I designed a piece of jewelry today. It wasn't for any special occasion. However, the project proved to be very significant in terms of introspection. The piece was a simple anklet. Finely polished glass beads strung on a sturdy silver wire, with three specially placed miniature bells. The anklet was pleasing to the eye, and created a slight jingle sound as I pranced around doing my chores. The bell's sound soft enough to please the ear, but not enough to annoy the soul.
Suddenly a memory came flooding back to me, one I had not thought of in years. It was the gentle ringing of the anklet that brought it back to me. I remembered a very similar anklet that served a very important purpose. The anklet belonged to a slave girl named Heather.
I met Heather at a banquet given by her Master. It was only by a twist of fate that I found myself sitting, on a soft down pillow, beneath their dining room table just to the left of my Master.
I had been told to dress quickly, but to leave not one little detail unattended. The dress I found laying across my bed was a soft black silk that hung tea length at the ankles. The shoes he had chosen were not shoes at all, but small black ballet slippers. Although a question formed in my mind, I suppressed it. I had long ago learned that misplaced questions were not eagerly rewarded. However, I couldn't help but wonder to where this would lead.
Sitting beneath that dining room table the soft black silk clinging to my naked body, I no longer needed to know, but I did fully understand. This was a formal lifestyle banquet. I watched quietly as Heather stepped around the table delivering food to every Master's plate and filling every glass. The aromas that spilled forth were a delight in themselves. An occasional smile was passed between the four of us seated beneath the table. Occasionally our Masters would refer to us, the comments being greeted with the knowing glance or a sly caress of our flesh. The one thing that caught all of our attention was the beautiful wind chime affect flowing from the ornament around Heather's ankle.
As the gentleman adjourned to the den, the girls began to rise from our pillows. You couldn't have heard a rooster crow over the immediate questions and greetings that ensued, while we ate our fill of the tempting treats before us. Everyone quickly exchanged names, numbers and information. Then we cleared and cleaned the entire dinning room and kitchen. While we were all in the kitchen one of the girls asked Heather about her anklet and if it represented something special, and all of us paused to hear her answer.
