Needles, Notions, and Replacement Parts

originally posted February 6, 2006

Inwardly, I congratulated the bold fellow. What he did was beyond propriety and undeniably illegal, but I could see how he could be swayed to do it. Years beneath the robes and veils left the girl pale and timid. The soles of her feet were pink and tender, touchable. Her skin was creamy and smooth. She might have been of marble, a statue in the Fountain of Hesius, had she not been so undeniably soft.

And she loved him.

I would not pursue the little beast farther. He was a maker of saddles, of a low caste like myself. He had his prize and she loved him. It was clear in her wide, gentle eyes. Evident in the High Caste inflection of her dulcet voice. Valuable as she was to me, a pawn in the politics I have been so begrudgingly forced to play, I could not pursue the little beast further. Had she been rude, argumentative and haughty to her Saddle Maker, I may have made the offer. She was not. If I am to lose this battle, this pissing contest, with her Father, bereft of anything to bargain with, I am content.

---

There is an irony in my owning a beast such as Tasta. While she has been trained to track any of the women I own with a relentless, aggressive pursuit, I would not be likely to use her in this manner. Any of them may simply beg to be released or sold. If the time comes that a woman in my brothel yearns for more than the thrill of earning on my behalf, she is encouraged to simply tell me so. She may find me agreeable to ending the relationship between the two of us. They are easily replaced. Perhaps there are not women with precisely the traits, characteristics or life experiences that have made each one of them lusciously unique, but there are others. The Saddle Maker's girl, for example, had her devotion and near perfection not nearly broken my heart, would make a fine whore. Men would line the alley for her and wait their turn, their ahn. Dahlia, decadent bath girl of the Capacian & serving wench of the Braided Whip Tavern already draws men in high numbers to each of those establishments. What of Keri? First Girl at the aforementioned Braided Whip, her dances, those of Port Kar, Jewel of Thassa, encourage men to empty their purses of every last coin into her dancing sands.

Running, however, is a different story. Should a woman run from me, I would be very likely to use Tasta for precisely what she was trained. Tracking. Pursuit. Capture. No slave would envy the girl that was successfully herded back into my presence.

It is not always easy to manage one's assets, but I am resolved to manage them well.