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DIR Return to: Sundrop {Marcus} - Second Girl of the House
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#Post#: 702--------------------------------------------------
A quiet Hall affords opportunity for a slave to reflect on the
past few days.
DIR By: Yana{HoL}
Date: March 23, 2026, 8:17 am
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03/23/26 02:31:39 am)
Yana
Property of the House of Lycus
Restricted to the House
.:|MPG|:.:|PoD|:.
House of Lycus - Great Hall
-=is somewhere within, visiting or conducting business in the
Great Hall of the House of Lycus.=-
ALL: The Great Hall of the House of Lycus was still. Whether
that was blessing or curse was difficult to tell. The stillness
meant that there were no eyes to rest upon the bared flesh of
the naked blonde who lurked on its periphery, in a way not
dissimilar to how she had lurked in other places until so
recently, a silent observer who watched, listened. Now, though,
such reticence would not be permitted to her, lurking in the
shadows was something that was only possible in moments such as
this, when no one else was about. For before she had been a Free
Woman of Gor. And now she was not. Now she could be summoned to
serve with a solitary word, a gesture, a clap of hands, a snap
of fingers. This she knew well, very well, for had she not
always done so with her own slave, her palms clapping together
to indicate that she desired something, the slave then rushing
to obey.
And now she was one of those who must rush to obey, lest she
feel the consequences of a Free Person's displeasure. So in that
regard stillness of Hall at this ahn was a blessed of sorts, for
it gave her as chance to gather herself, a moment to prepare for
the day ahead, a day likely to be filled with training under the
direction of the dark haired slave that she had learned was
named Sinnabun, but who held the position of second girl in the
House of Lycus, so was to be addressed as mistress by the blonde
haired slave that had been named Yana. And Yana had little doubt
that Sinnabun would wield the switch that she had been entrusted
with should she think it necessary, perhaps even if it was not
necessary, for Yana thought that Sinnabun might enjoying beating
she who the dark haired girl had knelt and served wine to when
the blonde had still been the Lady Ydril ze Omun, Merchant of
Gor, Daughter - albeit estranged - of the House of ze Omun.
(03/23/26 02:45:22 am)
Yana
Property of the House of Lycus
Restricted to the House
.:|MPG|:.:|PoD|:.
House of Lycus - Great Hall
-=is somewhere within, visiting or conducting business in the
Great Hall of the House of Lycus.=-
ALL: So in that regard the stillness of the Hall was blessing.
There were no lustful eyes to look upon her naked body, no harsh
voices barking commands to be obeyed, no vengeful slave girls
wielding switch in act of vengeance. But on the other hand, that
stillness left the naked blonde alone with her thoughts, with
the clamour within her head that would not be stilled, presented
opportunity to reflect on decisions taken, choices made that now
led her to be within the Hall of Marcus Lycus of the House of
Lycus as slave, naked, collared. Branded. She had not come here
with intent to wager her freedom. She had spoken with the Slaver
at the last Fair, their conversation cordial. She had invited
him to join her for a meal, but circumstances had dictated that
could not take place during the time of the Fair. And then,
finding herself estranged from her Mother, Ydril ze Omun had
exchanged missives with him, had come here merely to have that
dinner. And perhaps discuss other matters, things that might
have bene of mutual benefit to both. But hubris and pride had
intervened, her own hubris, her own pride, her own words
ensnaring her in a game, one with high, high stakes.
To be fair, this did not neccessarily trouble she who had once
been Ydril ze Omun. She had played games for high stakes before,
the highest of stakes, a fact testified to by the faint scar on
her belly that ran form below left breast to right hip. Had she
lost that game, she would never have played another. But she had
not lost. Her opponent that day had worn a yellow sash, she who
was now named Yana and lurked on the edge of the Hall of Marcus
Lycus of the House of Lycus had worn red. Red had favoured her
that day. But it had not favoured her when she had faced Marcus
Lycus across the Kaissa board. A single miscalculation in the
opening phases of the game. That was what had cost her victory.
And her freedom.
03/23/26 02:50:53 am)
Yana
Property of the House of Lycus
Restricted to the House
.:|MPG|:.:|PoD|:.
House of Lycus - Great Hall
-=is somewhere within, visiting or conducting business in the
Great Hall of the House of Lycus.=-
ALL: She would have preferred it had he annihilated her,
stripped away her pieces one by one, as he would soon strip away
her clothes, so that she would have been able to see defeat for
at least the last ten moves. But the game had not unfolded that
way. It had remained close until the final moves, victory in
truth within grasp of either player. But it had been yellow that
had captured red's homestone. And with that Ydril ze Omun had
lost, so now was no more, in her place the slave known simply as
Yana, property of the House of Lycus.
Yana exhaled, cast blue eyes over the Hall. It remained still.
And so she remained tormented by thoughts of what had been
within her grasp. Still, did she regret her decision? Given
chance to have that moment again and make different choice
knowing decision would ultimately lead to collar and iron?
No...she had gambled...Yana did not regret that, she regretted
only that she had lost...
3/23/26 03:08:07 am)
Yana
Property of the House of Lycus
Restricted to the House
.:|MPG|:.:|PoD|:.
House of Lycus - Great Hall
-=is somewhere within, visiting or conducting business in the
Great Hall of the House of Lycus.=-
ALL: The naked blonde now stood, er back against one of the
great pillars that ran from floor to ceiling of the Hall. A
tapestry of blue and yellow was behind on the wall, the color of
the Caste of Slavers. Torches, set into sconces, flickered,
causing shadows to dance as she looked out onto the Hall. The
brand burned every her left thigh stills chef, though the pain
had subsided a little, though sudden movements aggravated it.
The iron's kiss had been final act in the saga, marking her,
permanently, as slave, beast, chattel, that mark that of
Torvaldsland, so to casual eye she would appear as northern
bond, blonde haired, blue eyed. That, of course, had been Marcus
Lycus' intention, a degree of anonymity given they were in the
north, lest her Mother - lest Ydrl ze Omun's Mother - still seek
to see her returned to Asperiche, although were that to pass her
Mother would now be denied the pleasure of offering her choice
of collar or dagger, for she was already collared, branded.
Would her Mother....would Ydril's Mother pursue her if she knew
who a slave named Yana had once been? Perhaps. The Matriarch of
House ze Omun could be vengeful, wrathful.
But the future was not yet written. Many things were possible.
Marcus Lycus had spoken of such things to Ydril ze Omun before
she had stepped into the bond circle that lay in the courtyard.
Aye, she had stepped in, of her own accord, though his words had
echoed in her ears, the things that he had spoken of. Another
game. One where she would not be the Player but a piece, his
hand guiding her movements. And yet it was a proposal that she
had been unable to refuse.
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