Chapter Eleven: I am furious with Brinn, for he is going to sell me in Lydius. I decide therefore to make him feel jealous, with unexpected consequences
We were three days out from Patashqar, and the men sat cross legged now around the burning camp fire in the courtyard of the caravanserai, drinking paga, eating meat, and talking about the reception that might await them on the Northern border of the Tahari, as I danced in provocative pleasure silks and slave bells for their entertainment.
“My plans are constantly evolving,” said Brinn as he sketched out a route in the sand with a stick. “But as they stand now we will reach the villa of Marcellus in just under a week's time. Marcellus is an old friend of mine who loves me like a blood brother and will almost certainly do anything he can to aid me in my mission.”
“Didn't you once steal his favourite Tarn, Captain?” asked Limidius out of curiosity. “I seem to recall he wasn't very happy about it.”
“The events you describe were blown completely out of proportion. That was many years ago and Marcellus has had plenty of time since then to reflect on my good intentions. By now he is probably very embarrassed by the way he threatened to torture and kill me and is desperate to make amends for his unreasonable temper tantrum. I will take advantage of his inevitably strong feelings of guilt towards me.”
“I see,” said Limidius doubtfully.
“In any event, he bears no ill will towards any of you three.” Brinn paused and thought about this for a minute. “I mean, none of you have ever stolen a Tarn from him, have you?”
“I do not think so,” said Limidius, “and as for Santos and Asheer, neither of them are qualified Tarnsmen.”
“That is correct, Captain” said Santos, speaking on behalf of both his brother and himself. “We are rather scared of heights to be honest. Not to mention savage giant birds that can rend a man limb from limb with their talons and beaks.”
“As my brother said,” remarked Asheer as he drank paga. “Especially the bit about talons and beaks.”
“Good, because on the matter of stealing Tarns, Marcellus can be rather cruel and unrelenting to a man who isn't his beloved blood brother, such as I am.”
“You are sure he's not going to try and kill you, Captain, after a period of considerable torture? I heard that he impaled a man once on his walls. The man took over a day to die.”
“That was a notorious agent of the Kurii who had killed one of Marcellus's favourite Tarns. It was a long time ago. Marcellus is older now, rather more mellow in his years.”
“I see, Captain.” Limidius had been gazing at me with desire as I danced in the glowing firelight. He had hardly taken his eyes off me during the entire conversation.
“I will ask Marcellus to provide a great Tarn, which he will no doubt be pleased to do. I will then fly on to Lydius with the coffle of girls and make various arrangements regarding them, and then once they are dealt with I shall determine the state of this Great Game that Seremides and Kurgus are playing for the fate of Gor. You three in the mean time will follow me by land, on the fastest kaiilas that Marcellus can provide. I will need you when I contend with Seremides. You need to reach Lydius with great speed. If I have already left Lydius by the time you reach there, you are to meet me at the exchange point on the Laurius river that I have marked on your maps.” He stabbed with his stick at the position on the sketch map he had drawn in the sand. It was a well known exchange point to slavers and merchants alike.
There are many exchange points along the Laurius river and they are in effect trading points used by outlaws, men, and most interestingly, Panther girls. At certain times of the year Panther Girls will travel to the exchange points to trade with men, for there are certain trade goods they always desire, and they often have animal pelts and captives to offer in exchange. The Panther girls are always interested in acquiring knives, arrow points, small spear points, armlets, bracelets and necklaces, mirrors, slave nets, traps, as well as chains and manacles. They are also typically fond of sweet tasting candies as there is little sugar in the forests except for what occurs naturally in certain berries.
Often their own trade goods are luscious girls who have fled into the forests of Gor, but sometimes too they trade men that they have captured, for men can be prey for these sleek female hunters in the dark emerald veldt. Men however do not typically command very high prices. It has been known for Panther girls to sell a captured man for a stone in weight of hard candies.The exchange points are generally regarded as safe zones, if only to preserve their value for trade purposes. There are few if any instances of women being enslaved at the exchange points, which means that Panther girls, who are wary of armed men for obvious reasons, feel safe enough to attend. It is in the interests of men to maintain this kind of neutrality in the name of commerce.
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I had noticed the two slave-girls soon after Brinn had informed us we would be staying the night in the walled caravanserai. We had entered the main courtyard just in time as it was already filling up due to two large caravans – one heading to Tor and the other coming back from Tor. Already all the rooms were taken by the various caravan Masters and their high paying guests, so Brinn paid to use an area of the courtyard close to one of the high walls. He instructed me to set about preparing a camp fire in the sand while he rubbed down and fed our kaiilas who by now were quite exhausted from their double loads. There were four kaiilas in all which Brinn had procured before we left Patashqar. I had been tied to the front of Brinn's saddle, bent over on my stomach as usual, while Jacinta had been similarly bound over Santos's saddle and Melinda, protesting loudly as usual, had been secured over the saddle of Asheer.
“I should be travelling in a Kurdah at least!” she howled as she was slung on to her stomach and her wrists and ankles were bound to the corresponding saddle rings. Jacinta bore her own binding in silence, saying nothing to any of the men. I was well used to this form of transport by now and so I simply lay in position as commanded. Limidius wasn't burdened by a girl in a slave tunic chained to his saddle, so he rode slightly ahead of the main party, scouting out for any signs of trouble behind the rolling sand dunes, with a cavalry spear in his right hand. It was unlikely that four men in scarlet tunics would be attacked, but sometimes bandits grow desperate if other easier pickings become scarce.
As soon as I had built the rudimentary camp fire I went in search of water from the caravanserai well for cooking and washing. Many slave girls were already queueing to draw water from the tethered bucket, and it was there that I saw them – two collared girls in common slave camisks who could only be the former Free Women, Sareena and Rosalin, whom I had travelled with before my caravan to Patashqar had been ambushed. When I had last seen the women they had been begging our guide, Kargan, to take them with him, as the desert raiders sacked and burned our camp. Kargan had declined to do so, fearing that their beautiful bodies would slow him down.
“Sareena... Rosalin...” I was actually happy to see familiar faces after all this time and so I hurried over to where they were washing some tunics with water from the well. Rosalin looked up in puzzlement, obviously not recognising me as she had never seen my unveiled face.
“Who are you?” Possibly my voice sounded vaguely familiar, but that was not enough for her to remember my name.
“It's Felice. I travelled with you in the caravan. We played 'I am not a slave' in the evenings with date stones. Though my name is Emma now.”
“Oh!” Rosalin recognised my voice now, as did Sareena. “Yes, I remember you now. You were terrible at that game. You nearly always ended up as the slave.”
“Yes, well... it was a stupid game anyway,” I said with an annoyed pout. “I'm glad to see you're both alive.”
“And I you,” said Rosalin. “I am Mina now, and this is Kina,” she indicated the girl who previously was known as Sareena.
“Mina and Kina the slave-girls,” I laughed softly as we hugged.
“Mina, Kina and Emma the slave-girls,” corrected Kina as she kissed me on the forehead. “We all have brands now.”
“Yes, that is true.” I knelt down next to them, knowing Brinn would not object if I spoke to other slave-girls for a short while. I wasn't expected to start cooking just yet. “You both look beautiful in your collars. Who owns you?”
“Kargan,” said Mina with pride. “He bought us in an auction at the oasis of the Twenty Three Palms five days after we had been captured.”
“I was sold there too,” I said. “Though much later.”
Kina reached over and lifted the brief hem of my tunic to reveal the brand on my left thigh. “Pretty,” she said.
“You think so?” I touched my brand with the tips of my fingers and felt rather proud that my brand was pretty much perfect. It had long since healed and was now clean and sharp against my skin. I suppose it was pretty, but I still resented Rashid branding me.
“And how are you finding your slavery, Emma?”
I tossed my hair in indignation by way of reply. “I hate it obviously, just like you do. It is so degrading and shameful, but what choice do I have? It must be equally terrible for you and Mina?”
The girls looked at one another with something corresponding to 'do we tell her looks'.
“Um, yes, Emma, of course, it's terrible. We find it degrading too.” Mina looked a little unsure of herself as she said that.
“The things we are forced to do...” said Kina. “We have no choice of course!”
“Of course! It is much the same with me. I have no interest in men. I just lie there and certainly do not co-operate in any way with my rape,” I assured the girls.
“Oh, that's the same for Mina and I,” said Kina, as Mina stared at her in surprise, before suddenly nodding and agreeing perhaps a little too quickly. “Often as Kargan takes me in the furs I simply lie there with my eyes shut, thinking of my homestone. I take no pleasure from it of course. I am not a slut.”
“Nor I,” I quickly agreed. “All this talk of 'slave bellies' and 'slave needs' – it may apply to sluts, but not the likes of us.”
“Oh no, Emma, definitely not to us.” She nibbled her lower lip a little, before asking, “does your Master take you... often... during the night?”
“I really can't remember,” I said with a sigh and a pout. “I think perhaps he does. I find it irritating to be honest. Fairly frequently in an evening, you could say. And then occasionally rousing me from my sleep in the early hours of the morning. I suppose it is fairly frequent. Five or six times? Possibly seven? I don't really pay attention. I find it somewhat boring to be honest.”
“As do we,” said Mina. “Our Master too uses us frequently. Sometimes he is like an animal...”
“Oh?” I gazed at Mina in curiosity. “My Master too can be somewhat forceful. I suppose a slut might find it enjoyable. But I wouldn't really know.”
“You... never feel anything?” asked Kina. “Not even when your Master places his hand between your thighs?”
I blushed slightly. “Of course not.”
Kina lowered her eyes and then confessed. “I lied, Emma. Please do not hate me, but I do feel aroused as a slave-girl. I tried to fight these feelings early in my slavery, but I failed. I do crave his touch, and sometimes I beg for it.”
“It's true,” said Mina, seemingly embarrassed. “We both respond shamefully. Is that truly not the case for you? Please be honest with us. Tell us we are not alone in this? Tell us this is normal?”
“I maybe do... sometimes... respond...” I said quietly. “I was afraid you didn't, and you'd look down on me. I sometimes feel so ashamed of the way my body has been conditioned since I was enslaved. It's like I'm not in control of my own feelings any more. And... my Master is going to sell me when we reach Lydius!” I sobbed.
Kina and Mina looked at one another. Mina nodded and Kina leant over to put her arms around me. “Be strong, Emma. Masters do sometimes sell their girls. It happens to all of us eventually.”
“I can't start all over again! Going from one Master to another, always being afraid of what the next one will be like, how he will treat me. My first Master was very cruel. This one... he is strict, but not cruel... that is the best I can hope for on Gor. And there are times when I feel happy in his arms. Oh God, I feel so embarrassed confessing this to you, but sex with him is so good.”
Kina nodded. “We understand, Emma. It is the same with Kargan. We would not want to be sold. I am so sorry for you. Have you disappointed him so much?”
“I don't know,” I wept. “This is so stupid. Sometimes I hate him. I really hate him. And other times... I need him so much. I hate being a slave, and yet sometimes when I'm being fucked, I love my collar and I wouldn't be free again if it was offered to me. And then I come crashing back down to reality. And I'm going to be sold! I'll be on an auction block, put through my paces by a man with a whip, and I'll have to beg to be bought, and anyone could buy me, and... what have I done wrong? Why doesn't he want me? Am I so ugly, clumsy? Am I unresponsive in the furs? I thought... I thought I did well. I have been trained – I know how to please a man. At least I think I do. But I'm going to be sold. I'm so scared what will happen to me in another man's collar.”
“Emma, you need to remind your Master what he stands to lose if he sells you. Show him what a superb slave you can be. Make him understand how pleasing you can be. Men are stupid and act on whims. He will no doubt regret selling you soon after he does. Make him understand what he will lose before you reach Lydius and prevent him from making that mistake.”
“How? How do I do that?”
“I don't know. But you will find a way.” Kina held me for a time and said nothing. She knew, I think, that my fears were genuine and all too real.
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“I intend to sell her in Lydius,” said Brinn as he gazed at my long legs that seemed to glow from the flickering firelight. I think he had noticed the way Limidius had been captivated by my dancing that night.
“Why wait until you get to Lydius?” said Limidius as he watched my body move suggestively in the warm glow of the firelight. “I could make you an offer for the girl tonight.” He drank some paga from his bowl.
It hadn’t occurred to me that any of Brinn’s men might be interested in buying me. I whirled round in my dancing silks and gazed at him as his eyes didn’t drift from my slim dancing body. I know when a man desires me and right there I could tell that Limidius desired me very much indeed.
“You want to buy... Emma?” Brinn laughed as he raised his own paga bowl to his lips. None of Brinn's men laughed though, and within a few ihn Brinn's laugh too had faded away.
“Yes, why not,” said Limidius. “What do you want for her?”
Brinn stared at his friend in surprise. “I... hadn’t planned on selling her quite so soon.”
“But you are planning on selling her when you reach the markets of Lydius, yes? We are unlikely to be travelling together from the villa, so you’ll be in Lydius before me. I’m likely to miss her sale.” He gazed at my legs, my hips and my breasts. The dancing silks left much of them bare. “I’m prepared to offer a silver Tarsk for her now.”
“That’s… a lot of money,” said Brinn, looking very surprised now. He glanced at me again.
“I have a lot of money, thanks to your generosity, Captain.” Limidius smiled, knowing it was the sort of offer for a girl that would rarely be refused.
“It is tempting.” Brinn regarded me and I could see he hadn’t expected this. It was making him think.
“I assume she means nothing to you, Captain?”
“Of course not. She is just a girl.” Brinn looked somewhat troubled.
“A silver Tarsk then? We can do the deal now and I'll place her in my collar.” Limidius spat into his right hand and offered it to Brinn. I moved towards my Master, silks swirling around my hips, and I reminded him of what he currently owned. I danced enticingly in front of him, my body almost but not quite being within reach of his hands. I could see my movements were having a profound effect on my Master and in fact he now looked troubled by the offer.
“A whole silver Tarsk?” Brinn was hypnotised by my swirling movements. I danced every move I knew, and I danced them for Brinn. If he was going to sell me here and now I wanted him to realise exactly what he was giving up for a silver Tarsk. “I think I shall wait until we reach Lydius to sell her,” he said after a while.
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“Your food, Mistress.” I had knelt beside Melinda earlier that evening and placed a bowl beside her knees. She regarded me silently for a moment before she turned her attention to the bowl. It contained Foul Meddamas – a Tahari dish that was basically fava beans, olive oil, parsley, onion, garlic and lemon, with a name that didn't really do it any favours on account of the 'foul' bit. It doesn't have the most appetising of presentations – blobby brown mush is about the best description I can give of it, though that's technically the case with curry and chilli too, but the taste and texture certainly makes up for it. I had cooked it over the camp fire, and served it to Brinn with some chunks of sa-tarna bread. Melinda however had not been given any bread accompaniment. There were no eating utensils.
“Am I expected to eat with my fingers then?” asked Melinda. She wore the same brief slave tunic that Jacinta did. Both were light blue in colour with deep necklines and slits in the sides that exposed her thighs to a man’s view and touch. Brinn had made no concessions in the briefness of the hem line in consideration for Melinda’s continuing status as a Free Woman. I wore a similar tunic but of an off white colour, and of course in my case you could see a glimpse of my brand when the garment moved on me.
“That is correct, Mistress. My Master will not provide you with metal implements that might be used as weapons.”
“I find this set of circumstances disagreeable. I am a Free Woman.”
“Yes, Mistress, you are.”
“I find you disagreeable too, slave,” she sneered.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“I look forward to seeing you sold in Lydius. I will be watching the sale, dressed in fine gowns and robes once I am exchanged for the Priest King agent.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Perhaps I will buy you,” said Melinda with a cruel smile. “Would you like me to buy you?”
“Please, Mistress, don’t ask me that…”
“I am asking you! Answer the question, Emma, or I will tell your Master you have been displeasing.”
“I would rather not be bought by you, Mistress…”
“You’re not totally stupid then.” Melinda regarded the bowl of food again and frowned. “I could be given a spoon at least.”
“My Master has said no. I can return the food if you wish?”
“No.” Melinda quickly picked up the bowl. The meddamas was hot and smelled good. “I am expected to endure the occasional hardship in my service to the Kurii. I suppose I can endure this indignity as proof of my expertise.” She began to feed herself with her fingers. Like Jacinta, her ankles were locked together with a very small length of chain – no more than three inches in length between the ankle rings. A longer chain, perhaps three feet in length, connected her left ankle ring to the right ankle ring of lady Jacinta. The two beauties were confined together to make it impossible for one to attempt an escape without the full co-operation of the other, while the three inch length of the close chains made walking, let alone running, practically impossible.
I knelt now before Jacinta, my friend. She had been silent while Melinda had insulted me, and in fact had not said much at all any point during our journey north. She seemed to me to be brooding, or perhaps was still in some state of shock for what had happened to her. Whatever it was, it made her highly unreceptive to any attempt at conversation. She also looked very sad, as if she felt her life was now over.
“Mistress, I can give you food too, if you ask for it.”
She regarded me with a forlorn expression and said, “beg for it, you mean, Emma.”
“You need only request food from my Master and he will give you some.”
“I understand he wishes me to say something along the lines of, ‘your captive girl is hungry and begs you feed her,' yes?”
I felt uncomfortable having to tell her this. “Yes, Mistress something along those lines would do.”
“I do not wish to beg Brinn or any of his men for food.” She turned her head and regarded the chain attached to her right ankle ring.
“But Mistress has not eaten now for over 60 hours…”
“Well, I’ve been meaning to re-start my diet.” There was a trace of a smile in the corner of her lips as she said that.
“You will not aid your cause by starving yourself. You should conserve and marshal your strength.”
“To what end exactly? I do not foresee an opportunity to escape before we reach Lydius.” Jacinta examined her ankle chains as she had done frequently since she had been stripped in Brinn’s house. She paid particular attention to the locks on her ankle rings.
“In Lydius your identity as an agent of Priest Kings will be confirmed, yes?” I said. “In which case you needn’t worry. Unless…” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “you do not serve truly serve Priest Kings…” I was very worried for Jacinta if this latter possibility might be true. Brinn wasn’t a cruel man by Gorean standards, but if he discovered that he had been convincingly lied to, and therefore tricked into treating Jacinta for a time as a free captive instead of enslaving her, then he would likely be furious with terrible consequences for Jacinta. Gorean men do not appreciate being made fools of. I would not like to be Jacinta if it turned out that she had lied about working for Priest Kings. There are certain rules to submission and capture. If a woman is given the opportunity to submit, she is expected to do so immediately and fully or suffer the consequences. The same principle applies to the culmination of a city siege. Traditionally when the defenders find their walls are breached and their cause is doomed, they are offered surrender terms. Should these terms be refused, meaning the attackers will suffer casualties in storming the breaches in the city walls, then typically no quarter is given once the attack begins.
The Lady Jacinta had had the opportunity to accept slavery to save her life. If it turned out that she had lied to avoid slavery, then the consequences might even lead to her death.
“As I said before, I serve Priest Kings,” said Jacinta as she looked me calmly in the face. Brinn had been right – it was impossible to read her expression. She was either telling the truth or she was the most proficient liar I had ever met. But I was worried for her. This could be a dangerous game she was playing.
“Please let me bring you food. It is good. I cooked it myself.” I touched her thigh, which was an incredibly daring thing to do as I was a slave and she was free, but Jacinta was my friend.
“I do not wish to beg a man for food. It would set a dangerous precedent.”
“Mistress is very proud,” I said with a smile. “I wish I was as a strong as you.”
“I assume I do not have to beg for water, Emma?”
“No, Mistress. My Master does not wish you to die of thirst.” I poured some water into a pan and gave it to her. She placed the pan to her lips and drank from it as I watched. Jacinta was beautiful in the brief pale blue slave livery, and I couldn’t help but speculate how stunning she would look with a brand, a collar, earrings and slave cosmetics.
“What?” She noticed I was staring at her.
“Mistress is very beautiful,” I said, lowering my eyes.
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded bitter. “But I would trade my beauty right now for a set of keys, a knife and a saddled and fully provisioned kaiila.”
“But surely Mistress will be freed in Lydius when her identity is confirmed by the Priest Kings?”
“Of course,” said Jacinta with an absolutely convincing expression.
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“Is she restricted at the moment?” asked Limidius, as he sat drinking paga at the camp fire. I was dancing what is commonly referred to as a 'Need' dance, which tells a story of sorts in five stages. First I danced as if indifferent to men, not wishing their touch. Then comes the second stage of the dance, commonly referred to by Goreans as 'not yet raped' in which the girl feels distress, unease, restlessness, and she finds herself disturbed by sexual urges that she doesn't really understand. During the third stage of the dance the girl begins to acknowledge her needs before her Masters in a helpless and teasing manner. Then comes the fourth stage of the dance – the 'heat of the collared she-sleen', as the slave shamelessly dances her overpowering need and begs for sexual satisfaction. Finally comes the 'Heat of the Slave-girl' closing sequence in which the dance becomes far more dramatic and exciting as the girl, on all fours in the sand, is overcome with desire, and she begins practically throwing herself at the gathered men, begging and pleading with them for slave rape, through the motions of her dance. It is one of the many Harem dances I was taught during my time in the pens of Banu Hashim.
If the expression on Limidius's face was anything to go by, I dance it rather well...
“Of course not,” said Brinn. “We fought together in the great Ar—Cos war, you and I, and in those days we always shared what little we had. That hasn't changed. Be my guest, sword brother.”
Limidius reached out and took my left wrist as I turned before him in a swirl of dancing silks. I was pulled onto his lap, to the cheers of the other two men, though Brinn sat silently, watching.
“Kiss me, slut,” said Limidius with a big smile, and I did so. I knew Brinn was watching me closely again and so I applied all the skills I had learnt in the slave pens of Banu Hashim. Let my Master see the pleasure I could give to another man. I ensured I was the perfect slut, squirming and kissing Limidius who groaned with arousal as I did everything I knew to drive him wild with lust. Before I knew it he suddenly threw me down onto my back and I felt his hands tear at the pleasure silks wrapped around my hips. From the look in his eyes I could see he was now only thinking with his cock.
Brinn sat silently, nursing his bowl of paga as Limidius rose, lifted his own tunic and entered me. The dappled firelight flickered over our bodies as we coupled, and I made a big show of moaning, squealing and crying out in pleasure – much of which was actually genuine in fact, for Limidius was experienced and knew what he was doing with me, though I may also have played on it a little to amplify my arousal. After my use, I Iay curled up on Limidius's lap and purred softly, prompting him to feed me scraps of meat from his right hand. As I chewed the meat I risked a sly glance at Brinn and softly smiled as I saw how he gripped his paga bowl so tightly. I shook my head, tossed my hair, and ensured Limidius and Brinn heard the erotic jingle of my earrings. My hands played across his chest and thighs and I kissed and licked where I knew I might drive a man wild.
“By the Gods of the Desert Sands, girl, you are on fire tonight,” said Limidius as he threw down his paga bowl and pushed me quickly onto my belly. I raised my ass slightly and parted my thighs, inviting his touch. Brinn was still silent, though I could hear Asheer and Santos cheering as Limidius pushed inside me for the second time. So my Master was going to sell me in Lydius was he? Well, let him see what I would do for other men! I would be the perfect slut whenever my Master chose to watch. Let him see me at my very best. Afterwards I rose and smoothed the remaining silks around my body, breathing heavily, flushed with orgasm and beaming as a freshly fucked slave-girl tends to do. You have no idea what slave sex is like – how fulfilling it is to a girl. I was wild and happy and I flaunted my body in front of Limidius in gratitude. The female orgasm is deeper, more intense than the male equivalent, and I should know as I'm in the unique position of having experienced both kinds during my life so far. Slavery seems to make it easier for a woman to reach orgasm, though I cannot be sure of this myself, as I had been a virgin when I was a Free Woman and I have therefore only ever had sex as a slave-girl. Other slaves have however told me this is the case, and I have no reason to disbelieve them. It was certainly true that by now I was very conditioned to be aroused in certain ways. Bondage for example had an amazing effect on my body, making me wet and ready for use very quickly indeed. In this I do not seem to be unusual as I have seen the effects of bondage on many other women too
Suddenly I froze as I saw the kneeling figure of Jacinta gazing at me in shock, sorrow and what could only be acute disappointment as she watched me flaunt myself, offer myself to Limidius and worse still, encourage him in his use of me. She saw me standing there, my body simmering with sexual arousal, my hair unkempt, my skin slick with perspiration, my nipples erect, my eyes wide, and my lips smouldering, almost begging to kiss a man’s lips again. With horror I imagined how I must look to her now – the very worst picture she could ever conceive of me. Our eyes locked for a few seconds before she quickly looked away, her face distraught that the woman she had befriended had shown herself to be the worst kind of slut on Gor. My hands flew to my mouth in dismay. What had I done? I had never meant for Jacinta to see me like this! I hadn't been thinking straight.
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“Please speak to me, Jacinta, please…”
The men were deep in conversation now that my dance was ended. Slowly Jacinta turned her face towards me and I could see the sheer anger in her eyes. “Did you have a pleasant evening, Emma, licking and kissing and sucking and fucking?” She said the words slowly, accusingly, each word dripping with venom. “My God, to think I used to sit in café bars with you, drinking wine and sharing your dismay at how provocatively the slave-girls moved nearby. No wonder men collared you. You’re a disgrace. And to think I was going to free you if I could…”
“Jacinta, please, I didn’t think you’d be there. I was getting back at Brinn who is going to sell me and…”
“I don’t want to hear it. I was wrong about you, Emma, very wrong. You are a slave. You’re a slave in your heart and your belly. I hope men never free you. I hope you get what you want - a life time of servitude and bondage. You deserve what obviously makes you so very, very happy…” she said bitterly.
“I’m so sorry. Jacinta, if I could take that back, I would…”
“Don’t call me that!” she snapped. “I’m a Free Woman and you’re a slave. You call me Mistress from now on. Understand, slut? You call me Mistress!”
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