Belled Ankle Tavern-first day in the sand.

The chains around my eyes were a small light weight yet nevertheless strong set of chains called a 'dancer's mask' they looped from the center of my slave coronet-from the chevroned area where my blood jewel was mounted-to the sides,near my ears. also they were secured around the back of my head, below the coronet chain, by a small but sturdy lock. one slightly smaller than the one on the belled wrist and ankle cuffs I wore. As I turned inside the small circular ring of sand and danced I looked out amongst the many men,and in this particular Tavern's case,WOMEN and felt a surge of fear.

 Yes I had danced before, but only before the other slave girls and the guards of the training house. they were no doubt used to slaves who perhaps had no skill at moving prettily before their free masters,and mistresses. This group were expecting someone graceful,and skilled and beautiful. I doubted I was any of those. By the standards of Thraxian Beauty there are many FAR prettier than I. and I don't consider myself to be very beautiful at all. But those far more wise and in stronger control than I commanded that I dance here. in this tavern and be I a slave I had no choice. and even if I had,had a choice I would not have chose anything else.

These were strong and glorious men. Men worthy of taking women such as I and others like me from Earth and MAKING them serve. making us yield,after all we were by the rights of nature theirs. At sometime, in my past,my confused past I would have raged against them. demanded they be like I. but in my experiences on this far away,barbaric, yet incredibly indescribably beautiful world I had learned my place in nature and found I didn't want them to be like me at all but wanted them the way they were. Strong,unconquered,and conquering,decisive. Taking what they wanted.

 Even the women of world were far superior. the free AND the slave. The free were strong,intelligent,unbending. Their beauty like something come forth from Roman legend. Something within me felt they were-like the men.Worthy of being my owners,and keepers. and I nothing worthy of being more than their slave. Yet it felt wonderful to serve them,satisfying.
The Slaves were beautiful,obedient,docile,a walking paradigm of sensuality. I could only try to be as desirable as they were. I would always be the one sold from a side block.