Chapter Four – The Branding

Killertrees took the girl directly out to the workshop. He set her limp form against the sloped branding rack and fastens the hasp around her waist and then undoes the bindings on her wrists and ankles. He turns up the lantern to shed a better light in the shop. He adds coals to the forge and pumps the bellows a few times, awakening the fierce heat of the forge.

His attentions return to the woman on his rack as he fastens wrists, neck, ankles and thighs to the rack. Her flesh is silky and soft, she is from a well-to-do family, she has not had to labor in the past. The light hair on her mons is feathery soft and thin. This girl is younger than her robes of concealment would have led one to believe. The impetuousness of youth will be rewarded with a heavy price tonight. Her face has soft features and a peaches and cream complexion, marred only by the discoloration around the knot on her forehead. Her breasts are full and well-lifted, her waist thin and well-curved to her hips.

Killertrees traces carefully from her hip down along her left thigh to her knee. He pauses, scratching his chin through his beard. Killertrees moves over to the cabinet and swings open both doors. Inside the cabinet are rows of black iron rods. At the end of each dark rod are a variety of designs. Block Kevs, delicate cursive kevs, loops, curves, bars, flower petals, and numerous commissioned personal brands are stored here in the cabinet. Killertrees looks back over his shoulder at the girl’s smooth ivory thigh, smiles and nods and reaches into the cabinet and draws out a set of 5 irons. He plunges the cold irons into the glowing red hot coals in the forge and draws the breath of the bellows into the forge four more times.

Tyki shakes her head as she walks across the lawn. The light from the shop glowing red as it spills out the door. She knows well that the Freewoman should never have challenged Master Killertrees the way she did. This will be a hard night for the girl. Tyki kneels at the doorway of the workshop and lowers her head to the floor, her arms stretched out before her, and she says, “may this girl enter and be of service to Master?”

Killertrees smiles at his pet and tells her to enter. He tells tyki, “get the ointment, tonight will be a lengthy heavy branding and the ointment will be much needed.”

“Yes Master,” says tyki as she rises to her feet. She sets the hairpins and the talendar on the workbench in front of the branding rack and then retrieves the jar of ointment from the shelf.

Killertrees arranges the irons in the order he will need them, the designs on each rod now white hot. As the woman on the rack begins to wake, she lifts her head, Killertrees takes the first iron from the forge and holds it so she can see and know what is happening to her and that his hand is the one doing it. Before she can fight it, Killertreees presses the hot iron against the girl’s ivory flesh. Her eyes widen as she feels the first of the five brands kiss her left hip, her mouth gapes as if to scream but she passes out from the pain without a sound.

Tyki’s stomach retches as the air is filled with the pungent smell of burned flesh. Killertrees holds the brand steady to ensure a deep brand. As he pulls the iron back, he nods to tyki to add the ointment. Tyki coats the fresh burn with ointment to ensure it does not begin to distort. This alone will ensure the following imprints will be as clear as the first and result in the desired mark.

Only now does tyki lift her eyes and look at the girl in Master’s rack. Before the first marking, this had been a Freewoman and it was not tyki’s place to look upon her in her predicament. But now, marked as a slave, the girl bound in the rack was free no more, whether she knew it or not.

The girl lifts her head and struggles against the bonds, sobbing as she sees Killertrees approaching with the second iron. As the second iron presses into her thigh the girl collapses in the bonds, not just swooned but fully unconscious and in shock. Killertrees takes his time now aligning each iron to creat a large talendar flower that climbs from the girl’s knee to her hip. Tyki applies ointment to each of the markings while her Master readies the next iron. Killertrees plunges each iron into a bucket of water as he finishes with it. As he cleans the irons, he instructs tyki to wake the girl once the ointment has been completely applied. Tyki reaches up and brushes back a lock of the girl’s fiery red hair.

Tyki coats each of the marks with a fresh layer of ointment. Her flesh which was so smooth and ivory pure is now swelling around the burning brands, and blotchy red. The areola around her nipples are a deep coral, the nipples large and swollen. Streaks of tears stream down the girl’s face.

Killertrees smiles as he looks the girl over again. “She seems to be a good prize we picked up tonight tyki. She’s a bit younger than I would have guessed.”

Tyki steps around to the far side of the branding rack and picks up the delicate talendar from the table. She draws the cool yellow petals up along the girl’s unblemished right thigh, up and across the fullness of her mons, circling ther navel and tracing the tender flesh of her belly beneath the iron band at her waist. TYki lifts the talendar higher, leaning in she inhales the scent of lilacs that envelop the girl, the talendar now tracing around the uplifted firm young breasts, tightening the circle, she teases the coral areaola around the girl’s nipples, smiling as she sees the girl’s nipples respond instinctively to the light touch. Tyki traces the talendar flower up along the girl’s cheek and finally tucks the stem of the flower into the girl’s hair and behind her left ear. Tyki leans in and presses a kiss to the girl’s cheek, tasting the slat of her tears.

Tyki looks to Master Killertrees, and on his go ahead, she says, “Girl….GIRL, wake up….your Master is summoning you.” Tyki pokes gently at the girl’s belly. The girl on the rack blinks her eyes a few times as she lifts her head as she comes around. As she becomes aware of her surroundings, Killertrees says, “well her nipples are a little pale for my taste, but perhaps some ramberries could darken them up.”

The girl shifts her weight from one leg to the other and winces, feeling the pain from the burn on her thigh. She tries to reach for the painful spot, only to discover her wrists bound. She struggles against the bindings and cries out as her writhings against the unmoving iron enflame the brand along her thigh, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo…”

Killertrees sits at his workbench studying the girl on the rack, his hand stroking tyki’s back softly. He comments matter-of-factly, “I think the slave girl is going to need a whipping to let her know she is a slave girl.” The girl on the rack glares at tyki and then defiantly speaks up and says, “Indeed that slave at your side is insolent and needs to learn her place, a whippig would do her good.”

Killertrees shakes his head and grins, “and what do you think tyki?” The girl on the rack scoffs, “Of course the slave doesn’t think she should be whipped, no wonder she is so spoiled.”

Tyki speaks softly, “Master, the girl may need a whipping, but this girl is not sure the lesson would be absorbed tonight. The sting of the the whip would be overshadowed with the still fresh shock of the branding.”

Killertrees nods, “I think ou are right tyki, there will be plenty of time for her to taste the whip. Prepare some fruit for her to see her through the night and I’ll leave her on the rack. We have a busy day tomorrow. I did note that she seems to be a virgin in all ways that I can see.”

“Yes Master,” says tyki as she heads back into the house to prepare a bowl of fruit.

Killertrees studies the naked girl closel, his scrutiny intense. Quietly he says, “What were you called?” The girl on the rack squirms in the bindings, his piercing gaze causing her to try to find a way to cover herself, to hide, but her anger still hot and heavy, she says, “My name is Cynthia, and you have no right to do this.”

KIllertrees’ voice deepens and his dark brown draws down darkening his eyes, “you are branded girl. Do you want to see just how much I have the right to do this to you and let you walk naked from this house into the street freshly branded as you are?”

Cynthia struggles against the restraints, “no, this can’t be happening, I am a Freewoman, my father will never tolerate this. What have you done with my clothes? Why are you doing this?” She vehemently protests, “You will be thrown to the larls for kidnapping me.”

Killertrees sighs, “I left your robes on the street where I claimed you. You had a man attack me, so you are mine to do with as I wish.”

Her anger grows, her face twisting with rage, “You are a foul pervert. You deserved to be attacked, for flaunting your dirty slave trash in public, assaulting the sensibilities of Freewomen. You will py mightily for your criminal behavior.”

Killertrees laughs, “you will wear less than she does.”

She spits back, “I will wear my robes of freedom. You can’t do this, not to me. I am a Freewoman.”

Killertrees laughs at her tantrum, “the Freewoman loses her freedom bound to the branding rack of a strong man. Your freedom was forfeit when you ordered the attack on a warrior. Who was your father?”

Cynthia replies proudly, “My father is Kazza, the Tarnsman. His stables are the finest tarn keep in the region. You will be ripped to shreds by his tarns when he learns of how you treat his daughter.”

Killertrees says, “Hmmmm, I have worked with Kazza and he is a good friend. He will be concerned when his daughter does not return home tonight. This will be complex and confounding. I will go speak with him tonight.” Killertrees check on tyki in the house before donning his cloak and heading up the hill to the tarn keep. He will need to let his friend Kazza know what has happened to his daughter and of the brand that is on her. Killertrees hopes he won’t have to fight his friend, but will defend himself if it comes to that.

Kazza is not happy with the new his friend Killertrees brings tonight. In fact, in his heart he hopes that perhaps Killertrees is mistaken as to the identity of the girl on the branding rack. However, when one of the workers from the keep comes in, with a nasty lump on his head, Kazza’s heart sinks. The man steps into the room and then brings his hand up to cover the lump on his head when he sees Killertrees’ form by the fireplace. He confirms what Killertrees says, the lady did challenge a man on the street and had directed Ranza to ambush him, but before Ranza could even draw his sword, the lights had gone out. Kazza offers a sizable sum to Kilertrees, but as expected Killertrees declines the offer. To allow a man to purchase his own flesh and blood from the slave block is a supreme show of disrespect and disdain. Kazza knows he will abide by Gorean law, and then says, “If it is okay, I would like to stop by your shop and see the new girl. I’m intrigued to see this unique brand you used.”

Tyki brings the bowl of fresh larma fruit out to the workshop and turns up the lantern. Cynthia lifts her head, her eyes frantic with fear. She says, “you have to get me my clothes and help me get out of here. He is a mad man.”

Tyki tells the girl, “Only Master could release you from your bonds. And from the brand on your thigh, tyki does not believe Master intends to release you.”

Cynthia scoffs at tyki, “Just you wait you insolent slave. When my father comes tomorrow to rescue me, I will have you bound to that whipping post, and I will personally beat you for your impudence.” Tyki stuffs a slice of larm in Cynthia’s mouth. “Ugggh…pphffft,” Cynthia spits the larma into tyki’s face. “I will not eat slave slop, you wretched beast.”

Tyki wipes the sticky larma from her face and shrugs her shoulders and leaves the bowl of fruit on the workbench. “Larma is a wonderful fruit, if you won’t eat what Master has provided tonight, then perhaps you will be ready to eat in the morning. Sleep well new girl. You will have a very full day tomorrow.” Tyki turns down the lantern and steps out of the workshop into the moonlight, leaving the new girl in the dark and alone.