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.... <>