Feeling useful.

The morning started as any other, the smoldering air woke up me, as I was still trying to adjust to the constant heat. I could wait an ahn and no cool breeze would be found. The morning rolled around slowly in its basic start of me pulling down the half finished bota's and checking the seams. I would add a bit more of the sealant on the stitch edging, just to be safe. Then I started to work in Thick cuts of leather straps around the narrow mouth piece, it was a bit more time consuming to work the thicker of the needles through and then make sure there was enough waterproofing sealant between the thicker leather and the scooped bota leather mouth piece. Again I would set it along the stitching that held the two pieces together. I measured its width perfectly to the corks that were left, knowing each wouldn't be the same, and the leather would be formed for that particular cork that I had choose for the individual bota's. I let a wet finger work around the inner piece of thick leather to soften it, making sure even in its soft form it was firm in sealing at the corks width. For once it dried around the cork, its seal would be perfect, and tight. Once again that feeling of pride was starting to kindle in my chest. I couldn't wait to show my progress to Catch...or even..Him. I walked each bota out as far as my chain would allow to let them hang up to dry, as I knew it would be quick with the warmth in the wagon. While I started to look over pieces of black leather, I would feel a blush touch as I saw how...skimpy each piece was. Not that I didn't see such on slaves walking around already, but to see it up close and personal, it looked so much smaller. Of course it was a bit more then...naked. I could work with skimpy. I took a small jar of oil out of the basket with the leathers, letting just the tips of my fingers be coated with it. I would give a small fold of the edges of the hems with the oil to keep the leather soft and flexible even with the tight stitching. It would also help in not letting the leather stiffen up causing stress on the stitching. Less need for constant repairs. Or so that is how Blush's use to do it at home. Cause my leather skirts when it was cold out, and me and Von were on our bets and adventures would always bring me many mends and patches that were needed. I quickly noticed the difference between the leathers as my fingers began to become stained. I will say, it was very interesting. Watching the hues of ebony starting to tint my finger tips as it melted away my pale flesh and gave it color that even swallowed up and collected my freckles in its spread.

I let a hum surround me, as I let my fingers continue to work along the edging on the vest. I amused myself with cross stitching that was a bit decorative, but one might not notice unless they really looked at the vest hems as the thread I was using was dyed black and if it was a bit light on the hue, it would grow darker from the oil and my smudge of black going from leather to fingers. I had noticed the form of the brand on most of the slaves that walked by. There were different ones but the mass of them were the same. It was like two sets of horns from bosk curving out from the center. I would make little horns all long the lowered hems. I wished for a different color thread but for now, it was good practice for me, and a form of pleasure as I work. A little something special, even if I would be the only one who truly noticed.

I had went through them pretty quickly, quicker then I thought I would have, when I went to reach for another and the pieces were already hemmed. I couldn't help it, I brought up one of the vest I had finished, slipping it through my arms to try it on, feeling very naughty about doing it. Like some secret one's heart would rage about in thought of it. The leather was soft and tight, and it molded against my breast. I could see the swells seem to enhance under its hold and freckled flesh about spill right out. I laughed to myself, and my cheeks were on fire. I lifted to my feet to look down and saw breast just looking....like....Wow. I was impressed. I let darkened finger tips just poke at the mounds of flesh and pondered making it tighter to see how much I could pull the leather until they really popped out, when I heard booted steps start up the stairs to the platform. I quickly took the vest off and tossed it in the basket. My heart was raging...He was back! Looking towards the entrance the flap was drawn back more. It clearly wasn't Him.