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 8/26/18-9/1/18

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PostSubject: 8/26/18-9/1/18   Sun Aug 26, 2018 6:16 pm

08.26.2018
18:48:55

mowing



~~ wonderful day today...soft breezes blowing over the land from the sea...splendid shades provided with blessing by Odin overhanging in the heavens...good way not to get even more tanned than she is…covering her eyes with a overhanging palm castes over her eyes...she looks far above to enjoy the sky...then looks down before her...a large field of grass that needs to be mowed

~~her eyes blink several times...looking at the immense area she has to push the mower over....just the sight of it tires pure out easily...at least she thought it’s a cool day to do this...as she starts pushing that heavy metal roller over the thick greenery before her...a lot of pressure she press upon the black mower...but only can get few inches ahead

~~all though over an ahn has passed...pure turns her head to check her progress...a block or more of the grass must had been cut...pure assures herself...but... with much disappointment she only had covered about few feet from where she started…pure dropped down to her knees hard...good thing it was a soft grass field...and pants heavily for all the effort she put into it

~~thinking...oO(at this rate...she would never get this done...got to think of a better way)...from the far side of the field she notices boski slowly plucking away at the grass for its weekly dietary treats of fresh grass...seeing this pure started to think...oO(what if she let all the bosks out...and then it will be shortened in no time...but there were only a few bosks here at the Hold...would never get it done in time)…pure taps her chin with more serious thought into it

~~"Ahh got it!"...with almost enlightened like moment...she quickly runs to the shed to grab a long twine of binding fiber and led boski to where the mowing cutter was... and leading the ropes over boski's collar tying another from cutter around each side of the beast to it's collar…gripping fresh dew wet grass in hand...pure grabs the leash in left hand and leads her all around the fields….when all done...pure jumps for joy she thought...oO(how smart)

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The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 8/26/18-9/1/18   Mon Aug 27, 2018 8:24 am

08.27.2018
08:34:51

made soap balls





~~~pure rises to her toes and pads to the kitchen entering with a huming of her voice she pads softly to the cold room...a tiny hand reaches for the handle opens the door stepping inside girl gasps as the cool air rushes to embrace her heated flesh...nipples tight as she moves quickly to the shelves...bending to peek under a shelf...a moan "MMMM" slips past her lips

~~with both small hands she grasps the handle of the kettle...filled with fat drippings from the past few weeks...that she has saved from her and the other bonds preparation of meals

~~struggling with the heavy kettle of solid fat...she weaves her way out of the cold room...bumping the door firmly shut as she makes her way to the counter...dropping the kettle at her feet with a tiny thud

~~moving lightly across the floor...sunny tresses flowing down her sleek back...girl leans out the back door of the kitchen scooping up an upturned bucket...looking inside to ensure it is clean turning and returning to the counter

~~like an autumn leaf girl drifts to her knees beside the kettle...reaching to a lower shelf beneath the counter...girl takes a large rep cloth laying it out beside the kettle...then nimble fingers enclose on a cutting shell

~~ with careful strokes pure cuts the fat from around the kettle side... laying it on the rep cloth, setting the shell aside...girl lifts the kettle...pouring the water and waste into the empty bucket

~~carefully she removes the lard cake from the bottom of the kettle...taking the cutting shell...she carefully scrapes the excess wastes away...gliding to her feet...girl takes the kettle in hand...moving to the wash bin

~~quickly she cleans it out...returning to the counter...setting the kettle on the floor...girl nestles rounded ass lightly to heels...taking the lard cake...she places it back into the kettle

~~blooming to her full height...girl takes the kettle in hand and walks across the floor to the hearth... sky blue eyes stare at the flames as she hangs the kettle on a hook...swinging it over the flames for the lard to melt

~~backing away...pure smiles as she watches the flickering of the fire...so bright and hot...yet dim to the fires burning inside her slave belly for the need of a Jarls touch

~~while the fat melts...pureskips lightly to the counter...taking the bucket of waste...she steps out the door...pouring it into the container of scraps for the sleens and bosks

~~ducking back inside...she takes the bucket to the wash bin...quickly cleaning it out...pirouetting on painted toes...girl pads softly to the water barrel...sliding the cover back...she takes the ladle...dipping it into the fresh water

~~filling the bucket about three quarters full of cool water...replacing the ladle and lid she...pads lightly to the closet with bucket in hand...tugging the door open...tiny fingers sift among the items on the shelves until they enclose on a container of lye

~~shutting the door...moves outside once more...stepping away from the door...girl sets the bucket of water gently at her feet...with a practiced eye girl adds the lye...finding a large stick...girl gently stirs the water

~~then heads into the kitchen to replace the container of lye...while she waits for the lye water to cool girl moves to the rack near the hearth...eyes scan across the different size pans...selecting one big enough to hold the 'soap' after it is prepared

~~reaching high on t-i-p t-o-e-s...pure slides the pan down from the rack...turns in a whisper to pad softly to the counter...taking several clean cloths...lines the bottom of the pan...thinking...oO(the lye water should be cool by now)

~~she heads outside to fetch the bucket humming merrily as she moves to the hearth...pure sets the bucket at her feet...taking a rep cloth...girl wraps her delicate hand then swings the kettle from the hearth...lifting it off the hook

~~she takes a large spoon and slowly pours the melted fat into the lye water...stirring continuously while she pours...when the kettle is empty she lifts the bucket walking to the counter she moves gracefully...adding salt...sugar and ammonia to to the mixture of fat...she stirs it until the mixture is thick...carefully she pours half of the mixture into the pan...then reaches for the bottle of oil she placed there earlier...girl adds oil from the verminium flower to the mixture in the pan...gently but quickly stirring it

~~she takes a the edge of the cloth lifting it so the mixture is only covers one half of the pan...laying a cloth on the now bare side...girl adds the remainder of the soap mixture...setting the bucket at her feet...pokes a tiny finger at the mixture...finding it setting she quickly scoops up some of the soap forming it into balls...she continues until the pan is now filled with soap balls

~~she cleans up her mess...then takes down some bowls placing a few of the soap balls in takes the bowls and sets the soap balls to the shelf near the bathing towels and bathing oils and powders in the bathroom the extra she places in the storage closet...then trails back to the kitchen looking about

~~shetakes the bucket from the counter and places in the corner and smiled knowing the Hold Jarl will be pleased she made soap so everyone will be able to use the soaps to bathe with and the Hold will be a much better smelling place to be

_________________
The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 8/26/18-9/1/18   Tue Aug 28, 2018 2:36 pm

08.28.2018
14:58:34

cleans the bath house




~~arriving at the bathhouse...looks from one door to another...thinking that the Free Womens would be clean and taking less time she starts with the Free Mens side...slowly opens the door and looks in to make sure no one is there so that her work can be done quickly and efficiently

~~entering the entryway seeing the reliefs on the walls...taking in a deep breath walks to the tubs and around the room to see the layout of the bat...moving to the back of the room...the massage table the view are breathtaking...shaking her head...“get to cleaning at ones you lazy girl so you can get out of here quickly and quietly”

~~gathering the towels, and finding fresh lay them out for the Free who will visit the table...exiting the small room...piles the towels by the door to take them to be cleaned...saying out loud “now if I can only find the laundry”

~~ smiles no wait there is a laundry basket and collects and places them on the reed container...."dust first then sweep" as a little voice echoing in her head would say...turning back to the small room...removing the sheet from the table...unfurling a clean crisp sheet then adds the previously removed sheet to the laundry basket

~~pure starts the tub to drain...while pulling the ashes from the tinderbox below and places them in a container to remove and deposit outside....taking tinder then placing larger wood above it make a mental note to restart the flame once the tub is filled again

~~pure dances about the room quickly moving from picture to picture...desk to tops of the screens dusting and coughing at the dust cloud she is making...this will pass inspection she is sure of it she smiles....using a broom...sweeping clean a spot in the corner...picking up the different rugs then shaking them then piling them in the cleaned corner...moving the various containers for wood and water to the corner...sweeps the entire floor...before replacing the rugs and other items

~~ taking a bucket...lowering herself to the floor scrubs the entry way and the places not covered by the rugs she previously put down....moving into the massage area she scrubs those floors as well... taking a moment to look at the window to see the sunlit lake

~~removes the bucket and stands up...going to the tub which is now empty starts to scrub the inside to make is sparkly with fresh hot water....then bucket by bucket fills it with fresh clean water...kneeling starts the small fire below that will take time to heat the water...checking the tinder box...make a note that it is full

~~stands and moves to the oils table...sniffing each bottle...checking for freshness and wiping each with a clean rep cloth...so that they shine...taking the broom and sweeping the pile out the door...looks back and check to make sure that nothing it out of order...then sweeps the dust out the door and departs the Free Mens side for the Free Womens

~~upon entering the Woman’s side noting it is the mirror of the Free Mens side only lighter in appearance...moves quickly to the massage room and collects the towels and sheets off of the table, noting the difference in color...a bright purple...smiling while taking the collection to the laundry basket...she then collects new fresh towels and places them in the massage room

~~pure move quickly about the room dusting the tops of screen...pictures and tables noting that there was less dust here then the Mens side...puts out the fire and start to empty the tub...and when the fire is out collecting the ash to put outside of the room...pouring water over it to ensure the flames were done

~~sweeps a corner and after shaking the rugs places them in the corner space...taking a bucket of fresh hot water...lowers herself to her knees to start scrubbing the floor now cleared of objects...sweat is pouring down her body and she is working very hard to complete this before anyone arrives here... her slender arms start to quake at the effort to make the room bright and fresh

~~standing up and emptying the bucket start another one to clean the tub which is not empty, scrubbing the interior of the tub making it shine...taking pleasure knowing that a Free will be please to be in the clean tub

~~works hard to pull the rugs back in place thinking that this would have been better to do with another but wills herself on to to complete this chore well...checking the tinder box and water barrel... see that the are filled...moves to the oils table...checking each container...smelling each one to ensure freshness and to be come acquainted to the smells takes replaces them on the table to make it ready

~~looks about the room...a faint smile...using the back of her wet hand sweets her hair from her forehead...blowing out puffs of air...taking the rugs from the corner and laying them again on the clean floor...sweeps the small pile of dirt and dust out the door and returns to the Hold

~~pausing on the way to the kennel then laughing shaking her head “what a silly girl you are!” returns to the bathhouse to fill the empty tub...starting a small fire underneath the tub to heat the fresh cool water...again taking inventory...noting each section... pressing her hands on her hips says “now it is done” pure leave the bathhouse and walks back to the Hold to begin dinner

_________________
The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 8/26/18-9/1/18   Wed Aug 29, 2018 4:04 pm

08.29.2018
16:25:54

Whip Dance



~~wincing as the heavy weight of the kurt is laid upon her neck...the black leather pressing against her hair and collar...the handle resting upon her right shoulder...the blades falling down her left brushing almost tenderly upon the pale flesh of her breast...unbidden dark cherries bud...and ripen... under the leathers kiss

~~the music is wild and frantic as the slave whose heart rests under the discipline of the whip...runs to the pit...and kneels...throwing herself forward upon the sand...her hands crossed before her chest...the position of discipline...the position of one who has been displeasing...a wailing of flutes as she trembles ..the echo of a girls cries under the blades...the memory of his hand drawing down her back...still burning upon her

~~she raises her head...and looks to him...finds his gaze hard...unfaltering...she awaits...the music silences...her ears strain to hear the crunch of his boots upon the sand...she sees him rise... her head lowers...he approaches...she tenses...apprehension and fear displayed in the jerkiness of her movements as she tries to still the trembling that has over taken her...the cold chill that seeps into her very bones

~~he stops beside her...reaches down...tenderly pulls back a few strands of blonde hair that cling to her back...covered lightly with sweat...she jerks at his touch...and silver tears streak down her face...acknowledging her failure...he reaches down...and draws the whip from her shoulders...the weight lifted from her body...but not from her soul...and draws the blades along the flesh of her back...a whimper escapes her...as she awaits punishment

~~she hears him step back from her the harsh crunching of sand beneath his boots...feels his eyes upon her...the soft kiss of the leather as it dangles lightly upon her back...feels it leave her skin...and with sudden clarity....prepares herself for it's assault...swiftly drawing in a breath...tucking herself down tighter...~*~CRACK~*~ ...the whip explodes above her...she cries out...but no marks lay upon ivory skin

~~~*~CRACK~*~ once more by her ear...she wills herself to silence...but cannot stay the strangled cry that erupts from her throat..."Rise" he commands...she raises upwards to kneel...confusion upon her face...trying to please...she widens her thighs...her body's betrayal...glistening within the torchlight...the musky scent of arousal...her breasts ripe for touch...lips soft...slightly swollen from where she has bitten them...blue eyes...lowered to the floor

~~with disdain upon his face...he tosses the whip angrily to the ground before her...she flinches as the leather snakes out...flicking the inside of her thighs...leaving a soft red mark...forcefully taking her chin in his hand...he turns her face upwards to him...promise in his voice as he commands softly "Dance bond" turning on his heel...he strides from the pit...with a last meaningful look to the whip...before settling upon the furs...his eyes smoldering as they look upon her

~~with a trembling hand she reaches out...casting a glance to him from beneath her hair...as she takes the whip within it...a shudder rocking through her...knowing that she may be punished for touching it...and draws it upward along her body...the leather dances and plays along her belly...the five blades nearly covering it...with their raw power...she draws the handle behind her neck...and drops it a girl once more under the blades of discipline

~~she crawls to him...sunny locks thrown forward...and stops a few feet from him...raising herself upon her knees...her hands out in entreaty...she dances the slow seductive dance of a slave for the Hold Jarl...her hands drawing up from the flat expanse of her belly to cup her breasts...rolling the tips of them within her fingers...pinching lightly...lifting them upwards in offering...moaning as they ripen and ache from her touch

~~her hands release her breasts...flowing to the steel of the Isle ownership at her throat...she tilts her head to the side...as she draws her hands upwards through her hair...baring her neck of it's weight...clearly showing the steel upon her neck...over her collar bone to rest upon the handle of the whip...she brings it to her lips...gliding them over the supple leather...the salt of his sweat upon the handle...and kisses it...a slave's kiss of passion and desire...before drawing it from her shoulders

~~anger flashes in her eyes....as she stands...cool and haughty...a smile of triumph upon her lips...as she draws the blades through her hand...swinging the blades hard out...and throws them over her back...~*~CRACK~*~ five stripes appear...burning into her skin...her head is thrown back...lips open in a scream of pain...pleasure...fire white and hot...streaks through her...as she raises the whip again

~~~*~CRACK~*~ CRACK~*~CRACK~*~ red heat on ivory skin...stripes appear randomly upon her hips...her thighs....her belly...she falls to the sand...her body dripping with sweat...racked by pain...that heightens her pleasure...as she tilts her head back...eyes closed...and draws the whip upwards...dangling the blades before her face...and kisses the blades...lowers them along her body....and presses her lips fervently to the blade...the kiss of a girl who has felt the whip...fears the power of discipline it holds for her...yet longs for it

~she crawls to him...the whip balanced upon her hands...lowers herself in obeisance before him...her cheek pressed to the ground at the edge of his furs...and offers the whip to him upon her outstretched hands...her dance is finished

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quote :
Whip Dance

Already a large, curtained enclosure had been set up near the slave wagon. For a fee, the proprietor of the wagon would permit visitors. These arrangements irritated me somewhat, for customarily the chain dance, the whip dance, the love dance of the newly collared slave girl, the brand dance, and so on, are performed openly by firelight in the evening, for the delight of any who care to watch.
Nomads of Gor    

I watched the dancing girl of Port Kar writhing on the square of sand between the tables, under the whips of masters, in a Paga tavern of Port Kar.

"Your paga," said the nude slave girl, who served me, her wrists chained. "It is warmed as you wished."

I took it from her, not even glancing upon her, and drained the goblet.

She knelt beside the low table, at which I sat cross-legged.

"More," I said, handing her back the goblet, again not deigning to even glance upon her.

"Yes, Master," she said, rising, taking the goblet.

I liked paga warm. One felt it so much the sooner.

It is called the Whip Dance, the dance the girl upon the sand danced.

She wore a delicate vest and belt of chains and jewels with shimmering metal droplets attached. And she wore ankle rings, and linked slave bracelets, again with shimmering droplets pendant upon them and a locked collar matching.

She danced under ships' lanterns, hanging from the ceiling of the paga tavern, it located near the wharf bounding the great arsenal.

I heard the snapping of the whip, her cries.
Raiders of Gor    

A new dancer came forth upon the floor and began, a tall brute near her with the leather, to perform a whip dance. Girls, some nude, some scantily clad, hurried about the tables, serving food and drink. I looked about, considering the wenches. I did not see Miss Beverly Henderson among them. I did see several, however, whom I would have been delighted to own.

"Wine, Master?" asked a redheaded girl with two leather straps wound about her body.
I took wine from her, and gave my attention then to the dancer, a luscious, dark-haired girl in the whip dance, though there are various versions of it, depending on the locality, the girl is almost never struck with the whip, unless, of course, she does not perform well. When the whip is cracked, however, the girl will commonly react as though she has been struck. This, conjoined with the music, and her beauty, and the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total male discipline, can be extremely, powerfully erotic.


I turned my attention to the dancer on the floor. She lay now on her back, one knee lifted, her arms at her sides, palms down, before the brute with his whip, who towered over her. Her head, too, was turned to the side. Then she turned her head to face the brute who tyrannized her. She looked deeply into his eyes. Then, delicately, in a graceful gesture, she turned her hands, putting their backs to the floor, exposing her palms, and the soft flesh of her palms, to him, indicating her surrender, her submission, her vulnerability and her readiness.

There was applause, the striking of the left shoulder, from the tables.

The brute then crouched beside her and encircled her neck with the coils of his whip. He drew her to her knees then before him. She looked up at him, her neck in the whip coils, his.
Rogue of Gor    

"Kneel, back on your heels," said the trainer to the dark haired woman. "Straighten your back, suck in your gut, put your shoulders back, thrust out your breasts, spread your knees, widely, lift your chin, put your hands on your thighs. You are not going to be sold as a tower slave, Lady Tina. You are going to be sold as a pleasure slave."

The whip cracked, and I jumped. But it had not touched the girl, only startled her.

She knelt behind the dark, smooth post, facing it, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it, her hands embracing it.

"This may be done to music," said Hermidorus, "and, as you know, there are many versions to the post dance, or pole dance, singly, or with more than one girl, with or without bonds, and so on, but here we are using it merely as a training exercise.

The whip cracked again and the girl, suddenly and lasciviously, became active.

I gasped.
She began to writhe about the pole. "Kiss it, caress it, love it!" commanded the trainer, snapping the whip. "Now more slowly, now scarcely moving, now use your thighs, and breasts more, moving all about it, holding it. Touch it with your tongue, lick it! Use the inside of your thighs more, your breasts, turn about it, slowly, sensuously. Lift your hands above your head, palms to the pole, caressing it. Turn about the pole! Twist about it! Now to your knees, holding it!" He then cracked the whip again. "Enough!" he said. She was then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed against it, her hands embracing it.
Kajira of Gor    


"Tonight," said Ligurious, "I will give her to guardsmen. She will dance the whip dance, naked." There are many whip dances on Gor, of various sorts. In a context of this sort, presumably not in a tavern, and without music, the girl is expected to move, writhe and twist seductively before strong men. If she does not do well enough, if she is insufficiently maddeningly sensuous, the whips fall not about her, but on her. When one of the men can stand it no longer he orders her to his mat where, of course, she must be fully pleasing. If he is not, then she is whipped until she is. Then, when one man is satisfied, the dance begins again, and continues in this fashion until all are satisfied, or tire of the sport.
. . .

"Is it hard to learn the whip dance?" I asked.

"I am not a dancer, Mistress," said Susan, "nor are most who perform the dance. It is not even, really, a dance. One simply has one's clothes taken away, and then one moves before strong, powerful men as such men would have a woman move before them. Then when one is sufficiently pleased, he indicates this and you serve his pleasure."

"How do you know what to do?" I asked.

"Sometimes one tries different things," she said, "for example, about or on the furniture, on the floor, about their bodies, at their feet, on your back, on your belly, hoping to find something that they will respond to. Sometimes they give you explicit instructions or commands, as when a woman is put through slave paces. Sometimes they guide you, or help you, sometimes by the whip, sometimes by expressions or cries. At other times the girl listens, so to speak, to the slave fires in her belly, and seems to become one with them and the dance, and then, soon, must beg the brutes, in her dance, and by her piteous expressions and gestures, to relieve the merciless tensions in her body, allowing her to complete the cruel cycle of arousal, allowing her to receive them and submit to them, the masters, in the spasmodic surrender of the helpless slave."
Kajira of Gor    


The dancer was now kneeling in the sand, her head bowed, waiting for the first strumming of the kalika. She was nicely silked, in the diaphanous dancing silks of Gor. Her hair, long and dark, fell to the sand.
. . .
A whispering sentence of notes emanated from the kalika, and the dancer rose gracefully to her feet, her knees flexed, her head still bowed, her hands at her thighs.
. . .
"Ho, the whip dance," said Cabot, returning his attention to the dancing sand.
. . .
At certain points in this dance the whip snaps and the dancer reacts as though she was struck with the whip. If she does not do well, of course, she will feel the whip.
. . .
There was a final, loud snap of the whip, and the dancer threw herself, half kneeling, half sitting, to the sand, and lifted one hand, piteously, to the fellow who had conducted his part of the whip dance.
Kur of Gor    

At that moment there was an exciting skirl of music, a flash of bells, a burst of color, a jangle of beads, and a cry of enthusiasm from the patrons, and a dancer was on the floor.

After her entry she stood silent, not moving, posed, ready, on the floor. I could sense the anticipatory even the difference in breathing, of the men. Then the music began, softly, slowly, and the dancer, looking about herself began to move, obedient to the melody of masters.

"Is she a slave?" I asked.

"Certainly," said he in whose charge I was. "It may be hard to see, beneath the necklaces, so many of them, but there is a collar there, close-fitting, steel, and locked."

"Much as mine," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"She is so beautiful," I said. "She is so soft, so feminine, so utterly female, so vulnerable, so needful."

"A slave," said Lykos.

"It is so beautiful," I said. "What is it called?"

"It is a form of dance fit for slaves, is it not?" he said.

"Yes," I breathed, awed, rapt.

"Slave dance," said he in whose charge I was.

"Slave dance," I whispered.

"Yes," he said.

"I have seen something like it," I said, "on my former world, but I scarcely dared look upon it."

"It spoke to you of things which stirred you, things for which you longed, but which you feared, spoke to you of a distant, or forgotten, world, one a thousand times more real, I suspect, than that which you knew. It spoke to you of how women might be before men, as slaves, and how men might look upon women, as masters."

"Yes," I whispered, "but here it seems somehow different."

"It is different here," he said, "for this is such a world."

"I think I know this dance, or sort of dance," said Astrinax.

"It will have its phases, its swiftness, and its slowness, its emotions, insolence, pride, defiance, apprehension, recognition, feat, struggle, defeat, surrender, and submission."

I heard, it startling me, the cracking of a whip. The dancer reacted, as though struck, but the blade had not touched her.

Occasionally it snapped again, and again, and, at the end of the dance, as is often the case in such dance, the dancer is prostrate, clearly submitted and owned. In this particular dance she was kneeling and the fellow with the whip was behind her. He placed the whip coiled, against the back of her neck, and she lowered her head. The men about voiced their approval, and several smote their left shoulders with their right hand. Others uttered trilling noises or staccato bursts of sound. Others pounded on the tables. She then sprang to her feet and hurried from the floor, followed by the fellow with the whip.
Conspirators of Gor  
 

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The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 8/26/18-9/1/18   Thu Aug 30, 2018 8:09 am

08.30.2018
08:50:38

getting water to the bath house




~~surveying the area...knowing the baths need water...look for as many buckets as she can find... she walks to the shed and behind it...she finds large coils of rope...which she slidess over her wrists and push up her arms to carry them.

~~she gathers up the buckets and begins the climb to the bath house...peering over the side of the hill she gauges the amount of rope she will need and tie the ends of the coils together to make a very long continuous rope

~~she secures one end of the very long rope to the tree in front of the Free Men's bath...making a knot and tugging hard on it...takes the handle of one of the buckets and ties the other end around it knotting it tightly

~~she swings the bucket over her head and throws it with all my might...watching it soar over the edge of the hill and land into the water below with a loud splash...she firmly tugs on the rope...tipping the bucket...the water now beginning to fill it....lying flat on her belly...arms extended over the ledge...she begins very slowly tugging on the rope as the bucket rises from the water and glides along the slope.

~~when it is within reach...she grabs it and...although it has lost some water on the way up...she sees that the bucket is still almost full...pushing to her feet...she grabs onto the bucket places it on top of her head and walks carefully not spilling a drop it to the bath house... to where with in she tips it into one of the baths

~~sighing to herself as she realizes it has barely made a dent in what is needed to fill the baths...she continue the long and tedious task...bucket after bucket...until a proper level is reached and then begins the same with the Women’s bath

~~sing a thick stick...she wedges it into the knots prying them loose...untying them and wrapping the ropes back into individual coils and picking up the buckets...although she had not used most of them...she runs down the path...her body aching...returning the buckets to their prospective homes...after dropping off the rope behind the shed...she changes direction and climbs wearily up the hill to the Hold to prepare to serve lunch

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The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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