The branding of a slave with a red-hot iron. Again fantasy. What do we know about the brand base

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

I found information from those who in our time voluntarily undergo stigmatization. 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. The high temperature destroys tissue by severe burns. As the wound heals, a scar forms.

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

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

What is a keloid?
Popularly speaking, 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 Milady's skin was fair, even without ointments, the stigma should not have been very noticeable? - E.)

How painful is branding?
Contact branding is actually far less painful than most people realize - it is in some ways as much a "mind game" as it is a physical ordeal. Ordinary contact branding is painful for a second before the nerves burn (unlike small burns, such as those from a stove, which only affect the surface). This should not be understood in the sense of "painless" - it is VERY painful both during and after applying the stroke.
Regardless of the pain of the procedure itself, the stigma will bother during a long healing period, especially on a moving part of the body (where the wound will diverge with the slightest movement).

What shape should be the tool for contact stamping?
A complete stamp is never made in its entirety. 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 diseased tissue (for example, a small scorched circle) may also die and become part of the scar (because it is deprived of blood supply).
Note that a typical healed brand will be 3 or 4 times the thickness of the tool and will usually never be thinner than 3/16 inch (about like a line drawn with a thick marker). When the brand is made, it is very blurry. The brand should be large and simple enough to compensate for the spread.

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

How long does the stigma last?
The brand (like all types of scarification) requires a long period of time for complete healing. The stigma goes through several phases, which differ greatly in time (and character) in each case.
In the first phase, the brand is covered with a scab and looks like a completely 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 eventually become slightly lighter than normal skin color. This stage takes six to twelve months for most people, and additional growth can occur during this period.

Can the label be removed?
In theory, a cosmetic surgeon could remove the stigma using lasers and other advanced techniques, but this would be very expensive and not always effective. Don't make a brand if you don't want it - this is a serious burn that causes a serious burn scar and should be removed as such. Count on the time it usually takes to hide your scars in burn victims.
In a real situation, it is impossible to remove the stigma. (Even now! - E.)

“Why stand on ceremony with her,” the man did not let up. - Let him writhe with passion, everything will become clear at once.

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

The praetor stared at the girl, then turned his gaze to Olafi.

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

- Not! Ulfi exclaimed.

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

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

“Naturally,” said the Wart. - She's a slave. She was sold last night to this captain. He pointed to Uyafi. “I got a silver tarsk for her.

The praetor nodded to the guard, who with a short blow knocked the girl to her knees. She was in the company of free men. The guard bent the head of the fugitive to his feet and firmly fixed her with a belt. Then, with one movement, he ripped off her the rags of the female urta, which she stole from Sasi.

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

There were cheers and applause from those present. On Gor, they applaud, striking with the right hand on the left shoulder.

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

- Slave! yelled the leader of the gang of female urts.

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

- Well, back! snapped the praetor. - Back, to whom I say! Or now I’ll put everyone in collars!

The girls stepped back, looking at the unfortunate woman with hatred.

The blonde seemed to have completely lost heart. All she wanted now was for everyone to finally leave her alone.

“Captain Ulafi!” said the praetor.

- I'm listening! Ulafy replied.

“Brand her before you leave.”

The guards immediately dragged heavy shackles. The captured fugitive was untied. Ulafi personally lifted her slender leg, while the assistant opened the shackles. After the girl's legs were threaded into the semicircular holes of the shackles, the upper half was pulled over the lower one and the huge bolts were tightly tightened.

The guard released the blond barbarian, and she waved her hands helplessly. In such shackles, she could not even take a step. It was dangerous to lean to the side.

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

“Do you understand that you have no right to run away?” he asked sternly. - You can't run away!

- Not! Not! She shook her head in fear.

He came from behind and kissed her legs with a scimitar. - Not! - In hysterics, the girl began to shout in English. - I'm not running away! 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:

- Kajira?

A few minutes ago, she had lied to the praetor by saying no to that question.

- Kadzheira or not? Olafi repeated threateningly.

- Yes! Yes! The girl nodded desperately. - La Cajeira. “Looks like that was the end of her knowledge of Gorean.

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

"Please don't hurt me!" - the girl wailed. - I lied! I'm very embarrassed. I am a slave! Slave! La Cajeira!

Olafi silently slid the dagger back into its sheath. The girl realized that for escaping her legs could be cut off, and for lying, her ears and nose could be cut off. Of course, she was still an ignorant savage, but she had already learned something.

- Remove the shackles! Ulafy ordered.

The bolts spun, and the slave almost collapsed to the ground.

“Tie him up, give him a good flog and take him to the forge.”

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

We reached the forge, where the newly branded slave, the former Lady Sasi, was writhing in pain on her chains. If it is not bought soon at the price of a brand, it 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 branded?

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

“Tal,” said the blacksmith, addressing me.

- Tal! I replied.

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

I looked out of the forge doors. Eighty yards away, the execution was already beginning. The girl was on her knees, tied to a pillory. After the first blow, she squealed wildly, then only writhed and moaned. She didn't seem to realize she was going to be spanked. Passing by, not paying much attention to what was happening, the townspeople scurried around. The upbringing of a slave on Gor is a common thing.

“I have five brands,” said the blacksmith. - The standard mark of the kajeira, Dean, Palm, the mark of Trev and the mark of Port-Kar.

- We need to brand a simple slave. I think the Kajeira sign would be best.

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

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

On the ship, Ulafi began to raise the sails. Sailors brought a slave cage and a pole onto the deck.

The sailor threw the blond barbarian on the floor of the forge. The blacksmith immediately picked it up and laid it on the goats for branding. The girl's hands lay in special handrails, where they were firmly fixed with straps. The legs are screwed to a rotating platform.

- Left or right thigh? the blacksmith asked.

“Left,” said Olafi. Usually the brand is placed on the left thigh. In exceptional cases, the right or lower abdomen is branded on the left.

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

I looked into the blonde's eyes, round with horror. She didn't seem to understand what was going on.

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

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

I chuckled. She tried to run. Then she lied to the praetor. And no one bothered to cut off her legs, nose and ears. They showed her unimaginable kindness. She was simply thrashed. On the other hand, the ignorant barbarian did not realize the full gravity of her misdeeds. I hope now she will understand that one must behave properly on Gor. She won't get off so easy next time.

“She's been through a lot,” I said.

“Understood,” nodded the blacksmith. Don't worry, she will feel the iron.

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

- Can? I asked, nodding at the bucket of water in the corner of the forge.

“Of course,” he replied.

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

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

- If you don't mind, my friend will put the brand. I looked at him. He smiled.

“You seem to be a blacksmith, aren’t you?” the captain asked mockingly.

“Maybe,” I smiled back.

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

"Okay," Ulfi 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.

Ulafi kept a close eye on 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 Kures. I saw in her an ordinary beautiful woman who would be nice to be enslaved.

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

"Please don't," she whispered one last time.

I branded her.

“Great job,” Olafi praised.

The girl squealed in pain as the blacksmith untied her hands. Ulafi immediately handcuffed the blonde. As soon as the blacksmith untied her thighs, 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 immediately hammered with steel rivets. The collar was decorated with five palm trees and the coat of arms of Shendi: shackles and scimitar.

“To the cage and to the ship,” Olafi ordered.

The sailors immediately carried out the order.

Now she won't run away. I breathed a sigh of relief. With her help, I can get to Shaba, geographer from Anango, explorer of the equator. In my bag were notes to the Shandi bankers, as well as a fake ring, which was with the girl at the time of her capture.

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

“Nonsense,” I said.

“No, really, you gave her a great brand. In time, she will appreciate it. I shrugged.

“Captain,” I said.

“I would like to board your ship.

“Welcome,” he smiled.

- Thanks.

“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 luck,” he replied.

I'm glad I've stigmatized women before.

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

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

- But who needs it? he replied 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 her? I asked. The girl shook her head in fear.

“Branding will cost a copper tarsk,” the escort grumbled.

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 the collar I had prepared in advance from the bag.

“No,” she shook her head.

“It says here: Belong to Tarl of Telethus.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

After that, I put a collar on her. The slave will not interfere with me. It will serve as further proof that I am a blacksmith from Telethus. True, I was going to buy a girl in Shandi, but there was no point in waiting. The inscription on the collar should calm Ulafi, who seemed to me a smart and suspicious person. My slave has a personalized collar. What more evidence of my decency do you need?

Does she have any documents with her? I asked.

“Nothing,” the escort shook his head. “Enough brand and collar.

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

“I see,” she replied.

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

- All right, 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 was a cage with a blond savage.

- You! she hissed when she saw the blonde. My slave immediately recognized the girl who had stripped off her female urta rags as she lay tied up with her partner Turgus of Port Kar, waiting for the guards to arrive. - Kajira!

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

- The kajeira herself!

- Give away the moorings! - sounded a sharp command.

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

The senior officer gave orders. The ship's captain, Ulafi, stood on the bridge.

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

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

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

- Sushi paddles! commanded the second officer.

I watched the outline of Port Kar slowly disappear into the haze. Above us was a cloudless blue sky.

Then I went to the cage with the acquired slave.

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

“Your name is Sassy,” I announced.

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

A second officer approached me, having already been relieved of his duties as the senior oar group.

"There's an extra charge for carrying livestock," he announced, pointing to the cage. - Copper tarsk.

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

In the next cage sat on her knees the agent of the kurs, a bound naked woman. I looked at the fresh brand on the burned thigh. It was a small, clear, neat and deep brand, by which any person would understand that he was a slave.

Ulafi, the merchant and captain, proudly paced the bridge.

I approached the board. Heavy sails flapped over my head, masts creaked, ropes and ropes creaked. I inhaled with pleasure the intoxicating fresh smell of the shining sea of ​​Thassa. Some sailor sang Shandy's song, others immediately picked it up.

Port Kar was out of sight.

WE SAIL TO SHANDI

- Healing! shouted the second officer over the ear of the fair-haired savage. She immediately tossed her head and held out her hands for the binding.

The girl quickly turned on the spot, fell to her knees, spread her hips wide and sank on her back. It was the position of a slave for pleasure.

- Suda, kajeira!

She straightened her legs and spread them wide apart.

- Bara, kajeira!

She rolled onto her stomach, raised herself slightly, and crossed her legs for the binding.

“Pretty,” said Olafi, and turned away.

“Yes,” I nodded.

- Judgment! the officer commanded. - Bara! Nadu! Lecha! Nadu! Bara! Vessels! Nadu!

The girl gasped. There were tears in her eyes. She'd already been whipped once, for not changing position quickly and gracefully enough. Once again they hit her, because she hesitated, remembering what to do.

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

"Do you think she'll make sense?" Sassy asked. She stood next to me and ate larma.

"We'll see," I shrugged. – There is still time. How's the Gorean thing going?

“I try,” Sassy replied. “But barbarians are terribly stupid.

At Olafi's request, I assigned her to teach Gorean to the dugout. Sasi accepted the task with great enthusiasm. Every day, for several hours, she stood idle over the blonde with a whip in her hand and mercilessly whipped her for the slightest mistake. Sometimes Ulafi dropped in on their classes and threw a piece of cake or sweet pie to the dugout. The girl gratefully fell on the deck, kissed his feet, and then allowed herself to touch the food. She immediately offered treats to Sasi, who invariably took the bulk.

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

If several women serve a man, it is customary to appoint the first, or main, slave. Other girls treat her like a mistress. In this way, unnecessary squabbles are avoided. Between the girls there is a constant rivalry for the right to be appointed first. Be that as it may, having received power, they try to dispose of it with intelligence and caution, for a real master can at any moment remove the first slave. I constantly change the first girls in my house and I am deeply convinced that only a slave of Gorian origin can become the head slave. It would never occur to me to appoint a dugout to this position. 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,” Sassy said.

- Why?

- Stupid, stupid creature.

“She has a hard time with a lot,” I agreed. Don't forget she's a barbarian.

“Just stupid,” repeated Sassy.

"I don't think so," I shook my head.

She does everything terribly slowly.

"That doesn't mean she's dumb," I said.

“Awfully slow,” Sassy sighed.

“She is studying,” I said.

“She will always be a dumb, clumsy, clumsy slave,” Sassy said irritably.

“Perhaps,” I said peacefully. - We'll see.

To be honest, the barbarian did not impress me as a stupid woman. Sometimes it even seemed to me that she grasped everything on the fly. I think it will come out of it.

“Do you want to train me a little tonight, sir?” Sassy asked.

"We'll see," I smiled.

I managed to take a preparatory course with her. No free woman could compare with her in bed.

Sometimes at night I took her out of the cage and brought her to my cabin. A few days later she fell in love with the collar. It's interesting to see how a woman changes.

I looked at the blonde who was frozen on her knees.

Sasi enjoyed the juicy larma fruit.

For the first two days, the blonde did not eat anything at all. She was sick of the smell of meat and fish. For the slaves on the ship they prepared separately. Although compared to what she fished out of the canal, it was exquisite food. On the third day she ate every last bite, wiped the frying 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 lessons in Gorean.

“Do you think she is beautiful, sir?” Sassy asked.

- Yes. “I really thought the savage was beautiful. By the way, the blonde surprisingly got prettier after the ship left Port Kara. 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 a whip, while the long whip wound around her neck, and jerked her to her feet.

- Who is she? he snapped.

- Slave, sir.

- What is a slave?

“A slave is a girl who belongs to her master,” she answered meticulously.

Are you also a slave?

- Yes, sir.

- Who do you belong to?

- Ulafi of Shandi.

– Who trains you?

- Shoka from Shandy.

- Do you have a brand?

- Yes, sir.

- Why?

Because I am a slave.

- Do you have a collar?

- Yes, sir.

- What collar do you have?

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

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

- What is the collar for?

“The collar serves four purposes, lord. Firstly, it immediately shows that I am a slave. Sometimes the brand is covered with clothes, and this 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 master is. Fourth... fourth...

- Well? the officer growled menacingly.

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

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

- Do you like being a slave?

"Yes, sir," she groaned.

What does a slave want most of all? the officer continued.

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

- Who are you?

- Slave, sir.

– What do you want the most?

- Please your master!

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

She quickly dropped to her knees, spread her hips wide and lay on her back. In this position, the officer left her.

“Is she more beautiful than me, sir?” Sassy asked.

“Your beauty is completely different,” I replied. "I think you'll both make good slaves."

- ABOUT! Sassy said.

An additional function of the collar is that it allows you to bind the slave in different ways. For example, with the help of a collar, you can easily tie the hands of a slave in front of her chest, or you can fasten them directly to the neck. In collars it is convenient to tie slaves into large bundles. Sometimes the legs of a slave are tied to the collar, while the knot, of course, should not be on the throat. The Goreans don't bind 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 if she liked being a slave, she would answer in the negative. And maybe even burst into tears. Meanwhile, in the way she knelt down, skill was already visible. She involuntarily twisted her hips, stretched her fingers and arched her back. Nobody taught her this.

Do you like me, sir? Sassy asked.

“You like it,” I replied. “Especially after a bath.

- Oh Lord! - she exclaimed. On the very 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. squeamish?

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

“Yes, sir,” she nodded. Sasi knew that slaves differed from free women in cleanliness, health and hygiene. No wonder men should always like them.

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

Later I saw her near the main mast. As I approached the mast, I saw scratches from my nails on it.

“I personally like fur training,” Sasi said, biting off a piece of larma.

The blonde froze in the pose of a slave for pleasure. The teacher seemed to have completely forgotten about her.

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

“Perhaps so,” the slave girl 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 about it.

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

A native of Gor, Sassy has long outstripped the blonde in every slave measure. In principle, there was no point in training them together. Barbarian still needed basic training.

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

The girl promptly followed the command.

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

“Not bad,” muttered Sasi, chewing on her larma.

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

Shoka whipped her without warning. The girl did not change her position, but suffocated from resentment. She couldn't understand why she was hit. On the other hand, it doesn't take any special reason to hit a slave. Shoka pulled her up by the hair and led her to the cage.

- Can I tell you, sir? she said.

- Speak.

- Why did you hit me?

“Kiss your feet,” Shoka ordered. Having fulfilled the order, the girl looked inquiringly at the officer.

“Because I wanted to,” he said.

- Yes, sir.

- In a cell.

- Yes, sir.

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

“Master,” Sassy called to me.

“If I am very good, will they let me have a dress?”

- May be.

- You will like it very much. Besides, I'll have something to shoot in front of you.

“The collar suits you very well,” I said. Looks like you were born in it.

“In a way, it was,” she said.

- Do not understand?

“I am a woman,” she answered, biting off the larma.

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

“Never been there,” I replied.

“You are not a blacksmith,” he said.

– Is that how? 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. It was the same sailor who overtook me on the way to the Red Urt shipyard. Then I saw him in the praetor's room.

“Before we issued a general alert for the escape of a slave, we took our own search measures,” said Olafi. “We were sure that we would easily catch her in the first few minutes.

“Right,” I nodded.

There were no clothes on the barbarian. Where would she go from us?

"That's right," I nodded again.

“And yet she escaped,” said Olafi. - She was smarter.

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

“We really didn't want to disturb the praetor.

“I understand you perfectly,” I said. “It doesn't suit a man from Shandi, much less a captain, to raise a fuss over a missing slave.

“Maybe you want to be thrown overboard?” Ulafy 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 through half the city. One of my men, Chungu, was looking for a fugitive in the Rim Canal area. He saw a man dressed as a blacksmith tie up two robbers, a man and a woman, who tried to attack him. According to him, he did this with a dexterity that one would hardly expect from a blacksmith. Then he lingered. Not for long. Exactly 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, - said Olafi separately. “The man in the blacksmith's clothes is you.

Good afternoon, Madam… Do you have time to resolve clearance issues?
- Yes, of course, Lou, come in.
Lou came in, moved for some reason not a comfortable chair, but a stool, like the one she sat on yesterday, sat down with her legs wide apart to keep her balance, and laid out papers on the table. She had a kind of feline grace, she was eye-catching. We started sorting through my papers. I addressed her several times with “You”, after which she lowered her eyes and said:
- Madam, I know that you do not 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 say "you" to me. You have probably been told this more than once, I know that it is very difficult to readjust. It probably seems to you that by saying “you” to a slave, you emphasize your respect ... this is not so ... we are slaves, our status is such that only “you” are told to us, this is not an insult, not neglect ... such is the custom ... “you” only confuses and makes you think of a way to tell a free person that He is wrong.
- Okay, Lou, I got it. I was actually told about it, but I just can't get used to it. And I really want to learn more and more about the customs 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 it 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 they become slaves in general and what they can…
- This is almost always the first question for everyone who comes to us, Madam ... When someone finds out about slavery, it seems to him that a slave is an unfortunate starved and tortured creature, completely deprived of everything that a person needs ... this is far from being the case. We are all born free, with the same rights. We all go to school together. Of course, all children know who slaves are, and their mothers are most often slaves. They see relationships in the family, well, of course, besides the fact that a child is not supposed to see, I will somehow tell you in more detail about raising children and about 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 and 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 to himself, then they go to a special service, where the future slave is evaluated and he pays the money that is transferred to her parents. Then the passport of a free person is taken away from her, instead of it they give out the passport of a slave, where there is only her name, and the new one that her Master gives her, her signs, parameters (there are quite a lot of intimate things) and the data of the Owner. Then the Owner puts a collar on her, she is branded, and from that moment she ceases to be a person and becomes a thing.
- Are they branded? Are you saying that slaves are branded?!
- Yes Milady. Slaves are branded, some masters still somehow mark them ... If a slave is sold or donated, a second brand is placed next to the first brand, then a third, fourth can be added.
- Why?! Do slaves run away?
- No, of course, Madam, although anything happens, but very rarely. The stigma is very good at helping you realize that your life has changed a lot. Once and forever.
- Lu, explain to me why become a slave, if you can remain free and do the same, even much more, without going through these humiliations?!
- Madam, it is not so easy to explain, in 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 or ten percent ... and most of them are lesbian Mistresses ... in slavery, a woman becomes much more feminine, more desirable for her man, the only way she can show how much she loves and trusts Him ... in addition, she is sure of His feelings… a slave is taken not for the sake of some benefit, but for the sake of love… besides, this is a big responsibility, which not everyone immediately decides to take on… many Men buy their slaves at a fairly mature age, when they stand strong on his feet, before that preferring to rent or even use slaves in brothels ...
But I digress a little. You wanted to know about a career. So, the most expensive slaves are those who are smart, beautiful, virgins are most often valued more ... if the future slave can clearly make a career, then she costs even more ... this first of all guarantees that she will have smart beautiful children, first of all, sons who will become worthy heirs, and, well, equally expensive and beautiful slave daughters who will someday bring a good profit if they decide to become slaves. Well, in general, for many, the name of the position of a slave sounds quite prestigious ... I once asked the Lord to take me ... we loved each other, but He always said that he would not live with a free ... 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, it was already clear then 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 due to the fact that 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 showed at least once 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 He will 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 for Him a thing, at the first order, fulfilling His every whim ... 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 give Him trouble if I ever misbehaved and His fears came true. Well, making a career for a slave is far from much more difficult than for a free one ... unless the Master doesn’t like something and He forbids working. Of course, it is a little difficult to learn how to work with freemen correctly when you are a slave and stand higher in position, there are some problems in this ... but everything can be solved and everything can be learned if you really want to. No one bothers to make a career or hold some position if you are a slave... We don't have many positions that only free people can hold. Slave - on the one hand, this is 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 want to note:
1. In this exchange, I fully support Lord of Bugs and Mrs. Tris...
2. Nobody was going to scare anyone, everything is simple: if a person has made a choice (i.e. he has serious intentions) and he (of course) hardly needs to submit his decision for discussion by the “community” (or as they call it), all the more that addresses and names of interested practitioners, operators and volunteers abound on the net.
3.Another option. We are present at the next session of "self-persuasion in our 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: to the question of personal responsibility for the information submitted to the forum).
4.Next. There is a good phrase: “If you want something, do it yourself” (c).
I would advise respected Minky to simply put out a cigarette on your hand once (an unforgettable experience, and, I dare say, very remotely reminiscent of the feeling of branding) and then decide whether it is necessary.

Now, to the respected Possessor ...
1. Your letters consistently convince readers that scarring (in order to identify a partner in a BDSM couple) is possible with the help of chemical agents. Including, and according to your preference, with the help of acid. Of course, your point of view has the right to exist, especially since such methods of creating brands and scars do exist and are very often used in breeding plants. And yet, I note the following: the chemical agents used to change the skin cover are so specific that the assertion of their 100% compliance with expectations is a risky business. Not without reason, most real operators refrain from inflicting chemical injuries on clients (who insist on performing a medical service - scarification, including stigmatization - “branding”) in order to avoid claims. The experience of the visual activity of the operator, in this case, does not often save from unsuccessful results, since practice shows: the “spreading” line of the scar, in the case of its “staging”, is almost inevitable. You yourself mention this possibility - "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 have tried on yourself and are alive) offer as an alternative to thermo - and scario-injuries. You write that the scar that occurs when it is formed by an acidic environment is colored. Yes, you are right, of course it is painted.
But: a scar? What is a scar?
Keloid, which occurs in 100% with thermal and scario lesions (and with chemical burns, of course) and is, in fact, the desired one; because he is the very notorious, irreducible stigma.
Forgive me, but your letter allows me to doubt the clarity of this definition. (However, you yourself write that after a while the change may “leave”, disappear.) It is known that cicatricial changes occur at a very specific concentration of an aggressive environment. You write about complete painlessness in your case of application. In this case, according to 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 cicatricial ones.
You write that it is necessary to regulate the concentration in order to obtain the desired result, to clarify the time. You are right, but... You are not responding with a personal letter sent by mail or in an ICQ conversation, but with a public text on the forum, which allows you to refer it not to the reference department, but to the department of didactic aids, to the use of which 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 write a manual and, quite rightly, warn about the legal problems of the results of the application, then - it would be correct to fully indicate the source materials, i.e. notorious breeding, etc. etc.
There is a suggestion: You, send me to my personal mail address, ( [email protected]) with the involvement of a witness from the site administration (by a parallel letter to avoid misunderstandings), a full prescription description of the action (I hope you understand what this means). I do it on myself (because I can't risk my bottom, let me show off too), and send the site administration a "step-by-step" real footage of the traumatic track. Naturally, I will publish, in full, all accompanying action, "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 prone to "satisfaction in a dream" (sorry for being rude) of the opportunity to cripple people, 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 with prospective operators. It is impossible not to agree with this. Since all the elements of traumatic practice, specified in this thread, should be performed ONLY by professionally trained operators, so as not to cause lethal harm to a person whose heart or soul cannot endure the simplest but unexpected impacts. The only thing that raises the question is the mention that in Moscow "it's tight with professionals." Sorry - you are wrong. Perhaps you just don't know.

Sincerely, Mag.

Today you will listen standing up.

The signs that you will wear make sense and obey the rules just as you obey me and your own existence has meaning.

Many treat signs superficially, either in a hurry to acquire them, or not attaching importance to them. In fact, signs are secondary to power and are significant only for those who know, distinguishing a slave from the crowd by them. However, the signs are able to change your fate, and in themselves they are not accidental, neither in their form nor in their meaning. What is expected of you upon completion of training?

The collar of a slave is significantly different from the device used in BDSM games, which serves to fix hands, a leash, or something else to it. The collar of a slave is the essence of a reflection of herself. It looks like a thin, slightly curved, steel ring riveted around the neck, with a flat area inscribed with the owner's name.

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

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

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

The collar contains my name, just as the name of the Master 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 a surge of emotions.

Locks are not allowed - symbols of a transient choice, which can be opened at any time, and the key does not belong to the slave. The lock is good for a game or operational collar, which is fastened for the duration of a session or punishment, and unfastened after it. The absence of the key from the slave violates the basic idea of ​​the slave's responsibility for her existence in her status. The presence of the key in the slave removes the possession of the collar from the control of her Master. Like it or not, a collar with a lock is an effective toy, unworthy of a serious relationship.

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

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

In any case, the collar is a sign that your master will put on you at the beginning of your relationship and this sign will accompany you until this relationship has exhausted 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, not imprinting your Master's name on it, That's what the collar is for. A slave should be very attentive to tattoos, even if her master requires certain signs from her. You can be arbitrarily sure of the eternity of your relationship, but the idea and the name of the owner does not seem attractive to me. The name on the body brings the body closer to the one whose name is inscribed on it. First, it blurs the lines between a slave and her master. Secondly, it deprives the slave of the aforementioned responsibility for the union.

What tattoos seem meaningful to me? First, those that mark irreversible changes in your destiny. For example, a tattoo indicating the end of your education will serve as a sign to others and to yourself that you choose your path based on the knowledge and skills gained through pain and diligence, the name of your mentor fixes his responsibility for your upbringing and what and how he taught you. Secondly, these are tattoos that reflect and enhance your spiritual qualities. The reason for their occurrence can be rooted both in your self-perception and in the perception of you by your Master. 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 a tattoo, however, the pain experienced during branding and the general perception of branding make it necessary to treat it with special attention. If a tattoo is a spoken word, then a stigma is a word shouted out with the last of your strength. The stigma is a matter of special pride. The school of slaves may bestow the right to wear its brand on a particularly gifted slave, extreme grief can be imprinted on the body with a red-hot iron.

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