"Was it really necessary, Master?" Mina asked me, shuddering in a decidedly uncomfortable fashion as she met Tasta's golden-eyed, serpentine gaze.
"It was the prudent thing to do," I answered her.
"I do not like the sleen," she said.
"Tasta is very thorough," I granted.
"Do you think I will run from you?" she asked.
"It would be foolish," I said.
She could only guess at just how foolish it would be to run. The sleen had taken her scent. If she ran, it would follow her. It would continue to follow her until she was found. She would then be herded back to my feet. Or eaten. Sometimes sleen misinterpret your commands. It is understandable. They are only sleen. Mina, too, is tender about the flanks. One could hardly blame a ravenous carnivore for the lapse in discipline. These things were explained to Mina. I would not want her to misinterpret my commands. She is not a sleen. Lapses in discipline are tolerated far less in slave girls than sleen.
"You put a collar on me," she said.
"A simple block collar," I said.
"You had me branded," she said.
"Your thigh is marked with the standard kef," I said.
"I belong to you," she said.
"That is known to me," I said.
Before I left, I purchased her from the Tavern Master. I suppose it was inevitable. She is not very good, but she tries. And she is eager. Also, she has a nice ass. And she was sold at a discount.
"I will not run from you," she assured me.
"You will consider it from time to time," I said.
"Master?" she replied.
"You are a slave," I answered. "You will test the length of your chain."
"I will not run, Master," she reiterated.
"You are a slave," I answered. "You will try to manipulate me."
"Master?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you leave Port Kar?" she asked.
"I am not of Port Kar," I said. This should have been obvious, really.
