Girl Six
originally posted March 5, 2006
We are traveling by a caravan bound north along Pilgrim's Road. I haven't mentioned to the women of the coffle just where we are headed, nor have I told Joy. Mathor knows, of course. Tasta couldn't care less. She is just happy to be free of the kennel of Jort's Ferry, to be able to cruise through the high grasses and take down prey. During my stay in that city, I kept another animal kenneled. The six girl on the whore coffle.
Sana became sullen. She started to develop an attitude. Doubtless, it was a challenge on her part. A moment of kindness, offered to another girl on the coffle, was enough for Sana. One does not explain oneself to slave girls. She need not be told with coddling arms and cooing words the depth and complexity of her Master's emotions. She need only be whipped and returned to her place in the coffle. I did not beat her. I placed her in the Municipal Slave Pens of Jort's Ferry. There, at the hands of Kennel Masters, she would learn lessons of slavery and submission that I did not deign to teach her for a third, fourth or fifth time. Let her learn to say 'La Kajira'. Let her learn how to pose herself before the eyes of men. Let her recall the hard labor of a kettle and mat girl. I did not deign to teach her these things another time.
"Brings soaps and cosmetics," I told Nirah. "Bring, too, a comb."
When I noticed the purple-silked girl plying her trade on a corner, seeking out a fellow with three copper coins, I snatched her up by the wrist and escorted her to the tavern with the green door. There I had wine, served by eager, piteous Chloe. I had purchased her earlier that day. Too, I had sold another girl. One who was, at that moment, kenneled in the Municipal Pens of Jort's Ferry. The sale had been, in effect, a trade. During the time Sana labored in the Pens, another girl caught my eye. Chloe was not afforded the niceties of a Silk Girl. Her Master, I conjectured, bathed her once a day or so with a bucket of water. She was not, however, sullen. She was not recalcitrant. She did not presume to judge the men she served. She was simply eager. I could see, too, that she was pretty. Washed and combed, her mousy brown mane would again shine and take on a new life. Her skin, too, with an improvement in diet, regular washing and the application of certain creams, might again regain smoothness, the softness men like. Her eyes, large and liquid like melted chocolate, had already captivated me. I knew there was more in my new Six Girl.
When I returned to the tavern with the green door, Sana had already been delivered to her new owner. She had already started on her new path. Bussing tables. Serving Paga. Scrubbing baseboards. Sweeping floors. She had learned her place in the Pens apparently. It was no longer my concern, however. Nirah brought others of the whore coffle to assist her in the work of preparing the new meat. She polished the neglected gem to a fine gleam. More than I expected, to be frank. The Tavern Master, I could see, glanced over on occasion to see what had become of his girl, Chloe. No girl present envied Sana, I think. He was an exacting fellow who was already barking out orders to his new girl.
"Portia, lead the coffle. Emily, you are next. You are third, Nirah, then She, Samantha and Chloe," I ordered, putting them in line. All of them rushed to assume their place. Except for Chloe. Her eyes were wide, she was suddenly terrified. Dressed and coifed for another man, she was to be led out of tavern with the green door. She cast her glance around like the quarry of an unknown predator, her breathing shallow. She looked at Sana, who would replace her and then at the Tavern Master, unwilling to believe it occured. I was not pleased that she began her slavery on my whore coffle this way, hesitant, but she was fantastic. Beautifully helpless. Chloe would make a fine six girl.
"Please, Master," she sobbed, but she was not speaking to me. "I love you."
The Tavern Master would not look at the girl, nor even acknowledge her cries. I could see by the tension in his frame that he was not pleased. I did not understand it. It was a simple exchange, beneficial to both. Sana, I knew, in time, would have men crowding his green door. Recalcitrant, presumptuous little bitch she might have become, she still knew well how to hook for coins. The Tavern Master would find himself well fixed very soon.. I did not understand it, but it was not my concern.
"Do not," he said quietly as I started the women out the door.
I did not understand it, but I was beginning to. Who defines love in all of its myriad of modalities? If it exists between a man and a woman, are they accountable to the people around them? Need they explain themselves? I did not question him on the matter, having seen it was beyond finance, past the exchange of goods. I did not withdraw from the agreement, as he requested, but I did accept his offer of one girl for another. Chloe is not my new Six Girl. She serves at a tavern in Jort's Ferry behind a green door. My new Six Girl is one fresh from the Pens.
We are traveling by a caravan bound north along Pilgrim's Road. I haven't mentioned to the women of the coffle just where we are headed, nor have I told Joy. Mathor knows, of course. Tasta couldn't care less. She is just happy to be free of the kennel of Jort's Ferry, to be able to cruise through the high grasses and take down prey. During my stay in that city, I kept another animal kenneled. The six girl on the whore coffle.
Sana became sullen. She started to develop an attitude. Doubtless, it was a challenge on her part. A moment of kindness, offered to another girl on the coffle, was enough for Sana. One does not explain oneself to slave girls. She need not be told with coddling arms and cooing words the depth and complexity of her Master's emotions. She need only be whipped and returned to her place in the coffle. I did not beat her. I placed her in the Municipal Slave Pens of Jort's Ferry. There, at the hands of Kennel Masters, she would learn lessons of slavery and submission that I did not deign to teach her for a third, fourth or fifth time. Let her learn to say 'La Kajira'. Let her learn how to pose herself before the eyes of men. Let her recall the hard labor of a kettle and mat girl. I did not deign to teach her these things another time.
"Brings soaps and cosmetics," I told Nirah. "Bring, too, a comb."
When I noticed the purple-silked girl plying her trade on a corner, seeking out a fellow with three copper coins, I snatched her up by the wrist and escorted her to the tavern with the green door. There I had wine, served by eager, piteous Chloe. I had purchased her earlier that day. Too, I had sold another girl. One who was, at that moment, kenneled in the Municipal Pens of Jort's Ferry. The sale had been, in effect, a trade. During the time Sana labored in the Pens, another girl caught my eye. Chloe was not afforded the niceties of a Silk Girl. Her Master, I conjectured, bathed her once a day or so with a bucket of water. She was not, however, sullen. She was not recalcitrant. She did not presume to judge the men she served. She was simply eager. I could see, too, that she was pretty. Washed and combed, her mousy brown mane would again shine and take on a new life. Her skin, too, with an improvement in diet, regular washing and the application of certain creams, might again regain smoothness, the softness men like. Her eyes, large and liquid like melted chocolate, had already captivated me. I knew there was more in my new Six Girl.
When I returned to the tavern with the green door, Sana had already been delivered to her new owner. She had already started on her new path. Bussing tables. Serving Paga. Scrubbing baseboards. Sweeping floors. She had learned her place in the Pens apparently. It was no longer my concern, however. Nirah brought others of the whore coffle to assist her in the work of preparing the new meat. She polished the neglected gem to a fine gleam. More than I expected, to be frank. The Tavern Master, I could see, glanced over on occasion to see what had become of his girl, Chloe. No girl present envied Sana, I think. He was an exacting fellow who was already barking out orders to his new girl.
"Portia, lead the coffle. Emily, you are next. You are third, Nirah, then She, Samantha and Chloe," I ordered, putting them in line. All of them rushed to assume their place. Except for Chloe. Her eyes were wide, she was suddenly terrified. Dressed and coifed for another man, she was to be led out of tavern with the green door. She cast her glance around like the quarry of an unknown predator, her breathing shallow. She looked at Sana, who would replace her and then at the Tavern Master, unwilling to believe it occured. I was not pleased that she began her slavery on my whore coffle this way, hesitant, but she was fantastic. Beautifully helpless. Chloe would make a fine six girl.
"Please, Master," she sobbed, but she was not speaking to me. "I love you."
The Tavern Master would not look at the girl, nor even acknowledge her cries. I could see by the tension in his frame that he was not pleased. I did not understand it. It was a simple exchange, beneficial to both. Sana, I knew, in time, would have men crowding his green door. Recalcitrant, presumptuous little bitch she might have become, she still knew well how to hook for coins. The Tavern Master would find himself well fixed very soon.. I did not understand it, but it was not my concern.
"Do not," he said quietly as I started the women out the door.
I did not understand it, but I was beginning to. Who defines love in all of its myriad of modalities? If it exists between a man and a woman, are they accountable to the people around them? Need they explain themselves? I did not question him on the matter, having seen it was beyond finance, past the exchange of goods. I did not withdraw from the agreement, as he requested, but I did accept his offer of one girl for another. Chloe is not my new Six Girl. She serves at a tavern in Jort's Ferry behind a green door. My new Six Girl is one fresh from the Pens.
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