Branding a slave with a hot iron. Fantasy again. What do we know about the stamp base?

Branding was used in our time, and, most likely, is still used. So during the Civil War in Russia, whites burned out or cut out stars for the communists, and the German fascists did the same. In concentration camps, prisoners had a personal number tattooed on their arms.

I found information from those who in our time are subject to stigmatization of their own free will. Here: http://www.tatu-pirsing.ru/tattoo/cure/127/
Modern nuances aside, here's something that might have something to do with Milady Winter.

What is branding?
Branding is scarification (scarring the skin) by burning. High temperatures destroy tissue by causing severe burns. As the wound heals, a scar forms.

What is contact branding?
Penetration branding is the most common and traditional form of branding. It is based on applying a piece of hot metal to the skin to create a burn.

What does a healed brand look like?
Ideally, a healed mark will appear as a pattern of thick, raised lines, slightly lighter than the skin color. However, the degree of bulge or keloid varies greatly depending on a variety of factors. Sometimes these scars are retracted rather than convex.

What is a keloid?
In popular terms, keloids are raised scars. This suggests that not all scars are keloids - keloids are a very specific type of fibrous scar tissue that the body produces in response to injury.
Keloids depend in part on the amount of melanin in your skin; The darker the skin, the better keloids form. ( That is, since my lady’s skin was light, the mark should not have been very noticeable even without rubbing? - E.)

How painful is branding?
Contact branding is actually much less painful than most people believe - in some ways it is as much a "mind game" as it is a physical challenge. Normal contact branding is painful for a second before the nerves are burned (unlike minor burns, such as those from a stove, which only affect the surface). What has been said should not be understood in the sense of “painless” - it is VERY painful both during and after applying the stroke.
Regardless of how painful the procedure itself is, the mark will remain a nuisance during the long healing period, especially on a moving part of the body (where the wound will spread apart with the slightest movement).

What shape should a contact marking tool have?
A full mark is never done entirely. The entire design is divided into many smaller segments, no larger than 1.5 inches. It should also be noted that small areas of skin surrounded by affected tissue (for example, a small burned circle) may also die and become part of the scar (as they will be deprived of blood supply).
Please note that a typical healed brand will be 3 or 4 times the thickness of the tool and is usually never thinner than 3/16 inch (about the size of a line drawn with a thick marker). When the stamp is made, it is very blurry. The mark should be large and simple enough to compensate for smearing.

How long and hard should you press the brand?
The brand should be pressed long enough to burn through the entire surface of the skin. Otherwise, the client will experience severe pain and blisters, and after healing there will be either no scar or something vaguely resembling the original design. How long and strongly depends directly on how heated the material was. It should be noted that when the stamp is made, the leather on this place will shrink, deforming the fabric and slightly changing the path of subsequent strokes.

How long does it take for a brand to heal?
The brand (like all types of scarification) requires a long period of time to completely heal. The stigma goes through several phases, which differ greatly in time (and in nature) in each specific case.
In the first phase, the brand is covered with a scab and looks like an absolutely terrible wound. This phase takes from several weeks to a month. The brand will then appear as a bright red raised scar that will slowly turn pink and end up being slightly lighter than the normal skin color. This stage takes between six and twelve months for most people and additional growth may occur during this period.

Is it possible to remove the mark?
In theory, a cosmetic surgeon could remove the mark using lasers and other advanced techniques, but this would be very expensive and not always effective. Don't brand if you don't want to - it is a serious burn that will cause a serious burn scar and should be removed as such. Consider the time it usually takes for burn victims to hide their scars.
In a real situation, it is impossible to remove the mark. (Even now! - E.)

“Why stand on ceremony with her,” the man continued. – Let him squirm with passion, everything will become clear immediately.

- I say "No! – the praetor said decisively. “First we need to prove that she is a slave.”

The praetor looked closely at the girl, then turned his gaze to Ulafi:

“I'm afraid we'll have to let her go.”

- No! – Ulafi exclaimed.

- Wait! - someone shouted. - Wart is coming. The blonde shook her head desperately. Indeed, it was none other than Wart who made his way through the crowd.

– Do you know this girl? – the praetor asked him.

“Naturally,” replied the Wart. - This is a slave. She was sold last night to this captain. – He pointed to Uyaafi. “I received a silver tarsk for it.”

The praetor nodded to the guard, and he knocked the girl to her knees with a short blow. She was in the company of free men. The guard bent the fugitive's head to his feet and secured it tightly with a belt. Then, in one motion, he tore off the rags of the female Urta, which she had stolen from Sasi.

“The slave is transferred to the ownership of Ulafi of Shendi,” the praetor announced his decision.

There were shouts of approval and those present clapped. On the Mountain they applaud by striking the left shoulder with their right hand.

“Thank you, praetor,” Ulafi said, accepting the papers.

- Slave! – the leader of a gang of female Urts screamed.

- Slave! Slave! – her friends caught up, after which all four pounced on the blond fugitive and began to kick and beat her mercilessly. “Just think, she dared to fish out slop with us, and she herself was a slave!”

- Come on, go back! - the praetor barked. - Go back, to whom I’m telling! Or now I’ll put everyone in collars!

The girls retreated, looking at the unfortunate woman with hatred.

The blonde seemed to have completely lost heart. Now she wanted only one thing: for everyone to finally leave her alone.

- Captain Ulafi! - said the praetor.

- I’m listening! – Ulafi responded.

- Brand her before you leave.

The guards immediately brought in heavy shackles. The caught fugitive was untied. Ulafi personally lifted her slender leg, while the assistant opened the shackles. After the girl's legs were threaded through the semicircular holes of the shackles, the upper half was pushed over the lower half and the huge bolts were tightened tightly.

The guard released the blonde barbarian, and she waved her arms helplessly. In such shackles she could not take a single step. It was also dangerous to lean to the sides.

“Bring the scimitar,” Ulafi ordered. The order was carried out, after which the captain brought a heavy sparkling blade to the girl’s face.

“Have you realized that you have no right to run away?” – he asked menacingly. – You can’t run away!

- No! No! – She shook her head in fear.

He came behind her and laid his scimitar at her feet. - No! “In hysterics, the girl began screaming in English. - I won’t run away anywhere! I swear!

Ulafi handed the scimitar to the guard, pulled out a dagger, put it to the blonde's throat, then pointed to the praetor and asked:

- Kajeira?

A few minutes ago she lied to the praetor by answering this question in the negative.

– Kajeira or not? – Ulafi repeated threateningly.

- Yes! Yes! – the girl nodded desperately. - La cajeira. “It looks like that’s where her knowledge of Gorean ended.”

Ulafi brought the dagger first to her ear, then to her nose, then to the other ear.

- Please don't hurt me! - the girl began to wail. - I lied! I'm very embarrassed. I am a slave! Slave! La cajeira!

Ulafi silently sheathed the dagger. The girl realized that her legs could be cut off for running away, and her ears and nose could be cut off for lying. Of course, she was still an ignorant savage, but she had already learned something.

- Remove the shackles! – ordered Ulafi.

The bolts were loosened, and the slave almost collapsed to the ground.

- Tie him up, give him a good beating and take him to the forge.

“If you want, you can come with me,” he said, turning to me.

We reached the forge, where the newly branded slave, the former Lady Sasi, was writhing on a chain in pain. If she is not bought soon at the price of the brand, she will be taken to the city platforms, where the Central Canal flows into Tassa. They won’t give much for her anywhere, although she is a beautiful girl. Seeing me, the slave tried to cover her nakedness and turn away. Strange, didn't she feel like she was being branded?

- Warm up the iron! - Ulafi said to the blacksmith.

“Tal,” said the blacksmith, turning to me.

- Tal! – I answered.

Nevertheless, he nodded to his assistant, a boy of about fourteen, and told him to fan the coals. He grabbed the bellows and began to fan the flames. The handles of six brands stuck out from the hot coals.

I looked out the door of the forge. Eighty yards away from us the execution was already beginning. The girl was on her knees, tied to the pillory. After the first blow, she screamed wildly, then only wriggled and moaned. She didn't seem to understand that she was going to be spanked. Townspeople scurried past, not paying much attention to what was happening. Raising a slave on Gor is commonplace.

“I have five brands,” said the blacksmith. – Standard Kajeira mark, Dina, Palma, Treva mark and Port Qara mark.

“We need to brand a simple slave.” I think the Kajairah sign would be best.

Meanwhile, the girl had already been flogged. She could not walk on her own, so a sailor from the ship threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the forge. The blonde was in a semi-fainting state. I think until that day she had no idea what a simple whip could do.

By the way, the spanking was short and gentle, hardly more than ten to fifteen blows. In general, spanking has great meaning. After her, the slave tries with all her might to please the owner.

On Ulafi's ship they began to raise the sails. The sailors carried a slave cage and pole onto the deck.

The sailor threw the blond barbarian onto the floor of the forge. The blacksmith immediately picked her up and laid her on the trestle for branding. The girl’s hands lay in special handrails, where they were firmly secured with belts. The legs were screwed to a rotating platform.

– Left or right hip? – asked the blacksmith.

“Left,” answered Ulafi. Usually the mark is placed on the left thigh. In exceptional cases, the right or left lower abdomen is branded.

The blacksmith turned the rotating platform so that we could better see the woman's left thigh. It was simply magnificent. The marks look especially beautiful on such hips. The blacksmith secured the platform, ensuring absolute immobility of the entire structure.

I looked into the blonde’s eyes, widened in horror. She didn't seem to understand what was happening.

The blacksmith pulled a brand from the brazier, showed it to the girl and said:

- A little bit more. - With these words, he stuck the brand back.

I chuckled. She tried to escape. Then she lied to the praetor. And no one bothered to cut off her legs, nose and ears. They showed her unprecedented mercy. She was merely whipped. On the other hand, the ignorant barbarian did not realize the full gravity of her misdeeds. I hope she will now understand that she must behave properly on the Mountain. Next time she won't get off so easily.

“She’s been through a lot,” I noted.

“I see,” the blacksmith nodded. – Don’t worry, she will feel the iron.

He grabbed the girl by the hand and shook her very roughly, after which he gave her two heavy slaps in the face. She moaned.

- Can? – I asked, nodding towards a bucket of water in the corner of the forge.

“Of course,” he responded.

I poured the bucket on her head. The girl snorted and began to convulse. Then she stared at me in fear. Her gaze was already clear. Gradually, the pain after the spanking began to return to her. But the shock passed. The slave came to her senses. She was fully aware of what was happening and was ready for the branding.

“The brand is ready,” the blacksmith announced and demonstrated a wonderful brand, heated to a bright white color. Ulafi threw the copper tarsk to the blacksmith and said:

– If you don’t mind, my friend will put the mark on you. I looked at him. He smiled.

- You seem to be a blacksmith, aren't you? – the captain asked mockingly.

“Maybe,” I smiled in response.

“The ship is ready to sail,” reported the first officer who looked into the forge.

“Okay,” Ulafi nodded.

I pulled on my leather gloves and took the red-hot brand from the blacksmith’s hands. I was wearing a blacksmith's clothes, and he had no doubt that I belonged to his caste.

Olafi closely watched my movements.

I held the brand up to the girl's face so she could get a good look at it.

“No, no,” she moaned. “Please don’t touch me with this.”

Women must be shown a red-hot brand so that they appreciate its strength, heat and significance.

- I beg you, don’t! - she screamed.

I looked at her. Until now, I did not perceive this girl as an agent of the kurs. I saw in her an ordinary beautiful woman who would be nice to turn into slavery.

She tried to break free. The girl could move her arms and upper body. The hips were firmly secured. The design of the goat provided for complete immobility of the hips at the time of applying the brand.

“Please don’t,” she whispered for the last time.

I branded her.

“Great job,” Olafi praised.

The girl squealed in pain when the blacksmith untied her hands. Ulafi immediately handcuffed the blonde. As soon as the blacksmith untied her hips, she fell helplessly to the floor of the forge. Ulafi roughly lifted the girl by the hair and put a collar around her neck, which he immediately hammered with steel rivets. The collar was decorated with five palm trees and the Shandy coat of arms: shackles and scimitar.

“Into the cage and onto the ship,” Ulafi ordered.

The sailors immediately carried out the order.

Now she won't run away anywhere. I sighed with relief. With her help I can reach Shabu, a geographer from Anango, explorer of the equator. In my bag were notes to Shandy's bankers, as well as a fake ring that was with the girl at the time of her captivity.

“Thank you for branding the slave,” Ulafi said.

“It’s nothing,” I waved it off.

- No, really, you gave her an excellent mark. In time she will appreciate it. I shrugged.

“Captain,” I said.

- I would like to board your ship.

“Welcome,” he smiled.

- Thank you.

“It will cost you a silver tarsk.”

“Oh,” I said.

“I’m a merchant,” he shrugged.

I handed him the silver tarsk and turned to the blacksmith:

- Good luck.

“And I wish you good luck,” he replied.

It's good that I've branded women before.

Coming out of the forge, I saw a former female Urt named Sasi. The woman's hands were cuffed in front of her chest, and a belt hung around her neck.

- Didn’t you sell it? – I asked the person accompanying her.

- Who needs it? – he answered irritably. – Former female urta. Here, I’m taking you to the city auction.

The little dark-haired slave looked at me and turned away.

- How much do you want for it? – I asked. The girl shook her head in fear.

“The branding will cost a copper tarsk,” grumbled the attendant.

I tossed him a coin.

- Take it, it’s yours. “With these words, he untied her hands and removed the belt from her neck.

“On your knees,” I ordered.

The girl knelt down, then prostrated herself on the ground and whispered:

- I am yours, sir.

I ordered her to get up, tied her hands again and pulled out a pre-prepared collar from my bag.

“No,” she shook her head.

“It says here: “Belongs to Terl of Teletus.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

After that I put a collar on her. The slave won't bother me. It will serve as further proof that I am a blacksmith from Teletus. True, I was going to buy a girl at Shandy, but there was no point in waiting. The inscription on the collar should reassure Ulafi, who seemed to me a smart and suspicious person. My slave has a personalized collar. What other proof of my integrity is needed?

– Does she have any documents with her? – I asked.

“No,” the attendant shook his head. - Enough with the brand and the collar.

“Okay,” I nodded and turned to the slave: “Do you see that ship over there?”

“I see,” she answered.

“Run there as fast as you can and tell them to put you in a cage.”

- Okay, sir. – The slave ran to the pier.

I threw my bag over my shoulder and slowly walked in the same direction. When I went up on deck, the girl was already sitting in a tiny cage. Next to her stood a cage with a blond savage.

- You! – she hissed when she saw the blonde. My slave immediately recognized the girl who had pulled off the rags of the female Urth as she lay tied up with her mate Turgus of Port Kar, awaiting the arrival of the guards. - Kajeira!

Tears sparkled in the blonde's eyes. Clenching her fists, she looked at her neighbor with hatred and said contemptuously:

- The kajira herself!

- Give up the mooring lines! – a sharp command sounded.

The sailors pressed their poles into the bottom, leading the Palm Shandy out of the harbor. There was no wind, the sails hung from the masts.

The senior officer gave commands. The captain of the ship, Olafi, stood on the bridge.

“Ready,” the second officer reported. The sailors raised their oars.

- Went! - commanded the second officer, acting as the chief of the oar group.

Long oars sank into the green water of Thassa, the ship slowly glided over the waves towards the open sea. A light breeze from Port Kar filled the sails.

- Sushi oars! – the second officer commanded.

I watched the outlines of Port Kar slowly dissolve into the haze. A cloudless blue sky stretched above us.

Then I approached the cage with the acquired slave.

“I don’t have a name,” said the girl. The latter was true: she did not have a name, like the tabuk or the female werer. I bought it and still haven’t named it.

“Your name is Sasi,” I announced.

“Yes, sir,” she bowed her head. She was called that before, but now it will be her slave name.

The second officer, who had already relieved himself of his duties as head of the oar group, approached me.

“There is an additional fee for transporting animals,” he announced, pointing to the cage. - Copper tarsk.

“Of course,” I replied and handed him the money.

In the next cage, the agent of the Kures was sitting on her knees - a tied naked woman. I looked at the fresh brand on my burned thigh. It was a small, clear, neat and deep mark by which any person would understand that this was a slave.

Ulafi, the merchant and captain, walked proudly along the bridge.

I walked up to the board. Heavy sails flapped above my head, masts, ropes and ropes creaked. I inhaled with pleasure the intoxicating fresh smell of the shining sea of ​​​​Tassa. One sailor started singing Shandy's song, and others immediately took it up.

Port Kar disappeared from sight.

WE ARE SAILING TO SHANDY

- Treating! – the second officer shouted over the ear of the blond savage. She immediately raised her head and extended her hands to be tied.

The girl quickly turned around on the spot, fell to her knees, spread her thighs wide and sank onto her back. It was a slave's position for pleasure.

- Suda, kajira!

She straightened her legs and spread them wide apart.

- Bara, kajira!

She rolled onto her stomach, rose slightly and crossed her legs for tying.

“Pretty,” Ulafi remarked and turned away.

“Yes,” I nodded.

- Vessels! - the officer commanded. - Bara! Nadu! Treating! Nadu! Bara! Courts! Nadu!

The girl was out of breath. There were tears in her eyes. She had already been hit with a whip once, for not changing her position quickly and gracefully enough. She was hit again because she hesitated, remembering what to do.

The journey to Shendi is quite tedious and, even with a fair wind, takes at least several days.

“Do you think she’ll be any good?” – asked Sasi. She stood next to me and ate larma.

“We’ll see,” I shrugged. - There is still time. How's the Gorean thing going?

“I’m trying,” Sasi answered. “But barbarians are terribly stupid.”

At Olafi's request, I instructed her to teach the dugout the Gorean language. Sasi accepted the task with great enthusiasm. Every day she stood over the blonde for several hours with a whip in her hand and mercilessly whipped her for the slightest mistakes. Sometimes Ulafi would drop in on their classes and throw a piece of cake or sweet pie to the dugout. The girl gratefully fell onto the deck, kissed his feet, and then allowed herself to touch the food. She immediately offered the treat to Sasi, who invariably took most of it.

“Thank you, madam,” the earthling said when Sasi gave her her share. Then she crawled into her cage, a pretty defenseless slave. Only there could she finally swallow the first bite. I noticed that the girl never ate everything at once, but tried to stretch out the pleasure as long as possible.

If a man is served by several women, it is customary to appoint the first, or main, slave. The other girls treat her like a mistress. In this way, unnecessary squabbles can be avoided. There is constant competition between the girls for the right to be appointed first. Be that as it may, having received power, they try to use it wisely and carefully, because a real master can remove the first slave at any moment. I constantly change the first girls in my house and am deeply convinced that only a slave of Gorean origin can become the head slave. It would never occur to me to appoint a dugout to this position. The dugouts must be slaves of slaves.

I looked at the blonde. She froze on her knees in the position in which the second officer had left her.

“I hate her,” said Sasi.

- Why?

- Clueless, stupid creature.

“She finds a lot of things difficult,” I agreed. - Don't forget that she is a barbarian.

“Just stupid,” Sasi repeated.

“I don’t think so,” I shook my head.

“She does everything terribly slowly.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s stupid,” I said.

“Terribly slow,” Sasi sighed.

“She’s studying,” I said.

“She will always be a stupid, clumsy and clumsy slave,” Sasi said irritably.

“Maybe,” I said peacefully. - Let's see.

To be honest, the barbarian did not strike me as a stupid woman. Sometimes it even seemed to me that she was grasping everything on the fly. In my opinion, some good will come of it.

“Do you want to train me a little tonight, master?” – asked Sasi.

“We’ll see,” I smiled.

I managed to take a preliminary training course with her. Not a single free woman could compare with her in bed.

Some nights I would take her out of her cage and bring her to my cabin. After a few days she fell in love with the collar. It's interesting to watch how a woman changes.

I looked at the blonde frozen on her knees.

Sasi enjoyed the juicy larma fruit.

For the first two days, the blonde didn’t eat anything at all. She was disgusted by the smell of meat and fish. For slaves on the ship they prepared separately. Although compared to what she caught from the canal, it was a delicious meal. On the third day, she ate every last bite, wiped the pan with her fingers and licked them. Seeing a clean frying pan, Ulafi ordered the second officer to begin classes. At the same time, he asked me to allow Sasi to give her Gorean lessons.

– Do you think she is beautiful, sir? – asked Sasi.

- Yes. “I really thought the savage was beautiful.” By the way, the blonde became surprisingly prettier after the ship left Port Kar. Fresh air and regular training under the guidance of experienced instructors had an effect.

The second officer freed himself and approached the blonde again. He lightly hit the girl with the whip, with the long whip wrapped around her neck, and jerked her to her feet.

- Who is she? – he barked.

- Slave, master.

-What is a slave?

“A slave is a girl who belongs to the master,” she answered by rote.

-Are you a slave too?

- Yes, sir.

-Who do you belong to?

- Ulafi from Shandy.

– Who trains you?

- Shoka from Shandy.

– Do you have a mark?

- Yes, sir.

- Why?

- Because I am a slave.

– Do you have a collar?

- Yes, sir.

-What kind of collar do you have?

- For transportation, sir. It shows that I am being transported on the Palm Shandy.

It seemed to me that the girl's Gorean language had improved markedly over the past few days.

-What is the collar used for?

“The collar serves four purposes, sir. Firstly, it immediately shows that I am a slave. Sometimes the brand is covered by clothing and is not visible. Secondly, the collar constantly reminds me of my status as a slave. Thirdly, it can be used to find out who my owner is. Fourthly... fourthly...

- Well? – the officer growled menacingly.

– Fourthly, the collar makes it quicker and easier to put on a leash.

Without changing the position of the body, the officer sharply kicked her under the ribs. She clearly hesitated to answer. The girl collapsed on the deck.

– Do you like being a slave?

“Yes, master,” she moaned.

– What does the slave want most? – the officer continued his studies.

“To please your master,” the girl answered without hesitation.

- Who are you?

- Slave, master.

– What do you want most?

- To please your master!

- Nadu! – he commanded, loosening the whip on her neck.

She quickly dropped to her knees, spread her thighs wide and lay on her back. The officer left her in this position.

“Is she really more beautiful than me, sir?” – asked Sasi.

“Your beauty is completely different,” I answered. “I think you both will make good slaves.”

- ABOUT! - said Sasi.

An additional function of the collar is that it allows the slave to be tied up in different ways. For example, with the help of a collar you can easily tie the slave’s hands in front of her chest, or you can screw them directly to the neck. Collars are convenient for tying slaves into large bundles. Sometimes the slave's legs are tied to the collar, and the knot, of course, should not be on the throat. Goreans do not tie up slaves to strangle them.

I looked at the girl frozen in a submissive pose. I think if she were allowed to answer honestly, then when asked whether she liked being a slave, she would answer in the negative. Or maybe she would have burst into tears. Meanwhile, the way she knelt down showed skill. She involuntarily turned her hips, pulled her fingers back and arched her back. Nobody taught her this.

- Do you like me, sir? – asked Sasi.

“I like you,” I replied. -Especially after a bath.

- Oh Lord! - she exclaimed. On the first day after leaving Port Kar, I washed it for a long time with a brush in sea water.

– When was the last time you took a bath? – I asked her then.

“A year ago, some girl pushed me into a canal. Mr. disgusting?

“In principle, no,” I answered, “but now you will have to live in purity.” You are no longer a free woman.

“Yes, sir,” she nodded. Sasi knew that slaves differed from free women in their cleanliness, health, and adherence to hygiene rules. No wonder, men must constantly please them.

Yesterday the blonde was allowed to walk on deck for the first time. I walked up to her and she immediately knelt down. That's right, there was a free man in front of her. I stood over her, she looked down; For a moment I thought she wanted to show me her hands, but then she pressed them tightly to her thighs. I smiled. A woman woke up inside her.

Later I saw her near the main mast. Approaching the mast, I saw scratches from nails on it.

“I personally like fur training,” Sasi said, taking a bite of the larma.

The blonde froze in the position of a slave for pleasure. The teacher, apparently, completely forgot about her.

“You just don’t like being whipped,” I said.

“Maybe so,” the slave laughed. “If I do everything right, you won’t beat me, will you?” – she asked slyly.

“We’ll see,” I answered evasively.

“Oh,” she said and thought.

Sometimes Sasi trained with the blonde barbarian. Ulafi did not object to this. Moreover, he himself suggested joint classes and did not even demand additional payment from me. On the other hand, I also did not take money from him for the fact that my slave was engaged in the Gorean language with the barbarian.

A native of Gor, Sasi has long surpassed the blonde in all slave indicators. There was basically no point in training them together. The barbarian still needed basic training.

Remembering his teaching duties, Shoka crept up from the side and sharply shouted:

The girl quickly followed the command.

- Sula! Nalu! Treating! Sula! Bara! Nadu! – Leaving the girl in this position, Shoka left again.

“Not bad,” Sasi muttered, chewing the larma.

“Yes,” I nodded. Despite the fact that Sasi was noticeably ahead of the blond savage, I was sure that she would eventually catch up with her, and maybe even surpass her. The blonde had enviable potential.

Shoka lashed her with his whip without warning. The girl did not change her position, but choked with resentment. She couldn't understand why she was hit. On the other hand, hitting a slave does not require any special reason. Shoka yanked her up by her hair and led her to the cage.

- Can you tell me, sir? - she said.

- Speak.

-Why did you hit me?

“Kiss the feet,” Shoka ordered. Having carried out the order, the girl looked questioningly at the officer.

“Because I wanted it so,” he said.

- Yes, sir.

- Into the cage.

- Yes, sir.

A few seconds later he locked the bars and left. The slave sank to the floor. I noticed that she was looking in my direction. Then she slowly raised her legs up. The cage was very crowded.

“Mister,” Sasi turned to me.

– If I’m very good, will they let me have a dress?

- May be.

– You will really like it. Besides, I will have something to take off in front of you.

“The collar suits you very well,” I said. “It looks like you were born into it.”

“In a way it was,” she said.

- Didn't understand?

“I’m a woman,” she answered, taking a bite of the larma.

- Why do you need to go to Shandy? – Ulafi asked me. It was late evening. I, as usual, stood at the side and looked at the water.

“I’ve never been there,” I answered.

“You are not a blacksmith,” he said.

- Is that so? – I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

- Maybe you know Chungu?

-Who is on duty now? – I clarified.

- Yes, him.

“I know it by sight,” I said. This was the same sailor who overtook me on the way to the Krasny Urt shipyard. Then I saw him in the praetor's quarters.

“Before the general alarm was announced regarding the escape of the slave, we took our own search measures,” said Ulafi. “We were confident that we could easily catch her in the first few minutes.”

“That’s right,” I nodded.

“The barbarian didn’t have any clothes on.” Where would she go from us?

“That’s right,” I nodded again.

“And yet she disappeared,” said Ulafi. “She turned out to be smarter.”

“And that’s true,” I agreed. The girl stole the tramp's rags and got lost among the female Urts. I had no doubt that we were dealing with a very smart girl. Now that she has become a slave, her mind must serve for the benefit of her masters.

“We really didn’t want to disturb the praetor.”

“I understand you perfectly,” I said. “It doesn’t become a man from Shandy, especially a captain, to make a fuss about a missing slave.”

- Maybe you want to be thrown overboard? – Ulafi suddenly got angry. – Do you think it would suit another person?

- Of course not, captain. “Don’t be angry,” I replied.

“By the time the general alarm was announced, we had already dug up half the city. One of my men, Chungu, was looking for a fugitive in the Rome Canal area. He saw how a man dressed as a blacksmith tied up two robbers, a man and a woman, who tried to attack him. According to him, he did this with a dexterity that would be difficult to expect from a blacksmith. Then he paused. Not for long. Just enough to bring the girl to her senses, rape her and tie her to a man.

- Really? – I said with curiosity.

– After the alarm was sounded, Chungu returned to the ship. So,” Ulafi said separately. – The man in the blacksmith’s clothes is you.

Good afternoon, Madam... Do you have time to solve problems with registration?
- Yes, of course, Lou, come in.
Lou came in, for some reason pulled out not a comfortable chair, but a stool, like the one she was sitting on yesterday, sat down, spreading her legs wide apart to keep her balance, and laid out papers on the table. She had some kind of cat-like grace, she caught your eye. We started sorting out my papers. I addressed her as “you” several times, after which she lowered her eyes and said:
- Madam, I know that you don’t know our culture and our customs well, will you allow me to tell you about them? You may already have some questions, I will always be ready to answer them. Among other things, this is part of my responsibilities. And please, call me "you". You've probably been told this more than once, I know that it is very difficult to change your mind. It probably seems to you that when you say “You” to a slave, you are emphasizing your respect... this is not so... we are slaves, our status is such that they only say “you” to us, this is not an insult, not disdain... this is the custom... “You” only confuses and forces you to come up with a way to tell a free person that He is wrong.
- Okay, Lou, I understand. They really told me about this, but I just can’t get used to it. And I really want to learn more and more about the orders and customs of your country.
- What would you like to know, first of all, Madam? There are probably a lot of questions, so I will be happy to come to you and tell you everything in order. But my experience says that it is better to do this by answering your questions.
- Yes, you’re probably right Lou... You know, when I saw you and realized that you were a slave, I was amazed... I didn’t think that a slave could make such a career... tell us about yourself, or rather about how people become slaves in general and what they can…
- This is almost always the first question for everyone who comes to us, Mistress... When someone learns about slavery, it seems to him that a slave is an unfortunate starved and tortured creature, completely deprived of everything a person needs... this is far from the case. We are all born free, with the same rights. We all go to school together and study. Of course, all children know who slaves are, and their mothers are most often slaves. They see relationships in the family, of course, besides what a child is not supposed to see, I will tell you in more detail some time about raising children and studying at school. Now I’ll just say that children cannot see sex and cruelty, this is very jealously guarded by all adults and the law is very cruel to violators.
Until the age of eighteen, a girl usually lives with her parents, studies, learns more and more about slavery at school, where many subjects are devoted to its study and at home her mother tells her more and more. At eighteen, a girl has the right to choose who to be. She can become free, study, make a career, even get married... that is, she will have a completely ordinary life for you. Or maybe become a slave. If by this time she has a loved one who wants to take her, then they go to a special service, where the future slave is assessed and he pays money, which is transferred to her parents. Then they take away her passport as a free person, and instead they give her a slave’s passport, where there is only her name, and a new one, which is given to her by her Master, her characteristics, parameters (there are quite a lot of intimate things there) and the Owner’s data are also written there. Then the Master puts a collar on her, she is branded and from that moment on she ceases to be a person and becomes a thing.
- Branded? Are you saying that slaves are branded?!
- Yes Milady. Slaves are branded, some Masters also mark them in some other way... If a slave is sold or given as a gift, a second one is placed next to the first brand, then a third or fourth may be added.
- For what?! Do slaves run away?
- No, of course, Madam, although anything can happen, but very rarely. The stigma is very good at helping you realize that your life has changed a lot. Once and for all.
- Lu, explain to me why become a slave if you can remain free and do the same thing, even much more, without going through these humiliations?!
- Madam, this is not so easy to explain, over time you will feel and understand everything yourself. We are used to living like this. We have very few free women, it seems only seven to ten percent... and most of them are lesbian Mistresses... in slavery a woman becomes much more feminine, more desirable for her man, this is the only way she can show how much she loves and trusts Him... in addition, she is confident in His feelings... a slave is taken not for the sake of some benefit, but for the sake of love... in addition, this is a great responsibility, which not everyone immediately decides to take upon themselves... many Men buy their slaves at a fairly mature age, when they stand strong on their feet, previously preferring to rent or even use slaves in brothels...
But I got a little distracted. You wanted to know about a career. So, the most expensive slaves are those who are smart, beautiful, most often virgins are valued more... if the future slave can clearly make a career, then she is worth even more... this, first of all, guarantees that she will have smart, beautiful children, first of all, sons who will become worthy heirs, and equally expensive and beautiful slave daughters who will someday bring good profit if they decide to become slaves. Well, in general, for many, the title of the position of a slave sounds quite prestigious... I once really asked the Master to take me... we loved each other, but He always said that he would not live with a free woman... I gladly agreed to become His slave, but He took a long time I didn’t want this, because I had a promising job ahead of me, even then it was clear that I could achieve a lot, and He needed an obedient slave who didn’t need to be put in her place all the time because she commands a lot at work ... He said that sooner or later we would face this ... I swore to Him that this would not happen ... Then He agreed, but warned that if I show at home with my behavior that my work leaves some kind of imprint on me, then He will punish me very severely, and then most likely sell me... We have been together with Him for many years... until He has never been disappointed. Despite the fact that I was really able to make a career, I am a thing for Him, fulfilling His every whim at the first order... I like my position, I am proud of it, because my Master loves me and even took the risk of taking me as a slave, knowing that I could cause Him trouble if I ever behaved wrongly and His fears came true. Well, making a career for a slave is not much more difficult than for a free one... unless the Master doesn’t like something and He forbids her to work. Of course, it is a little difficult to correctly learn to work with free people when you are a slave and have a higher position, there are some problems in this... but everything can be solved and everything can be learned if you really want to. Nobody bothers you to make a career or hold a position if you are a slave... We don’t have many positions that can only be filled by free people. A slave - on the one hand, it’s very honorable... although on the other hand, you become a thing.

Date: 2002-10-13 03:29:29
Dear...
In the first lines of my message, I would like to note:
1.In this exchange of views, I fully support Lord of Bugs and Mistress Tris...
2. No one intended to scare anyone, everything is simple: if a person has made a choice (i.e. he has serious intentions) and he (naturally) hardly needs to bring his decision to the discussion of the “community” (or whatever they call it), all the more so that there are plenty of addresses and names of interested practitioners, operators and volunteers on the network.
3.Another option. We are present at the next session of “self-conviction in one’s own “thematic”, in the absence of a desire for a real result.” Which is scary, because an inexperienced beginner can use the forum, and the result will be unpredictable. (By the way: on the issue of personal responsibility for information submitted to the forum).
4.Next. There is a good phrase: “If you want something, do it yourself” (c).
I would advise dear Minky to simply put out the cigarette on your hand once (an unforgettable experience, and, I dare say, very vaguely reminiscent of the feeling of getting a brand) and then decide whether it is necessary.

Now, to the respected Possessor...
1. Your letters consistently convince readers that scarring (for the purpose of identifying a partner in a BDSM couple) is possible with the help of chemical agents. Including, and according to your preference, using acid. Of course, your point of view has a right to exist, especially since similar methods of creating brands and scars actually exist and are very often used at breeding farms. And yet, I will note the following: the chemical agents used to change the skin act so specifically that asserting that they are 100% consistent with expectations is a risky business. It is not without reason that most real operators refrain from inflicting chemical injuries on clients (who insist on performing medical services - scarification, including branding - "branding") in order to avoid complaints. The experience of the operator’s visual activity, in this case, does not often save from unsuccessful results, since practice shows: a “spreading” line of the scar, in the case of “staging” it, is almost inevitable. You yourself mention this possibility of “blurring the boundaries of the stigma.”
In my opinion, all the questions that arise during the correspondence on this issue come from the simplest thing: you do not indicate the percentage dilution of the acidic medium, the use of which you are guaranteed (you write about what you tried on yourself and are alive) and offer as an alternative to thermo - and scariot injuries. You write that the scar that appears when it is formed by an acidic environment is colored. Yes, you are right, of course it is painted.
But: scar? What is a scar?
Keloid, which occurs in 100% of cases with thermo- and scariotic lesions (and with chemical burns, of course) and is, in fact, what we are looking for; because he is that very notorious, irreducible mark.
Forgive me, but your letter allows me to doubt the clarity of this definition. (However, you yourself write that after some time the change may “go away”, disappear.) It is known that scar changes occur at a very specific concentration of an aggressive environment. You write about complete painlessness in your case of application. In this case, by all indicators, we are talking about surface staining and the absence of deep (up to 2 mm in the thickness of the skin) changes, including pathological scarring.
You write that it is necessary to regulate concentration in order to obtain the desired result, to clarify the time. You are right, but... You are responding not with a personal letter sent by mail or in an ICQ conversation, but with a publicly available text on the forum, which allows you to assign it not to the reference department, but to the department of didactic aids, the use of which is available to those completely inexperienced in traumatic practice people. And then you write about the reaction of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation. You are right, but: if you are writing a manual and, quite rightly, warn about legal problems of the results of application, then it would be correct to fully indicate the source materials, i.e. notorious breeding, etc. and so on.
There is a proposal: You send it to my personal email address, ( [email protected]) with the involvement of a witness from the site administration (by means of a parallel letter to avoid misunderstandings), a complete prescription description of the action (I hope that you understand what this means). I perform it on myself (since I can’t risk my lower one, let me show off too), and send the site administration a “step-by-step” real filming of the traumatic track. Naturally, I will publish in full all the accompanying actions, “logs” of possible negotiations with you and comments of the involved operator. I hope that the site administration will publish these materials in full, as alternative ones, in order to close further and completely fruitless discussion of this topic within the forum and deprive citizens inclined to “satisfaction in a dream” (sorry for the rudeness) of the opportunity to hurt people by provoking them on actions, the appearance of materials explaining injury as safe, which in itself is incorrect.

P.S. And one more detail. Your letter, Possessor, indicates the need to verify the license to perform medical services of the proposed operators. It is impossible not to agree with this. Since all elements of traumatic practice specified in this thread must be performed ONLY by professionally trained operators, so as not to cause lethal harm to a person whose heart or soul may not be able to withstand the simplest but unexpected influences. The only thing that raises a question is the mention that in Moscow there are “hard times for professionals.” Sorry - you are wrong. Perhaps you are simply not aware.

Best regards, MAG.

Today you will listen while standing.

The signs that you are going to wear have meaning and obey the rules just as you obey me and your existence has meaning.

Many people treat signs superficially, either in a hurry to acquire them, or without attaching significance to them. In fact, the signs are secondary to the authorities and are significant only for those in the know, who can distinguish a slave from the crowd by them. However, signs can change your destiny and they themselves are not accidental, neither in their form nor in their meaning. What might await you after completing your studies?

A slave's collar is significantly different from the device used in BDSM games, which is used to attach hands, a leash, or anything else to it. The slave's collar is essentially a reflection of herself. It appears as a thin, slightly curved, steel ring riveted around the neck, with a flat area on which the owner's name is stamped.

The collar does not have a utilitarian function, just as your slavery is not intended to force you to do housework or work for the benefit of the Master. A slave is not utilitarian.

The collar is almost invisible, just as your status is invisible to strangers.

The collar is made of steel, which means it cannot be removed accidentally. Just like you are not free to gain freedom through chance.

The collar contains my name, just as the Master’s name is imprinted on your soul, as his will guides you through life.

The collar is riveted because it cannot be put on easily and quickly, just as a girl cannot become a slave overnight, obeying an impulse or outburst of emotions.

Locks are unacceptable - symbols of a temporary choice, which can be opened at any time, and the key does not belong to the slave. The lock is good for a play or operational collar, which is fastened during a session or punishment, and unfastened after it. The slave's lack of a key violates the basic idea of ​​the slave's responsibility for her existence in her status. The presence of the key in the slave's possession removes the possession of the collar from the control of her Master. Whatever one may say, a collar with a lock is an impressive toy, unworthy of a serious relationship.

Rings are unacceptable - symbols of utility. I'm not even talking about the fact that the collar is a slave's special pride; by using it, I would insult you and your choice.

There are life circumstances when the presence of a collar complicates the extra-thematic life of a slave. I advise you to usually replace the collar with a detachable bracelet on your hand or, in an even more difficult case, on your ankle.

In any case, the collar is a sign that your owner will put on you at the beginning of your relationship and this sign will accompany you until this relationship exhausts itself. Unless of course they are destined to be exhausted.

Tattoo.

The meaning of a tattoo is to change your body. I repeat, changing your body, and not imprinting the name of your Master on it, is what the collar is for. A slave must be very careful about tattoos, even if her master requires certain signs from her. You can be as confident as you like in the eternity of your relationship, but the idea of ​​the owner’s name does not seem attractive to me. A name on a body brings the body closer to the one whose name is placed on it. Firstly, it blurs the boundaries between the slave and her master. Secondly, it deprives the slave of the aforementioned responsibility for the union.

What tattoos make sense to me? Firstly, those that mark irreversible changes in your destiny. For example, a tattoo indicating the completion of your education will serve as a sign to others and to yourself that you are choosing your path, relying on knowledge and skills acquired through pain and diligence; the name of your mentor secures his responsibility for your upbringing and why and how he taught you. Secondly, these are tattoos that reflect and enhance your spiritual qualities. The reason for their occurrence may have roots both in your self-perception and in your Master’s perception of you. In any case, this is a way to become better and more worthy of your master, and not a way to express your devotion to him.

Although, undoubtedly, extreme devotion can be expressed in this way.

Branding.

Branding is not fundamentally different from tattooing, however, the pain experienced during branding and the general perception of the brand force us to treat it with special attention. If a tattoo is a spoken word, then a brand is a word shouted out with all your might. The brand is a source of special pride. A school of slaves can award the right to wear its mark to a particularly gifted slave; extreme grief can be imprinted on the body with a red-hot iron.

In principle, there is nothing particularly difficult about applying a brand or wearing it. But it seems to me unsightly to wear a brand without special, exceptional reasons. Just as if someone constantly shouted instead of talking, or declared their love exclusively through central television. Everything has its place and its intensity of passions.