removed.
The man wore a Craftsman’s cloak. “Rand’s greetings, sire.
My name is Pentel, from Syminton & Son.” He shifted his bag of equipment to
his left hand so he could greet the lord with the proper salute—right hand to
left shoulder.
“Of course! I’ve been waiting for you.” Rydah returned the
greeting.
“I hope your breeder has proven to be satisfactory? You’ve
tried her out sufficiently? You have a dal to decide, you know.”
“Oh, I’m very satisfied, yes. Excellent merchandise.”
Jenya blushed and stared at the floor.
“Good! That’s good. Well, I won’t take much of your time. I
just need to take her outside to finish the brand, and unlock the chain. That
is, unless you’re concerned she might run away.”
“No. She’s very obedient. I think she’s happy here.”
Jenya wanted to nod in agreement, but she knew they weren’t
paying any attention to her.
“Now I have to urge some caution…sometimes these slaves
pretend to be happy, only to run off the first chance they get. We’ve had to
chase down a few like that over the rynes .”
“I’m sure about her. You can remove it.”
“Very well.” He turned to Jenya. “Slave, I need some charcoal.
Go fetch it for me.” She bowed and went to the kitchen.
“I won’t take you from your work any longer, sire,” Pentel
said. “We’ll just be out back for a bit. It takes a little while for the
charcoal to heat up the brand.”
“Hmm. Actually, I’d like to watch you brand her. Would you
call me when you’re ready?”
“Of course, sire.” He went to the back door and motioned for
Jenya to follow him.
Rydah returned to his duties. Like before, when he had been
waiting for his breeder to be delivered, he found it hard to concentrate. He
shuffled the pages, studying the words of the high priest, letting his mind
wander.
About a half- hura later, Pentel called from the rear
doorway. “We’re ready, sire.”
The lord rose and hurried to the back yard. He found Jenya,
chained to the slave ring, shivering and clearly afraid, as Pentel heated up a
small brand in the brazier. The charcoal glowed gray, the tip of the brand,
red.
Rydah felt sorry for his slave. He hated to see her be
branded again, yet he knew it was necessary. She wouldn’t officially be his
until the “X” brand was completed.
“Would you like me to hold her?”
“Would you, sire? It would make the brand go on more
cleanly.”
Rydah approached Jenya and held her by the arms, just above
her elbows. She seemed happy to have him near, for she stopped shivering and
gazed into his eyes.
“If you would, please, sire, just turn her and have her lean
against the wall, so her left shoulder is exposed. There, that’s it. Now,
slave, don’t move or it will just hurt worse.”
Jenya never took her eyes off her master’s face as Pentel
aimed the small, red-hot brand just below the “V” on her shoulder. He pressed
it in quickly, then jerked it away. The brand hissed on her skin, causing her
to yelp involuntarily.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Actually, it was bad, but at the same time, Jenya felt
inordinate pride at having the X marked on her. Now the world would know, she
thought. She was no longer a virgin, but a full-fledged breeder. Tears came to
her eyes.
Pentel unlocked her chain from her collar and handed it and
the key to Lord Rydah, in the event he ever wanted them. The chain could be
clipped on at any time. Then he packed up his equipment, except for the hot
brand, which he carried in his free hand. He nodded his departure and left, no
doubt on to some other Damon’s home.
“Are you all right?” Rydah asked.
His concern touched her. Here she was, a mere slave, and he
was worried about her . It did hurt a lot, but she didn’t want to admit
it.
“It’s okay, m’lord. I can put some butter on it.”
He took her arm gently and examined the angry mark. It had
been well done, he had to admit. The small X was shallow, but
The man wore a Craftsman’s cloak. “Rand’s greetings, sire.
My name is Pentel, from Syminton & Son.” He shifted his bag of equipment to
his left hand so he could greet the lord with the proper salute—right hand to
left shoulder.
“Of course! I’ve been waiting for you.” Rydah returned the
greeting.
“I hope your breeder has proven to be satisfactory? You’ve
tried her out sufficiently? You have a dal to decide, you know.”
“Oh, I’m very satisfied, yes. Excellent merchandise.”
Jenya blushed and stared at the floor.
“Good! That’s good. Well, I won’t take much of your time. I
just need to take her outside to finish the brand, and unlock the chain. That
is, unless you’re concerned she might run away.”
“No. She’s very obedient. I think she’s happy here.”
Jenya wanted to nod in agreement, but she knew they weren’t
paying any attention to her.
“Now I have to urge some caution…sometimes these slaves
pretend to be happy, only to run off the first chance they get. We’ve had to
chase down a few like that over the rynes .”
“I’m sure about her. You can remove it.”
“Very well.” He turned to Jenya. “Slave, I need some charcoal.
Go fetch it for me.” She bowed and went to the kitchen.
“I won’t take you from your work any longer, sire,” Pentel
said. “We’ll just be out back for a bit. It takes a little while for the
charcoal to heat up the brand.”
“Hmm. Actually, I’d like to watch you brand her. Would you
call me when you’re ready?”
“Of course, sire.” He went to the back door and motioned for
Jenya to follow him.
Rydah returned to his duties. Like before, when he had been
waiting for his breeder to be delivered, he found it hard to concentrate. He
shuffled the pages, studying the words of the high priest, letting his mind
wander.
About a half- hura later, Pentel called from the rear
doorway. “We’re ready, sire.”
The lord rose and hurried to the back yard. He found Jenya,
chained to the slave ring, shivering and clearly afraid, as Pentel heated up a
small brand in the brazier. The charcoal glowed gray, the tip of the brand,
red.
Rydah felt sorry for his slave. He hated to see her be
branded again, yet he knew it was necessary. She wouldn’t officially be his
until the “X” brand was completed.
“Would you like me to hold her?”
“Would you, sire? It would make the brand go on more
cleanly.”
Rydah approached Jenya and held her by the arms, just above
her elbows. She seemed happy to have him near, for she stopped shivering and
gazed into his eyes.
“If you would, please, sire, just turn her and have her lean
against the wall, so her left shoulder is exposed. There, that’s it. Now,
slave, don’t move or it will just hurt worse.”
Jenya never took her eyes off her master’s face as Pentel
aimed the small, red-hot brand just below the “V” on her shoulder. He pressed
it in quickly, then jerked it away. The brand hissed on her skin, causing her
to yelp involuntarily.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Actually, it was bad, but at the same time, Jenya felt
inordinate pride at having the X marked on her. Now the world would know, she
thought. She was no longer a virgin, but a full-fledged breeder. Tears came to
her eyes.
Pentel unlocked her chain from her collar and handed it and
the key to Lord Rydah, in the event he ever wanted them. The chain could be
clipped on at any time. Then he packed up his equipment, except for the hot
brand, which he carried in his free hand. He nodded his departure and left, no
doubt on to some other Damon’s home.
“Are you all right?” Rydah asked.
His concern touched her. Here she was, a mere slave, and he
was worried about her . It did hurt a lot, but she didn’t want to admit
it.
“It’s okay, m’lord. I can put some butter on it.”
He took her arm gently and examined the angry mark. It had
been well done, he had to admit. The small X was shallow, but
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