Kiera of Gor (12)

12: I speak to the caravan slave called Karina after breakfast

“Did you sleep well in your furs… with your slut,” said Marissa in a bitter tone of voice as she ate her breakfast. She sat in the central room of the tent at a low table provided by the caravan master for his first class paying passengers. I knelt by her side serving the food and drink.

“I did indeed, Lady,” said Brinn with a smile as he joined us at the table. He was in a good mood for the black slave girl, Karina, had roused him from his slumber with her mouth as he had told her to do the previous night. It was his favourite way to wake up in the morning, and one he apparently instructed the girls at his Sardar estate to perform when they shared his bed.

“I see.” Marissa didn’t look too happy about that. “Barbarian girls are stupid of course.” She had noticed from Karina's accent that she was a barbarian like me. What she hadn't noticed was that Karina seemed very awkward this morning as she knelt beside Brinn and interestingly she tried her best not to look in my direction. I on the other hand was looking at her a great deal.

“Really?” said Brinn as he helped himself to fresh bread and tarsk strip bacon. “I found conversation with Karina last night quite insightful and interesting. She seems capable of intelligent speech.”

“You would find a Gorean girl of greater interest. One from the central city states perhaps.”

“You are of the central city states of course,” said Brinn with a smile.

“Yes I am. But I simply mean we are generally higher in intelligence then the barbarians from Earth.”

“Is that a fact? Well, in that case I defer to the implication that you would make a more delightful and intelligent caravan owned slave-girl than Karina does,” said Brinn as he munched the first of his breakfast rolls.

“That is not what I meant!”

“Oh? Then what did you mean, Lady?”

“Only that Karina like all barbarian girls is stupid, and you should not waste time or money on her.”

“I will take your advice into consideration of course. How is your breakfast this morning?” he said by way of tactfully changing the subject, for free women were notoriously prickly on the subject of slaves.

“It is adequate, I suppose. That would be my most generous description of what has been provided by the caravan master.” Marissa moved a tarsk strip of bacon about her plate with the prongs of a fork. “I would prefer the food to have less fat.”

“Of course,” said Brinn. “And did you sleep well, Lady, in your pavilion tent?”

She bristled at that question. It was I suppose something of a sore point for both of us. “The camp was noisy,” said Marissa with a degree of tact. “The Tharlarion are prone to snorting and snuffling and hissing at night.”

“So they are,” said Brinn. “They have no manners it seems.”

“And there was snoring from some of the nearby tents and bedrolls. And... certain other sounds... that I shall not dignify with an accurate description...” she gave Brinn an accusatory stare that he seemed to ignore or not understand. “I am a light sleeper. I am generally restless at night in my bed. I pick up on... sounds emanating from the other side of the tent...”

“Restless?” said Brinn with a smile. If he made any connection between her remarks and the epic bout of noisy lovemaking he had indulged in, he didn't show it.

“Yes, restless. I sometimes find it difficult to drop off to sleep as I have various thoughts running through my head. I am a highly intelligent woman and I have an active imagination.”

“Interesting. Perhaps you are insufficiently tired when you retire to bed. A sleeping draught from the physicians, perhaps?”

“I sometimes resort to such things in my house in Corcyrus, but I am hardly going to drug myself to sleep as I lie in a tent on the open plains of Gor. I would be helpless in such a state.”

“Of course. A wise decision, Lady. I hadn’t considered that.”

“I do not take careless risks, Brinn. You will find me to be experienced and quite resourceful during the time we work together.”

“And I am pleased to hear it.” Brinn helped himself now to some scrambled vulo eggs. Breakfast was his favourite meal of the day, and one that he felt was important to supply strength for whatever the day turned out to hold. My mistress frowned though as the warrior heaped large amounts of food onto his plate, half burying the stacks of bacon rashers already there.

“Do you always eat so much?” said Marissa as she picked slowly at her own food with the delicacy free women are famous for.

“Yes. Do you always eat so little?” he replied, pointing to the bare minimum of food she had selected.

“I have my figure to think of,” she said. It was of course an exquisite figure, slim and well proportioned, almost slave perfect in fact, though as I have previously observed, not quite as good as mine. This was rare among free women as they had the luxury of not having to concern themselves with the perfect measurements required for slaves. Brinn I think considered the possibility that Lady Marissa was very vain when it came to her appearance. He had also noticed that when in private with him, and particularly when she ate, she now went without any form of veiling. This I think was quite bold since they had only known each other for eight days. It is of course acceptable for free women to dispense with veils in private if a man is a blood relation, close associate or bordering on free companionship. While it was true that Brinn was working closely with her now, I wasn't sure whether eight days really counted as a close working relationship.

“It is rather daring of you to sit here without veils, Lady,” said Brinn as he spooned scrambled egg into his mouth. Eating while talking was something Marissa considered very vulgar indeed, and so she glanced at the table whenever Brinn did so. “All the other women travelling with the caravan retain a certain level of modesty.” It was true. They all wore light veils and lifted the veils carefully each time they brought a small morsel of food to their lips.

“I am quite progressive in such things,” said Marissa, “and I find eating while veiled a clumsy way of dining. It is difficult not to stain a veil if you wear it at the table. I wear veils when I am in public of course, but as we now have a close working relationship, I feel you are entitled to view my features in private.”

“Even so, the caravan master insists on certain standards of decency amongst his passengers. As it happens he spoke with me last night after a passing free woman accidentally observed you eating unveiled in your tent. He feels it is not good for the discipline and decency of the first class passengers. He asked me to speak to you.”

“Oh.” Marissa was a bit taken aback by this. “What did he say?”

“I will not repeat the exact words he used for you may find the context of some of them uncomfortable. Suffice to say he would prefer you to dine alone in your private bed space with the partition closed if you insist on discarding your veil while eating.” Brinn didn’t mention an alternative that the caravan master had suggested if my Mistress wasn’t prepared to veil herself at the breakfast table – an alternative that involved Brinn stripping and collaring her and feeding her by hand as she knelt at the table like a slave girl. The caravan master had very entrenched views on the way that free women should comport themselves in private, let alone in public, especially while travelling in his caravan, and as it happened Brinn shared some of those views. “It would be best if you veiled yourself now. I took the liberty of picking up some of your veils, Lady.” He placed them on the table close to where Marissa sat.

“May I remind you, Brinn, that I am Samos’s senior agent here, and that I am in overall command.” Nevertheless Marissa picked up the veils as she said that.

“Samos has yet to say that to me himself. You may be progressive in certain preferences that are accommodated in cities such as Ar, but I am not quite so progressive, Lady Marissa, and I expect certain standards in any free woman that I work with. I ask you to veil yourself now. Furthermore you will maintain decent standards of veiling at all times while we work together. That extends to light veiling in your house when I am present.”

“You think you have the right to tell me how to behave in my own home?” Marissa looked amused.

“I do.” Brinn sat there and crossed his arms while he regarded Marissa.

“Well, I choose not to. I am a free woman and this tent is my home. It is my private residence. I can do as I wish inside my private residence.”

“I find the sight of your unveiled features distracting...” said Brinn as he shifted in discomfort.

“Oh?” From the sly smile on her face I think Marissa was actually quite pleased at the thought of Brinn feeling distracted by her. “Distracting, how?”

Brinn was obviously uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “By the Priest Kings, I can see your lips, woman!” he snapped.

“And?” Yes, she really was enjoying this.

“It is distracting! Do I need to say more?”

Marissa dabbed at her ripe lips with a soft napkin, which I thought might be pushing things a little too far this morning. “You can surely control yourself?”

“If you must know, it is why I rented use of the caravan girl last night.” He indicated the kneeling Karina who still had her head down rather than meet my gaze.

“Then I trust you are now in a more relaxed frame of mind and less driven by your baser urges,” my Mistress said with a soft smile.

Brinn fumed quietly and then, glancing at me, changed the conversation. “May I feed your slave?” he asked. This surprised me as much as it did Marissa.

“Why?” She regarded me with suspicion.

“She appears hungry,” said Brinn. “And I have surplus food.”

“Very well.” Marissa seemed a little irritated now, but didn't want to concede that the request bothered her.

“Kneel here, Kiera,” said Brinn. I did so, feeling my pulse quicken. I was kneeling now before a man! I felt excited as he cut a small piece of tarsk bacon and motioned for me to open my mouth. He placed the food on my tongue and motioned for me to chew. Another couple of pieces followed from his hand.

I felt dizzy with excitement. I was kneeling in a collar, being fed my food by hand by a strong, virile man! Could this morning get any better...

“Thank you Master,” I said as I swallowed a piece of the bacon. I watched as he dipped a piece of the bread roll into the scrambled vulo eggs and held it towards me to bite at. I nibbled at the roll in what I hoped might be a pleasing way. When he smiled at me my heart began to pound and I felt an embarrassing heat between my thighs.

“This is a lovely piece of slave flesh,” said Brinn as he stroked my hair. “How much did she cost you?”

“Fifteen copper tarsks,” said Marissa.

“Money well spent,” said Brinn. “I would pay twice that for her.” My heart skipped a beat hearing that and I flushed with pride as I straightened my back and sucked in my stomach, kneeling perfectly before the handsome warrior of the Sardar mountains.

“Then you are a fool with too much money,” said Marissa. “She isn't worth that.”

“Would you sell her to me for thirty copper tarsks?” enquired Brinn with a smile. “As she isn't worth that figure I assume you will jump at the opportunity.”

“No. She is not for sale.”

Brinn laughed and fed me another piece of tarsk bacon that I eagerly took from his hand with my teeth.

“I think Kiera can finish her breakfast later,” said Marissa in an icy sounding voice. “Best not to spoil the little slut.”

“As you wish, Lady,” said Brinn pleasantly.

“I wish to take a walk. I would like some fresh air.” Marissa rose from where she had been kneeling and picked up one of the veils to pin in place. “You will accompany me, please, Brinn.”

“As you wish, Lady.”

A few minutes passed by. The black skinned caravan slave had not been dismissed from the tent and so despite the fact that Brinn had stepped out, she was forced to remain on her knees close by. She still seemed reluctant to look at me. In fact she looked very uncomfortable that I was in the tent with her.

“So you’re a caravan slave, Eleanor,” I said to the girl I had last seen when we were chained next to one another on the sales platform in the Corcyrian market place. Her collar was distinctive as it was laminated with two vertical blue stripes on what would be the right hand side when the collar had the ring displayed at the throat of the girl. This meant that caravan girls could be distinguished from a distance from privately owned girls. It’s worth noting that few Goreans other than the caste of scribes can actually read, and so identifying marks of colour aids instant recognition. She wore a slave tunic that was light blue with two vertical white stripes on the left hand side of the garment. These stripes contrasted with the collar design and again made it easy to identify a caravan girl from any distance. Sometimes of course she might be naked, so the collar design was the primary method of identification.

“Yes, I was sold the following day after your own sale. But I'm called Karina now. That is the name I have been given. You mustn't call me Eleanor. I could be beaten for responding to that name.” She seemed scared, no longer as stubborn and strong willed as I remembered. Slowly she raised her head to look at me at last.

“This is your first collar? You’ve been with the same master since Sadric sold us both?”

She nodded. She seemed embarrassed to be here with me, perhaps because she suspected I had heard the sounds she had made last night. “I received a few days of training and then I was put to work. There are eight of us caravan girls in all. Sally Peterson was bought by the caravan master too. She will be here somewhere in some man's tent. She has been named Candina.”

“I heard you last night,” I said. I had thought she was the strongest of us all. I had thought she would resist her collar. I watched her blush in shame for we had been of the same coffle since we crashed on Gor.

“You heard? All of it?”

“All of it.” I nodded as she lowered her gaze again. It was difficult for her to meet the look of disappointment in my eyes. “You’re not white silk any more.”

“No. My white silk days are behind me.” She looked down at the grass and sighed. “The master last night was not my first. I have been used several times by several men since we last spoke. Caravan girls are made available for a copper tarsk to any man who travels with us. I am... reasonably popular. ”

“I can hardly blame you that you were used, but the sounds you made... I think you were complicit in your use, Karina.”

“I was.” Eleanor looked up and stared at me. “You have no idea. You really don’t. If you knew…”

“Knew what?”

“If you knew what it is like to be mastered by men…”

“I don’t want to be mastered,” I said angrily. “I don't want to know. I looked up to you, Karina! How could you let me down like this! I’ve tried to be strong in your memory. And then I hear you the way I heard you last night. You sounded like a slut.”

“I am a slut.” She regarded me with a sympathetic expression. “Don’t judge me so harshly, Kiera. I am a woman, and women have needs that can only be fulfilled in certain ways. You're still white silk. You can't possibly understand.”

“I do not have such needs! Look at you, listen to what you’re saying! I looked up to you in the chain coffle. You’ve let us all down.”

“I was as scared as you were in those days,” said Eleanor. “I just tried hard not to show it. I’m sorry if you feel that I’ve let you down, but things change when you wear a collar. You’re probably no longer the woman who woke up inside a slaver’s capsule yourself.” Karina touched her collar and then her brand. “We’re slaves now, Kiera. That’s all we can be. Men will have it no other way.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be free?”

“Truthfully, Kiera? I can’t see it happening. Men on this planet don’t seem to have romantic feelings when it comes to slaves. They just don’t see us that way. It never crosses their mind to free us. Anything is possible I suppose, but freedom doesn’t seem likely. Tell me, what is it like being owned by a woman?”

“Not good,” I said. “I thought it would be a safer slavery, that a woman might treat me better because of our common sex, but Marissa is wildly unpredictable. Sometimes she talks to me as if we’re close confidantes, and then other times she’ll cut me dead with some spiteful remark or whip me for some minor offence. I never know which way her mood will swing. She dresses me like this,” I plucked at the thin figure hugging fabric that constituted my sole garment, “and then berates me if I appear sexual in any way. I’m not to look at men, and…”

“That must be hard.” Eleanor shuffled closer to me so we could speak quietly. “The men here are really hot.”

“Yeah, they are.” I blushed, embarrassed to be admitting this. “It helps of course that everyone has had their ageing suspended at their peak prime.”

“I know. No wrinklies as far as the eye can see.”

“I think my mistress resents slaves. I don’t understand why. It’s almost as if she’s jealous of us, but that’s crazy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Eleanor. “I rarely interact with free women. When I’m not booked with a man I’m working somewhere out of sight of free women. I heard from some of the other girls that they can be a nightmare though, so I don’t think your mistress is unique on that account.”

“She really hated having to listen to you last night. It wasn’t just the noise, I think she found it unsettling having to imagine what you were doing in there.”

“It was really good sex,” giggled Eleanor suddenly. “It’s like, now that I’m a slave, completely a slave, I can shed my inhibitions. I was always too frightened to have sex on Earth, for all manner of complex reasons, but here on Gor I don’t have a choice and the effect of that is like opening the flood gates. My body feels so alive and vibrant and, well, aroused. God, I feel aroused all the time.”

“You sound almost happy,” I suggested.

“I don’t know, do I? It’s really not as simple as that, but as time goes by I feel more comfortable in my collar. The sex helps immensely. But you won't understand that.”

I considered confessing to the former Eleanor how I had felt just now when Brinn had fed me by hand, but decided against it. She might read into those feelings things I didn't want her to assume.

“Why are you travelling to Brundisium?” asked Karina.

“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” I said with a sniff. But then I added more kindly, “My Mistress has business there,” I avoided the more detailed truth. “Or rather in Port Kar. From Brundisium we will be taking a round ship to the port. I'm actually a little excited to see these cities and compare them with what I know of Corcyrus. I like travelling.”

“And the man, Brinn?”

“He works with my Mistress, or for her, I'm really not sure how the arrangements stand. He guards her of course. He is a warrior.”

Karina nodded. “It is dangerous for free women to travel. Dangerous for them to leave their city. I think your mistress is very bold.”

“Possibly, or just head strong. Her motivations aren't always clear to me. Do you know what happened to Sophia in the end?'

“Not really. She was still in the coffle when Sally and I were sold. I think Sadric was holding out for a high price for her.”

“She's hardly worth it,” I said with another sniff.

“Sadric seemed to think so. There were many offers for her, but each one seemed to encourage him to hold out for a better one. Maybe he has kept her for himself.”

“I hardly think so. Sophia is just a common slut.” I didn't like the idea of Sadric keeping my friend Sophia as his personal slave. I don't know why I felt that way but I did.

“You used to talk to Sadric a lot while we travelled,” said Karina.

“Yes, he liked talking to me. I think I was his favourite,” I said proudly.

“I think you liked Sadric too...” suggested Karina with a smile.

“I was bored. There was nothing else to do but talk to him. I had no particular feelings for him of course.”

“Oh? Really?” Karina seemed sceptical.

“The man kept me in chains and a collar! Why should I have any feelings for him. I detest him. He doesn't respect women.”

“That is true enough,” said Karina. “But I'm not sure I want men to respect me any more.”

“Slut!” I said. I wished she wouldn't say things like that. Why couldn't she be the strong resilient Eleanor that I remembered from the chain coffle? Deep down I think I feared that if Eleanor could succumb to her collar, then perhaps in time the same thing might happen to me? I wasn't as strong as Eleanor had once been, so what hope did I have? The thought scared me. But at least I was white silk. At least I had a mistress instead of a master.

I would not be given to men to use for their pleasure.