Seems quick - but there was twenty minutes of readings before we had closed the distance between us. And midnight last night I had to meet with Anne's father and the priest for a couple of hours - final negotiations.I then leaned forwards and slipped a gold chain about the neck of my new slave - her innocent eyes smiling at me, with love perhaps, as I clasped it behind her head. In years past the Clan used to use thick iron, or far enough back - bronze, collar's - now the chain is more symbolic and the ancient metal only needed when the girl's devotion to the Clan was in question. Anne's was not. She had been trained from birth for this moment.The final act of this age-old ritual was when Anne's father passed me a jewelled symbolic leash and a silk scarf. The ceremony was complete - I had my second slave, my first wife.All those attending started to clap, a couple of Anne's brothers hooting playfully. Anne blushed and looked at me shyly beneath her long dark eyelashes - she was. The guy is a tank. A pit bull. Shaved head, massive gold stretcher rings in each ear. His upper back is heavily inked. As is his lower back. Great. A guy with a tramp stamp. I sip more beer and continue watching. The guy drops his jeans, and then peels off his gitch. Gross. Completely naked. He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. Then he reaches for something out of view. When his hand comes back he is grasping what appears to be a dog leash. The leash is a black leather strap with a loop handle at one end, and a metal clasp at the other. He wraps the leash around his wrist and exits the room. Before the door closes, he snaps off the light. The bright white laser beams die. For a second I am blind, as my room is back to near full dark. When my eyes accustom, I notice a leash and a collar are hanging on the end wall beside my locker. What the hell are these things for? Does every room have them? I slide empty beer can number five into the locker and pop number six. Might as.
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