shay
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Joined: 11/15/2004
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WHEN A SLAVE GETS TOO OLD TO SERVE
she sleeps peacefully before the roaring flames of the hearth, her body curled in a near fetal position as the activities of our home continue around her.
I watch her with loving eyes, this beautiful slave who has for so long filled my world with love and happiness. Have I told her recently how much I treasure her servitude and devotion, I wonder.
The transparent sheerness of the pleasure silks that caress her still soft skin brings back memories of when she had worn just a hiplet. Dressed or nude, she was and still is the most beautiful sight on GOR to my eyes.
Regret, yet understanding, clouds My green eyes as I look from her to the quill in My trembling hands. she and I had chosen to grow old together, that was the simple truth.
her beautiful mane of thick curling hair teases her nose as twitches in her sleep. No longer is it the hue of autumn's golden and red leaves. Time has streaked in with silver tones.
Were her eyes open there would still be dazzling sparkle in the deep jade depths. Time could not steal her love of life, her devotion to her Owners, nor her servitude to her home.
Time had passed taking us along on a glorious ride. Together as Mistress and slave we had endured many changes, growing only closer day by day. I smile remembering.
From the moment she had stepped into My world, into My home, into My heart, I had known she and I would share a bond that few others would ever experience.
I close my eyes briefly picturing her beauty as she had shed the cocoon of free woman attire to adorn the wings of the angel in silks brought to give me love, peace, and joy.
I recall her small sweet voice the day she asked me, "what happens when slave get too old to serve?". I wanted then to hold her, caress her, promise her that day would never come.
And it still hadn't. I open my eyes to her still sleeping form. The number of serves, chores and dances she has performed over time has to number in the thousands by now.
How many Men, how many Women, could easily step forward in testimony to the girl's true inner beauty? Tears fill my eyes with the realization that the day draws close when I will call upon Those.
her soft skin retains its glow from diet and care although the slave sleeping is aged in years. she has, through time, became my dearest companion and confidant.
Together over time she and I have shared a deep abiding love for our lifestyle. With her aid we have raised a family and kept Our house a Home.
Too old to serve, I ponder, keeping a steady gaze on her although tears course down My cheeks. Never will she be too old to serve. Even now sleeping nearby she serves Me.
her presence renews My faith in Myself, in My purpose, in My hopes for Our world. Even now she serves Me with her undying unflinching love and devotion.
I turn from her, My gaze falling on the other girls in the Home. Serving, dancing, loving, flirting, they have all learned and grown under the sleeping ones tutelage.
I hear a soft groan, so delicate that it barely reaches over the popping of the flames in the hearth. I lift to My feet and move to kneel by the little beauty. I lay a soft hand to her cheek.
I long to cry out as I move My fingers to her neck, knowing in my heart the pulse I seek will not be found. For a time I simply lift her in My arms, hugging her limp form to My heart.
I press a kiss to her cheek and whisper to her departing spirit, "I love you. you go to your rest and reward, sweet slave, knowing you have given your best."
I lay her back to the furs, then turn to find a boy to seek out a Man of the Home, telling the kajirus only that I need One immediately. I stand guard as I wait watching over the body of My most precious possession.
"What happens to a slave when she gets too old to serve, honey?" I whisper. "That day never comes because as you served Me wholeheartedly through life, your memory will serve Me until I join you once more.
No hon, the day never comes when a slave gets too old to serve."
~*~THE END~*~
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