She moves to the Assassain, quiet steps graceful from years of training and service, the butterflies that reside in her stomach have no outward showing. Kneeling beside His table, she presses the bowl tight to her belly, then presses a soft gentle kiss to the bowl, near the bottom, before lifting it to Him over the riot of brown curls.
He lifts the bowl from her hands, setting it upon the table, He slides a finger under her chin and lifts the slave's face to look deep into the transparent hazel of her eyes. A finger traces over the sweet cheek softly, almost lovingly, before she is thrown to the floor from the force of the blow.
She cowers on the floor, tears welling up on onto her cheeks, a small hand pressed to the flaming hand mark upon the ivory skin. A quick motion of His hand sends her scrambling as she picks up the coin He has flung tot he floor, in her teeth and then given a dissmissive nod, she flees to the paga attendant and drops the coin into the bowl.
She races back to His table, catching yet another silent movement of His hand, she slips to a wide nadu at His left. Her cheek still flames from the creul blow, she dares to peek at Him through thick lashes, and is thrown to the floor again. She sobs openly as she pulls herself back to her knees, wounded, humbled.
His voice is gravelly as He finally speaks to her, handing her the now empty bowl. "Kajira, you have displeased me twice, fetch more paga, and attempt to be more pleasing, or I will see that you are whipped well."
She shivers in fear, not being able to hold back her emotion at the mention of the whip, taking the bowl from His hands, she speaks quietly, not daring to look up. "Yes Master"
She rises slowly from His furs, pivoting on her toes as she walks back to the attendant, sniffling as she sways her way through the tavern, giving the attendant the bowl, she waits as He fills it, and is given back the bowl, swinging about abruptly, she is given a swat by the attendant to hurry her on her task.
She slinks her way over the floor of the tavern, weaving between patrons and tables, shaking off the hands that reach for her with practiced ease, she again reaches Him, and presses the bowl deep into sweet soft skin, pressing it to her cheek to check the temperature, and then laying a kiss to the bowl, offering it up once more to Him.
He takes the bowl once more, and lifts her chin. Pride shines in His eyes as He looks at her. "Well done my kajira. Nestle."
She snuggles into the cradle of His arm with a soft smile on her lips, her greatest pleasure coming from pleasing her Master. The test of this night completed and passed.
