Ubara of Gor Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Kerim Shah

Yishana, the proud, savage, Ubara of the Black Coast, chosen Avatar of Nakeisha wind-rider, lay supine, asleep, on her soft furred couch. In her sleep she sighed softly. She seemed content and not nearly as savage as I had seen her that first day six months before when she had led her Askaris onto the deck of the Carcassonne to wash the boards with our blood.

I lay on my side to her right, sharing her bed as I often did at night. A chain was locked about my left ankle and as I moved, unable to sleep properly, I felt the links move with me. To Yishana's left lay Simon, and like me his left ankle was secured by a steel anklet with a chain. We were both slaves that Yishana had used for her pleasure. I could tell Simon was awake from the nature of his breathing, though he tried to pretend he wasn't. It is difficult for Simon to sleep well, for men naturally grow erect during the night, and the nature of Simon's cruel genital piercing was such that any attempt at erection would prove uncomfortable at the very last. Simon had not been permitted an erection since that first day on the Carcassonne when I had been ordered to arouse and satisfy him with my hands and mouth.

Poor Simon. He had not been permitted an orgasm in six months. He had not been able to grow an erection in six months.

Last night I had watched as the Ladies Amelia and Tamaya had been stripped and placed in the chalk circle along with the black slave-girls who belonged to the Larl of the Thassa. As was always the case after a successful day's plunder on the high seas, the Askaris drank heavily, sang, played music, gambled with dice, and drew lots to use the slaves. The Ladies Amelia and Tamaya were put to use six times each, and to begin with they had to be beaten to silence by the Askaris because of their terrified screams.

I hate the sound of women screaming. It affects me more than many other things which are equally bad or worse.

I was not myself placed inside the chalk circle which told me that I would be sharing Yishana's bed that night.

Simon was awake because his sleep was constantly interrupted by night time attempts at erection. He must learn to control his thoughts and dreams I suppose. He must learn to turn his thoughts away from sex and the luscious temptations of slave-girls. Anything else would simply cause him suffering and varying degrees of discomfort.

Yishana used Simon to pleasure her with his mouth and tongue when she desired love making. Even such a thing caused Simon considerable discomfort because it would arouse him. In the first few weeks he would sometimes beg her to remove the piercings and each time he did she would whip him with a slave crop. Eventually Simon learned not to request that.

Then, once Yishana was suitably aroused by Simon she would turn to me and use me for her pleasure. I was confused with this at first since there is conflict between my male born mind and my naturally female body. My body was not created by the Kurii to desire women, but my mind sometimes has other ideas. It remembers who I had been on Earth. Nevertheless I quickly learnt what Yishana liked, and what turned her on. I would touch her erogenous zones with my hands, my tongue, and the rest of my mouth, and seeing her grow even more excited I would begin to stimulate her breasts and nipples in the same way.

I am in a unique position to know only too well the differences in how sex feels as a man and as a woman. Do you want to know a secret? A woman's orgasms are so much better than a man's. It's true. I've experienced both, remember. As a woman, I know our mouth, lips and tongue are far more sensitive than a man's. Stimulation of our nipples produces large amounts of oxytocin in our bodies which gives us a feeling of close bonding with our sexual partner.

The subtle vibrations in Yishana's body would indicate to me when she was ready to go further, and then, despite some hesitance on her part, I would stimulate her vagina and lightly tease her clitoris with my tongue and lips. I tried a couple of times to use my fingers inside her, but Yishana seemed nervous of that and pulled my hand away so I soon stopped trying. What she did like very much though is tribadism, a non-penetrative sexual act that involves two women essentially dry humping one another, with me rubbing my vulva against Yishana's vulva while kissing her. I say dry humping, but there was nothing dry about either of us by then.

I could always tell when Yishana was close to orgasm. Her body would shake and she would make soft mewing sounds which were so unlike her.

Sometimes after an orgasm she would lie there in the furs and weep silently, tears filling her eyes but saying nothing. I was a bit scared the first time I saw her like that for I feared I had been displeasing in some way I couldn't comprehend and I would be punished, but no, that wasn't the case.

I sometimes came myself, when Yishana stimulated me. But it was not the same as sex with a man. It was a poor substitute for a true slave orgasm. There was something different about the way my body reacted to being taken by a woman. Perhaps Yishana felt the same way, though she wouldn't know it, because it was my understanding that she had never had penetrative intercourse with a man and so had no real basis for comparison.

The couch bed shifted as the ship swayed from side to side in the Thassa. I do not get sea sick, but it had been a few days before I began to take the rocking motion of the vessel for granted and feel confident with my footing.

Yishana was, I think, a complicated woman with conflicting views on sexuality. She wasn't by any stretch of the imagination a lesbian by the proper definition. Her sexual tastes were maybe 30% women and 70% men but I think she simply felt it safer to have sex with women than with a man, especially considering her position as captain of the Larl. Obviously the relationship between her and the Askaris was not normal by Gorean standards, for they essentially seemed to worship her as something more than human. Several times she had referred to herself as the chosen Avatar of Nakeisha wind-rider, and I now knew, because I had asked Naomi, that this was the name of a tribal Goddess of the dark interior. If the black skinned Askaris truly believed their Goddess spoke through Yishana, that might explain their superstitious regard for her and their tolerance of activities that Gorean men from the central area would not.

At first I assumed that this whole Avatar of the wind-rider thing was an elaborate confidence trick on Yishana's part, but soon I became of the opinion that she actually believed she was the chosen Avatar of Nakeisha, and that to her mind at least she was not fooling anyone.

I still had a lot to learn about Yishana it seemed.

I was beginning to feel safe on board the Larl. Yishana had not turned out to be the mind numbing horror that Gorean free women usually are. In fact she she seemed to share few of the traits of free women of Gor; most notably that she didn't hate me for my open sexuality. I don't think Yishana had ever called me a slut. So for me at least, life in her collar wasn't too bad. Simon no doubt felt otherwise. How terrible it must be to be a man on Gor and yet be a collared slave. For women that is simply a risk that we share, but for men it is against the natural order on Gor. Gor is a world on which Simon could be dominant, but fate had chosen otherwise for him now. Despite what the books of Tarl Cabot might suggest, the slave population on Gor is a small minority. It has been estimated that maybe two percent of women are enslaved, and the male slave population is even lower – perhaps one tenth of that figure. When you factor in that many female slaves are brought to Gor now from Earth, that further reduces the statistical likelihood that if you are a free woman of Gor you might be enslaved one day. Probability is on your side it seems.

This probably accounts for the popularity of paga taverns, for not all men can dream of owning their own slave.

Yishana stirred again in the furs. I think she was close to waking up. I stretched where I lay, for I had been awake to see the dawn rise through the cracks between the planks of the vessel. Already I could hear movement on deck, of the Askaris rising, tending to their duties, of the night watch being relieved so that those men could retire to sleep, of the black slave-girls being roused to cook and prepare breakfast. I had the luxury of lying in with my mistress. It felt good to just snuggle in the soft furs and shut out the reality of life for another half hour or so.

I moved my ankle and felt the slither of chain again. I find a strange comfort in being ankle chained while I sleep and I actually prefer it to being free of restraints. Sometimes when I lie in the furs beside a sleeping master I delight in stretching my bound ankle, feeling the chain locked about it, feeling the touch of the chain links against my skin. I am talking about when I am with a man who stimulates me sexually of course. I would feel very differently if I thought the man was ugly. I think I have said before how being chained excites me. It ignites certain feelings of deep arousal. I do love my ankle chain.

Yishana had been sexually needy last night and it had taken me a little longer than usual to arouse her, as if she was troubled with weighty things on her mind. I had rubbed myself against her body while Simon contrived to kiss and lick and nibble at her buttocks, simultaneously running his hands along her thighs. She liked that. Sometimes her back would arch as Simon touched her in the right place. I had told Simon a few things about how to please a woman. He had been embarrassed to take lessons from me in the art of pleasing a Mistress, and at first he didn't want to listen – his pride telling him no – but when I explained that it would spare him some beatings in future, he reluctantly agreed to watch and learn. I had pointed out things on my body and I had simulated some of the signs to look for in the way Yishana might react positively, for a slave learns to read body signals if she wishes to be good in the furs.

I of course did not allow Simon to touch me during these lessons. For one thing it would not be good for him because of his ring pierced penis, but also because he was a male slave, and slave-girls do not wish to be touched by such men.

Once, during the first few days of his captivity, Simon was close to tears and needed consolation. He practically begged me to hug him during his misery. I said no, of course. I told him I would have him beaten if he so much as touched me with his hand. I had not forgotten what he had done to me in Port Kar. Male slaves are generally not permitted to touch female slaves on Gor.

And of course it would not do to allow a male slave to touch me. They might get ideas above their station.

But I helped him learn how to please a Mistress. It is not the same thing as having sex with a female slave. A Mistress has complicated needs and is understandably nervous to lie with a man. Allowable sexual responses walk a very narrow line, and a free woman must be careful what she permits herself to feel. Simon would have to learn to give her enough pleasure, but not too much pleasure that she might feel embarrassed or humiliated in some way afterwards.

Yishana stirred again in her semi-sleep. She would be awake very soon. I kissed her softly on her belly as she had turned on to her side facing me. It is pleasant to be woken in this fashion. I traced my kisses down the flat incline of her stomach and down to the soft curl of hairs around her sex. I heard a soft moan as my tongue licked around her labia and I saw her fingers open and close as she relished the delightful sensation of waking up this way.

This was my job in the morning. Simon once tried something similar and I warned him off in no uncertain terms with an angry hiss like a territorial cat. I wanted Yishana to feel closer to me than she did to Simon, for obvious reasons. Simon had been angry afterwards and he had told me that I had no right to tell him what he could or could not do. I of course had then slapped him across the face. I had hissed at him again. I had called him 'slave'. He had been furious, but he had not dared to touch me in return. Had he done so, the Askaris might have keel hauled him.

I had seen a man being keel hauled on the fifth week on board this ship. He had broken some ship board law, having stolen from another man. That sort of thing is very bad for discipline in such a confined space where altercations can quickly break out into full blown fights with weapons if the captain of the vessel does not enforce punishments herself. The Askari in question had been tied to a rope that was looped beneath the hull of the Larl. He had then been thrown overboard and dragged against the keel from one side of the ship to the other. Depending on the severity of the crime, the keel hauling would either be from one side of the ship to the other (the most merciful way) or along the length of the ship from bow to stern. Aside from the risk of drowning, a ship's hull is always covered in barnacles, giving it the texture of sandpaper. Anyone being dragged along the length of it would suffer serious lacerations.

Yishana woke from her dreams and held my head in place as I finished with my tongue and lips. She shook and trembled in the furs, feeling a powerful climax to my work.

“Good morning, Mistress,” I said when she allowed my head to rise.

“Good morning, Emma,” she said as she then rolled onto her back and lay there, blissfully content.

I have said that Yishana enjoyed orgasms, but I knew them to be very different to slave orgasms. During my years on Gor I had seen many slaves in the throes of orgasm, and I knew from first hand evidence, and from what I observed that they were very different to the kind of orgasms a free woman enjoyed when she was in control of the situation. There is simply no comparison. It is like having listened to music through a tinny mobile phone all your life, and then hearing it on a hi-fi set-up costing tens of thousands of pounds. A slave orgasm is rich and deep in ways that women cannot understand if they have never experienced one. But of course you cannot miss what you have never felt, though I think deep down many women sense there is something missing from their sexual experiences, even if they cannot describe what that something is.

But Yishana, like other free women, had no doubt observed slaves being taken in the furs by her men. She had seen how sleek and fulfilled the slaves had seemed afterwards. Perhaps she had guessed that they were experiencing something beyond her own experiences. Yishana is an intelligent and observant woman. I do not think she would have missed the obvious signs.

“I know you are awake, Simon,” she said as her hand strayed to touch his buttocks. She slapped them playfully but hard and felt him roll round to greet her.

“Good morning, Mistress,” he said.

“Good morning, slave.” Yishana took his face in her hand and turned it towards her lips. Then she kissed him and bit with her teeth on his lower lip, reminding him that she was his mistress. I saw Simon twitch from what was no doubt an unwanted attempt at erection.

Yishana released him and ran her hand down Simon's body to where the three small rings restrained his manhood. She smiled as she felt the links and knew what the touch of her hand there would do to him. I saw Simon grit his teeth to the touch of his mistress.

Poor Simon.

“Do you want me, slave?” asked Yishana as she presented herself to Simon, rolling back on to her side so he could clearly see her body in the furs.

“Very much, Mistress.”

Then she laughed and slapped him hard across the face for his impertinence at desiring her. It occurred to me that had that been Brinn in the furs, he would now have Yishana pressed down onto her stomach, a rag of cloth stuffed into her mouth, her wrists pulled behind the small of her back as he lashed them tightly together with binding fibre. It didn't matter how many Askaris worked above deck, Brinn would have shown Yishana the error of taking a warrior in her furs. But Simon is not Brinn. Not nearly. And I think Yishana would not be so stupid as to take that risk with a man like Brinn anyway. She knows the difference.

“I like you, Simon,” said Yishana as she slid the heel of her right foot back so that her knee was raised. “You make a good silk slave. Docile and well behaved.”

Docile and well behaved. Can you imagine saying that to Brinn? I looked at Simon as Yishana said that. He looked down, not daring to meet her eyes as he replied, “thank you, Mistress.”

“I am going to keep you I think when we reach the free port of Asperiche. I will not seek to sell you after all.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Yishana laughed again. “The men of Earth are incredible.” She ruffled his hair with her free hand. “They should all be enslaved, don't you think, little pet?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“All of you, placed in pretty collars and taught to please women. It's what you seem to like doing after all.”

I didn't think this was necessarily true of all men on Earth. Some of them I knew now worked for the Kurii forces and thought of themselves as practically Gorean by nature.

“Would you like to kiss Emma, Simon?”

Simon seemed startled by this offer. I was a little startled by it too. Simon was a slave! I didn't want him to touch me with his lips!

“Yes, Mistress, but... I shouldn't...” Simon gazed down at the three small rings confining his manhood. The kiss would not give him pleasure. Far from it.

Yishana sniffed and regarded her silk slave. “It must be terrible. Is it terrible?”

“Yes, Mistress, it is very terrible.”

“You told me that first day when I took the Carcassonne that you weren't a slave. Are you a slave, Simon?” her fingers toyed with the steel rings. It would only take a sharp tug to hurt him.

“Yes, Mistress, I am.”

“Tell me that you love being my slave... that you want nothing else in life...”

Simon swallowed his pride – what little of it was left now – and said, “I love being your slave, Mistress. I want nothing else in life...”

“So obedient.” Yishana released him. “And strong too.” She ran her hands over Simon's broad shoulders and impressive pectoral muscles. “If you were Gorean you would be a beast of a man.” Yishana sat up and regarded her slave as she leant back against the headboard of her couch. “Just how strong are you?”

“Very strong, Mistress. The gravity is different here than on Earth.”

This is possibly something I haven't spoken of much during my writings, but Gor has a lower gravity than Earth does due to the difference in size of the planets. All other things being equal a man from Earth would find that he was significantly stronger on Gor, at least until his body acclimatised itself to the difference in gravity over the years and he lost that initial advantage. This meant that Simon had an impressive head start when it came to weight training with Brinn. Simon was able to push far heavier bench presses than Brinn had expected. He developed muscle quickly and it soon showed. I never benefited from the advantage of this comparative gravity, for when the Kurii reshaped my body, they did so with the knowledge that I would live on Gor, and therefore it was attuned to the natural gravitational pull here. This means I would be incredibly weak if I ever returned to Earth.

Simon is, I believe, stronger than Brinn, though nowhere near him in sword play or aggression.

“Show me,” said Yishana suddenly as she held out her right wrist. “I want to see how easy it is to break free of your grip.”

“You would not be able to, Mistress,” said Simon as he looked up.

“Show me.”

Simon seemed surprised by the request, but nodding he did so, taking Yishana's wrist in his own hand. He held it there as she pulled away to no avail. Simon's hand hardly moved no matter how hard Yishana pulled at it.

“Impressive,” she said as she looked into Simon's eyes. I noticed it then. The tell tale rise and fall of her bosom – the little almost imperceptible sign of slight arousal as she was being held. It is a natural reaction in a woman, but one that Yishana was probably unfamiliar with. Then suddenly she sought to take Simon by surprise. I think she believed that by lulling him into a sense of security she might suddenly make a mighty unexpected pull and if not break free, at the very least pull his arm along with hers. But Simon's hand didn't move an inch. Now there was genuine surprise in Yishana's eyes. She really couldn't free her wrist.

“Is everything all right, Mistress,” said Simon, a little boldly perhaps.

“Yes,” snapped Yishana. She remained still, afraid of perhaps looking foolish if she made another futile attempt to free herself. I saw her eyelids tremble a little, as they did when she might be aroused in the furs by our love making.

“Because I think you just tried to free yourself again,” said Simon, a little confidence creeping back into his voice. “A little more urgently than before.”

“Not really,” said Yishana as she sat there with her wrist still in his hand. “I am your mistress remember, slave.” She raised her free hand up and was startled when Simon took that one in his other hand. I don't think Simon quite realised what he had done until he had done it. Perhaps it was some instinctive dominant thing that lies buried deep in a man's back brain. Perhaps it had been a natural response on his part to seeing a woman in a potentially submissive state.

“Do you really wish to see how strong I am, Mistress?” asked Simon pleasantly enough. I saw a twitch in his face which meant he was fighting back against the sensation of his trapped penis now trying to rise again, for being dominant leads to a natural state of arousal for a man.

Yishana said nothing. Her mouth opened and then closed again. I head her short pants of breath as she struggled again with her wrists. I saw her touch her teeth to her lower lip and pull the softness of those lips down along the edge of her teeth.

“If you are unable to free yourself, despite your best intentions, you need only order me to release you,” said Simon. It was a clever thing to say to Yishana, for she was a proud woman and would not want to admit she was now helpless. And so she said nothing.

Slowly, demonstrating how easy it was, Simon forced her back onto the furs, Yishana seemed startled, shocked even at how easy it was for Simon to put her on her back. “You have not yet ordered me to release you, Mistress,” said Simon as he carefully and slowly drew Yishana's wrists above her head and then separated them, pining them to the couch either side of her. There was a soft gasp from her lips as she realised she could not physically stop Simon. She was totally helpless. I saw her face flush with emotion as Simon now peered down at her prone body.

“As you can see, Mistress, I am very strong.”

Yishana still said nothing, but the timbre of her body now spoke volumes to me.

“Release me!” said Yishana suddenly and urgently.

“But of course.” Simon did so and watched as Yishana rolled on to her side away from him. She lay there for a while in the furs with her eyes shut. And then she said, “go now. Both of you. Leave my cabin! Go!”

And so we did.

--------------------------------------------------

“You shouldn't have done that, Simon,” I said as we walked onto the main deck and stood by the port-side rail. “No good will come of reminding Yishana that she is simply a woman, much weaker than a man.” I had unlocked our ankle chains and I had picked up our clothing as we left. I now handed Simon his garment. Like mine it was a length of white rep cloth, one foot in width and five feet long. I wrapped it about my hips and tucked it tightly in place at my waist, making sure that my slave belly was uncovered. I then ornamented myself with the two long strings of brightly coloured beads that I was permitted to wear around my neck. I also slipped the decorative bangle like bracelets about my wrists. They were brightly coloured with alternating diagonal stripes – very African in nature. There were three on each wrist and they jangled deliciously if I shook my hand to make them do so. Other than that I was naked. Simon scowled and did the same with his piece of cloth. It wasn't much, but it was the only garment of a kind that Yishana gave to her slaves on board the Larl. The black girls wore the same white strip of cloth as us. The Ladies Amelia and Tamaya had not been given such garments, but then I suppose they were still technically free women, and not actually slaves. I saw them where they knelt, pressed together in mutual fear, chained to slave rings next to some stacked crates and barrels. They had slept naked under the stars with a blanket to huddle under after being used by the Askaris during the night time revelries. I supposed they should really be fed. They were free after all.

“Yishana wanted to know how strong I was,” said Simon as he wound the simple shift of white cloth about his hips. “Now she knows.”

“It was a stupid thing to do,” I chided him. “Reckless. She might beat you later. You should have pretended to let her break free after a bit of struggling. You should have allowed her the illusion of being able to deal with your grip. Yishana did not actually want to know that you were so strong. You held her helplessly! She could not break free!”

“You're being ridiculous now, Emma,” said Simon. “I'm a man. I think you sometimes forget that, like you forget I'm your master.”

I snorted in derision. “I will never call you Master ever again.”

“Then when this is over I will have you beaten, Emma. That's a promise.”

“Dream on, slave boy,” I sneered. I had not forgotten what Simon had done to me in Port Kar. All this was his fault. I could have been home now in the Sardar with my children. “Yishana is never going to free you.”

“Brinn often said that men create their own opportunities in life. I will follow his advice.”

“You're hardly Brinn, Simon. You're out of your depth on Gor without him to back you up and protect you from the nasty old pirate queen who forces you to lick and kiss her asshole! Wait! Perhaps you like that, hmm? Perhaps that gives you a thrill on your hands and knees on her couch, pleasuring her hole with your tongue like the good little boy you are!”

Simon suddenly raised his hand to me in fury, but before he could do anything reckless like striking me, he held himself in check in time.

“Oh... you would like that, wouldn't you? You'd like to hit me, you big strong man of Earth! Well go on then, strike a slave-girl, and see what the Askaris do to you!” I snarled and pushed my face close to his, baring my teeth. “Touch me and I'll scream. Go on. Just try me.”

“You bitch.” Simon lowered his hand but he was boiling now with rage.

“That's right, Simon. You don't so much as touch a hair on my head, or that of any other slave-girl now that you're a slave too! Slave!” I slapped him in the face. It was a hard slap, but he didn't seem to feel the shock of the blow so much as the humiliation of being face slapped by a slave-girl. “Now go and feed the women. I expect they're hungry after last night.” I indicated the slim, curvaceous, lovely looking women, Amelia and Tamaya who whimpered softly by the bales of stores. Ankle chains secured them to iron rings screwed into the deck.

“Feed them yourself, Emma. You're not first girl here. You have no authority over me.”

“Do as I say!” I slapped him hard again. To my annoyance he barely flinched this time.

“And you can't hurt me, Emma. You're just a girl. You're not strong enough.”

I snarled at Simon as he had the audacity to turn around, ignoring me now, and walk away.

“Simon! Come back here! Now!” I shouted, with my hands clenched into small fists, but he simply ignored me. A couple of the Askaris watched the exchange with amusement on their faces. They would have intervened had Simon touched me and I had screamed, but they were not going to enforce any demands I might make on Simon. One of the Askaris walked up to me and took hold of my arm by the elbow.

“Feed the women, kajira,” he said, pointing to the Ladies Amelia and Tamaya. “Then join the other slaves and wash the decks.”

“Yes Master.” 

“What is going to happen to us?” sobbed Lady Tamaya as I knelt beside her with a couple of wooden bowls filled with steaming porridge. With it came some slices of fruit, a piece of stale bread from yesterday and a bota of water. There were no eating utensils and so the Ladies would have to make do with their fingers.

“We are sailing towards the free port of Asperiche, Mistress,” I said as I placed food beside Lady Amelia as well.

“Asperiche?” There was sudden hope in Lady Tamaya's eyes now. “That is where we were headed when our ship was attacked and sunk.” She reached down and gathered the links of the ankle chain, pulling them closer towards her, out of the way of the food tray. “I have a Free Companion waiting for me there!”

“I do not think you will ever see your Free Companion, Mistress.” I divided the slices of fruit between the two women. The women looked bruised and sore from their lengthy ordeal last night with the Askaris.

“The Captain must accept our ransom!” whimpered Tamaya. “Surely she wishes more gold!”

“I really do not know how her mind works on such things, Mistress. You are both of Cos and so normal logic doesn't really apply here.”

“Why? What do you mean by that! Why should our Home Stone make any difference to a simple ransom demand?”

“Because the Mistress hates Cos with a blood vengeance of sorts. You saw what she did to the men who claimed Cos as their Home Stone. You are women of Cos. I believe she prefers the vengeance of seeing the women of Cos enslaved to the profit she might make from ransom.”

“But Saffia is of Cos too and she was spared our ordeal last night! She was told she would be ransomed!”

“I know. The Mistress can be contradictory at times. I do not fully understand her principles on the matter.”

“This is insane,” said Tamaya. “She can't possibly enslave me! Not when ransom can be offered! I can't be a slave!”

“We shall see, Mistress. Eat your porridge before it becomes cold.”

Tamaya looked down at the breakfast bowl and didn't seem to like what she saw. “I at least require a spoon if I am to eat this sludge.”

“No spoon, Mistress. Captives are not permitted tools of any kind. The Ubara, Yishana, is strict on this very point. And the sludge you speak of is the same breakfast that the Askaris will have today. You are not being fed any differently than the free men.”

“I am not hungry,” said Tamaya, pushing the bowl away.

“Nor I,” said Amelia, though I sensed she was as she gave the bowl a second lingering glance.

“As you wish, mistresses.” I picked up the bowls and left the women where they knelt. They could go hungry for all I cared.

Yishana emerged late that morning from her cabin, and didn't bother with breakfast. She wore her long ankle length belted robe of silk, and as always her long hair was braided behind her back. She stood on the poop deck above her cabin with her hands on the rail, gazing down at the main deck of the Larl, deep in thought. It was a good day for sailing with a strong head wind that drove us on towards the island of Asperiche that lies off the shores of the Black Kingdoms close to Schendi. She watched me scrubbing the planks of the deck on my hands and knees with the other slaves. Naomi served as our overseer, and she paced up and down the deck where we worked with buckets of sea water and scrubbing brushes. Simon was exempt from these duties, for cleaning the decks was deemed work for the female slaves. I saw him gazing over the starboard side of the vessel. Occasionally he would turn and watch me and the black slaves as we worked. Once I caught his eye as I scrubbed with the bristle brush on my knees, and he smiled in satisfaction.

There had been some outraged complaints from the Lady Saffia earlier on for contrary to her expectations, she had not been provided with a luxurious cabin, outfitted with fine furnishings last night. Accommodation on the Larl is scarce and cramped, and there is little room for passengers, no matter how High Caste they might be. Yishana had however provided the Lady with a cabin of sorts. The Askaris had been instructed to build a kennel like box on the deck. It was roofed and sided in three places with wooden planks. The fourth open side was made from a hinged cage door with a sliding bolt lock that could be padlocked in place. Measuring six feet by four feet and four feet high, it was Saffia's 'cabin' into which she was forced to crawl, despite her loud protests. She clutched the bars, on her knees, in her fine gowns and robes, as the padlock had been locked in place that night for her security.

“I cannot otherwise guarantee that my Askaris might not use you in the darkness,” Yishana had explained. “They are drunk now and discipline can be lax when they are in such a state. As I said, accommodation is in short supply onboard the Larl, but in deference to your status as a free woman captive of high status, I am providing you with private accommodation.”

“How dare you!” Lady Saffia had hissed in fury. “You cannot treat me like this! I am the Lady Saffia Luna Josefina Alejandra of Telnus! I only travel in the finest of cabins! This is intolerable!”

“Be thankful you do not even now kneel inside the chalk circle with the Ladies Amelia and Tamaya,” Yishana had said as she pointed to where the naked white women awaited the first grasping hands that might pull them to the piles of sail cloth sacking for casual rape once the fires were lit and darkness arrived. “I think you will be content with your secure kennel once my Askaris begin to enjoy themselves.”

The Lady Saffia was perhaps also unhappy with the requirement that this morning she should exercise to keep herself in good shape, for on board a cramped ship it is easy enough to fall into a routine of remaining sedentary if you are not one of the crew with work to do. 

“How dare you!” Saffia had said after breakfast as Yishana had a chain fitted to the woman's left ankle. The other end of the chain was looped loosely around the base of the main mast and padlocked together, leaving her a chain reach of perhaps twenty four inches at most. Yishana told Saffia to now walk in a circle around the mast, the ankle chain trailing with her. In this way she might exercise by walking, and by remaining chained to the mast itself she would not get in the way of anyone who was actually working. To ensure that her floor length gowns would not become entangled in the chain, Yishana had one of the black slave-girls trim the hem of Lady Saffia's clothes to mid calf length with a pair of scissors. The girl was not a professional seamstress and the resulting alteration looked quite amateurish with an uneven length, but Saffia could now walk more easily as a result. Yishana set an hour glass full of sand on a nearby box. The sand would take approximately ten minutes to run out. It would then be turned over repeatedly to time an hour of exercise.

“I will not pace about the mast like some leashed pet!” exclaimed Lady Saffia as she saw the first of the grains of sand trickle down the hour glass.

“You will do so,” said Yishana matter of factly, “or you will be stripped and spend the remainder of the voyage dressed as Emma is.” She pointed to the single length of white cloth that I wore about my hips. To Yishana's satisfaction, the Lady Saffia then began pacing herself around the mast.

Yishana watched her for a while before returning to the poop deck to converse with Kerim Shah, the shaven headed dark robed magician who acted as her confidante on board the Larl. Several of the Askaris seemed interested now that they could see the Lady Saffia's lower calves and ankles. She exercised well, blushing as the short chain slithered around the mast in her wake. She had been permitted footwear and still wore her delicate sequinned slippers, though I suspected they would not last long as they were more decorative than functional. When the sands of the hour glass had run out for the sixth time, Lady Saffia was permitted to stop walking. Naomi freed her ankle and escorted her to the poop deck where she could be away from the crew.

-------------------------------------

There were two proper cabins on the Larl of the Thassa, the second of which was occupied by Kerim Shah, Yishana's self styled magician. There is no such thing as magic of course, but many Goreans are superstitious and they believe in such things, contrary to what I might consider common sense. Kerim Shah claimed to be a magician of great power and learning, and as far as I could see Yishana accepted that statement as absolute fact, as did the black skinned Askaris on board the Larl. What I wasn't so certain about was whether Kerim Shah was a deluded old fool, or whether he knew it was all a lie.

I had witnessed him performing sleight of hand illusions to the Askaris in the evenings, plucking eggs from behind their ears, making silk scarfs disappear and reappear – that kind of thing, but Kerim Shah never claimed these things were true magic. True magic, he always said, required sacrifice and blood and was dangerous to perform.

I saw Kerim Shah appear to cut the palm of his hand open with a sharp knife that he had previously used to slice a tropical fruit in half, and then make his wound vanish as if it had never been there. Of course if this was real as opposed to stage craft, then the casualty list on the Larl would be much smaller than it actually was because he would be able to cure men of stab wounds after a battle. Curiously he never did, and such a glaring logical omission didn't seem to affect the degree of awe and reverence the crew felt for him.

Kerim Shah had sent for me. Naomi found me on the main deck mending garments with a needle and thread – something I'm actually rubbish at - and she told me I was to present myself immediately in Kerim Shah’s cabin. I found the man engrossed in his work, grinding powders and herbs in a mortar and pestle. His cabin was cramped, smaller than Yishana’s and it was crowded with wooden shelves full of bottles, jars and pots. The shelves had bars running along the lengths of the wood so that the containers wouldn’t fall onto the floor with the rocking motion of the vessel. There were racks full of scrolls and books and ancient parchments, and what looked like a rack of amulets made from beaten copper, each one bearing carefully engraved inscriptions of occult symbols.

Yes, Goreans can be very superstitious.

“You sent for me, Master,” I said as I entered the small cabin and knelt before him in nadu.

“I did.” He barely looked up, so rapt was his concentration that for a moment I thought I might be intruding despite his summons. He measured out a very carefully applied minute amount of powder from a stoppered vial and mixed it in with the mortar and pestle bowl. As I watched he moved his right hand over the contents and whispered some words that I couldn’t quite make out. Then, seemingly satisfied with the powder that he had mixed, he carefully decanted it into a blue tinted jar.

“You shared the Ubara’s cabin last night, yes?”

“That is correct, Master.” He already knew this of course, for he seemed to know everything about Yishana’s movements, and in any case the ship itself is small and cramped and there is little to no privacy anywhere on board.

“She seemed… different this morning. Something happened. Tell me.”

This was awkward. On the one hand I was a slave-girl who had just been asked a direct question by a free man, but on the other hand the answer to that question would be a delicate matter, almost certainly an intrusion into Yishana’s privacy.

“The Mistress may not wish me to say, Master.”

“That is for me to decide. You simply need understand that I asked you a question.” He looked up now and regarded me with his stern eyes. I had no doubt that I would be severely punished if I refused to tell him what he wanted to know. “You must understand, Emma, that it is my responsibility to care for the Ubara’s well being, as I have done since she was a small girl. She is the chosen Avatar of Nakeisha wind-rider, but she depends on my council in many things. If a matter troubles her, I need to know what it is.”

I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I would be brutally punished if I remained silent, but if I said anything that might embarrass Yishana, my punishment at her hands might be even worse. I would have to be careful with my words.

“The Mistress lay with both Simon and myself last night.”

“That I know.” Kerim Shah left his work bench and now stood before me. He was tall, Egyptian looking, with a lean, wiry body frame.

“This morning the Mistress was curious as to how strong Simon might be.” I let the implication of that statement hang in the air. Surely that was enough? Surely Kerim Shah might conjecture from those words the nature of what had happened?

“Continue, girl.”

Obviously not.

“The Mistress asked, I mean ordered Simon to take hold of her wrist. She wanted to test the strength of his arm. She tried to free herself.”

Kerim Shah said nothing, but his eyes seemed to indicate that I should continue.

“The Mistress was unable to free herself,” I said, putting it as tactfully as I could. “This was perhaps a surprise to her and a source of... discomfort. She lay in her bed rather quietly after she was released.”

“She had the slave beaten afterwards?” asked Kerim Shah, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“No she didn't, Master.”

There was silence in the cabin for a while. Kerim Shah considered my words for a time and then he spoke again. “The Ubara is a strong woman. She commands a crew of Askaris who worship her, but she only commands their loyalty so long as she remains strong. They know she is the chosen Avatar, but they also know that a chosen Avatar cannot be weak. The Ubara cannot be allowed to seem weak in anything. Do you understand me, girl?”

“Yes, Master.”

“She cannot have self doubts, she cannot have…” he chose his next word carefully, “needs… She cannot indulge needs that are not appropriate in one chosen by Nakeisha. It would be unseemly.”

Translated, he was saying that Yishana could not be allowed to have typical female responses to men. No doubt Kerim Shah had done his best to guide her away from any situation that might lead to her exploring her repressed femininity since her legend on the Thassa began. I began to wonder whether Yishana's bisexuality was as a result of some early conditioning on Kerim Shah’s part, in order to offer her a safer alternative to coupling with men. I knew very little about Yishana's background and nothing about how she rose to such a position.

“I am not sure why you are telling me this, Master.”

“Because you are close to the Ubara and you can possibly play your part to protect her from herself. Whatever the nature of her feelings this morning, I think it wise that the Ubara does not further explore such feelings with this slave. Would you agree that they are inappropriate feelings in one such as her?”

“I suppose so, Master.”

“She is no ordinary woman, therefore she can not concern herself with the needs of ordinary women. She is Yishana! Yishana is above such things. I was not happy when she took a male slave in her quarters. I accepted the situation as it stood when I was reassured that this man was from Earth, not Gorean in nature, so relatively harmless, but even so he is an unfortunate reminder of what can trouble a free woman at times. The Ubara would do better to simply take you in her furs in the evenings, you and you alone.”

“That is not my decision to make, Master.”

“Perhaps not, but it is in your power to truly seduce your Mistress with your training. You can give her the pleasure she desires and make her forget the Earth man.”

“I think she likes us both in her furs. I think she likes the contrast. She likes to dominate Simon.”

“I can be grateful at times to those who do my bidding, Emma. Work with me here and you may find me well disposed to grant you favours within my power. You would like my favour, yes?”

“Yes Master…” I said softly, though this was all beginning to scare me. I did not want to be caught up in the middle of whatever relationship Kerim Shah had with Yishana. He was obviously a mentor of sorts, for he had mentioned already that he had protected her as a small child. I might find myself in a very dangerous situation indeed if Yishana discovered I was secretly spying on her for Kerim Shah.

“Please, Master, I am just a slave… this is beyond me.”

“On the other hand you would not wish me to dislike you, Emma. Things can happen to people I dislike. I could kill you simply by writing your name on a piece of parchment and burning it in a consecrated candle flame made from the body fat of convicted killers. No one would ever know why you suddenly withered away and died without a mark on your body.”

I didn’t believe for a moment that Kerim Shah had such powers, but it was obvious enough that he assumed I was gullible and superstitious, and that his threats would be believed. And for all I knew he would combine his arcane mumbo jumbo with some poison slipped into my food to achieve the given effect.

No, it would not be a good idea to anger Kerim Shah.

“I will obey to the best of my ability, of course, Master. I am a slave.”

“Good. The Ubara walks a singular path and must always be wary of temptations that might distract her from her destiny. If you have any reason to suspect something is likely to do that, you will come to me immediately.”

“What will you do, Master?”

Kerim Shah smiled. “I will... deal with the problem. Permanently.”