Acorn’s Collar

Jenni looked up, her face nestled in the Cervidian’s hands, reading a sense of longing on the woman’s face that she couldn’t place. It was melancholic and hidden behind something – the face yearning. They had only met a day ago and Jenni decided she shouldn’t yet pry. She had questions and time to ask them.

Her head was carried away from her body, to be posed on a pillow nearby. The Duke was proud of the dullahan he’d purchased, and she was to pose for a portrait showing off the most notable features of the newest, if temporary, member of his harem.

“Do you love him? Jenni asked.

“The Duke?,” Acorn smiled. “I can’t live without him. I yearn for him when he’s away. He is my everything.”

“And the collar?”

“A present.” Acorn laughed shyly, “I get questions about it, now and then. It’s mine. Well, there’s a little more than just that. I was captured, a slave to be sold by the raiders. Inland, things aren’t the same there. It’s less civilized than Porta Vermelha. Slaves are illegal here but, out there, there isn’t always enough people to enforce the law.”

“Cervidians sell well in places where there’s slavery persists.”

“People think we, as a people, are submissive and docile. One night my travel party was raided. I was marched off to a black market trading post, I don’t even know where. The Duke saved me. He bought me.”

“You’re a slave?” Jenni kept her voice low. She was placed gently on the pillow.

“Of course not.” Acorn caressed her collar. “He gave me this until we left the area, no one questioned a collared Cervidian, I read as property.” She blushed, “We travelled together, me and the others. It was a game, at first. As a Nonian cleric I’m sure you know the sort.”

Jenni said she did. It was the business of a Nonian cleric to know such delights.

“After a while, it felt right having it on. I’m his, in a way.”

“And he is yours?”

“Of course.” Acorn said flatly.