Links of a new life

I woke up afraid to move. I wasn't sure if it was heat, emotions, life, or the warming feel of metal between my thighs. My body was trembling, from the inside out. My heart was a fury, as slow deep breaths were trying to control..everything. I felt cool grass from under the wagon burn from my flesh. I was sinking in mud, or so the vision was, not of fire, but of sprinkles of sweat running down my curves, across every freckled pattern, a glitter of droplets like hot summer rain dampening every part of me.

I could see it all in the tight squeeze of my eyes praying that I would let darkness that was once the comfort of slumber now a vivid reality of body taking control. I could breath in every strand of bladed nature and mothering earth that it was growing from. Even the flex of toes caused the pain of new need give a slow scorch across my skin. I didn't know how to stop it, how to make it go away. I didn't want it to stop, I wanted it to finish, but the start was something so delicious as I dare feel the stretch and cord of muscle spread my thighs, rolling links against the wet folds and let them grind into a pinch of slit flesh as I had nothing to hold on to, but the heaved sway of breast. Tips of nails would find taut grasping, twisted under a moan of breeze, falling to an arch of body's struggle. I wanted, I had no idea what I wanted, but all that was blazed in my mind was this feeling. I didn't know its beginning but I knew I had to search its end. I had never awakened with such an emotion of pure, lust. My fingers were not enough. I tried, it was like adding fuel to the fire trying to get its flames to lower. Every part of me was the core of heat. Running touch across stomach, navel, feeling the soft fine red curls forming against my sex. It was becoming foreign, this natural state of even my, oh, tongue was wet and thick with honey. Raw naughtiness. Feel the word, not ever rolled from my throat across my lips but to think it was something that gave another taboo of delight. Pussy. It was a sudden throb under watery folds and curls. Pussy. Ah, that was it. I wanted someone to want it. I could have saved myself some of the pain under fingered stroke, dipping and stirring like the honey dabbler in a jar. I could have.

My mind said, suffer. Let the world smell my need, each bit of warmly dipped soft honey candy coated in chocolate. I liked the aroma, it was very hypnotizing. This need, humbled me. I smiled even to the Bitch as she would walk by. Lust and submission, even to another slave? What an evil Pussy to make me feel this way. I don't think my stitches on my mending was ever so pretty of a pattern, or even the subs of the washing basin smelled so crisp and clean against the dishes. I kept my chain shorter. Still allowed me to work, eat, but its wrap across my waist, stroking under my navel like a pretty belly chain, just kept me, reminded. Of one need. Which was a nice little push, to another. To earn the right to serve. That feeling lucky was not a core of the Pussy that was keeping me glowing that day. It was one that was the center of the pit of that fire. That contained it. Allowed it to be fed.

That was the spirit inside of me, once again starting to warm. No one can make me happy, but me to start. Was I ready again? Silly slave on her third owner. No, I wasn't. But I was ready to try. To accept. To find me again, for collars could change, but the throat they rested on, was the same. One day, one might just have its perfect fit. For some reason that reminded me of a story about a ring of pure love, lost in a huge tub of others. Only the perfect finger would find it, and He would know once it was on, that this was what they both had been dreaming of. My ring was different, yet the same. It wouldn't be my finger. It would be something, a lot more sensitive.

Bitch......

I like to watch her. Bitch has this air about her that is one of demand, and warning. Yet the way she moves I won't say is sensual, but it has its one natural grace. From steps that are strong, but not stomped. Its like the tips of toes touching the ground and just rolling to the brace of heel, with the union of strong thighs that gloss in dark hue, to the turn of hip, rounding off the motion with an outline of slender waist, natural strength of feminine abdominal molded up curve of shoulders and even the extend of arms in chores has its own motion. I try not to look at her mouth, no need to, for she doesn't speak to me. I am not hard pressed about it, yet. I miss words. I find myself talking to the sleen in the cage. Often. When I stare at her face to often, I will get a glimpse of the edge of teeth. It is very creepy to me. I don't understand the reasoning. To keep people away? To want to be left alone in general? Hide beauty? Cause she was outstandingly beautiful in how exotic she looked, as long as I didn't see those teeth. It can't be all bad to men. I see Him take full use of her. The smell of her, which is like baked plums and cloves, rich and yet, strong. Of Him, that of sandalwood, salt, and musk of male. It was something different. I hadn't been close to many men to pinpoint it just yet, but I would figure it out. Roll all of that up in aroma and sound of sex it was like warm mulled palmwine. Made me think of drinking the heated spiced wine from the cup of a Master's hand. The feel that could be brought by the scent. I wondered if He loved the unique of her. It made me feel rather pale and plain. Strangely I still felt safe in the chains, wasn't ready to leave them just yet, though I missed walking around more then that the chains allowed. We were moving again, I could do a bit of help, as I would learn how to grease axles, and rub the metal band of wheels with a piece of leather to make sure they were fused good and nothing caught between the band and wood. She would move around tending to feeding sleen, me, leaving me chores, releasing me to only do minor natural function things, and freeing my wrist to bath, some salve so the locked shackles didn't chaff my flesh to badly.

I watched her work on a hide, I wanted to help, but nothing I could do from so close to wagons as the tissue and flesh so close to sleen was never a good idea. I was watching her work as I scrubbed the platform and steps with a tarsk hair brush and a bucket of soapy water. The way the hand blade move in strokes across the surface, how the muscles tensed and firmed in her upper arms as she worked up then down. How she would moisten the skin before running the blade over it once again. I felt a lot of envy right now. Just watching the bubble rise before me, my tiny reflection captured in its circled opal swirls. Yes, as much as I might have a hint of respectful fear for Bitch, I was so very jealous.

Risen........

from the ashes

When it gets hot

The feeling was like hearing a story read to you and the images were just bursting before your eyes, in your mind, and it was like you could just truly feel this phantom of forms before you as each word would fill into your ears and filter out in your own imagination like colorful figures instead of simple shadows at the change of light against the wall of the wagon's canvas.

But this was real.

Fire, its smell was all around us. I was unchained quickly, I didn't need to be told anything, instinct kicked in. Not as powerful as those I saw around me, but I remember as a child, when our Hall caught on fire. We were attacked by a nights fleet that hit the shores in such mass amounts we had no time to truly respect the sound of alarm from horns and ringing of the shore bell tower. It was a bloody battle, we were maybe six, and blushes rushed us, women and children, of the Hall, to the underground cave towards the hills outside the farm. Here, I saw young boys and girls near that age rushing to pile wagons, release animals, no one could run and hide out here, there was only save and survive. I felt my back prickle at the heat gaining towards the wagons even though they were starting to roll out. I remember the bosk starting to move as I was still pulling locks of chains and tethers tight, throwing water across their backs to keep the metal chains cool that was rubbing on them and heating up quickly with the air. It was hard to see, the instant sky of black and raining ash from wagons already being victim. Screaming was all over, I kept swallowing my heart down over and over. I have never experienced this before. Nothing like this. People were running around wagons that were already on the path were being handed up children, and elders. We had many even on His wagon, climbing to the platform, and I clung to the post there of the railing. I was so afraid. Even when a little girl was placed in my lap for me to hold as the wagon filled with caged sleens covered with blankets and leather to keep them calm and filter out the smoke , was filling up quickly with people also. There was so many tears, not just my own. I held to the child as my heart again seemed to ache watching the scene we were rolling away from. Men on kaiila's just being swallowed whole, back wagons finally getting out, not making it as people ran out of flaming Canvases and Bosk were released still in chains to save themselves. Screaming women trying to run back in the fire being dragged away by others. It was nothing but a wall of fire, like a huge avalanche of nightmares spilling like a damn just broken. I wanted to squeeze my eyes tight, I didn't want to see anymore, but for some reason I watched. I was moved by so much emotion, how much strength and love showed. It was like the feeling I got when me and red ran out once the men started towards the cave. Even in the far distance we could see bodies and blood staining ground and frosted hills under the stars and moons. It was the joy felt, and tears of praise and thanks when we both ran into Father's bloody warm chest, as he was even still holding his Ax, looking over the three of us, as Von was in Blush's arms as she kept up with our small running feet. That was the feeling that kept rolling over me as I would see any familiar face passing by, or working to fight the fire back.

I stay huddled next to the child in my arms, giving her water from a bota that was passed around to the group on the platform. Only once she had warmed to a quiet breath of slumber and the trembling stopped against my chest in my soft rocking of her tiny figure did I dare close my own burning eyes. I spread a blanket of protection for the child as I held her, I was a brace for a woman that rested her weary cheek against my shoulder, a thigh for a toddler who was across his grandmothers lap, and helped prop his red sore looking feet up, as I felt a tear run down my cheek again thinking of him running through the burning ground into her arms. There was still the sounds of fire, the sounds of wagons, crying, sniffles, coughing, whimpering and just the sound of rolling wooden wheels being lead by bosk rocking us to our own thoughts.


Me, I was so happy to be alive, and well, considering. I was happy to be where I was. It brought a feeling I hadn't had in a long time, I didn't dwell much on it, but just let it be my cushion as I found some sleep while I could. I had no doubt, it would be worse before better, once people could see..truly what was lost.