Chapter 18

• After a timeless while I trail into silence. I have never said so much before, nor on a subject so intimate yet so dangerous. Surely now he will realize his error and throttle me to death. But I feel no shame and I feel no fear. It would be worth it just to feel his strong hands pressing firmly on my skin, my life force draining away lovingly into the hands and soul of my Master, to be united at my physical death with the man who I want to be my lover.
• But he smiles a winning smile, and I tell me that he is very pleased and that he knows that the Gods have chosen well. Fireworks of delight ignite in my head and I am unable to resist smiling broadly back at him. He tells me that the rituals will be on the 5th day hence and that before then, I should rest and he will send word of how I am to be prepared.
• For now, for today he tells me, only the ceremony of the oath of fealty remains to be done; an ancient sign of bondage from slave to master. He tells me that in his household they sometimes use the most traditional and basic form of ceremony still, even though elsewhere this has fallen into disuse many generations ago. I am confused, I hardly know what he is talking about. Where are the papyrus papers for me to thumbprint and him to cartouche? the ropes, ribbons, and chains to tie me? and the little dagger to symbolically cut me seventeen times? Yet, I find myself flicking my hips and making the half-skip step to escape my one-piece tunic, one of the hallmark tricks of an accomplished sex slave; then in a trance going quickly over to him and lifting his robe. What am I doing.?