once.. he noticed me. A rented slave in his den. Soon after however I was sent off to serve and I moved away... he didnt feign any notice of me after. Perhaps if I begged his steel he would deam to pay me notice.. though I doubt it. I need to find control... the more it slips away... the worse I feel.. maybe that is what he knows..

A spoon

I talked with the Scribe the other evening. It came down to selflessness. He challenged me. To selfless acts. He said at the end of the hand, which is today, he wanted me to come to him with selfless acts I had performed for people at the fair, or elsewhere. I am glad to say that I completed seven. I purchased for him a turtle stien.. it was cute, decorative. I also got him a Pewter drinking mug with a mermaid on the handle. He liked the breasts... pig scribe. Also I purchased Dancing Silks for Madeline because I know its in there.. she just has to be reminded. I wanted her to know that I see it.. and I could help if she needed it. That day while walking around the tents I stopped and offered to help a young merchant who seamed to be having trouble setting up her awning. She was very greatful that somone stopped to help. I smiled at her and declined when she offered to pay me for my services or rather my owner. I said it was my pleasure. I moved on. Number four was the night the Scribe joined the two young kids that attend the academy with Nash and Rami. They needed wine, and a candle.. so I rushed off into the merchants tent and procured them for the couple so they might be joined. It was the least I could do after all. I was on a roll. Number six was simple. I helped a pregant slaver take down her laundry from the line and folded it for her because her own slaves were off Whoring at the fair. It wasnt super selfless because she did demand I take five copper tarsks but later for number seven I had passed her camp and saw her attempting to pull down an awning that could of been dangerous if she fell from the small stool, so I stepped in and ended up remaining and helping another slave break down a fence and tear down some more of the camp. After that I went back to The Arian camp and sought out the Scribe. He was sleeping or tending the young ones so I went back to seeking more good deeds, I liked doing them, it felt good. A few hours later I came across him in the merchants tent. He ordered me to bend over. Apparently I was bad, I was smacked good and hard in the ass with a wooden spoon that he paid for and then, he handed it over to me. It hurt. He told me that was what I got for running down the gravel road alone through the night. I suppose now that I think about it I could of been kidnapped or eaten by sleen.. but I wanted to get back intime for the joining that didnt take place tonight. We will see. I suppose we are leaving in the morning at first light. I am going to the Merchant' s tent for candy and helping Madeline finish packing up the trunks and hittin the sack.. daylight comes between us...

First

There is a violent storm brewing in the center of my brain. I am discontent. I am tired of being that slave. My heart pounds in my chest to remind me I am still alive but often I feel like a cardboard cut out of my former self. I have been allowing myself to be blind to the idea of truly being Mastered. Sure I am a slave. I serve, I beg, I fuck, hell I even dance. But I am not Mastered. Im tired. I pissed off and frankly I feel a little violent. I want to lash out and men and demand they recognize me for who and what I am. I want to be known as the slave Kamaria. The woman who wooed the judges at the dance contest at the Se'Kara fair and won first place along with another slave. Tied.. though told by several persons who watched that Mine was better. The passion that inspired that dance.. I want to be known for it! I am tired of being that fuckin slave. The one people feel is safe because I kneel quietly in the corner and say " yes Master " and " Thank you Master " and beg to serve and such. I dont want to be safe. I want to be cherished and fought for and relished. I want to be owned, and not by a man that leaves me in the care of another so he can collect money while I wallow in wait. I hate it! I wish you could understand how frustrating it is. He told me he loved me and sent me to serve in a paga den and disapeared. I am so used to this.. I am sick. I look around myself. I see what it seamed to be like for others and it makes me want to kill something. It's stupid to be angry. But even the man who rents me has no idea who I am or what I feel. What I want or need. How I should be trained or treated. He lets me run wild. I cant understand it. I won. I danced my ass off ( Thanks Hazel! ) and I won.. but there was no one to revel in my victory with. The night I won.. I went to my furs in camp and cried. Every day since.. not one word from the one who rents me, the ones I share a camp with, no one. Fuck it. I give up.

differences and sameness.

I have been in the possession of Zeb Bronson for many many moons now. I am just a rented slave for the use of his den, being as my owner is busy flying back and forth between the Voltai and Ar near constantly. More often then not I am sent out into Ar with some form of advertizement attached to my body to bring clients to his den. It has been a long time since I have seen my owner. It as been an even longer time since I have felt like someone, instead of somewhere's slave. I have been on Gor for sooo long, I can hardly remember my village as the Scribe likes to call it. The short excursion to my former planet with Zeb and the two women I call my friends, Skirt and Madeline was not to the earth I remember. In the end.... I had a nervous break down of sorts and begged to be returned to Gor. Call it Stockholm syndrome.. call it what you like.. I didnt fit in at the former village any longer. Speaking of the Scribe. I think he has noticed my antsiness. In all these years I have known him. His and my relationship has been a kind of hands off respectful observance of eachother. An occasional serve of food and an often long distance appericiation of the man. I suppose I would call him friend if a Man and a slave could legitimately be such, he looks out for me I think, and I him if called for. Well resently I have been more so drawn to seek his company. I think because in some place inside of me I think he is safe. Not safe in a " i wont kill you or beat you for being an idiot, slave" kind of way but I do not think he is interested in me outside of our occasional meetings and I will never love someone like I do Tarm. Not even Mallick has that much love from me and I love him, very much.. just in a different way. Reguardless.. The Scribe owns Madeline.. and I would not want to impede on the perfection of their bond. Sure.. I serve the Scribe with as much favor as many men I enjoy serving.. knowing I dont have to worry. I am losing my point here.. He has noticed I think. His focus on me when I am at his feet seams to be more focused. One night he even kept me in his at his feet even after Madeline arrived. I was nervous. I didnt want her to be unhappy with me. Im sure she could understand though.. the draw to want to be near her owner. He told me if I needed it I could come to his home and sleep if I needed to. He didnt turn me away when I arrived at his door. I slept three nights inside of the house, a comfortable enough mat given me near a warm fire. I have yet to thank him properly. I will have to think of a way. It seams we, the girls of the den and Zeb are going to the fair. I will ask Zeb if he will enter me into the dance contest. Maybe I could win.. or at least Maybe place in the top three.... <>