This is, as promised, the continuation from the previous article.
Mika is bound into the 1930's medical chair. Her red and gold silks tied about her, definitely not for modesty, as the silks make her more naked than naked. Steve Haworth leans the chair back to better disorient her. Steve puts a new sterile tip into the cautery scalpel and prepares the wider tip for use later. Steve takes one last look at me and waits for me to say the words he knows are to begin the branding.
As I say "girl you will now be branded as slave", he presses the first time into Mika's flesh, her muscles tighten and her eyes close. Just as she thinks she can't stand it another moment, Steve changes the tip, it takes less time for his skilled hands to achieve the change than for Mika to draw a ragged breath. His hands were swift, we barely noticed the change and then he was working again. The stench of human flesh being burned began to fill the room. Smoke rose from where Steve's hands were working on Mika's leg. Her flesh was literally being vaporized by the instrument and her jaws clenching. She tried hard to be brave, to not make a sound suddenly the room was filled to stimulate yet another sense with an unreal scream. Mika's voice loud and filled with the pain of flesh being vaporized in one stroke. Mika begged, she pleaded, screaming for me to make him stop. Steve had been instructed earlier by me to make this as close to a single strike brand as described in the books as possible. He was not to stop, not for any reason that did not mean life or death of Mika. "Please Master, please," the words echoed in the room filled with the unbelievable pain Mika was experiencing. The words tugged at every one in the room but she was kajira, to be branded and marked slave. The books describe the brand as being completed on Gor in one single strike by a hot iron pressed into a slave's flesh for five ehn (approximately five or six seconds). What Mika felt that day was nearly a full minute of relentless vaporizing of her left thigh skin. Every muscle in her body strained against the ropes and bindings. Her screams doing all she could to beg and plead her plight, hoping it would fall on ears that would make it stop. It was only a minute, but if you were to ask her she would swear I made it last an hour.
Everything inside me wanted to leap upon this man that was in one respect damaging my slave while in another adding to her value. I had paid this 'metal worker' for his services, I knew he was the best, but the smell of vaporizing flesh, the sound of the girl's scream can certainly make one question their purchase. Mika's screams became terrifying, and I approached her and took her face in my hands. When I looked into her eyes, they were wild, terrified, defeated. As Steve continued to finish his work, I realized I was looking into those terrified eyes through my own watery eyes. Tears? No way, she was only kajira! Must have been the dust in that sterile room and the smoke from the girl's flesh irritating them. (When Steve was finished and I looked around, I realized that I am not the only one in that room who must be allergic to smoke and dust. Everyone's eyes were affected by it.) Mika's eyes were filled with something very foreign to me. I had never given her reason not to trust me, to fear me, or to feel terror by anything going on around her. Suddenly, her eyes spoke of things her mouth would never relay.
Steve stood. He was finished. Mika was trembling. The chair was shaking from the strength of the involuntary muscles contractions taking over mika's body, or was it simply the sobs and heaving of her chest?
The chair was righted and I began loosening the binds, the ropes and cuffs. Never completely removing my hand from Mika. My eyes moving up to hers every so often, only to find them closed tightly tears still spilling from beneath pinched lids. I allowed Mika to rest a few moments, speaking softly to her, words that came from my heart telling her how proud I was of her and how beautiful her brand was and how she never looked more beautiful to me than she did at that very moment. (Even with the red nose and swollen eyes and dry lips) Now was time for the proper collaring ceremony that would normally follow a girl's branding on Gor. I helped a weak and trembling Mika out of the chair and stripped the silks from her body.
"Assume the posture of female submission," I ordered.
She knelt, leaning back on her heels, her arms extended, wrists crossed, her head between them, down.
"Repeat after me," I told her. "I, once (her name which is not important to this story) of (Earth)..."
She repeated this.
"..herewith submit myself, completely and totally, in all things..."
She repeats this.
"...to him who is known as (Michael) of (Queen Creek)..."
She repeats this.
"...his girl, his slave, an article of his property, his to do with as he pleases."
She repeats this.
I then produced the collar. It was engraved with "Property of Michael", I had her read it , making sure that she understood what it says and means. I placed it about her neck and snap it shut with a click.
"I am yours, Master," I said.
"I am yours, Master," she repeated.
At this point, Master Bleu congratulated me on my acquisition of my new slave and Angel kissed her, crying and congratulated her. When this was done, I asked the slave the following three questions:
"Who were you?" I asked.
She told me her former name.
"What are you?" I asked.
"I am your slave, Master," she says.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Whatever Master wishes," she answered.
I then, because it pleased me to do so, bestowed upon the girl her new slave-name, which can be taken from her or changed at any time, according to my whim.
"You are (Mika)," I told her.
"Yes, Master. I am (Mika)," she said.
The ceremony is now over. Thus it is that a new slave is collared upon (Gor) and in the City of Phoenix. Steve's girl came into the room, her eyes must have taken offense to the smoke as well. Though she is not Gorean, she told us congratulations and expressed that it was beautiful. She had not experienced Gorean traditions before and had found them to be beautiful and not barbaric at all.
Mika was lifted to her feet and held closely to the chest of the man who owned her. She was permitted to cry once again and to look upon the mark on her thigh. This time the tears shone brightly on the eyes of a happy girl, even if she did put on the pout lips and say "Look what you did to me you beast!"
A year later, on our 24th anniversary, the mark was completed with the addition of a red M. Can you believe she said we would need to stop having year anniversaries?
"I will have
this woman... For her I would stand against all Ar, and all the world"
Anyone having any questions or comments please contact me at Michael@Desertvista.com. Be Well!