The branding begins.

The Akkadian hoisted himself up onto the chair, laying his forearms on the armrests and legs in the individual footrests. Rezma, after a few seconds searching found the locking mechanisms for the rests and was able to adjust them for the Akkadian's petite dimensions. Firstly the Shemite secured his wrists, broad leather straps with buckles pulled tight and pinned his hands down. Next his ankles were similarly tightly strapped to the footrests. More straps followed to restrain him completely, around his forearms, calves and thighs. Lastly straps were buckled around his waist and his chest, just above the heavy orbs of his breasts. Once finished the mistress stood back up and patted his thigh reassuringly.

"Good girl." Mistress encouraged.

Whether by accident or design the Akkadian realised the smooth inner thigh that Rezma had patted was the spot that would soon bear the mark of Trimon. He tested the straps and found beyond flexing his meagre muscles and slight twisting he was completely unable to move. The ratlike master of brands now returned wheeling a small table with the implements need for the branding. The Akkadian could see a large glass jar of shimmering silvery blue substance that appeared metallic yet fluid. A thick ancient looking book lay open, but the symbols of the language he saw upon the page were unkown to him. The last object was surely the instrument of branding itself. It resembled a large wine glass with the base removed and the stem hollowed out, in what would be the bowl he saw the glint of metalwork and a leather bulb was attached to the stem. How the device might work the assassin could not figure, but however much he hated the idea he knew he was about to see a demonstration.

"Oh ho, all snugly buckled up there my pretty?" The master of brands asked, peering closely at the straps through his magnifying lens but finding no fault in Rezma's securing of the Akkadian. "Can't have the pretty flailing about once the quicksilver begins to sting. Sing all you like, oh ho. Yes sweet sweet melody, but no thrashing around."

The old slaver pulled a lever behind the chair and without warning the Akkadian's seat tipped back from verticle to horizontal. He now lay rather than sat with his legs raised. More wheels and levers were turned or pulled by the master of brands and the footrests were winched apart spreading his legs wide. Once fully spread one leg was turned so his soft inner thigh was facing upwards. The Akkadian's flesh twitched as he tensed up in fright. The rat faced man tapped the assassin's tensed thigh tutting in disapproval.

"Oh ho no." He muttered. "Too tense, I need the flesh relaxed. Not to worry a little sniff of poppy will relax the slut."

The old man lit an incense stick from the lamp and waved it beneath the Akkadian's nose commanding him to breathe deeply. The smoke was sweet smelling and tickled the assassin's nose as he inhaled.

"I know how to relax my sluts old man." Rezma stated, she stepped away and unchained Visha from Tzu-Tzi. "Put that wicked tongue to good use for a change Visha, on Minaja's cunt."

The Stygian eagerly complied, placing herself between the Akkadian's spread legs. She pushed aside the scap of silk and her mouth clamped on to his bared henna darkened labia. The Akkadian stifled a cry as the bitch nibbled at his cunt lips pinching his soft intimate flesh. The sadistic little **** alternated between delving her tongue inside his crease, flicking her tongue madly and nipping and softly biting his netherlips. To his shame the Akkadian felt his cunt dampen rapidly under Visha's cruel cuntplay and his vision was blurring and swimming from the poppy smoke. Within a minute or two he was moaning lustily as the witch skillfully excited his sex. His tense muscles relaxed and his moans grew more ****. With a strangled cry he climaxed, his cunt twitching and dribbling obscenely.

"Oh ho, much better." The old man chortled, tapping the Akkadian's thigh once more. "And such a sweet song from the lovely."

The Akkadian felt the glass bowl of the device pressed against the meat of his thigh. The **** master pumped the leather sac and the Akkadian felt a sucking sensation where the bowl was pressed, a few pumps and the bowl was stuck tight to his thigh by suction. The old man took the jar of quicksilver and carefully poured it into the hollow stem of the device. The glass bowl half filled with twinkling liquid metal before the master stoppered the stem.

"Now silence while I incant the ritual." The slaver demanded. "Only the ancient arcane words and whatever squeals and cries this pretty makes as the quicksilver absorbs are allowed."