Slavescent
The walk to Venna was hard. The path wound
through swamp and muck at times and by the time we reached the city, people
stepped well away from me when we passed them on the street. He prodded me into
a bathhouse for slaves where a woman wrinkled her nose and talked about burning
the clothing I wore. I was soaked, bathed, oiled and perfumed with an
inexpensive floral scent ... He called it slavescent. It is strange to watch the
reactions of men when a girl wearing slavescent passes by. It draws their
awareness even before they see her. The scent is light, but permeates the air,
announcing a girl's presence. Free women do not wear anything similar.
I am almost embarrassed to admit that my behavior since we arrived in Venna is
far different than in Ar. I look at him boldly, sloe-eyed. When I walk my hips
sway enough to lift the silks. I tore a slit in the side to expose my my entire
thigh and have also found that if the knot is tied just a little differently,
the drape in front exposes the top of my breasts.
Perhaps it is the excitement of being somewhere new and seeing things I have
never seen before - tharlarion races, slave auctions, new faces. Sometimes I
think it is the slavescent effecting me.
I begged him to use me two nights ago. I was not shy in my begging. He indulged
his slave and silenced my pleading most effectively.