she is happy so many enjoy what her quill inks to the scrolls and she prays her words bring a smile, a nod in agreement, a laugh... a thought to ones heart...

she is still waiting to hear from those talented ones out there... she'd really love to share your thoughts with everyone... if you would like to remain anonymous dawn will respect your privacy while spouting your words... please send anything that is on your mind to dawnpk@gorchat.com

this week's poem and quote deal with a subject that all her dear sisters will understand and be familiar with... she dedicates her words to all her sisters in bondage in every city, camp, port or village spread across Gor... and to her sisters yet to be kolared and made slave... have nothing to fear... the rewards far outweigh and go beyond the seconds of pain you must endure...

On the warm winds it came... a hint... a gentle gesture...
just tickling the senses... teasing the mind...
weaving ever closer ..slowly... entertwining...
pushing past all others... one of a kind...

Nostrils flare... breathing in... deep... and low
the very edge of this silent intruder met
strong body and mind rise... on search
intense gaze... turning... navigating... origin set...

heavier and headier... brushing the tongue
weather darkened face bearing a grin
ever closer... inching closer following the scent
the first wave revealing the slave deep within

He muses as He watches... the bearer of the call
marking each furtive movement of her frame
tiny hands clench... the line of her neck..
the wide look in her eyes... give the perfume a name

the echo of heart beats... veins rushing under ivory skin
sharp teeth... at... ragged lips bite... silvery drops one tear
coursing tremble shakes her foundation...
the first calling odor the smell of fear...

blazingly hot... the pain draws closer and closer
the white hot ghost... reflecting nightmarish dreams
tiny fine hairs .... whisping into charcoal dust
acrid haze in the air... the brand... forces her screams...

five heartbeats only... hours... a lifetime...
searing pain... gaze growing dim... brand deep to mesh...
tense and tenser... smoke rising... mind broken
the next aroma that of charred flesh...

thrust at His feet... sobs and shivers racking her form
red and redder the brand glows... whimpers... sighs
heat rises... higher and higher... wanton belly sways
tear streaked .oval turns... blue on blue locked with His eyes..

crzwling slipping ...wet grass... beneath softness
heaving breasts press... flushed lips linger and bloom
moist rivers of desire... trickling down wide thighs
this last scent... assaulted... a sluts honeyed perfume.

"Master may she speak?"... mind explodes in the heady cloud
He nods... lips part squeaking out ..breathless sound
"what is this mist that surrounds me... washes over and over...
please Master... there must be name for this aroma so profound?"

Strong He arches her head back and back... she kisses the sky
beating hard and strong... heart soars... lips open... knees cave...
Finger taps her head... just above her brand... her glistening sex..
booming voice... deep and deeper... eyes met"...
Tis the scent of a slave"

this weeks quote

I was overwhelmed psychologically, with what had happened to me. The pain was now less, my thigh still stung and cruelly but the pain seemed relatively unimportant now compared to the enormity of the comprehension that shook me to the core. I had been branded. I shuddered in the bonds, I moaned, I wept, my thigh would be sore for days, but that was unimportant, even trivial, What would remain was the mark they had placed in my flesh. That unlike the pain, would not vanish. I would continue to wear that mark. It would, from now on, identify me as something which I had not been, or had not explicitly been before, but now was clearly, for the eyes of all. I lay there. I knew I now was because of the brand deeply and profoundly different then I had been before. What could a brand mean? I shuddered, I scarcely dared conjecture the nature of a girl who wore such a mark on her body, she could be only one thing." (Slave Girl of Gor, pgs 58-59)