A conversation about discipline

"Why did you beat me?" she asked.

It was a fair question. She was not due an answer, of course, as she is only a slave. One may beat slaves as one pleases. It is best not to impede on another man's discipline of his property, but most are grateful when one takes the time to keep his chattel in line. If I strode through a field, and noticed one verr grazing apart from the rest of the herd, for example, few shepherds would take issue with me slapping a wayward verr about the flank to get it going in the right direction.

"You are a woman," I answered, stating the obvious.

"It hurts," she said to me. Over the last few hands, she has refrained from challenging my right to discipline her, or use her, or put her to menial purposes. She has, however, attempted to charm me, or otherwise dissuade me from such things with a pout, or tears, or a forlorn expression.

"Discipline is not intended to be a perfunctory exercise," I answered.

"Do I hesitate to obey, or fail to give my very best effort in whatever you ask of me?" she asked.

"I ask nothing of you, slave girl," I answered.

"Forgive me, Master," she said. "Do I hesitate to obey, or fail to give my very best effort in whatever you command?"

"You are not a stupid girl," I said.

"No, Master," she said. "Mina is not a stupid girl."

"I am beaten," she said, confirming, "because I am a woman."

I nodded, adding, "Also, I enjoy it."

"Why do you enjoy beating me, Master?" she asked.

"Because you are a woman," I said.

I am aware that the logic is circular, but that is how things often are. The truest things, are often the simplest things. There does not need to be a grand, convoluted theorem for the nature of men and women. Doubtless, there is a Scribe or Physician that will have a deeper, physiological or anthropological reason that ends up at exactly the same explanation. Scribes and Physicians are known to study all things obvious and elusive, for the joy of learning and the advancement of civilization. So I am told. Someone has to do that, I suppose.

"All women are not beaten, Master," she reasoned.

"All true women, women who have successfully embraced their nature, who have been permitted by men to do so, are beaten," I countered.

"I am a true woman," she said.

"You have been permitted to be a true woman," I granted.

"Thank you, Master," she answered. "Master?"

"Speak."

"Purchase me," she begged. "I know the Tavern Master will..."

She did not finish her sentence. She stopped speaking when the back of my hand connected with her cheek, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"The business of men is not a slave girl's concern," I said to her.

Song for Mina

For the Twenty-Fifth, came a gift
From the Morning Towers to

The Salt of the Gleaming Sea

*

Just five hands too late

Did havoc create, for poor Mina

No Dina, not she

*

A sweet, autumn flower

Effusive, a tower of unrequited

Potential, in reserve

*

In shuttered moonlight

In my rented room, a delight
Each night, eager Mina does serve

Further explorations with the truth

"What is happening to me, Master?" she asked, laid beneath me, her heels crossed at the back of my legs.

"It is nothing, really," I said to her, regarding her from above.

"I did not know it could be like this," she said, shaking.

"There is much you did not know," I said, pushing into her more deeply, the curves of her bare body jarred with the force.

"Oh!" she cried, biting her bottom lip. I felt her fingers digging into my back desperately.

"And much more you have yet to learn," I said, leaning in closer, breathing into her ear.

"There cannot be more!" she said, eagerly raising her hips to me.

"You have only begun to understand what it is to be a woman," I said to her, my breath catching.

"Finish in me, Master," she moaned, biting at my shoulder, wrapping her arms around me tightly as she shook. "Please!"

How beautiful women are. How maddeningly beautiful. The rape, for that is what I was doing to her, became less patient after that. Less gentle. I threw Mina's legs apart, denying her the possessive grip of her thighs about me. Her wrists grasped in my hands, I drew her arms above her head, stretching her out beneath me. I forced her to yield, demanding more each time, dizzy with the scent of sweat and copulation rising around us.

"I cannot!" she protested.

"You will," I commanded.

And she did. Every time. She was not given a choice. Eventually, I did finish in her, causing her to blush furiously. The simplicity of it, the way men and women are built, how natural it is for her to submit to the use of a man, no longer confounds her. It does, however, shame her. She will have to get over it, and in time she will. She cannot afford the pretense of dignity that she enjoyed as a free woman. Men will not allow it. Besides, it would be hypocritical to cling to dignity after being raped on the floor of a rented room. Wouldn't it?

"There is truly more, Master?" she asked, still shy about being completely naked, supine on the floor beside my couch, where I lay. I threw the rag I had torn from her hips across her belly, as I regarded her from the comfort of the couch. It did not cover her, really, but I was fond of the aesthetic.

"There is more," I said.

"I cannot move my legs," she said. "I am still shaking."

"There is more," I assured her. "Much more."

"I could not bear more," she said.

"In time, you will beg for more," I said. "In time, if you are not raped regularly, you will whine and whimper for it."

"Am I permitted no dignity, Master?"

"None," I said.

I was just about to fall asleep, perhaps half an ahn later, when she spoke again.

"Was I any good, Master?" she asked.

"Go to sleep," I said. "Slut."

"Thank you, Master," she said.

I speak with the Tavern Master

"What did you do to Mina?" the Tavern Master asked me as he ran a damp towel over the surface of his bar. I didn't have much of a response for the Tavern Master, other than a curious tilt of my head.
"She interrupted my sleep, little of it that I get, with all of her whimpering and crying," he added.
"Oh," I said. I fear it wasn't a very helpful reply.
"She is nearly useless," he said.
I nodded. "I have conveyed that very sentiment to her myself."
"Is she any good, at least?" he inquired, wringing the damp towel over a basin.
"She is..." I thought for a moment, and then found the right word, "...enthusiastic."
"That is something, at least," he said.
"I think so," I agreed.
"Perhaps you will consider purchasing her," the Tavern Master suggested as he eyed a nearly clean mug aided by the light coming through a dusty window.
"Enthusiasm is not an uncommon trait in slave girls," I said.
"I would give you a fair price," he said to me.
"I do not doubt your business ethics, my friend," I smiled.
"I think I will have her collared," he said. "And branded."
"Common Kef?" I inquired?
"Of course," he scoffed. "You wouldn't see a 'Dina' working along the canals. At least not in my joint."
"It would be unusual," I agreed.
"I have a request," he said then, shelving a cup that had been dry long before he stopped rubbing it with the bar towel. "If you are going to be staying on a bit, I would like to have the sleen take Mina's scent."
"That seems prudent," I nodded.
"I would compensate you, of course," he said, "by discounting your rent."
I did not expect the payment to be coins, and the arrangement made sense. "Whatever you deem equitable, my friend," I said.
"How long do you plan to stay on?" he asked then. He knew I was not of Port Kar, and he was polite enough not to ask what city I was from. Merchants, Landlords, and other business owners tended to be pragmatic. If a man's money was good, and a man was an affable enouogh sort, no good came of it to ask where he was from. What if he was of no city? What if he was, perhaps worse, of a city hostile to one's own? Also, if he had not offered the information on his own, perhaps he does not wish it to be known. A vagabond enjoys his anonymity. His question cut me, however unintentional it was on his part. I have been away so long. Twice, I have missed celebrating the new year at home. With En'Kara approaching, I could miss it a third time.
"I do not know," I answered him finally. Truthfully.

Mina faces the truth

"I do not know your name," Mina said to me.

She keeps my rented room clean. Spotless, actually. I think she is probably useless as a serving slave in a rough tavern situated on a nameless canal in Port Kar. It would explain why the Tavern Master sends her to my room as often as he does. I suppose it could be recompense for the use of Tasta on the tavern floor. More than once she has quelled the notion of violence with little more than a twitch of her tail and the deep tones of her impatient growl. Of course, my room is already discounted to take into account the use of the sleen. I am not offended by the girl's constant presence, and she is learning to row the small, green boat well enough to avoid my belt across her ass on most days. Why should I pull an oar when there is a perfectly apt beast called Mina to do so for me?

"Would Mina like the privilege of addressing me by my name?" I asked.

She paused, on the alert for a misstep, but answered truthfully, "I would like the privilege of knowing my Master's name and, if he deemed it acceptable, the privilege of addressing him by name. Yes," she said.

Huh.

"I am not your Master," I answered her. "At least in legal terms."

"But..." she said.

"But, I have used you. I have put you to my pleasure. Beaten you as I found it necessary, or enjoyable to do so," I said, anticipating her objection.

"Yes," she said, her chin down, flaming with a genuine embarrassment. Silly girl.

"You are not branded," I pointed out. "You do not wear my collar. Or any collar," I said.

"I am kept here, put to work," she argued.

"There is little doubt you are a slave," I shrugged. "You belong to the Tavern Master. You do not belong to me."

"I do not want to be a slave," she said.

"It did not occur to me to ask your preference in the matter," I answered. "I do not think it occurred to the Tavern Master to find out what the Lady Philomena wanted when she was sold to him."

"I was sold," she said. It was a confirmation of what I said more than a question or a denial. Her curious tone was due to the fact that she had never said the words aloud to herself.

"That is true," I nodded.

"I am property," she said.

"A thing that may be bought, sold, put to the purposes of another," I added.

"Why do you say it like that?" she asked. "'Put to the purposes of another,'" she said, brows knitting.

"Be pleased you have a purpose," I said. "Be pleased that you are not entirely useless."

"Have I pleased you?" she asked.

"Slut," I said. "That is the query of a slave. Mina does not want to be a slave."

"She has no choice," Mina answered, her voice lowered to a whisper.

"You wished to know if I am pleased with your service?" I asked.

"Yes," she stammered.

"My room is cleaned each day," I answered. "If I leave clothing on the floor, it is laundered and folded before I return. This pleases me."

"Oh," she said.

"Mina wishes to know if she pleases me in other, more physical ways?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, tugging at the hem of her skirt shyly. It was little more than a bar rag. It might have actually been a bar rag.

"Yes," I answered. "You have learned to row the small, green boat well enough not to be whipped every day."

"Master!" she exclaimed. "Do not tease me. Please!"

"What do you wish to know, Mina?" I asked.

"Am I any good?" she said.

"You are good enough," I answered truthfully.

"Good enough?" she asked. "But you...you...you exert yourself well, and at length with me. You...you...you finish in me!?" she added, her blush furious from the apple of her cheeks to the cradle of her bosom. "You make me feel things. Shameful things. Unspeakable things!"

"You juice well. And you are an eager, little lay," I said to her. These things were true.

"Please do not say such things, Master," she begged.

"You are juicing right now, Mina," I said.

"Master!" she cried.

"You are hoping I throw you to your belly," I said. "You are hoping I rape you."

"Yes!" she said angrily. "Yes! I am hoping you rape me! I am hoping you put me to your purposes! I am hoping you exert yourself well and at length with me! I am hoping you finish in me!"

"Slut," I laughed.

"Master!" she cried again. "I have admitted all to you! Everything! I am an eager, little lay. I am juicing! I am hoping you rape me! What more do you want from me?!"

"Beg," I said.

Pride & Potential

"For pride," I answered her as her fingers traced lightly over the scar bisecting my abdomen. "A man wanted something of mine that I was unwilling to part with."

From her knees, she turned her gaze upward to meet my eyes. Her idle hand grasped me intimately, stroking lightly. "A girl?" she asked.

"In fact, yes," I answered, combing my fingers through her hair. I stared at her bare ass over her shoulders, the way it settled on her heels, in an objectifying manner as we spoke. Mina's backside was not without interest. It was, truthfully, very interesting to me.

"You must have cared deeply for her, Master," she said. She took a breath, trying to calm her nerves. She then closed her eyes and tentatively kissed my aroused flesh.

"She was only a girl," I answered. "Petty, manipulative. A slut. Perhaps if the fellow asked for her politely, I would have given him a good price."

"You would have sold..." she started, her tone incredulous. Her sentence was cut short as I pulled her forward by the back of the head, her forehead pressed firm to my abdomen. She moaned, forgetting her question. I admit it made my knees buckle. It had been months since the last time I used a woman.

___

Several ahns later, I was at the basin of my rented room washing my face. Mina was curled up beside my couch, shackled and chained at her left ankle. Nude, with the tunic I wore the day prior draped over her hip, her arms were crossed before her, and her knees were drawn together modestly.

"You used me," she said, her breath shallow. It was very nearly an accusation.

"That is true," I answered, turning to face her as I patted my face dry with a towel.

"You did not ask my permission," she said. "You simply put me to your pleasure."

"That, too, pretty Mina, is true," I said.

"I suppose you will tell me that is what a woman is good for," she said ruefully.

"Actually," I said, "you were not very good at all."

"Master?" she asked, not sure she understood. Was her use not a prize, a treasure that I helped myself to?

"You possess certain potentialities," I granted. "All women, by their nature, have potential."

"Potential for what, precisely, Master?" she asked.

I took my tunic from her hip and slipped it on. I unchained her from the floor.

"Clean my room, Mina," I said, and then left for the day.