“I am a slave!” I said, angrily. “Look at me! Do you doubt that I am a
“I am a slave!” I said, angrily. “Look at me! Do you doubt that I am a slave? I am wearing only an anklet and perfume!” “Mistress is not marked. Mistress is not collared,” said the girl. “I am a slave!” I said. I wondered, when I said this, if I was only insisting that I was a slave, that I must be a slave, because of such things as the barred window and the anklet, or if I was speaking what lay in my heart. “Mistress is free,” said the girl. “I cannot be free,” I said. “If Mistress is not free,” she said, “who is Mistress’ master?” “I do not know,” I said, frightened. I wondered if I did belong to someone and simply did not yet know it. “I know Mistress is free,” said the girl. “How do you know?” I asked. “Ligurious, my master, has told me,” she said. “But I am naked,” I said. “Mistress had not yet dressed,” she said. She then went to the sliding doors at the side of the room, and moved them aside. Thus were revealed the habiliments of what was apparently an extensive and resplendent wardrobe. She brought forth a lovely, brief, lined, sashed, shimmering yellow-silk robe and, holding it up, displayed it for me. “Mistress,” said the girl, helping me on with the silken robe. I belted the yellow-silk sash. The hem of the robe came high on the thighs. I looked at myself, startled, in the mirror. In such a garment, lovely, clinging, short, closely belted, there was no doubt that I was a woman. “Mistress is beautiful!” said the girl. “Thank you,” I said. I turned, back and forth, looking at myself in the mirror. I adjusted the belt, making it a little tighter. The girl smiled. -- source link
Tumblr Blog : goreanway.tumblr.com