Questions

The sky opened up last night. The rain fell in wet, constant sheets for several ahn. I stood on the porch at dawn, when all had abated. The fields were intensely verdant, beautifully alive. I could hear Mina inside, singing as she bathed in the metal tub. The songs she knows all have to do with Ko-ro-ba, mostly having to do with the way the sun bathes her pastel cylinders at the start of each day. They call the place ‘The Towers of the Morning’ for a reason. Objectively, it is one of the finest things I have seen in all my travels, so I indulge a slave and let her sing of what was once home. Tasta is not much for the rain, so I imagine it was a restless night on the porch for the sleen. She only chuffed and then rolled over, slipping back into her slumber when I stepped out on the porch with her.

When Mina finished with her bath, she had work ahead of her. The same work she has had since the second day of En’Kara.
“Must I stomp the grapes, Master?” she asked. She wore her hair up in a kerchief. I allow her a rag to cover her hips, but only her collar past that.
“Do you question a command, slave girl?” I said.

“No, Master! Certainly not,” she said quickly. The sound of the grapes, squishing underfoot, was oddly pleasant. “I only meant, is there not a better way to extract the juice?”

I thought of stating the obvious, that getting Mina’s juices extracted was not a difficult process at all, but refrained and merely smiled. Judging by the way she blushed, and looked down, I noted that she sensed the double meaning of her words as swiftly as I did.
“There are presses, and other such machinery, yes,” I answered her. “...but the best wines are produced this way, with the fruit crushed by the foot of a woman before the fermentation process.“
“I am a woman,” she said. There was a hint of pride in her voice, as she took a turn at stating the obvious. However, she was not merely stating that she was of the female gender. She was admitting to the fact that she was a woman. Those that have had a slave, a true slave, one completely submitted and free of all pretense beneath them know the difference.
After staring directly at her bare breasts, I lifted the rag about her hips and feigned a cursory observation. “You seem to have the requisite parts,” I agreed.
“Yes, Master,” she answered.
“Do not take all morning,” I advised her. “When you have finished here, you have a full day ahead of you in the fields.”

I imagine the Lady Philomena, high born in the city of Ko-ro-ba, would choke at the notion of a man putting her to such menial work. Mina, a slave I acquired in the city of Port Kar, Jewel of Gleaming Thassa, however, seemed fittingly content. Delighted, at times.