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| My Branding |
| � Macore kisses his Love and stands, He quickly walks back to the rear of the Tavern and then brings out a strange contraption that looks like a wagon wheel with some clamps and wheels upon it. He rolls it to the center of the Tavern and returns to his furs for a moment.
� Macore digs around in his furs and finds the Gift his Lady gave him and taking it from the Box moves over to the fire and shoves it deep into the heart of the Fire � Macore takes trea by the collar and drags her over to the contraption � {trea}Mac cries out softly, stumbling in His wake � Macore trea hoists trea up onto the contraption and and whirls some wheels and clamps fastening her securely into it, with her left outside thigh prominently turned up and accesable � {trea}Mac whimpers, then quiets, looking to her Master with quiet adoration, falling still in the restraints as lashes dip to cheeks and her breathing slows, calming herslef � Macore leaving trea on the wheel, he goes over to the fire, takes hold of the handle and pulls the brand out of the fire, looking to see how hot the tip is � Macore shakes his head as it is not white hot yet and plunges it back into the fire � Macore waits a while longer and then once again checks the heat of the tip of the iron � Macore satisfied he walks over to trea, taking a bit of thick bosk hide in hand he speaks (Macore) Open your mouth and bite on this my slave � {trea}Mac opens her eyes at His voice, listening intently, opening her mouth and biting down on the hide (Macore) Hold as still as you would not want to wear an ugly brand now would you? ({trea}Mac) no Master � Macore nods and focusing his attention on trea's thigh and holding the iron firmly and with no further ado, presses it against the flesh of the girl � Macore holds the iron firmly as he counts, hearing the sizzle of burning skin and the smell start to percolate around him � {trea}Mac hisses as the iron presses into her flesh, biting down on the hide, head falling back against the device, the only movement of her body, tears fall from the corners of her eyes to drip onto cheeks, matting the midnight tresses below, a low whimper eases past the gag as the smell reaches her, wrinkling her nose � Macore finishes his count of five and then quickly pulls the iron back. (Macore) Looking down he is pleased to see a crisp mark left with the image of a wagon wheel, containing his Initial M. � Macore places the iron back in the fire and quickly undoes the clamps from the shivering girl letting her down to the floor next to tavie � {trea}Mac sags in relief as the iron leaves her flesh, a low groan is lost to the gag, a shiver slides through her body, twisting her within the branding rack, unable to quell it as her body's natural reaction to the vast heat and then the loss of it (Macore) Girl you have been branded in the Manner of the Tuchuks, and now wear My mark to remind you of who and what you are... � {trea}Mac slides to the floor, pulling the gag from her mouth she sips desperately at the water tavie holds, clinigng to her sister while she lifts dark turbulent eyes to her Master, speaking weakly ({trea}Mac) yes my Master |
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