Exclusive- Desi Bathing
It is an evening like any other and as the stops come and go people leave the train to go to their homes to settle down for the Winter night! But tonight the train is overcrowded, the previous one being cancelled so I stand in the mass of people my coat closed tightly around myself. Someone pushes into my back as more people get on and I find myself in very close proximity to a lady. Her round bottom encased only in a tight skirt is suddenly crushed up against my upper thighs as the mane of her hair all but seals my nasal orifices. To say we are ‘spooned’ is no exaggeration. But this isn’t uncomfortable in any way and I can feel her soft blonde hair tickling my cheek. I inhale her perfume. Her coat like all the other passengers is done tightly up but I can see from my vantage point her curves look incredible even through the thick winter coat she is wearing. At one point she glances around and looked up at me as if to apologise for her unladylike overcrowding of me. Our eyes. Any slave that struck their Master was sentenced to be publically flayed, whether the master wanted it or not. With his hands tied, there was little he could do, and Balthos had no trouble getting him into the branding tent. Once inside two guards grabbed him by the arms and laid him onto the branding table. They tied him down securely, on his back with arms stretched above his head. The guards put their weight over his chest and legs, holding him steady as the brander approached with the iron fresh from the fire. Balthos was staring down at him, triumphant. Hatred so thick it choked him filled his chest. He would kill him for this. Even if it took him a decade, he would see Balthos’ blood empty into the sand. His eyes flicked back to the burning iron lowering toward his navel. The slave insignia was always burned in 4 places. Once between belly button and the pubic line, once where the spine met the neck, and once on the back of both hands. The guards.
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