Captive Audience

Just a little pin prick.

I let my guard down for a moment and found myself stuck by the poison pin of a woman. Noemi, to be exact. The day had not gone the way I had envisioned. You see, I own this woman. I have, in a legal sense, owned her for some time now. Several hands prior, nearly two passage hands to be more precise, she had committed several actions befitting a slave girl. Six of them that included, but were not limited to; face-stripping herself in the presence of a man. She was told on that day that she was owned and confirmed that she understood the fact before I dismissed her from my presence. Of course, she would have said anything to get out of that office that day, but it does not change the severity of what occurred. That day, I took the time to draw up her Writ of Enslavement. I had it signed and notarized and filed the document in the appropriate places, including the Hall of Records of Ar.

But the pin prick...

I had been forewarned of this woman's poison pins and, of course, expected no less from any free woman. It was foolish of me to let my guard down. I had sent for her, knowing she would come to the Cylinder of Justice due her greedy nature and to sate her curiosity. The letter was delivered by a functionary of the offices and stated plainly that her 'immediate attention was required to discuss an issue of property.' She, herself, of course, was the property with which there was an issue. She was, collared or no, a slave girl living the life of a pampered free woman. I had allowed her to do so, giving her the freedom to leave after accepting her submission. It is a fine thing to tear down a woman's defenses and utterly devastate her in one grand gesture, but it is also equally delightful to let her have the length of the chain, so to speak, for a time. She knows she is shackled, but she allows herself to believe it is not so. 'There is no collar on my neck!' She tells herself. 'He would not dare to make me a slave!' She protests in the depths of her mind. All the while, she knows the truth. He would dare to do so. He has already done so. It is you, woman, that have to reconcile this. He is allowing you time to absorb the truth. How long will he give you before he simply pulls the net out beneath that wire you walk upon? Do you think you he would allow you this slack in the chain if it did not please him to watch you struggle?

I swam for a moment after being pricked.

My eyesight was clear, unclouded. I could feel the cool floor beneath me. I could see her crawling about me, taunting me. She chose this moment to speak to me. To protest my cruel treatment of her. I could not move, but I was completely cognizant. This was the toxin described to me by the Physician, Sertorius. Paralysis was induced, but consciousness was not forced away. She reveled in her small victory, but that victory would be short-lived. Whether it was the guilt of her conscience or somehow, inherently, she knew she could not run from me. She knew I would rouse from this and put the men and the sleen at my disposal on her trail. She had made a poor choice and tried to do what she could to reverse the misstep. She administered the antidote. Another pin prick that sent a sudden warmth through my limbs and torso. The movement came slowly, but she was not hurrying from me. She was saying her farewells. She was warning me....warning...me not to come after her. I pushed myself to my feet and called into the hallway. Her guard, Marcus, was there with her. I indicated I wished to speak to him. Though he is her guard, he is a citizen of Ar. There was no reason to refuse an audience with me, a fellow citizen, a magistrate of his city.
We spoke. I showed him the Writ to which he immediately admitted ignorance of his employer's indiscretions, and the level of them. He could not remain employed to her, a slave, any longer. He understood this woman had nothing at this point, that she was unable to tender his salary, were he even amenable to working for her, which he clearly was not. He agreed to furnish me with a list of her property and holdings, with the numbers of her accounts on the Street of Coins and other various assets and interests.
Noemi, two days later, would still be wearing the same robes as she wore that day. She would find herself chained at the wrists and shackled at the ankle in my Anbar District residence. She would, in time, be taught much more. She miscalculated. She is now my captive.