by Mark Andrews
And yes, we spanked them and caned them from time to time. No-one can ever do the right thing all the time, no matter how much he or she tries and when a slave errs, corporal punishment is always a result unless, as Preston told me all that time ago, they are true masochists, in which case another form of punishment is required.
I remarked to Phil one morning as we lay in our bed munching our early morning toast and sipping tea that I was glad I had refused her request to brand her belly.
She smiled wistfully at me. “Perhaps,” she said softly.
I turned and stared at her incredulously. “You don’t mean you are sorry now I didn’t have you branded?”
“In one way, yes. I know the pain would have been quite awful, but I would then have been wearing, for the rest of my life, the clear evidence I had once been your slave... That would have joined me to you indissolubly.”
“But we are joined for ever,” I protested.
“I know, but every time I see a slave who has gone through the agony of a real branding, I don’t count those who have merely been tattooed; that to me is a coward’s way out, but no, to see that fine mark low down on their bellies and imagine the terrible pain they endured so that they could proclaim to the world - or at least to our little world - that they are the property of so-and-so, seems to me to be the epitome of the love and commitment a slave has to its Master or Mistress.”
“You still want it?” I asked weakly.
“Oh no. The moment has passed and don’t think I am blaming you James, for refusing to allow it. You acted out of love for me, I know that. It’s just I feel a trifle envious every time I see one of them wearing the mark.”
I could hardly credit her love for me. She really thought that I would love her more if she underwent such a dreadful ordeal! Well, at least she didn’t want it now, but it told me something of slavery, at least as it was practised on our island, that it cemented a couple together. In our case, our love hadn’t needed it but perhaps as I thought about it, I did love Phil just that little bit more for her having gone through it (not for me, of course - she had endured it because of her own need for it). Or the twins. They too had loved each other all their lives but even more now that they had undergone radical surgery to render the pair of them sexless and so more alike out of that love.
Cranwell was sold eventually.
It made Dad even wealthier but he had no need of the extra riches and he now set up a philanthropic trust to dispense the bulk of his income. I heartily concurred. We, Phil and I had little need of a huge income for we had decided to spend the rest of our days on the island, exploring human slavery in the way it was practised there, enjoying the bodies of our slaves and learning ever more from Miriam about sex.
She finally told us we could learn nothing more from her but she knew of this Indian man, a veritable storehouse of esoteric knowledge on the art of love who might come out as our guest.
He is due in a week or so...
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