Previously: Amber has been trained at the slave school in the ways of a pleasure slave. Sold into the house of a feudal lord named, Gaius, she has proved useful in enlarging his fortune; but at the cost of enraging the emissaries of the Seven Gods who have promised to chasten her. She disappears suddenly from Gaius' villa in Albion.

Chapter 5 - A Slave Girl Meets Her Master

I awoke to the sounds of dripping water echoing through the cavernous halls of the Temple of Ea. I had not the strength to move my limbs. A middle-aged woman with skin seasoned by the desert sun and dry winds was wiping down my face as if I had a fever. Each stroke of her cool cloth seemed to wipe away the fog that enveloped my mind.

“I am a priestess in the Temple of Water dedicated to Ea, who is one of the Seven Gods,” she said.

She spoke to me first in Thamudi and then in Talosian to elucidate which I understood. I was too confused to answer so she continued to clean my body. I heard the sound of women chanting and then breaking into unaccompanied song.

The priestess paused when she reach my left thigh saying, “A very lovely mark but sadly still that of a slave.” Then lifting my face and turning it from side to side she smiled and said, “You are quite pretty.”

She informed that I had been found on the temple steps not two hours ago. She said she was sorry that I was a slave but the laws of this land dictated that if I remained unclaimed for two weeks, I would have to be sold by the local administrator through an assigned merchant.

“We have no choice in this but we will try to ensure that you will get a good owner,” she promised. “We have also removed this,” she said, holding up a belt of leather and wood. You will not be touched until the day you are sold.”

It was the chastity device which I had worn almost daily while I was owned by Gaius. She then offered me some food and water, and told me to wait in the sanctuary until she returned.

As I searched the harvest calendars in the temple, I realized that I had lost two weeks of my life. I had no memory of what might have happened between my disappearance from Gaius' villa and my reappearance in the temple.

In what way had I been punished by the high emissary. My body seemed unchanged as were my inclinations and feelings. I did not seem to have lost any memories apart from the past two weeks.

I was without means in a strange land. The only way in which I could effect an escape would be through violence; and my memory of the events at Gaius' villa made me hesitate on taking that course. It seemed improbable that they had judged me based on any kind of simple morality but I could not take that chance.

My only chance of becoming a man again and to return to Ki was through being moved through the system to my ultimate goal. If the woman in Aix was to be trusted, they would be the ones to guide me to a fateful meeting with the Qin.

As expected, I was unclaimed after two weeks and was moved to a slave merchant's establishment to be sold on one of the city's market days. Here, once again, I was reacquainted with the frightening nature of the continent's slave trade – something which I had shielded my eyes from while in Gaius' retinue. I counted myself among the lucky ones – I had chosen this course seeking uncertain liberation.

I was chained in the main business area of the merchant's shop with other women – the majority designated for agriculture or household labor; and a small selection including myself for potential employment as passion slaves. My body and youth marked me as such. The slave merchant made no distinction between “born women” and serum girls - he had no means to do so. Our personal histories were however recorded on our sales sheet.

In the distance, I saw a tall man with dark hair and brown skin dressed in the guild robes of a date merchant. It was early in the day and customers were few.

This was the first time I laid eyes upon my Master...[...]...

[Scribe's Note: Here the text diverges from Lady Zhou's journal entry. A hand written account on silk has been found in the libraries of the Qin. ]

My Beloved Prince,

As you have commanded, I have prepared an account of our first meeting solely for your eyes.

This was the first time I laid eyes upon my Master.

He was about five years older than me and strongly built. I had never seen a more attractive male since I had become a slave girl; this I will admit. I am indeed a fortunate woman to be able to wake each morning with my face pressed against his magnificent chest and abdomen.

My Master is, however, incorrect in thinking that I was practically salivating at the sight of him. I will allow that my nipples were hard and engorged, and I will not dispute and I was already wet by the time he placed his hands upon my nether regions. He had insisted on placing his fingers to my mouth and nose to ensure that there was no doubt in my mind that I was captive to him.

He browsed haphazardly as the slave merchant trailed him like a helpful dog, sometimes stopping before some local delights before moving on to the section offering a small selection of blonde barbarians. I was recommended as something a bit more exotic and mysterious - a masterless Qin girl found naked near the temple of Ea

“Perhaps, she is a gift from Ea,” offered the slave trader. “She indicates that she was trained at one of the finest slave houses in Albion.”
“She would, wouldn't she...,” my master commented, looking bemused.

{If my account appears too glowing with regards this prince of Thamud, I will add here that my Master has been continually offering corrections since I began my account of our first meeting. I assure you that this annoyance will not affect the accuracy my account. I have therefore retired to my bedchambers where I now write undisturbed.}

My Master affected a certain levity when he first cast eyes upon me. He took a quick glance before moving on to the rest of the merchant's wares. But as a trained passion slave, I knew this was an act. I have been taught to look for the slightest spark of arousal in a male and fan it with all my wiles; and I knew quite well that he wanted me there and then.

I was not, however, prepared to display myself in the traditional manner of slave girls to the consternation of the slave merchant. Instead I affected haughty indifference in front of him, tracking him out of the corner of my eye even as he circled the establishment.

He soon made to purchase a few trinkets, some collars, and a few training devices which slave girls are intimately familiar with. And then with his back to me, he began to negotiate my price with the same distracted air. The merchant wanted a better price but, in the end, he was happy to be rid of an arrogant and difficult girl even if she was white silk. The priestess had already told him that I was not to be sold to a slave tavern if he wanted his commission.

I was placed in a small slave shift of embroidered silk which my master had purchased for my transportation. It was clear that my new owner was quite wealthy from this choice alone; a fact which was made abundantly clear when I was delivered that very afternoon to the palace whose multitude of turrets towered over the city itself.

I was made to sit on the ground in a small alcove with a group of male and female slaves, all recently purchased. I could tell that some were manual laborers and others were destined to be servant girls as I was previously. None were dressed as finely as myself.

“His highness wants to deal with this one personally,” the majordomo said, stopping his underling from escorting me into the slave quarters with the rest.

My heart sank when I heard this. For almost a year, I had been spared the indignities of being a slave but it was now all returning. I was bound very tightly with leather straps and a spreader bar attached to my ankles. I was then led by a leash to a small room. I knew what was about to happen, the moment I saw the brazier and branding rack.

My new owner stood at the center of the room and asked the servants to leave once I was made to kneel in front of him.

He spoke to me in perfect Talosian. “I see more anger in your eyes than fear. That would be unusual in a girl of your age; and even more in a trained passion slave. That cold murderous look you have – I presume that is what the Qin call 'killing intent'? Will you at least hear me out?

“This is necessary for your safety. An unmarked girl could be taken without consequence or legal repercussions. You could be taken at any point and by anyone, if not within the palace then without. Even the king my father is beholden to the laws of this land; and the royal mark provides the greatest safety of any in this kingdom. I have not as yet placed my mark on any woman and I would like to get your permission for this. Do you understand?”

You may well ask - did I even have the right to refuse? The conversation was occurring in private for his sake, not mine. In this barbarous medieval world, a master did not ask his slave's permission to brand her – he would be held a laughing stock if word of this ever got out. I only knew that the decision had to be made now. What would happen to me if I rejected his brand?

I only knew that I could not remain here without his mark. I would have to be killed or more likely discarded; given to one of his underlings who would then brand me without hesitation. Did I prefer to be the property of a prince or one of his retainers – that was my only choice. Which option would give me the best chance of entering the world of the Qin, and at least some hope of becoming male again.

“I will accept your mark,” I said evenly.

“Thank you,” he replied.

I think he must have seen my shoulders slump slightly in resignation. He lifted me up to the rack gently and pulled my shift up. Then he tied me down as firmly as possible with straps across my pelvis and thighs leaving only the area to be marked exposed. The branding iron was red hot and finely made. He gave me a word of warning and I felt searing heat as he pressed the hot iron to my mons. I grit my teeth; I dared not move for fear of causing further damage to my person.

I did not scream; but my tears flowed liberally not simply out of pain, but frustration, and anger at my lot. It had been months since I was so thoroughly humiliated – certainly not since my early days in the house of Gaius. I swore in my heart that I would harm this man the first chance I had.

When it was done, he stroked and soothed me, applying a cold balm to my brand which lessened the pain within moments. I was still bound hand and foot, or I would have struck him there and then. Looking back, I must have seemed like a wild animal; struggling to no avail in his strong immovable arms, each of which seemed larger than my own tiny waist.

As I was now the prince's slave girl and sole concubine, I was assigned my own group of attendants who bathed me and dressed my wounds. I instructed them to provide me with boiled water and white rags, highly distilled alcohol, and honey. My master came to see me every three days and I would lift my dress to show him my progress. By the middle of the third week, my wounds had largely healed. I was now ready to serve him as he saw fit.

I do not think I was a cruel mistress to my servants having once been in their position. Even today, I have a bit of a reputation as a light touch, and the one person in the royal household who can be taken advantage of. The idea of beating one of these young girls that they might better remember their mistakes has been recommended to me on more than one occasion, and still fills me with fury and indignation. Instead, I brought them into my confidence with a combination of treats and compliments and they soon plied me with gossip from the palace halls.

“The crown prince has not taken a wife, and his ailing father is beset with worries that he never will. It is rumored that he is only interested in men. Perhaps your boyish figure attracts him?”

This was the first time I had heard my sizable breasts and fleshy ass as “boyish” to be sure, but compared to many of the women of the continent, I was certainly slight of figure.

The women of the harem would look at me and whisper and it was easy to surmise that as the only marked woman of the prince, I was now the subject of gossip and envy. This was not helped by my being a Qin woman who seemed in every way unequal to the charms of the other pleasure slaves.

My attendants at least seemed to be loyal and had been personally chosen by my Master. On the night I was to be taken to his bedchamber, they offered suggestions on hairstyles and bed attire. My ears and belly were adorned with jewels, and my nails neatly filed and painted. The servant girls had cleaned and perfumed my entire body paying special attention to my armpits, pudenda, and my bottom. All of these and more were tended to at length to ensure that I was smooth and soft when he chose to touch me. They rouged my lips, nipples and lower lips so that I seemed to be in a state of perpetual arousal. I will admit that by this point, I was eager to feel my master's lips and hands on my body.

That night I entered my Master's bedchamber for the first time.

I could see him quite clearly lying on the bed for the room was not too dimly lit. His torso was quite bare and he motioned for me to come closer to him and disrobe.

I undid the clasps of my silks and let my dress slip to the ground with a light elegant motion. I now stood naked before him with one leg slightly bent and my foot extended.

“The slave merchant called you Amber,” he said breaking the silence.

“My name is whatever my Master wishes.”

“I have thought about this and have decided to call you Shasa . Do you like it? It means 'enchanted water' in the ancient tongue of my ancestors.”

“I am Shasa, Master,” I said, my head still bowed.

He was eager to put me through my slave paces as he would a newly acquired mare. I had so thoroughly imbibed the lessons at the slave school that the movements came instinctively as if I were a trained athlete. I had forgotten nothing and my movements were performed swiftly and sensually.

Starting from a standing position and at each command, I knelt, spread my legs wide with my hands palms up on my thighs, and placed my hands behind my head to better display my breasts. I then reclined with my knees bent before spreading them receptively Then I was on all fours, then bent down with my ass lifted towards him before lying face down with my arms behind my back as if to be bound. There were many slave positions and he knew all of them which seemed highly unlikely for someone who didn't own any slave girls. I presumed he patronized the many taverns and brothels scattered across the main commercial district.

I had maintained a regular regimen of exercise in my quarters and kept pace with his commands without difficulty. He first watched me while reclining on the bed, then while sitting upright when he found that I did not fail to keep up with his commands. Finally, when I once again presented my posterior for his scrutiny, he placed his large palm on me and massaged my labia and nub lovingly. In the silence of his room, there were only the modulations of my light breathing and the sopping sounds from my cunt.

“Amazing,” he finally said. “It is hard to believe that you were once a man.”

I was surprised that he knew of my former state and that he had chosen me despite knowing this.

He now joined me on the carpet, holding me tightly from behind as he massaged my breasts and worked my nipples. I arched my back as he did so and felt his manhood pressing firmly against my buttocks. That feeling drove me wild with lust

I remained strongly attracted to him despite myself. I recalled how I, in my past life, would seduce the women of Ki with gifts, humor, and displays of masculinity. It was second nature to me, just as it was second nature for me now to entice this man. I ached for his touch and was thrilled that my body pleased him.

Perhaps it is hard for a man of Thamud, who has never experienced what it is like to be a woman, to imagine my feelings at that moment. I will attempt to assist you in this. Remember back to the first girl you were infatuated with and how merely her scent would fix your attention, and the sight of her bosom and the soft skin of her thighs would make you hard with desire. And if this woman was so high above your station that you could never have her, imagine your daydreams of taking her, and enjoying her cries of ecstasy. Now imagine that your dreams were completely fulfilled, and that she wanted you to take intimate possession of her.

That was the position I was now in.

My Master was now that object of infatuation for me; his power over me had suddenly become an aphrodisiac. The humiliation of my branding lasted but a few moments, my anger a few hours more. What followed was a state of constant arousal at the thought of being this man's rightful possession to be used as he saw fit. When he commanded me into increasingly erotic positions, I was glad to do so – knowing that each and every move I made heightened his desire for me. This was my power over him and it sent slow waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

A man feels pleasure in making his woman respond helplessly to his touch, and then penetrating her. Now I was that woman. How can I explain my overwhelming desire to be filled by my Master and to be thoroughly fucked. Instead of taking I would now be receiving. I reveled in my passivity in bed, and I absolutely craved his touch – those large rough hands on my soft skin, on my breasts, and on my cunt; the way he used me and controlled my every movement when he was in the heat of the moment; the way he held me as he thrusts into me and made me mewl.

I had been a woman for over a year but it was only now that I realized what it meant to fully inhabit the mind and body of that most feminine of creatures - a passion slave. My days as a soldier and even as Gaius' slave girl had been marked by discipline and exactitude – a stringent control of word and action. In my Master's chambers, I chose docility and surrender – I yielded to his every command and to his every touch.

I submitted fully to my Master that night.

“You are an amazing slut,” he told me, half gasping.

Instead of shame, I felt pride in this statement. Consider a male lover who is hardly embarrassed when he is praised for his skills at lovemaking and his staying power. I was no different now as a woman. My lessons at the slave school had now been brought to fruition. They had taught me how to be a matchless female lover and now it was paying dividends. He was enraptured by every part of me: my utter shamelessness in displaying my body to him; my sensitiveness to his touch; my obvious arousal when I saw him naked; my screams and grunts as he took me firmly; and my quickness to orgasm and to do so repeatedly.

He soon realized that this aspect of my being was exclusively his preserve. I had far greater control of my emotions and drives when it came to other men – all of whom paled in comparison. I abdicated all memory of old self when faced with my Master who I was besotted with

[The Lady Zhou's journal continues where it left off.]

My Master will smile if and when he reads this but my love for him has only grown in the intervening years; for I have seen the true measure of him in his interactions with his fellow men. And I know that he loves me.