Attending the Long Hall (10 March)

[13:33]  SolaraLove: solara entered the dark longhall, slightly cool it it's scent making known the burned out coal of the fireplace and the cool wooden floors. She shuddered as she put her back down that had been filled with oils and a cleaning solution. Today solara decided that the hall needed a good clean up.
[13:36]  SolaraLove: She kept her robes on lest she freeze her found bottom..as she poured some oil upon the torches. elegantly yet hastily she made her way to the hearth, removing the ashes and scooping them into a near by bucket. Once she had put the chopped wood into the hearth she began to make the fire, blowing it as it slowly grew...once or twice wrinkling her nose in a sneeze.

[13:38]  SolaraLove: she rubbed her hands together as teh hall began to heat up. Taking some fire careful not to burn down the hall she lit the torches one by one, illuminating the room.
[13:41]  SolaraLove: Solara then proceeded into the back room taking up a bucket and filling it with water, after which she added her cleaning solution in now beginning to wipe down the tables. There had been a silent echo of every movement solara made. Moving about on every table she then wiped down the benches thoroughly.
[13:43]  SolaraLove: The rowdy behavior that can occur on longhall nights can sometimes be reflected upon the tables and benches...and solara laughed to herself as she saw a faded footprint on the table. "Aye" she thought to herself. "Surely a bond had been dancing upon this table to the pleasure of some lucky Jarl." She grinned to herself as she scrubbed away the evidence of lustful nights
[13:45]  SolaraLove: Once the tables an dthe benches had been cleaned she swept and then scrubbed the floors. The peacefulnes so fteh hall had allowed her to gather thoughts and plan her evenings ahead. Since they had moved to the village it had never been this quiet, though today had been one of the busiest days of the week in torvaldsland.
[13:47]  SolaraLove: Solara then gathered the fur rugs and brought them outside, beating them one by one with the old broom stick. once they had been replaced neatly in the hall, solara threw out the dirty water and replace dthe bucket into the back room. She kept the doors open for about 5 ahn to allow some fresh breeze to flow in, after which closing the doors and proceeding to the Fires to heat up some Mead and black wine
[13:48]  SolaraLove: The Jarls would be home soon from their various tasks and it would be well that they return to warm drink and food. Once she filled two pots one with Mead and the other with black wine, she placed them upon the dancing flames to be heated up
[13:54]  SolaraLove: she then knelt by the fire as the drinks warmed up. as she knelt there observing them, she pulled out her back within was her Jarl's ripped shirt and some sewing supplies. There she began to mend the holes as she kept an eye on the warming beverages

What it Means to be a Bond

Cly:

This little task, the Overseer has placed upon us, have me stop to take in all my surroundings.
The meaning to be a bond, isnt just a femlee whose belly lie beneathe the sword. It also, to me at least, means she is the strength and pride of bother, her Jarl and the Village she serves in.
Within the village, a bond does alot to keep the village thriving even while the Jarls are away. Making sure each task and simple chore are done. So the village runs smoothly and in order. For both Jarl's approval and tp please him.
And speaking of Jarls, I am proud to be collared by my Jarl. He who brought me im from my dispair as i roamed, abandon. To me, his collar about my neck is my freedom and I will neverstray from it. For he lets me be true to myself. As a slave of the north, a bond.
And I would do anything and everything to bring honor and pride, not to just the village  that i serve in, but to the man whom ive serve. My Jarl. Thank you, for making me your bond, my Jarl.


Tala:


Lara:

What does it mean to be your bond...
As I ponder on this question, I must admit that I have no training whatsoever in pleasing men as a gorean slave ought to…nor do I completely understand what a bond is. Farm girls, slave girls to the Masters of the north or even a girl whose belly lies beneath the sword, are terms used to describe the role I currently hold.
But I do not know what all these terms should mean with regards to me being YOUR bond my Jarl. Being your bond means so much more that wearing a northern collar. It is an art I hope to Master because being your bond Means being every and anything you need, want and desire. I will milk yours bosks, and beat the furs…I will serve your long halls and cultivate your fields, but most of all my  Jarl I will fill you with a passion so strong and so true. When you want me to laugh I will..when you want me to cry..i will. When you need me to stay away I will..but when you seize me into your arms I will remain. When your day has been long and tiring I will be your rest and your escape. Being your bond my Jarl means being your fantasy. And I Long for nothing less that the fullness of your happiness.


Kyna:

  Some might say it starts with a circle, circle of life, circle of steel, circle of earth, it did not start that way for kyna.  It was one beat.  In a way it was still a circle, the blood coursing through her veins.  Few know that kyna came into this world fighting for her life.  Few know of the trials and tribulations kyna has pushed through on her journey.  Life is full of lessons, full of culture everywhere you look.  Looking back now, taking the time to reflect shows a clear path as if those on Urth that touched her life knew one day she would be here, on Gor,  in this village, property of a fierce warrior.  Even still the things she was taught, the knowledge it only complemented something far greater that cannot be picked up in any school.   Some call it faith, determination, spirit, or just plain drive and it is all of those things.  In losing everything there were certain things kyna found, like flint sparks to kindling, igniting instant flames deep within.  Quite certain there could be no greater love, no deeper feelings than those of a bondmaid.
    There is no doubt kyna’s heart beats solely to please her Jarl.  Of the many lessons she had learned along the way few stuck that of a dear friend and fellow masochistic slave whom once had said to kyna, “The kiss of the whip, no matter the pain, is still the touch of my Master, the tasks set before me an extension of Him,  and in that my comfort is found, even if He sold me, even if He never wished to see me again, still then would i serve to the best of my capabilities for in that way i am still serving Him.”  Powerful point of view, to know there is nothing one would not endure to satisfy another, to give up everything if only for the chance to please another being.  That knowing your only pleasure might be in knowing you have pleased Him and knowing that is the only pleasure you would dare seek in this life merely because your heart commanded it be so or stop beating all together.
    Inside kyna is her actual heart which pumps life through veins and deeper still is her heart, the heart of a bondmaid, the piece of her soul that truly deems her so.  The piece of her that bids her so bold to conquer fears, the deep pool from which she often speaks, the nervous system that cannot be physically located or severed by any steel, nor can it be implanted or falsified, or otherwise duplicated.  No whips caress instructs its creation or destruction.
    Being a bondmaid is not really about being anything at all.  To kyna, it’s nay about the steel about her neck.  It is the sum of all the pieces, not a part of the equation.  It is about making every action for my Jarl.  About letting go of every part and allowing Him to shape me as He pleases, as a sculptor does with clay.  It’s my every action, my every breath, every cell that makes me, each one set upon in its own way to please Him, to serve and obey His words, regardless of consequence and without hesitation.
    That is the basic matter.  To be a bondmaid is to be born with an incredible amount of bravery and strength.  How weak is a girl who would give her own life without second thought for that of her Jarl’s?  Who would do anything, yes anything, for her Jarl?  Who is humbled by His praise, His touch so much that it is what her existence is for solely.  All this seems so simple and yet is so incredibly difficult.
    A bondmaid is born with the tools she will need to be successful, mainly intelligence.  Education is never lost on a bondmaid and scholarly education is not what is meant here.  Creativity, the sense to know what may or may not be appropriate, and a large portion of honesty, all these should be polished to a fine gleam as a bond is raised.  For kyna they were everyday on Urth from the time she was a child.
    These are kyna’s thoughts.  Being a bond is not a thought, it is who she is every day.