Wholly Owned
::she sits on the wall in the gardens overlooking the pool, one leg dangling
over the side, the other tucked beneath her. her hair is damp from swimming,
tiny droplets of water cling to her skin... she has not bothered to dress. she
is tanned to a soft golden color except for a white circle of soft skin at her
bare throat. the journal lays in her lap. she had put the writing instrument to
the paper, thinking to write about the many people in the gardens last night
that she had not seen in so very long. she thought to write of odd interactions
... the impending journey ... a conversation with a slave girl. she wrote none
of that. only a few words are on the page ...::
I am his ... completely Mastered ... wholly owned.