Gasping, a stitch in my side, I finally reached the clearing.

The rains had stopped yesterday evening and this morning’s sunlight was pouring through the trees, making the pool sparkle as though covered by diamonds. My destination was this pool, which was fed by a small stream winding its way through our forest. Near a clearing, the stream spread out to form a shallow basin, within the shade of a number of banyan trees, and like a restless child it meandered further, jumping over rocks, and weaving through the trees before continuing along its way.

My Mistress and her friends had decided to take a swim in the forest pool this afternoon, and I was the envy of the entire house to be the one chosen to accompany her. Mistress had already slipped down from her saddle, by the time I reached her. She tossed me the reins of her black mare, and walked towards the sandy bank of the pool’s edge. I quickly led her mare to a grassy area near another part of the stream, and tied it within reach of the water’s edge. Pulling down the saddle bag, I followed my Mistress to where she was surrounded by her friends who were already splashing water on themselves and each other.

My Mistress is the grand daughter of the famed Seer Alkanya, who is consulted by both the royal family and our great warriors on all matters of import. Having served the Goddess and the people long and wisely, the Seer has since become the owner of the vast lands on the Beokur Mountain Range, of which this forest is a part.

It was when my Mistress was sixteen, and showed first signs of possessing great power herself, that she was sent to her grandmother to train and learn in the sacred arts. I was Alkanya’s welcome gift, on her arrival. At fourteen years I became the newest slave boy to my Mistress’ household, which included a number of older male slaves. As I was still young, my Mistress did not take much notice of me, and my first few years in her house were under the mercy of her senior slaves. I would’ve probably been forgotten altogether but for the fact that I could play the flute, and my Mistress who loved music, expected me to entertain her with sweet tunes, regularly.

It has now been three years since I entered Mistress’ household and though I’ve not yet been invited to serve in her bedroom, she has begun to see me. I, of course, like the rest of the slaves, have been in love with her since the moment I became her property. A beautiful lady, my Mistress has long, dark hair that complements her sun tanned skin perfectly. Her large dark eyes which seem to see easily into our minds, are always outlined with dark kohl. But what captures my heart the most is her soft voice and calming presence, hiding an aura of tremendous power that is rarely revealed, even to us.

I spread out a clean linen sheet over a soft grassy area, that was not too close, nor too far from the place in the pool where my Mistress had settled down. Alkanya’s old cook had packed a variety of marinated vegetables wild mushrooms and bread, which were to be grilled later over an open fire. Other slaves were already at work on this. With me he had sent a variety of sweet fruits, spiced nuts and cheese. I kept these to the side, and laid out her towel and leather sandals. I then pulled out a small cube of soap and her favourite oils, given to me wordlessly this morning by her bath slave, Leoni. None of the household was happy with me. They knew as I knew, this would be my only chance to serve her perfectly and obtain her favour. I kept her change of clothes and robes, nearby as well. Finally I immersed a gourd of juice in the icy waters to chill, and secured it upright between two rocks with a leather thong. Everything was ready.

My Mistress had seated herself on smooth boulder allowing the water to run over her legs and come up to her waist. Her hair was pinned up, and I smiled in reflex as she laughed at her friend’s continued antics.

As I pulled out my flute out from my waistband, I realised I was still panting from the long run this morning. The other slaves who had accompanied their Mistresses were used to the runs and outings, but this was new for me. I could only think of two occasions when I had been allowed out of her house. I looked at the soles of my feet and saw I was bleeding where I had been cut by sharp rocks. I had been outraced quickly, and it was only my desperation not to fail my Mistress that kept me moving.

I wiped my feet on some leaves, and drew deep breaths till it was steady. Then I raised my flute and softly began to play. My Mistress turned her head and smiled at me. I felt a shock of heat sear my chest and leaving my heart pounding as I quickly lowered my eyes and continued with my tune. This was one of her favourite songs, and unless commanded otherwise, I only played it when my Mistress was already enjoying herself. This way, I had hoped, she would keep my song along with her good memories and perhaps associate me with her pleasure.

With so many slaves to compete with I had to use anything I got to stay in her good graces. To move up the ladder in her unspoken harem hierarchy required another sort of ability altogether. My initial efforts in obtaining my Mistress’ favour were limited by the fact that I was denied access to her by all the other slaves. I had been a child when I purchased or I would have realized earlier that they saw me as a threat and studied what it was about me that worried them. Then my only concerned was to avoid being beaten and starved and I was relieved when my Mistress largely ignored me. But I quickly understood it was her indifference that made it easier for the senior slaves to claim their ownership over me. As I watched other slaves scramble for her attention and pleasure, I came to learn more about the power a slave wielded if Mistress identified him as a favourite. In my innocence I had not known what made a slave Mistress’ favourite, but I learnt it the hard way from the others soon enough. And now my efforts had finally borne fruit. Mistress had chosen me, and only me, to accompany her on this outing, though her friends had brought two or three slaves each. This was indeed my chance.

More splashing and laughter brought my attention back to my Mistress. They were playing with an inflated bladder which was dyed a bright red, tossing it back and forth across the expanse of the pool. Whenever the ladies would miss, a slave was nearby to catch and return the ball.

As my song wound to a close, my Mistress turned slightly and languidly raised a finger. Hurriedly ending the tune, I scrambled to where she sat, and crouched low on my knees beside her.

“The oils.”

Scooting backwards, I rose and returned with the bath set, a flutter of fear in my stomach. Over the years I have kissed her feet, been her step stool or held her glass, but I have never, ever touched my Mistress with my own hands. And now I was going to massage her with oil. Leoni had skills, none of which he imparted to me. A few years ago my worry would have been about angering her and punishment. Today, even the thought of displeasing her and losing her favour was punishment enough.

She indicated the nape of her neck. Sending a silent prayer I poured a few drops onto the tips of my fingers. A smell of roses and spice ran over me as I began to delicately rub it in. Alternating between my thumbs and my fingers, I painstakingly memorised the landscape of my Mistress’ neck. As Mistress began to relax under my fingers, my confidence grew and I let my fingers explore the skin along her shoulders and back. I found there was a rhythm to my movements, almost like a song I was trying to learn. I don’t know how long I actually massaged, but I was surprised when Mistress indicated I was to stop. I felt a sudden stab of resentment and envy for Leoni and his daily role in her pleasure. I stayed crouched on my knees near her and awaited my next test.

As it was, it flew over my left shoulder before I knew it.

“Get it, boy.”

I ran.

The ball had flown across the pool and was being carried downstream by both the current and the wind. I heard a cheer from behind me and before I knew it, another slave’s feet were flying across the stream from me to reach the ball first. He was a little behind me, but his strides were long and he was gaining ground. As I strained my already-exhausted legs to stretch further, he suddenly dove from mid stride into the stream and began to pull ahead of me using the current to carry him forward. I jumped in after him, just a second before I remembered I couldn’t swim. Running in the stream was not as effective as running on the bank, and certainly much slower than swimming. He got the ball and held it up triumphantly. I stopped short. My mind blank, I pulled myself back to the grass and began trotting back with my head down dreading the moment when Mistress would know my failure. Dimly I realised there was much cheering and laughter from the pool, and involuntarily I sought out my Mistress. She was not laughing. I went back to my kneeling position and waited in misery for her wrath to fall.

“A forfeit,” called the lady who now held possession of the ball. The cry was taken up by the others. I saw the other slave smiling hugely at me, and lowered my eyes again. My heart was still pounding from the run, as I wondered what this would bode for me.

My Mistress turned and looked at me. “A forfeit,” she repeated softly. “Well, you did lose.” Too ashamed to look at her, I kept my head bowed. “As you wish,” I heard her say.

Another cheer and a rush of movement, as a few of the other slaves came towards us. I felt a rough hand take hold of the hair on the back of my head and pull me up.

“Mistress?” I gasped in pain. My Mistress simply waved me away.

I was pulled to my feet and led away from the pool, but my mind was still at my Mistress’ side. I failed her. And her indifference was back. In just minutes, I had lost my chance to please.

I felt tears burning my eyes, followed by rough scratching of wood across my stomach as I was pushed over the trunk of a fallen tree. The forfeit was now obvious to me, but I was overtaken by humiliation as my wet cotton pants were peeled down. To be taken in the slave quarters, under the cover of darkness was one thing. To be used in front of so many, in bright daylight... with everyone watching, cheering even. Everyone, except, my Mistress.

I was trembling with both cold and fear, and trying to stop my tears, but no one noticed in my dripping wet state anyway. As I waited for the penetration of the victorious slave, it struck me that had I won, I may have been the one using him. I closed my eyes and tried to remember my Mistress’ neck.

There was finger under my chin and I opened my eyes. Mistress was raising my face. My misery contained till now, burst forth.

“My Mistress, I beg forgiveness for failing you...”

She placed a finger on my lips and I fell silent. I saw her nod to the slave behind me and I closed my eyes. I opened them again abruptly as I realised Mistress was still there before me, holding my chin up so she could see my face. I jerked forward in pain, as the victor took me hard. But I kept silent, as my Mistress had commanded, my eyes fixed on her. She smiled and nodded, stroking the side on my face with the back of her fingers. I leaned into her hand, and stared up into her eyes. I was aware of the pain, but more aware, that Mistress was enjoying my punishment. I was making her smile. I was bringing her pleasure.

With another great cheer and more laughter, it was over. “That’ll teach him how to swim,” someone commented above me. My Mistress joined in with a chuckle and patted my cheek. On impulse, I kissed her palm and winced for the hard slap that would surely follow such impudence. Instead I received another heart-wrenching smile.

“Get cleaned up and bring me some food.”

I ran, nearly tripping over the pants still around my ankles to much more laughter. Blushing furiously, I pulled them up and ran to do as my Mistress bid.

The day was not yet over.