Eight days after being sentenced, Samia returned to the court. The judge looked down on her with scorn.
“Have you learned your lesson, whore?”
“I have, your honour.”
“Good. Then see to it that there are no repeat offences. If you’re caught spreading your legs for money in this city again, your punishment will be far more severe. Is that understood.”
“Yes, your honour.”
“Guards, escort her to the tattooist.”
A guard took hold of either arm, and Samia looked up at the judge in fear, wondering what the tattooist would be doing to her. The judge smirked down at her.
She was taken a few buildings down from the court to the back of an alchemist’s shop. An elf in mage robes sat in in the back. He had white hair and pink eyes.
“By the judges order,” one of the guards said. “This whore needs to be marked.”
The elf nodded, looking at Samia with eyes that pierced her. There were large mirrors to her left and right.
“Undress,” the guard demanded.
Samia hesitated for a moment, before stripping naked in front of the three of them.
“Turn around,” the elf said in a rough voice.
Samia turned, facing the two guards, her back to the elf.
“What word would you prefer?” the elf asked her. “Slut, whore, or prostitute?”
Samia gulped, her heart racing. She was about to be given an irreversible slut stamp on her lower back. She began to cry; this hadn’t been part of her sentence.
“I don’t have all day, girl. Make your decision, or I’ll make it for you.”
“Slut.” At least it was the shortest.
The elf approached. She felt him write the S on her lower back, and she cried. She felt the whole word SLUT in capitals as it burned into her back.
“Now take a look in the mirrors.” He nodded to the mirror on her right.
Samia turned and looked at the reflection through the mirror behind her. The tattoo was large, covering her entire lower back. She covered her face with her hands and cried.
“Get dressed, it’s time you left the city, slut.”
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