As I thought about the woman who would be coming back to massage my tense body, I secretly slipped my boxer briefs off beneath the blanket and tossed ...hem by my robe before lying face down. Soft music began to play as I heard them enter again. I felt warm oil fall along my shoulders and back when her firm hands began to rub my aching muscles. Her fingers caressed behind my ears. It felt heavenly. Her hands wrapped around my bicep and slid down my arm to my hand. Holding my hand in hers and. .. oh, I don’t have any. What will I wear today... oh, it’s above 58 degrees so I will just stay naked.”She continued to stare at herself in the mirror. For a moment tears welled up in her eyes as she read and re-read the brand above her left breast which said “slave missy.” It finally dawned on her that the lack of capital letters was not an accident. Slaves didn’t really have names. They had property designations. That realization brought more silent tears as she lightly rubbed the brand. More

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