Gaining the Professors Trust

"Alexander!" I cried out. He looked over at with wide eyed surprise.

"Do not speak to me, slut."

"Master!" I corrected as I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his knees. I was naked.. and kneeling for him.

At last.

~To be continued.

A bigger picture

For three days I was chained to the mast of a small ship. I ate from the fingers of another slave, drank from the cup of another. Everything was dead in the world. The sea held no pretty glimmer for me and the sky was gray for me no matter how the sun shone. I was worried for my garden, my sewing things, my rooftop terrace, my basement and most of all.. for my Master. Surely he had to be frantic now! By now he would all of the island searching for me.

Because he loved me, because I was special. I was his sweet little girl.

But three days had turned into 6 and then more.. and yet I was still here. No one spoke to me, no one touched me. The isolation I felt, the cutting off from the world, was the worst of all. I was truly .. alone. I missed my Master like I missed water, like I would miss the sunshine. I missed love and affection.I missed trying to please him. Even when I failed.. I even missed failure.

The small ship I was on had docked again, in Port Cos and I tried to shout to the men on the docks but I was so tired from standing here, my throat hurt, my body ached painfully. Someone did see me though.. someone looked up at me form the docks and I tried to scream my Masters name but in one swift slash of a knife the robes that bound me were cut and I fell limply to the deck, crying and coughing.

"Take her below and get her cleaned up." He snapped at one of the rowers, men captured in a raid surely and used now as slaves. I felt thick hands on my body and was thrown uselessly over a shoulder. I had never felt so helpless.

Two things happened on my way to the bath that changed everything, that made my emotions intensify..

I locked eyes with a man I knew all too well and I heard him speak.

"Port Cos will be free of this farce of a man once and for all."

It was the Professor.. and he spoke of Agrippa.

Stolen?!

I suppose it is my own fault. It must be my own fault. I still am not sue what I did to warrant the beating this morning but I took it to heart, the things he said afterwards. At least.. I meant too. Entertain, amuse, please. I was a privately owned city slave. City slave.

It had been a very short time ago, in Port Kar, where everything had been good and fine and happy. I'd been important to him then. I'd been special. Everything has changed. How I feel is constant. I loved him. I love him, I will love him.

from afar.

Agrippa needs .. things I cannot give him. Glory is better for him then I am. She is less.. curious then I am, she doesn't have my need to know and understand things. Her emotions are more focused on sex then mine are. I am not any good at being a slut. I'm just a silly little girl who thought she was in love.

I wish I had someone I could tell, someone who would see the empty space in my chest where my heart used to be and hug me, tell me it will be all right again. On Gor a woman like me can have many masters. I have no right to expect love. I have no right to even expect kindness.

No more expectations.

I had the most horrible feeling that it was coming, that he was finished with me. He wanted whores.. not silly little girls. Maybe I smiled too much, laughed too much.. or cried too much. I am crying now. Was it my ribbons? My flowers? My sensitivity? I had run home from the Markets, my ribbons left there, the bag as well. I had fled to the garden, where I could lose myself in the brightly colored flowers. Blossoms I could whisper all my secret feelings too and they would never judge me for it. I stayed there for hours when I started to think about the basement.

I rose, a handful of daisies in my hand and started for the basement door. My heart was pounding, my ponytail swung loosely down my back. I felt calmer just thinking about that room. I wanted to lock myself in there and sleep away the next few days. My hand closed over the knob, the key was in my hand when it happened.

I was grabbed from behind in the quiet house and rudely stripped, a hand covered my mouth and then a gag was forced between my lips so I could not scream. The peach silks I wore were torn from me, spilled on the floor in a ruined pile. The ribbon in my hair was yanked free and my yellow waves fell around my slender shoulders. My belly chain was torn free and skittered across the floor. They left my earrings in place though I was now naked. I recognized one of the men, he stood before me and I nearly relaxed. He worked for my Master. Surely I was safe.. he worked for my Master!

And then he pulled out a key and unlocked my collar.

I screamed, fought and kicked him. I lost every shred of decorum I had left. The hand on my mouth tightened and forced the rag deeper in my mouth, his arm held my waist tightly, pulling me back on him as I tried to scratch them, kick them.. I wanted my collar back! I'd die without it, I'd .. just.. die.

Please oh please oh please.. I was choking on the rag, bruised around my waist. I was sobbing again. I'd never see my garden again. The vegetables on the roof would surely die, the sewing room would grow dusty. Who would cook for him? Who would press his uniform and carefully scrub the straps of his sandals?

Who would sleep in the basement?

"The professor has a message for you." The man spoke. Was he kidnapping me?! Was I being sold?! I shook my head violently, slamming the back of my head into the nose of the man who held me. In surprise he let me go and I tried to run at once, my feet slipped and I caught myself on my hands. I started to scream for Agrippa but the man I recognized was fast and I felt a sudden blinding pain behind my eyes and the whole world.. went black.

When Agrippa came home I'd be gone.. but my silks, my belly chain and a scattering of daises would be scattered across the floor by the basement door. I clung to the hope that he would find me and bring me back home.

Where I belonged.

Dance with me

till the end of love.

Alone, in a crowd.

I have been trying, because I think it is what he wants and there has not been time to really ask, to get.. out more. Alone, on my own with no shopping list. I have left the house dressed prettily, with fresh ribbons in my hair and wandered to the market square and to the docks. My feet are bare, my ankles no longer belled so I no longer can draw attention without speaking. I miss my bells but.. I like my new found ability to be silent.

I can go where I wish, I can be soundless, silent and soft. I can lean on a wall by a window and hear the discussions inside. I can go unnoticed. Even in the house, i think.. I can sneak now. I really don't need too but it is interesting, to know I can. I have not been brave enough to go anywhere yet where I might be forced to serve a man.

No one hears me when I sneak down to the basement and lock myself in that room. That room scares me so much yet I keep coming back to it. I keep touching everything there, running my fingers over the netal and the leather and mostly the silk.

I crawl into the thick plush furs and feel myself sink into the luxury of them, my honey gold curls spilling around me and I imagine what it must have been like for the woman who lived down here, kept away from the sun, hidden away and protected from jealous anger. Love can be cruel.. love can hurt. I run my hands over the silk and let my gaze fall on the dangling chains, tiny manacles. I flex my wrists and bring one to my mouth, pressing my lips there as I stare at that hanging chain and feel all slithery slick inside.

I fall asleep there, The key in the lock, the chains still as stone and my naked body wrapped up in the heat of.. this room.

Like somebody's watching me...

I was buying larma fruit, my delicate fingers swept over the shiny skins. I was a toucher, a taster. I feel things differently from others, I know. Sensation is everything. I cannot keep my hands to myself. I do not want too. So I was touching the fruit, breathing in the sharp citrus scents, the crisp tart of the red fruits.

My thoughts were a million miles away.. on my Master, on his.. head and how he had behaved last night. I had run to him to be comforted form the harsh sounds downstairs. I couldn’t stand them. I banged my shin on a step and stumbled into his room. But it was not my master that greeted me. It was a stranger. He demanded I strip myself, he tore my pretty bells from my body, the clasps broken, the little bells scattered over the floor. I wore nothing by my earrings, which were more then jewelry.. they were what marked me as the lowest of slaves, a pierced ear girl.

"Go to the sun deck." He snapped at me and, withholding my tears, I fled. But Agrippa followed me, wrapped me in my favored fur, kissed my temple and ordered me to sleep.

"Tomorrow will be better." he promised.

So here it was, tomorrow and things were better. I was slipping back into my place in his world, I was happy today. I was.. naked and unadorned but I knew it pleased him to see me this way sometimes, to know others saw me and desired me. Lucky for me there were few men in Port Cos who would dare to use the Administrators slut without at least asking first. I could come and go unscathed.

"I'll take 4 of those." Spoke a voice form my left. A mans voice.. a voice that reached right down to my belly and pulled all the strength form my body. My knees weakened. I turned my head slightly and peered at the speaker.

It was the professor.

I turned and fled.

Goat Hill

The house on Goat hill is the very same house I always dreamed of when I was.. well, before I was brought here. I think Agrippa reached into my dreams and plucked it form there. It's big, three stories and kind of rambling. It is set back on a hill and surrounded by what appears to a shrub somewhat like hemlock. Pretty but deadly. It appeals to the part of me that enjoyed Sylvia Plath. You know.. head in the oven my daughter just killed herself kind of emo writing before emo was too hip to handle?

The front door is black, ornate but stately, as it should be for a man in his position. I must admit though, even now, when I am trying to put space between us, to find my cute again.. I worry that he is handling his position too foolishly. When I think these things my fingers trace the lettering that has long since washed from my belly. But that's another story.

When you walk into Goat Hill you are greeted by marble floors that are always highly polished. I would appreciate them so much more if I was not the only one polishing them. I think when I have won his affections back again (and never doubt that I will) I will beg him to purchase three kettle slaves who can cook but are very skinny and unattractive.

The furniture is sparse and mostly appears to be antique. There are whole walls of bookshelves, empty though, save for one book that I found on the floor of a closet. It looks like pretty poetry, I hope it is. (it's really instructions on how to properly stoke a wood stove, seriously.)

My room, not where I sleep exactly but my room simply because no one else would want to be there like I do, is the sewing room. It too is lined with shelves but I have filled them with all manner of cloth and silk and ribbons and trims. I have jars of buttons and sparkles and shiny bits of metal. There is a mirror, something like a dancers mirror and a lot of natural light through the wall of windows and door that face 'my' wild flower garden. It leads right onto the stone path that winds though the garden. There is a broken bench out there that I want to fix. I smirk, realizing I am immersed in the broken lately.

The kitchen is large enough to feed an army, there is a brick oven.. like a pizza oven only big enough to put whole people inside of it! Metal grating creates shelves for cooking and a thick heavy kettle sits firmly among the ashes. It reminds me of Cinderella. If I were Cinderella I would sleep here. But.. I am not because I am loved.. most of the time, right?

There are several guest rooms and then my Masters large bedroom that sits below the sun deck.

flash..

"What would you want a big house for Lola?" he asked me on the boat one day, an idle amused question.

"We could have a sun deck on the roof! And sit all afternoon in the warmth." I had replied, grinning and sparkling for him. He had rolled his eyes at me and chuckled.

"I like the barge just fine."

back...

So when he brought me here and told me about the sun roof, a silent gesture to show me how much he did listen to the silly things I said, how much he wanted me, silly little lola, to be happy, I felt so inadequate again! How could ever show this man how much he meant to me? How much his gestures meant to me? How could I possibly care about collars and silks when he gave me spaces and places and prose..

There is sunken marble tub on the third floor and I take a great deal of pleasure in being the one who draws his bath most nights, running the hot washcloth over his shoulders and down his chest. My lips pressed to his temple, a little whisper in his ear.

Lastly.. about the house on Goat Hill is the basement. My breath catches just thinking about that basement. Some woman lived there once, isolated and alone, caged away for the pleasure of a man. I cannot help but wonder what she did to deserve that? Agrippa says it was love.. but then could he do that to me? Shut me away from the whole world in that dark red room?

Can you love someone.. too much?

Where my love grows

"You can deal with it then." he had said, as if it was some kind of annoyance to his world. It is the last time I recall being really, really happy. It was only a few weeks ago but it seemed too far away to touch now. My mental bridge between that day and this day has fallen. Broken. Dust between us.

I had kissed him and laughed when he gave me the wildflower garden with it's climbing ivy and flowers so big and bright they were dazzling to me. Birds live in my garden, butterflies flock here. Love grows here. I cannot name the flowers, I was taught nothing of Gorean botany. I call them by their colors. Tall yellow reed, fat red blooms, spiraling blue bush. There are more then I can ever count and every morning I pluck a handful of them and bring them into the kitchen to brighten everyone's day.

Everything was perfect that day.

Now I have doubt, now I wonder why I bother. How can I be a love slave and have doubt? I am supposed to be the most humbled of slaves, the happiest, the most fulfilled. But I have run out of smiles, I had no idea I had so few or I would not have squandered them away so quickly. Agrippa has not run out of smiles... just smiles for me. He hardly notices me now, no matter how much effort I put into how I dress, or my hair. I could be wearing bootstraps and sack cloth, it would all be the same. I would do it too, because misbehaving seems to work for Bit.. but I am not that bold, I need him to be pleased with me to much to want his negative attention. And somehow.. while he seems to find Bits misbehavior, often at my own expense, amusing.. I do not think I enjoy that same connection with him. I do not want too. I am a good girl.

I have lost my cute. Like a broken toy. That's what I am too.. a broken Toy.

She got into my gold glitter, which I suppose is not very rare or expensive but.. I had earned that, Agrippa had not given it to me or bought it for me.. I had earned that on my own. I had tried to tell him twice, even before bit used it, but.. There is something wrong with the way my voice finds his ears, it keeps getting lost on the way. The small gestures I have tried to make, the kisses and the touches.. have gone unnoticed for days. All of this and then Bit used nearly all of my glitter which cannot be replaced by simply purchasing more.

He had me whip bit, I didn't want too, I've never whipped anyone, I didn't want to hurt anyone, I re-home the worms and snails I find in the garden for goodness sake.. and still I had to whip her. When I finished I realized how little it mattered, Bit hardly seemed bothered by the fact that I whacked her with a tree branch ten times. She must be a very strong woman because I would have been reduced to apologetic tears. Apologies on Gor seem so rare, which is probably a good thing, they are more meaningful when they are doled out sparingly. But I.. I would have liked a real apology for the destruction of my things. For the disrespect of touching what was mine without asking, for ignoring the order to wait til I taught her how to use them before she did.

I tried so hard to like bit and, for awhile, I did. I liked her right up until she tried to physically harm me and and threatened my life. How can I forgive that when, again, she has not apologized and likely never will unless someone tells her too. I was trying to pick out fabric for her, mind you.. I never get to buy new fabrics for myself, but I was picking out colors for Bit. I have no idea what she was so worked up about. So worked up that she though it was justified to pull my hair and choke me. Bit doesn't understand that she has so much more then I do. She did not make anything she wears, she never has to get her hands dirty, Agrippa is always pleased to see her. She has a more elaborate collar, she has more freedoms, she does not annoy him like I do. He went out of his way to have her, tricked her, wanted her to be his. Me? I was just an accident, hopefully still a happy one.

Bit and I will never be friends, I suppose. Not like I have easily befriended Glory. I think perhaps it is because Glory is so completely unlike me, it is easier for me to like her. The more bit tries to be like me.. the less I want to be around her. It makes the ground beneath my feet shift, it makes my collar feel.. looser.

I am.. unpleasant to be around now, I can see that. I am not a happy girl, the happy girl he used to like. I will let their be space between us, I will let him decide when he wants me near. I have enough to do at home to keep me occupied.

The garden needs some attention.