Fortuna Favet Fatuis

It rained last evening – a hard, sheeting rain. It was not a cold rain. The downpours of En’Var are warm, often fragrant. I sat just inside the tent, watching the monster, Tasta, enjoy the impromptu shower as she tested the length of her chain. I keep my bitches in the collar, even her. Her black, forked tongue darted out at regular intervals to both catch the droplets and wipe them from her damp snout. From time to time, she reared up to swat at the rain. Deadly and tenacious as she is, the sleen can be playful. She likes to play.
Behind me, exhausted by the demands of my rape, Noemi slept. She is a lovely thing. Curved as a woman should be, and soft. I should beat her more, but I find myself without the compulsion to discipline her as often as her behavior warrants. It is a mistake, and I know that, but it is what it is. “I will NOT go to Port Kar,” she informed me. I was not taken aback by her defiance. The Jewel of Thassa is the source of several traumatic experiences for her. I suspect many of her less desirable traits stem from the time she spent there. I have heard the tales of sadism and cruelty, of extraordinary deviance. She is not permitted to keep events in her past locked away, secrets of another time. I own her, from her fatal flaws to her delightful perfections, and everything between. She is starting to understand the near-implacable nature of her master. Consequently, each outburst, every defiant tantrum, reveals more to me about the woman I own. She is more than a novelty, more than an ego feeding conquest. She is mine. Fully.
Once, I was foolish enough to think I might seek the World's End. I think on this trip, I will be content to find a spot on the coast to take a piss in the general direction of Cos. I suppose it would be prudent to consult someone with a bit of longitudinal/latitudinal knowledge beforehand. It would be rude, for example, to take my symbolic piss on Teletus or Asperiche, however unintentional that would be. It is a poetic notion, but there is more that takes me west than a desire to delete my bladder to the ignominy of that fat waste of flesh, Lurius of Jad - not that it wouldn't be a perfectly sound reason for undertaking a journey of hundreds or even thousands of pasangs. I will find myself on the wharves and plazas of Port Kar again soon. Some men seek adventure in such a place, but I seek something more. Perhaps, I will be lucky enough to find it.