Ubara of Gor Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: The Kamba river

The Larl of the Thassa sailed slowly down the Kamba river with its depleted crew. We had lost twenty seven Askaris that bloody night in the settlement whose name I still didn’t know and probably never would. It was a place of ruins now, bleak fire charred foundations overlooking a harbour blocked with sunken fishing boats. In the end Yishana had relented on her orders to kill every man woman and child who did not have time to flee. The men were killed wholesale, but the women and children were spared when her rage had simmered to a low boil. I played some part in that for I begged her to spare the women and children. I knew the men were beyond my help and so I couched my appeal simply in terms of what she might agree to. And why did she agree? I think she understood that it was my early warning that had saved us. That night could easily have played out a very different way with Yishana and her men trapped in the tavern as bales of straw set it alight.

She had actually offered me my freedom, but cleverly couched in terms that meant I couldn’t take her offer up. I think that was deliberate on her part for she didn't really want to give me up.

“I will free you and sail you to the nearest town,” she offered.

“And?”

“And then your fate is in your own hands, Emma.”

“I’ll be a free woman alone with no knowledge of the black coast, defenceless and I’ll stand out like a pink leopard on account of my white skin. I’ll be in a new slave collar before night falls.” That was the simple truth of the matter.

Yishana shrugged. “It is not for me to safeguard your life after we part. I am simply making you the offer. I would of course leave you a knife to defend yourself with.”

“Well that will be a big help.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said Yishana.

“I was being sarcastic. I think I would prefer a collar on board the Larl to a collar in some shanty town on this coastline.”

“Spoken like a true slave,” said Yishana. She was pleased with the outcome, that she could be seen to be generous enough to offer me freedom as a reward and for me then to decline it.

“Perhaps you could free me and I could remain on the ship as a free woman?”

“There is no place on the Larl for a free woman. Besides, I do not particularly like free women.”

I decided not to point out the irony of her words. But then I suppose she thought of herself as something other than a free woman, since she was apparently the divine avatar of her Goddess.

“I will ask you for something though, Mistress, if you are in the mood to reward me.”

“What do you ask?”

“Spare the women and children. They do not deserve to die tonight.”

And so she did.

The two most beautiful women now hung from the prow of our ship. Their wrists were chained to rings fixed either side of the prow and their feet rested on small blocks of wood fixed to the side of the vessel. They were on display as we sailed down the river, as is the fashion amongst Gorean raiders. 

Our journey up river was uncontested. The first thirty pasangs was technically wild country but Yishana’s reputation was so fearsome that no attempt was made by any of the river tribes to obstruct our progress. By day the Askaris watched the river banks with markings on their faces and chests that signified they were warriors. The markings were a paste like body paint of varying white and red shades and the makeup gave them a fearsome look. I saw women run into the rain forest from where they had been washing clothes in the river as they saw the approach of our ship. When we sailed past villages the men would watch us from a safe distance and the Askaris would drum their spear hafts on the deck of the Larl in warning as we navigated the river water between the wooden wharfs.

Further into the interior things became more relaxed as we entered what Yishana said was friendly waters. Here, forty to fifty pasangs into the interior were the tribal settlements who worshipped her Goddess and knew her to be the divine avatar of Nakeisha in mortal flesh. Now as we passed, tribal women would throw garlands of flowers into the water. The men of the villages would cheer the arrival of our ship, and now it was they who made drumming sounds, but not warlike ones, rather drum sounds of greeting. Yishana stood at the aft of the ship in silent acknowledgement of the respect shown. Her Askaris saluted the villages with raised spear points as they sailed by.

The women chained to the prow were raised up in the evening, their arms and legs stiff and sore as they were then kennelled for the night. I saw that they were fed and given water despite the bitterness they showed towards me. They were still free of course and saw me as a slave, nothing more. Then next morning they would once again be lowered into place on the narrow wooden ledges, their wrists placed in the high manacles again so that their bodies were stretched beautifully on display. They suffered where they stood, but at least the narrow wooden ledge allowed the women to support their weight on the balls of their feet. They were of course displayed naked.

Yishana cared nothing for their suffering. They were prizes taken from her enemies and they would be treated as such.

We reached a village on the third day that Yishana declared would be our home for a while. The Larl was anchored and then tethered beside a crude wharf constructed on upright poles and flat boards. As villages went it was quite large, certainly larger than many we had passed along the Kamba.

I was subject to curious grasping hands as I walked from the wharf through the lines of villagers towards the central huts where the tribal leaders lived. Men reached out to touch my sun kissed white skin, feel my soft blonde hair and touch my breasts. I stood there allowing this for I was a slave and slaves do not resist the advances of a free man. Several of the men gathered about me, laughing with each other as they marvelled at this white apparition in their midst. No doubt they had seen white women before – I couldn’t possibly have been the first such slave on board the Larl – but the sight of women such as I were probably rare enough occurrences that we attracted considerable attention each time we appeared.

One of the men stripped the white breech cloth from around my hips and touched the slightly paler skin around my sex. They spoke to one another in their tribal dialect which is distinct from common Gorean and so I was oblivious to what they were saying about me. Naomi however translated on my behalf.

“They say you do not have much hair, Emma.” She was referring to my pubic hair, or lack of it. It was true, what hair I had was sparse and light in colour. I felt them play with the blonde hair they did find and then I felt a man insert his fingers inside me. I shivered at the touch, feeling a flush that heated my body. He seemed pleased by the response and said something to his friends that made them all laugh again.

“He likes you, Emma,” said Naomi. “He wants to know whether you are available for use.”

“I do not know, Mistress,” I said in reply.

“Of course you don’t,” said Naomi. “The first you will know is when you are given to the men for their use. If that happens.”

I watched as one of the men made off with my breech cloth as some sort of trophy.

“I’ll get you another, Emma. Don’t worry.”

It felt strange to be naked down there even though it was nothing more than a wide strip of cloth that didn’t even cover my ass cheeks. When you have very little in the way of garmenture you value the little you do have.

“Emma is naked,” said Ioni with a laugh as she passed me by.

“Naked slave,” said Karina, though neither of them really meant it. It was just in jest to tease me. I would have done the same to them. That was how it was on board the Larl.

The women of the tribe were also interested in me. After the men had finished with their examination of my body, several free women appeared and they took me by my right hand and drew me aside from the procession of Askaris who escorted Yishana. I was alarmed by this, but when Naomi made a motion with her hand to suggest everything was going to be okay I relaxed a little and allowed the village women to lead me aside. Like the men they chattered between themselves in their dialect, though it was apparent some of them knew common Gorean too.

The free women of the jungle interior did not wear the veils and robes of concealment common to central Gor. I suppose this shouldn’t have come as any surprise since the climate here would have been prohibitive for such heavy garments, but after so many years on Gor it felt strange to see free women who not only bared their faces but dressed in garments that resembled wrap around sarongs falling to their knees. The garments were carefully folded and tucked and pinned single pieces of cloth, often brightly coloured and decorated with well crafted broaches that served to hold the garments in place. They walked barefoot and decorated their wrists with bangles. They made me kneel before them and then they set about inserting a nose ring in my septum. My nose had been pierced many years ago in the slave pens of Banu Hashim so it was not necessary to pierce it now. I wore a steel ring that fell to my upper lip. One of the women tied a long leather thong to the ring and gave the thong a quick sharp tug to test it. I was on my feet in an instant, responding to the pain it had caused. The women all laughed at that for they knew how effective a leash through the nose could be. I was then paraded around the village at the end of the nose ring leash. It seemed a peculiar thing to do and I couldn’t see why they were doing it, until Naomi reappeared to explain. 

“You are being shown the boundaries of where you are permitted to roam. See,” she pointed to the outskirts of the village where I hadn’t been led. “You cannot go there. They want you to be familiar with where you can walk.” I saw that the perimeter was marked in places with sticks in the ground that were tufted with brightly coloured feathers. “No slave is permitted to pass these points without permission. The women of the village will stone you to death if you try.”

“I understand,” I said.

After I had been shown the extent of the village boundaries the leash had been removed from my nose ring, though the nose ring remained fixed in place. The women then put me to work by the river side, washing clothes and beating the fabrics against rocks. I knelt in the shallow river water with a number of the other girls from the Larl who were working like me. They all wore nose rings now, even Naomi. It seemed a thing for this village.

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“No.” And with that one single word Yishana simply dismissed out of hand the request Tijani had made. Tijani had spoken eloquently and at length as we ate with the village elders, talking about honour and respect and the codes of the warriors and how bravery should be rewarded and Yishana had listened without saying a word. Tijani is articulate for a warrior. Brinn can sometimes be articulate but more often than not he lets his actions speak for him. Tijani has something of the warrior poet in him and I have been entertained by his tales and stories on board the Larl. He spoke well to Yishana but I think she had already set her mind wholly against the request to free Simon.

“With respect, Ubara, he should not be in chains. He fought beside us, and he saved my life. He has proved he is a man and such a man should not be a slave.”

“I will be the judge of that.” Yishana sat cross legged at the table, plucking her fingers at handfuls of savoury meat wrapped in a sort of filo pastry. There were side dishes with vegetables laid out on broad green leaves the size of plates and of course there was a plentiful supply of wine. I lay on my side beside Yishana and occasionally she would wrap some food with her fingers in a sort of chapatti and feed it to me. Simon was not present. Tijani had seen to that as he felt it inappropriate to have Simon on his knees while his fate was being discussed.

“I feel strongly that he would be an asset on board the Larl. Not only can he fight, not only has he displayed bravery, but he is a physician.”

“I prefer him in chains, a slave in my bedroom. His kisses are exquisite now that I have trained him with the whip to be pleasing.”

“That is a waste. Buy a silk slave in one of the market places. Some other man from Earth perhaps. This man deserves our gratitude. He shed blood beside us.”

“And I say no.” Yishana seemed bored now by the conversation. She leaned over and motioned for me to kiss her on the lips, which I did. Tijani waited impatiently for her to finish.

“You offered to free Emma,” said Tijani when Yishana had finished with me. “Why not Simon?”

“A Goddess is inconsistent,” she said, “and a Goddess need not explain herself to mortals.”

I could see that Tijani was frustrated by all of this. Even more so when Yishana then turned back to me and asked, “do you think Simon should be freed?”

Why ask me? “I don’t know, Mistress,” I said diplomatically. “I am only a kajira.” By which I meant damned if I do, damned if I don’t. If I suggested that Simon should stay in a collar then I’d be in deep trouble if he ever was freed. But on the other hand if I argued he should be a free man I’d be going against Yishana’s wishes. She probably expected me to agree with her because of my history with Simon.

“And a kajira answers a question from her mistress,” said Yishana. “Do you want to be be beaten, Emma? Shall I send for a whip?”

“No Mistress,” I said very quickly, becoming alert as I always did at the merest threat of punishment. “I think you must be guided by the Goddess in your decision, Mistress. Only you know the Goddess’s will.”

She seemed pleased by that response as I thought she would be. It wasn’t what Tijani wanted to hear though.

“The men support me in this opinion,” said Tijani, but as he said that I think he knew he had overstepped the mark. Yishana looked angry, her eyes narrowed as she stood up.

“They are my men, my Askaris, and they do not dispute my will on any matter. I like you, Tijani, you are a capable man, but never seek to stir my men against me.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” said Tijani. “Of course they will obey you in everything. I only meant that they too regard Simon as a brave man who fought beside them.”

“There is nothing more to discus,” said Yishana. “Leave this table, Tijani. I am displeased with you.” And so he did.

Over the next few days I was able to gauge the mood of the Askaris, and generally speaking Tijani was right. They were beginning to feel that it was wrong for Simon to be the humiliated slave chained to his mistress’s couch. Men are generally uncomfortable when they see their own sex chained for the sexual pleasure of a woman. It is one thing for a male slave to be a work slave – toiling in the quarries or mines or logging camps, enduring hard labour. That is deemed acceptable for a male slave. But for a man to be enslaved for the pleasure of a female, well, that was said to be against the natural order of things on Gor. Not that it was illegal in any way. Of course a woman could enslave a man, and of course she could use him sexually. There is often a misunderstanding that some think free women are not permitted to have sex. This isn’t true. They are simply not permitted to be provocative to free men, for that is slave like behaviour. They are also not permitted to be submissive. But they can, if they are wealthy, own their own male slaves and they can use those slaves in a dominant manner. All that is both legal and permissible. The sad truth of course is that few single free women have the economic status to own such slaves. A free woman still living with her family would not be permitted to own male silk slaves, and the same would be true of a free woman who was free companioned. Men would not permit such things in their households. A single woman of independent wealth and means would be free to own such slaves though, but such women comprised a very small minority of the population. Wealth and status in a free woman generally made her desirable as a free companion, and once free companioned her options for sexual release would be confined to time spent with her companion.

But anyway, a male silk slave made other men feel uncomfortable, particularly if the silk slave was strong and capable and obviously (to them) should be dominant over the woman. It upset the natural order of Gor.

I think Yishana secretly enjoyed upsetting the natural order of Gor, but then she was possessed of divinity after all.

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The first few days at the village were devoted to funeral rites for the warriors who had died on the Larl. Yishana took this very seriously and she greeted each and every family member personally. They came to her one at a time or in small groups to receive her blessing and benediction and in each case she held their hands and reassured them that their son or companion now served the Goddess Nakeisha in her jewelled halls in the afterlife. She gave gifts to the families, precious gifts of value – part of the choice items of plunder from our raids. There were jewelled caskets and strings of pearls and golden goblets and similar items of value. There was no questioning or doubting her sincerity in those funeral rites. We didn’t have the bodies of course. In the tropical climate of the black coast it was impossible to preserve bodies for very long. They quickly rotted in the heat and became a serious risk to health on board ship. Yishana had buried them at sea – each man wrapped in a funeral shroud that had been stitched by a woman of his family before he joined the crew of the Larl. It was a grisly premonition of death that each of the Askaris carried their own funeral shroud onto the ship when they first embarked, but I suppose it was a reflection of the grisly reality of being a warrior on Gor. The shrouds were all unique to each man, embroidered by the women in personal motifs.

In the case of women who had been free companioned to the deceased, Yishana promised them that they could ask for help and assistance should they ever need it. It was a touching gesture and one that the women would probably be too proud to call upon unless they were in dire need, for Goreans view charity as something of an insult. Many Goreans will proudly live in the gutter eating scraps rather than beg charity from strangers. There is caste charity within cities, where aid is given, but again it is considered embarrassing and shameful to actually claim it. Goreans have a sense of pride that is crippling at times.

Yishana had a second reason for returning to the village encampment and that was to recruit replacement warriors for her ship. As soon as we had arrived, as soon as the Larl had been sighted along the river, word had spread throughout the rain forest that the Ubara was back and that she would need new men to serve her. Drums relayed the news throughout the part of the interior that was loyal to her and over the coming days young men keen to prove themselves trekked through the jungle to reach the village in the hope of earning a place on board her raiding ship. To serve Yishana aboard the Larl was one of the greatest honours that could be given to a young warrior in the rain forest. It offered a chance to escape the confinement of this land, to fight alongside seasoned warriors of several campaigns, to earn glory, a reputation, wealth and women. Any man who served Yishana for a year could return home as a lauded hero. Women would prostrate themselves before the man's father, seeking companionship with the son. A man who had previously been spurned by village beauties might return in triumph, gold dripping from his arms and chest, telling tales of heroism on the high seas. There was no swifter advancement to proving yourself a man than to win a place on the Larl.

And so they came, dozens rising to hundreds. They brought the spears and shields of their fathers and they waited in camps around the village for Yishana to declare that there would be contests of martial and athletic prowess to earn a place on her ship.

This year the butcher’s bill had been high due to the ambush we had suffered. But Yishana had been victorious and her Askaris brought back tales of the harbour village razed to the ground, its men slaughtered and its women and children sold into slavery. And the dead now held places in the halls of the Goddess.

You could practically smell the testosterone that day when the contests began. The first few days were designed to whittle down the candidates with sporting contests. Men ran long distances, burdened down with bags of rocks over their shoulders. They stood in contests holding spears and shields upright until one by one they faltered, their arms weakening. They swam lengths of the river. They even danced, and if this last thing seems strange it was to test their agility. Other contests involved running along an elaborate structure of horizontal poles raised above the ground. Certain parts of the structure were greased and the goal was not to fall. There were no prizes awarded in these early days, just the satisfaction of knowing you had made it through to the short list and the martial contests that would follow.

At night we slept in a large central hut with reed matting on the floor and thick furs piled on a low wooden platform. Askaris stood guard outside for despite the village being friendly, Yishana was a woman on Gor and she took few risks. Simon and I slept with her, and I noticed a slight change in her use of Simon during the nights since Tijani had requested Simon's freedom. Yishana forcefully reminded Simon of his bondage to her, delighting in using him to the exclusion of me. Most nights I lay on my side in the furs, ignored as Yishana forced Simon onto his back and sat above his face, instructing him to use his tongue and mouth on her. She would hiss with pleasure as Simon brought her to a pleasurable orgasm, but it was never the same as those few nights when she had briefly permitted him to seize the initiative. I could read the signals from Yishana's body well enough to recognise that the pleasure she was taking from Simon was nothing compared with the way I felt when a man seized me in the furs and mastered me. Yishana had no way of knowing what was missing in her life of course.

There was a growing sense of restlessness in her behaviour during those long hot nights. She would be angry at some subliminal level she didn't understand. Maybe deep down she sensed she wasn't being fully satisfied in bed, but she didn't understand why.

She kept Simon leashed at night and she would wrap the end of the leash about her hand and pull him towards her whenever it amused her to do so.

“What are you?” she asked Simon one night as I fed her soft slices of fruit from a sliver bowl.

“A man,” Simon replied. Despite his bondage I think he was growing more Gorean in his outlook. The way he would gaze at Yishana at night was not the submissive gaze of a frightened and enslaved Earth man, but rather the dangerous gaze of a caged Gorean male.

“No, you are a slave. My slave,” said Yishana.

Simon seemed to growl as he stared at Yishana's naked body reclining so gracefully on the furs before him. She laughed at that and gave his leash a tug.

“You growl like a beast, but I think you lack claws.”

“Try me,” said Simon, which was a very bold thing for him to say. Yishana's eyes narrowed and she hissed at him in anger.

“I have a mind to whip you for your insolence...”

“But you won't.” He said as he looked darkly at her. I sensed a soft intake of breath from Yishana as she saw the intensity of that gaze. I felt her stir in the furs, somehow more alive than she had been earlier this night.

“Oh? You see sure of that?”

“Yes.” And then he reached for Yishana's right wrists and gently but firmly pressed it down above her reclining head.

“What are you doing?”

“I am going to kiss my Mistress,” said Simon as he then took hold of Yishana's other wrist and pressed that too to the furs above her head.

I saw the tell tale signs of deep excitement and arousal in my mistress for the first time in many weeks.

“No, I am not in the mood for this,” she said angrily, though her body told me she was most certainly in the mood for this and much more besides.

“Tonight I am going to kiss my Mistress whether she wishes me to or not,” said Simon.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Yishana as she heard words she had never had a slave speak to her before in her life and for a moment I thought she was going to call her guards and have Simon killed on the spot, but then she began to tremble, uncontrollably, and Simon smiled recognising how deeply aroused she was by that statement. I had never seen a woman so in need before that her body actually shook when the prospect of being dominated presented itself. It was as if Yishana had suddenly lost the power of speech. She emitted a soft whimper as Simon pressed his lips to her and pressed her down in the furs. The change in Yishana now! One moment she had been teasing and provoking Simon and the next she was helpless in his grip and the struggles she made, those half hearted struggles only served to inflame her arousal even more.

Yishana was a woman and she had the desires, fantasies and needs of a woman. This was the most forceful I had seen Simon be with her and she seemed to lose herself in the experience. Simon's penis was of course still chained with those small steel rings through the piercings in his foreskin and scrotum. Had that not been the case I think Simon would have penetrated Yishana that night in her own bed. Would she have let him or would she have fought back? I do not know. But she relished the way Simon took her physically in his hands and pressed kisses on her mouth. She seemed content with this moment when she could forget she was divine, when she was no longer initiating the sexual play. I think she longed for an excuse not to have to do so.

I watched as Simon stroked her breasts and elicited a deep gasp of pleasure form Yishana's lips. His left hand continued to hold her wrists in place as his right hand played with her nipples.

“What am I?” he asked as he gazed down at Yishana's face.

“A man.”

“Yes, a man. And what are you?”

“I am Yishana!”

Simon suddenly slapped her hard on her right thigh. The blow must have stung for she suddenly yelped and I feared the Askaris might rush inside if they heard it. But the chances were they were probably playing dice and would only react to constant and sustained screams. A single yelp could well be me for example.

“You dare to strike me?!” She hissed and now she struggled hard against his right hand. She could have called her guards of course, but she didn't. It might have been embarrassing for the guards to see her like this after all. The guards might wonder that if Yishana was divine, how could a male silk slave be astride her body and pinning her wrists to the bed? Surely the Goddess would have given her the power to kill him?

“I didn't ask your name,” said Simon simply. “If I am a man, what are you?”

Yishana struggled hard again and Simon simply held her down with both his hands. She couldn't free herself of course so after a while her frantic motions subsided.

“I can call the guards!”

“Do so,” said Simon with a smile. He waited but Yishana did not do so. As I suspected, the guards would be surprised to see her like this, so helpless, so much like a woman and she knew that. “Shall I call them for you?” he asked with a smile.

“No!”

“No?” he grinned, understanding too the reason for Yishana's reluctance. “Then tell me what you are. If I am a man, what are you?”

“I'm a woman!” She hissed and snapped her teeth at him.

“Yes, my lovely mistress is a woman, and women are weaker than men. Shall I demonstrate how weak you actually are?”

“No!” Yishana began struggling hard again. It was futile. But still I saw how incredibly aroused her body was from this display of male dominance. I think if Simon had been able to penetrate her now he would have found her wet and ready for him.

And then, with his left hand holding Yishana's wrists, his right hand began to play with her between her thighs. His fingers slipped inside her and he began to stroke her to a delirious climax. Now when Yishana came it was much harder, fiercer than ever before. And when it was over she lay there in the furs, hardly daring to move as the waves of pleasure cascaded through her body.

“If you choose to whip me then I shall never do that to you again,” said Simon as he gazed down at his mistress. “So, do you wish me to bring you the whip?”

“No,” said Yishana as she buried her face into the furs.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She did not look at him.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said Simon with a wry smile.

The contests continued the next day and we all pretended the night before had never happened. During the day Simon kneeled to the left of Yishana with a leash around his neck, while I kneeled to her right. She drank wine, she was dominant and commanding and it was as if the events of last night were just a dream.

Now the black tribesmen were reduced in number to the strongest and most aggressive fifty and they began to compete in martial bouts with practice spears and shields. Although the weapons had no sharpened edges of points they were still capable of doing damage and many warriors were carried off the field of contest after having a spear butt slammed into their stomach. Particularly impressive feats of combat would be applauded by Yishana as she rose to her feet and struck her left shoulder with he ball of her right hand. She would even make that ululating cry common to the natives of the dark interior when she was especially impressed. A few men she selected for her crew before the competitions were even over. They saluted her with their spears and left the open contest field with joyous smiles, returning to the welcoming arms of their cheering friends and family.

Simon was careful not to challenge Yishana's authority in any way in public. In public he was quiet and submissive, but there was a hidden look in his eyes now that I saw as very Gorean. I knew that when night came things might be different in the furs.

But to my surprise we did not have a repeat of that night again. Simon made no attempt to master Yishana and she gave him no encouragement to do so. I think Yishana was a little frightened of the way she had felt and she had built up her wall again against such feelings. They were not feelings that where appropriate for her and she knew that. And as for Simon? Well, I think he was clever enough to bide his time for when Yishana showed signs of frustration in the bedroom again.

Yishana's annoyance with Tijani had not lasted longer than 48 hours and so he was eventually permitted to dine at the captain's high table with her again when the contests to select new crew members had run their course. We now had a full complement of crew again and would set sail in a day or two back up river. We would first call in at the port of Schendi to sell slaves and pick up supplies before returning to the deep waters of the Thassa once more.

Yishana's mood swings were legendary and I had often seen her blaze with anger only to forget the matter entirely the next day. She made a point though of having Simon at the table as a serving slave when Tijani was permitted to rejoin us. Yishana smiled at her men as she clicked her fingers for Simon to pour wine into her cup. It was a provocative move that underlined her power. She was effectively saying, I do not care if keeping Simon as a silk slave is unpopular amongst you. I am the Ubara and my word is the law.

And of course no one was going to object. Kerim Shah routinely dined with us and during the meals said very little. We had all either witnessed or heard from first hand accounts of his astonishing display of sorcery when he had killed three of the outlaws. No one doubted that he could strip the flesh from the bones of any man that Yishana wished dead with just a gesture of his hand. But tonight I could see that Kerim was troubled by the way Yishana flaunted her silk slave before the men. He could read the mood of the Askaris and see that they now felt this was wrong. It is one thing to rule by fear alone, but far better to rule by love. These men loved and admired Yishana, but the way Yishana ignored their wishes threatened to tip her rule towards one of fear instead. And that is never good for morale. The men who threw themselves at the outlaw spears had done so out of love for their mistress, not out of fear of her. That was a crucial difference in battle.

“More wine, Tijani?” Suggested Yishana, with the implication being that she would have Simon kneel beside him to pour into his cup.

“I can pour myself,” he said as he reached for the jug of wine on the table, but Yishana placed her hand over it.

“There is no need, when we have a pretty silk slave to pour for you. Serve our Captain, Simon.”

“Enough of this!” Said Tijani as he stood up and threw his cup on the ground. “You know my feelings on the matter, Ubara. I have served you well as a point of honour since you freed me from the galley oars. I have asked you one reasonable thing and if you choose to deny it, then that is your right as Ubara and Captain of the ship, but I will not sit meekly by while you taunt me this way. Simon saved my life and risked his own in battle with us. It is not right that he kneels like a slave girl. I will leave the Larl once we reach the port Schendi as I cannot serve you further.”

There was a universal intake of breath around our table as the loyal Askaris regarded the man they had grown to respect as a warrior and who now echoed their own silent thoughts. Their loyalty to Yishana hadn't changed, but I could see they sympathised with what Tijani had just said.

Kerim Shah too sensed this delicate mood around the table.

“You can leave the Larl as and when you wish,” said Yishana angrily. “In fact, why don't you leave now? Take a canoe and paddle up river if you find my silk slave so offensive!” She stood up and snarled at him. “I expect loyalty in my men! I would die for any one of you! You all know that!” she swept her arm around the table and the Askaris nodded in agreement. “Who is first to throw herself into the line of battle? Who led the charge on her own against the spears of the outlaws? Do I not lead by example?!”

“No one is doubting your bravery, Ubara,” Said Tijani. “But this man was brave too.”

“This man is my silk slave! He pours my wine and serves me in the furs!”

“It is not right that a strong, brave man does that!” Screamed Tijani. “You have slave girls on board this ship! Let them pour your wine!”

“Do you wish to fight me with knives?” snarled Yishana in what I thought was an insane challenge because frankly Tijani could chop her apart in ten seconds in a formal duel. But then I guess Kerim Shah would never allow that and who knows what might happen to Tijani if he was about to strike a lethal blow.

“No. I owe you my freedom, woman, and I do not challenge your authority with your men. I just cannot serve you while the man who saved my life has to kneel like a kajira!”

“Like a kajirus!” snarled Yishana. She picked up a large knife and drove it point first into the table. She was furious, her rage taking hold of her again. “My kajirus!”

“The ships's kajirus,” said Tijani suddenly.

“What?!”

“You have always said so, Ubara, you have always made the point that there are no personal slaves on board the Larl. There simply isn't room. All the slaves are ship's slaves. Some of them are your preferred slaves and you have first call on their services but you do not own any of them. They are communal ship's property. Is that not right?”

“Yes,” conceded Yishana. It was her rule after all. If one man owned a personal slave then the other men would want personal slaves. We simply did not have the room.

“So, let the ship decide what to do with Simon. He is their property, not yours. I say we free him!” Tijani gazed round the table and saw his opinion reflected in the faces of the silent, respectful Askaris.

And then Simon stood up without being given permission.

“I will speak,” he said.

“You will not,” said Yishana. “Kneel. Nadu!”

“I am a man,” he said simply to his mistress. “And so I will speak. You may whip or kill me, it makes no difference.” He gazed at Tijani and the Askaris and then said, “I am enslaved because of a moment of weakness. I submitted in battle rather than accepted death. I am not the first man to do so. As you know I come from what you call the slave world, and when I came here to Gor I was weak, but in the years I have lived here I have grown stronger and I now know what it is to be Gorean. I am a Gorean man. We share the same biology, we simply had different upbringings. This past year of enslavement has hardened my resolve as a man of Gor not weakened it. I am a slave not because I fear a woman, but because she commands over a hundred warriors who are men – true men. It is all of you who keep me as a slave, not her.”

Yishana's eyes were blazing as she plucked the knife from where it was embedded in the table. “You will fear me in the second or two before I cut your throat open, slave!”

But then before Yishana struck a killing blow, Kerim Shah was on his feet in apparent amazement. “Wait! Look above us! A sign! A sign from the Goddess!” An immense flock of jungle birds were now gathering overhead, forming a pattern that blocked out the sun. Out of all the people here who were shocked and stunned by this divine sign, I was sceptical and curious enough to see Kerim Shah's brow seem to furrow with concentration. Divine sign my pretty little kajira ass!

“What does it mean?” said one of the Askaris as they all prostrated themselves before the sign from Nakeisha the wind-rider.

“I will attempt to scry the will of the Goddess,” said Kerim Shah, “but for now let this kajirus speak. Stay your knife hand, Ubara, in the name of Nakeisha who rules over us all!”

Yishana seemed shocked by this intervention but there was no doubting she believed this was a sign from Nakeisha. She dropped the knife and joined her Askaris on her knees as only Kerim Shah and Simon stood before the sight of hundreds upon hundreds of jungle birds hovering directly above us.

Sceptic that I am my first thought of this divine visitation was 'I hope they don't start shitting on us'.

Emboldened by this unexpected turn of events, Simon continued. “It is not the place of strong men to serve women as silk slaves. I was weak when I was taken. I am weak no longer.”

“Free him,” whispered one of the Askaris, “that is what the Goddess decrees.” He gazed up at the sky in awe. A few of the other Askaris quietly took up the refrain much to the surprise of Yishana, but how could she deny the will of the Goddess?

“It does seem that is the meaning of this intervention,” mused Kerim Shah quietly to us all. “I suspect the Goddess is angry that this man is kept as a slave. Woe to us if we continue to do so.” He bowed before the flock of birds and I began to suspect Kerim Shah was not only placating the preferences of the Askaris - for he was astute enough to understand that men who serve for reasons of love fight better than men who serve only through fear – but also he was at a stroke removing Simon from the bed chamber of Yishana – a man whom he feared might bring out feelings buried deep inside her that were not appropriate for the divine avatar of Nakeisha. He had always believed it was safer for Yishana to content herself with slave girls such as me. Introducing a male slave to the bed chamber worried him.

And I know for a fact he was right to be concerned there. Yishana had been going down a slippery road with Simon. Now with Simon freed she could revert to her former self during those long hot nights on the Thassa. In other words, sexually frustrated without knowing why.

“The will of Nakeisha governs us all...” added Tijani in the biggest bit of contrived opportunistic bullshit yet, for I was pretty certain he didn't believe in the Goddess in the slightest. He believed in the Priest Kings, but gave all these pagan religions of the rain forest regions short shrift.

I gazed at the kneeling, bowing figure of Yishana. She really did believe in the Goddess and through that belief her own divinity as the avatar of the Goddess. Again I was absolutely convinced that none of this was a form of deceit on her part. And now the appearance of the hundreds of jungle birds without any attempt on her part to summon them terrified her.

“Nakeisha... forgive us,” she said in a voice that echoed the similar cries of her Askaris. “I am your servant!”

“Shouldn't you be bowing and scraping too,” I whispered to Tijani.

“Shouldn't you be quiet,” he replied quietly with a soft smile.

And then as if there was any further difficulty in reading the will of the Goddess the birds clustered around a surprised Simon, beating their wings and facing Yishana. All the while Kerim Shah's brow looked furrowed with concentration.

“And yes, I've noticed too,” whispered Tijani as he pretended not to be watching Kerim Shah.

The birds flew back into the air and began to disperse, their heaven sent message having been delivered. A shaken and stunned looking Yishana rose from her knees.

“The Goddess has spoken to us all,” cried Kerim Shah. His brow no longer seemed furrowed. “But it is to her divine avatar that we must turn to interpret the true meaning of her will.”

Clever. He was giving Yishana back her authority, knowing that she would undoubtedly pronounce her will that Simon must be freed. Kerim Shah did not want to humiliate Yishana, only keep her compliant with the wishes of her Goddess. I was beginning to understand now how all of this worked. But how it had begun originally was still very much a mystery to me.

“Simon...” she floundered a bit after speaking his name. “Simon must be freed... it is the will of Nakeisha.” She looked upset and I could imagine why. With Simon now free he would not be sharing her bed chamber on board the Larl. To couch with a free man was out of the question for Yishana. A divine avatar could only dominate, and in sex with a free man of Gor it is not the woman who dominates. While it was true that I pleased her, I was really just a poor substitute for sex with a man.

“Congratulations, Simon,” said Tijani with pleasure. “You are a free man again.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “And I am pleased to welcome you to the crew of the Larl.”

Simon looked stunned. He hadn't truly expected any of this. But as his face split into a wide grin he turned and hugged Tijani in the most bromance man hug I'd ever seen.

“You will not regret this Tijani. I will never forget this.”

“I think we're even now, Simon. Now tell me, what is the first thing you want to do as a free man?”

“I want a slave!” cried Simon with delight. “I want these rings removed from my penis and then I want a slave to use for the night. That slave there.” And of course he pointed at me.

“Master...” I said as I dropped to my knees before him.

“I knew it,” Said Tijani. “I had a wager with myself that the first thing you'd ask for would be Emma's use. I'll have her sent to you later tonight after we've eaten. But first thing first. Let's get these steel rings removed from your foreskin.”