A Savior In Black

It was not the sort of man you'd expect to see in the gardens. Sitting on a bench with scrolls of rence in front of his face. Other girls about had noticed him as well; ones from the city, no doubt, that knew who he was. They fawned and preened in want for his attention, which he seemed oblivious of. I must have looked totally out of place with my tunic of buckskin, beaded leather pouches and the ever present flute. It was for this reason that he summoned me to his feet. I had been warned before of the city people and their questionings, and since I was not permitted to speak any but the language of the village, that made it even more difficult to communicate.

I was commanded to speak Gorean, though he seemed to understand much of my broken words. Many questions were asked, most of which I was uncertain of how to answer. It was a confusing, awkward position to be in, to say the least. How does a slave explain a life as the one I lived? It seems he did not want explanations. He wanted an answer to only one question, and even that I found myself unable to give a suitable reply.

During the time of his speaking to me, a woman came to join him. Given the looks shared between them, and the words, it is my understanding that they are companioned. She is a beautiful woman from what I can see, and unlike with most free women, I did not detect anything cold or cruel in her eyes. As aggravated as he had become, I was thankful she arrived. She seemed to bring a calming to him. I understood her name to be Taijen.

The last thing I expected was for him to react. Given I had thown myself down at his feet in obesience for having annoyed him so, I expected him to dismiss me and go on with the rest of his evening. But he didn't.

I cannot finger exactly what it is, or any certain reason why, but there is something very different about this man. There was an intensity in the weight of his gaze that stirred something inside of me. Something I'd not felt in a very long time. I had all but given up hope on so many things. But there he was, my savior. Even for what short time I have been with him, he has drawn something out of me: a desire to please. Actually please. The desire to be the slave I used to be and the slave he will demand me to be.

More than all, he has given me a gift that he is unaware of. That gift being the reason why I want, and will, be worthy of his collar. He has closed the door on the ghosts, silencing the voices that once haunted me.

For the first time I can say with pride: I am a slave. I am owned by Deimos Noire.
I can call him "my Master" because he is. While it all may sound so selfish in written words, the meaning is truly so different. For the first time in many years, I am owned. I am wanted. He found me enough to be pleasing and worthy enough to be his. This is all a simple kajira could ever dream for.

My Master has breathed life back into me, reaching inside of me and taking bits and pieces as he wishes. He is an answer to a long pleaded prayer.