Merry Christmas to you all!

 

It’s Christmas Eve! 

 

Or rather it will be when it’s um, the evening. I never really think of Christmas Eve being Christmas Eve until it gets dark, and right now, as I type these words, the sun is shining brightly in the south of England – a perfect winter’s day.

 

This year has been a weird and perhaps unsettling one for us all, but I hope everyone gets a chance to hunker down and enjoy the Christmas period (or ‘Holidays’ as I believe the lovely Americans refer to it) in some respect, even if normal family events are curtailed. 

Um… I’ve let things slip a bit, haven’t I… ;)

 

Hello! Or perhaps, Tal!

Apologies for the longer than intended radio silence. Taking a ‘brief break’ is, like, my kryptonite. Before I know what’s happened, a couple of months have rolled by! Not the first time, and probably not the last. My work ethic is very weird. So long as I’m writing to a regular pace, I’m incredibly prolific, but once real life throws me out of the rhythm for a week or two, things slip. So sorry about that. 

I will catch up with the recent e-mails some of you sent to check I was still around and reply (thank you for those), and hopefully get things flowing again on the Blog this weekend.

In the meantime, Chloe sent me this picture as her light hearted guess how the current Rachel serial might end. Thought you might find it amusing. :)  

Update!

 

So, apologies for the break in writing. A few words of explanation for my faithful readers:

 

The next chapter was running a few days late due to being busy all of a sudden, but luckily Chloe had sent me some art of the ‘Sleen’ character, and as he makes his appearance in the next chapter I was going to be able to use that for chapter 6 even though Chloe hadn’t seen the chapter and couldn’t do any bespoke art until she did.

Technical Issues

I have at last been able to sign on to my Blogger account tonight. I've been unable to sign on for several days this week, for some unknown reason, not only on my iMac, but also my iPhone and iPad. I've been trying various things, to no avail, but randomly succeeded tonight. :)

Beware the Savage Jaw Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Silk handkerchief

“I’m sorry, Sir, I wasn’t aware you had arrived.”

Jonathan Stane was the last of the guests, other than the legendary and mysterious ‘Sleen’ himself, who had yet to appear. But Stane had arrived without any warning. I found him sitting in one of the living rooms, in an antique upholstered leather chair, gazing out at a half open veranda window, at the rain hammering down on the plank decking outside. He was perhaps in his mid-thirties with a shock of very dark hair that he kept short but fashionably messed up with a spot of wax between his fingers. I knew he was a prominent industrialist, because Rowell had told me so, and that he sat somewhere above Moorcroft in the Kur hierarchy, at roughly, but not quite the level of Montague, and well below the Tatrix, who was the most senior Kur conspirator present. 

Beware the Savage Jaw Chapter Four

Chapter Four: The Tatrix

15.05 on the 30^th December 2024:

There were two new guests that had arrived by helicopter and if the trajectory of their flight path had been anything to go by, they had been lucky to have made it here in one piece in these high winds. The guests were a man and a woman. The woman was maybe in her late sixties/early seventies but it was difficult to tell for sure because she had that elegant look seen on ageing movie starlets who had the benefit of collagen, Botox, lift and tuck operations, an on-staff hairdresser and personal trainer. She basically looked good for her age and could best be described as 'handsome' if no longer beautiful. Although she had obviously had some face work done (the tell-tale signs were the way her mouth might move when talking, but her eyes would not crease into laughter lines, suggesting heavy use of Botox) she hadn't succumbed to vanity sufficiently to dye her hair. It remained mostly grey, cut to a shoulder length bob with a long fringe and swept back and to the side. She was dressed in a long black skirt that reached to her ankles, two and a half inch pumps that looked very expensive and a grey charcoal silk blouse and tailored jacket. The clothes looked designer, possibly Italian, and they were matched with tasteful gold jewellery, predominantly bracelets. I noticed however that she wore no jewellery around her neck and she didn't have earrings of any kind. In Gorean terms both those things were significant by their absence. She could easily be the wealthy and well born wife of a rich businessman or senator, but something about the way she moved and regarded us suggested she was not simply a woman who stood in the shadow of her husband. She did however have a wedding ring on her left hand.

Beware the Savage Jaw Chapter Three

Chapter 3: The Sun Dome

14.29 on the 30^th December 2024:

“This feels so good,” said Marcia, the red silk girl, as she swam to the side of the pool and treaded water as she reached for a glass of wine that I had placed discretely at the pool side. It was red wine of course. The white silk girl drank white wine.

Honestly, that was a thing that was expected of them.

Beware the Savage Jaw Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

13.22 on the 30^th December 2024:

Her singing voice was amazing.

She played pretty good piano too.

'Tonight with words unspoken

You say that I'm the only one

But will my heart be broken

When the night meets the morning sun'

The song was by Carole King and it sent shivers down my spine for I knew it very well indeed. The album was Tapestry and I played it a lot at university when I met... when I met Kurgus. Those were the days when I was a lovesick teenager and I wrote secret confessions in a pink diary with fluffy fur glued to the outside. 'I love him,' I would write, 'but does he love me?'

Beware the Savage Jaw Chapter One

Chapter One: The Gathering

Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the candlestick?

No.

Reverend Green with the pistol in the lounge?

No.

Or my favourite, the only I always loved as a little girl: Miss Scarlet with the dagger in the ballroom? She was my femme fatale. I liked to think with Miss Scarlet it was always a crime of passion. Mr Black was going to leave her, or had been unfaithful, or perhaps had threatened to blackmail her good name for some past scandalous indiscretion. She did him in with a stiletto – always the weapon of choice for a woman, according to crime writers.

New novel begins today: Beware the Savage Jaw

The start of a new serial, set on a Kur dominated Earth, which will probably post once a week to give Chloe time to wrestle with the art chores. 

When last we saw our Earth bound heroine, things looked grim indeed, but this is no ordinary woman we're talking about – this is Rachel Evans!

One year on from the novella, ‘Glad Tidings of Comfort and Joy’ (read it first, if you haven’t already) and for reasons that will become clear in detail in the novel, Rachel is now in hiding 'in plain sight' from the Kur conspiracy that is tightening its grip on North America year by year. A dark shadow is slowly but surely drawing its veil over the planet Earth as the Priest Kings on Gor seem powerless or disinterested to intervene.

My second Gor RPG adventure is now available to buy!

My second Tales of Gor adventure module has just been released! This, like the previous one, is ‘authorised and approved’ by John Norman, though I doubt very much he has actually seen it personally… 

He has an agent to do that for him, I suspect.

Anyway, it has all the fun and whimsical humour you come to expect from my take on Gor, and can now be purchased as either a quick and speedy download, or as a printed paper copy that will swim towards you through the old fashioned postal service. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Forty Two (the final chapter)

Chapter Forty Two: The Verr Herders

The slave girl, Sarissa, watched her master’s verr as they ambled and grazed on the tufts of coarse grass that sprang up in patches along the stony desert floor. Like her, they were clearly marked as property, though in their case the verr did not wear steel collars and ankle bells, but rather leather tags clipped into their ears, and single bells worn around their necks. The verr mingled with the verr belonging to other men of the small village and here and there other slave girls moved about, making sure their verr didn’t stray too far. This area was communal ground, fertile enough to provide grass and shrubs for the animals to feed on. Later in the year it might be necessary to graze the verr further away, and during that time a couple of men would watch over the slaves to ensure their safety. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty One: The Taste of Freedom

It was actually the small things that Ghadir really appreciated now. Things that other free men probably took for granted: things like sipping a small cup of black wine in a café, and being able to sit cross-legged at a table. He still wasn’t used to the lack of weight where a collar had once rested on his neck. For all of his adult life it had been there, barely noticeable due to familiarity, but now that it was gone, with only a few indented marks to indicate where it had once rested against his skin, he noticed its absence. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty: The Legacy Endures

Deep in the heart of the great Keep of Al-Quada-a-Dhum, the victorious warriors of House Shahzad assembled alongside the warriors recruited by the Steel Worlds. They waited with swords sheathed, forming lines either side of a long rug, solemn in the presence of an ornate curule chair, wreathed in purple and gold cloth – the seat that would now be occupied by the head of House Shahzad, as undisputed ruler of this region of the desert. 

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

Daan’s face was impassive as he watched the former high ladies of the Landsraad as they were herded into the large courtyard of the Keep, encouraged by the whips and switches of Daan’s own kajirae. How eager his kajirae seemed to be, to herd the high born ladies through the iron bound gates. How distraught the ladies in turn seemed to be, now that they were stripped of their pretty footwear and fine gowns, clutching each other’s hands for moral support as they screamed to each lick of the lash on their bare skin.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Thirty Nine: The Gates of Al-Quada-a-Dhum

“I’ve brought you some black wine, Master. I thought you could use it.” Ghadir offered the cup of the steaming black liquid to Daan Shahzad. Black wine, made from Thentian beans, resembled Earth coffee in many ways.

“Thank you, Ghadir, I appreciate it.” Daan took the goblet as he gazed over the high walls of Al-Quada-a-Dhum. Below, beyond the range of any short bows, the army of the Landsraad was setting up camp. They were now effectively an advance force, since news had broken that a Sardaukar army was marching from Tor to support them. Four legions strong, with each legion numbering five hundred men, plus one hundred auxiliaries. Two legions remained to guard the Emir and the walls of Tor. The siege of Al-Quada-a-Dhum would begin now, but the assault on its walls would be delayed until the Sardaukar arrived. Which they would, very soon. The Sardaukar marched liked demons on their kaiila, barely resting when lesser men would be forced to. 

Chloe’s Guide to Slave Paces – Part 1 : From Standing to Nadu

Greetings, kind masters, gentle mistresses, and fellow slaves. It’s Chloe here with one of my occasional training sessions. 

A while back, Shannon very kindly did a guide to basic slave positions which I know proved very popular and made a pleasant break from Emma telling you all about her latest adventure when big manly men kept touching her all the time, and all her clothes fell off. So, I’m going to hold a little class today demonstrating the most popular slave position on Gor and how to gracefully move into it. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Eight: Submission

Javad Mohsen had ridden hard all through the night with his two kaiila. He had followed one of the common caravan trails, guided along the way by his knowledge of the stars overhead. His intention was to reach a water well fifty three pasangs from the walls of Al-Quada-a-Dhum and rest there for a while. Reyhan lay on her belly across the front of his saddle as he rode, her wrists fastened to a steel ring on one side of the saddle close to the stirrups and her ankles fastened to the opposite ring. The flimsy red silk had been lifted from her bottom and during the journey Javad amused himself by stroking and caressing it. The helpless wriggling had been profound after just a few ehn. Quite remarkable really. There was much mumbling through her gag as Reyhan desperately tried to form words, but Javad had no interest in anything she might have to say now. He was taking her deep into the desert as revenge for what her free companion had done to him. A mere woman was hardly full recompense for the treachery Daan Shahzad had displayed, but she would certainly make for an interesting down payment. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Seven: Treachery

Reyhan was alone now in the guest chamber, and already, after just a few ehn, she was deeply regretting her wild and reckless decision to come here. She wore pleasure silk, a collar and ankle bells. She knelt, chained to a slave ring by her collar with her wrists clasped in slave bracelets. Soon, in maybe half an ahn, the Kavar raider would return to his suite of rooms, drunk, and eager to enjoy his slave girl for the night. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t go through with this. The reality was so much more terrifying than the hypothetical concept an ahn and a half ago. Back then she had felt like a brave martyr for her family, a woman who might do whatever was required to seal this military alliance. But now she felt very differently. Now she wore pleasure silk, and a woman who wore pleasure silk was left in no doubt what it might do to her body.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Six: Apprehension

“Inside, kajira,” snarled Javad Mohsen as he unclipped the short leash from Reyhan’s collar. She stumbled slightly, for her wrists were braceleted behind the small of her back. She looked round at him, alarmed, for the reality of this was far more frightening than the mere possibility earlier when they had discussed the matter high up on the terrace, beside the ornate balustrade.

“My wrists,” she said, turning slightly. She stood in the threshold of Hassan’s private guest suite of rooms within the Keep. Very soon he would return from the strategical planning with Daan. He would expect to find a curvaceous slut chained to the slave ring on the floor.

Javad wound the leash back into a coil and tucked it in his belt. “I should whip you,” he said, angrily.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Five: The Dancer

“The spiced verr is excellent,” said Hassan of the Kavar as he sat cross legged in the great hall of Al-Quada-a-Dhum and helped himself to some more from an engraved bowl set on a rug before him. “Would you perhaps consider selling the slave who cooked this meal?” 

Like Hassan, Daan Shahzad sat on the one of the rugs scattered around the hall in the Bedouin manner, and close beside him knelt his woman, Reyhan. Reyhan wore modest veils and hoods and nervously regarded Hassan from time to time. She had deliberately spoken very little during the meal, and felt sure that Hassan could not possibly recognise her from that day out in the desert when he had commanded her to strip, and he had assessed her body with his hands. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four: The Free Companions

“Hmm.” Daan Shahzad gazed down at the half revealed body, still partially covered in a rug of fine textile weave, though now hideously soaked in blood. “Do you have a good reason for cutting the throat of our metal worker locksmith and hiding his body under a rug?”

“Yes, I do, beloved,” said Reyhan as she stood beside one of the windows, nursing a goblet of ka-la-na to calm her nerves.

“Excellent. I would hate the death of a talented artisan to have been a waste, otherwise.” Daan said nothing more, except to cross the floor of the room, pass into the outer chamber, open the door into the corridor beyond and then call two of his men inside. He took them back through to the personal reception room of his companion and indicated the body.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Three: The Desert Serpent

“Secure the women! Secure the women!” screamed the kaiila rider as he swept past Laleh Sasani’s kurdah, his scimitar hand thrust high above his head. 

They called it the desert serpent – the long coiling line of march that travelled through the Hamada region of the desert. The combined Landsraad army was over 3,300 lances strong, each mounted on its own kaiila. Travelling with that military force was a baggage train of five times that number of pack kaiila, and a further 250 male work slaves who trudged on foot, and 300 kajirae, transported in kurdahs. It was in part a logistical nightmare, if only because the column consisted of the personal household warriors of virtually all the Landsraad, each with its own captains and command structures. Although nominally under the overall command of Hashim Sasani, the various House factions often disputed who should ride in which position in the snaking column. It travelled slowly, taking perhaps twice as long as a smaller troop of kaiila might take. And within the first two days of travel it came under attack by raiders. It became clear that the raiders were Kavars, pursuing hit and run tactics. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Two: La Kajira

Reyhan stared, but said nothing. Her face was unveiled in her own rooms, but her expression registered shock and remained indecipherable.

“Mother…” Tupa held out the palms of her hands before realising that was what slaves did. She pulled her wrists back, but it felt strange to do so. She was a slave. It was natural for her to hold out the palms of her hands. She swallowed a lump in her throat and moved forward a step, the bells fastened to her body jingling as she did so. She felt the soft touch of the gossamer slave silks against her skin. Her body seemed to scream at her that she was a slave. 

And still Reyhan said and did nothing. She stared at Tupa, giving nothing away.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty One: Pleasure Silk

“I see you’re wearing lipstick, Tupa.”

Tupa hadn’t heard Javad approach, though she had noticed Kala and Vika staring in surprise over her shoulder. The girls had been given a rare day of leisure – the first in fact since they had arrived at Al-Quada-a-Dhum – and they had been permitted to dress themselves in short djellabas, pretty slave ones, that is, with nipped in waists and three quarter length sleeves. The djellabas were cut high on the thighs, but as they knelt in the shade of one of the rarely used gardens, they were in no risk of burning their long legs. They had been laughing at some story involving clumsy kettle girls in the kitchens, when suddenly Vika and Kala had fallen silent. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty: Consequences

It was late in the afternoon as Jaleesa Shahzad lay snuggled beside her cousin, Aleah. Aleah had rolled on to her side after a while and now lay with her back to Jaleesa. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Aleah’s body began to quiver until Jaleesa could ignore it no longer.

“Naughty, but beloved cousin, are you doing what I think you are doing?” she whispered into Aleah’s ear.

“Oh!” Aleah, blushed and ceased, moving her hand away from between her thighs, embarrassed to be caught out.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Nine: The Whip

“Slave! Come here, Slave! Now!” 

Ghadir frowned as he heard the young woman’s voice. It would be that child from the Sasani House, of course. The one who had been flouncing around the Keep, pretending to be Serafina Shahzad. That had been her Aunt’s idea of course. Reyhan Shahzad. Ghadir frowned but cleared the expression from his face before he turned around. He wasn’t used to being addressed like that. He was Daan Shahzad’s high slave – an essential part of the administration of the Keep in Al-Quada-a-Dhum; cherished and respected, even though he wore a steel collar. Reyhan treated him with reserved cordiality. The daughters had always left him to his work. But this Sasani girl was insufferable.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight: Slave Wine

“Tupa begs slave rape, Tupa begs slave rape,” sang Vika as she danced about on a small spot in the girl pen, teasing Tupa mercilessly.

“Oh, I’m so pretty,” sang Kala as she joined in the teasing, mimicking Tupa, “I’m hot and needy and I want my master!”

“Tupa needs her master, Tupa needs her master,” sang Vika. It was early morning, and of course the girls had heard and seen Ella, the fist girl, teaching and training Tupa last night before bed. They had found it funny that Tupa had been permitted to keep the mauz fruit to practice sucking on it during the night. She had slept with it close to her hands, dreaming strange dreams in which she was dressed in the most translucent of pink dancing silks and made to perform on a beautiful mosaic floor while drum and flute players urged her on. She had woken up in the morning feeling hot and aroused by the dreams and had touched the mauz fruit, before the other girls were up, kissing and licking it to prove to herself that she remembered what Ella had taught her. 

First Among Kajirae

((Being, the second in a series of interlinked Chloe stories that comprises the anthology book, ‘First Girl of Gor’))

I may, as it happens, have been innocently instructing a number of the newer kajirae in Taharian dance routines in plain view of the main gates, roughly when I knew Master Geralt would be returning from his hunting that day.

I may even, as it happens, have ordered the girls to stop, just as he rode in through the gates, so that I could demonstrate the correct dance steps because they’d been too clumsy.

Of course, I showed no sign of noticing that he had ridden in on his hunting tharlarion, accompanied by a few of Lady Cassandra’s men, as I danced my most seductive routine in apparent ignorance of his presence.

Imagine that.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Seven: The Work Chain

“Tupa!” Javad’s voice sounded surprised, almost as if he had forgotten about his slave. “It is you, isn’t it, girl? I almost didn’t recognise you.” He gazed down at the naked girl on the work chain. She was working in the courtyard with her coffle sisters, straining under the weight of verr skin sacks of water that they were being forced to carry over their shoulders from the well and into the ornamental gardens on the other side of the keep, where the water bags would be emptied into a central cistern to irrigate the plants. Each twin bag of water, stitched together like a set of saddle bags, contained twenty gallons of the slightly salted and unclear water that could be drawn up from underground wells. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six: The Council of Steel

The fortified Kasbah that was situated many pasangs northwest of Klima had once been a closely guarded secret, back in the days when it was the stronghold of the Salt Ubar, Abdul, also known as Ibn Saran; the man who had controlled and manipulated the lucrative salt trade throughout the Tahari. Then, following the intervention of Tarl Cabot in 1975, the Kasbah had fallen into a succession of hands, as warring tribes had settled within its walls only to be expelled by other tribes through rite of conquest.

Decades passed, and as new powers rose to dominance in the arid wastes of the hamada desert, the claws of the Steel Worlds once again took hold of the region. Now the Kasbah was occupied and fortified once more, and its location guarded by lances loyal to a man known only as ‘the Sleen’. Few men had ever seen him, fewer even had lived to tell the tale, for in Kur circles he was known as the ‘Tarl Cabot’ of the Steel Worlds – the sacred executioner and bloody red hand who enforced the will of the Kurii amongst its ranks on Gor and sometimes even Gor’s twin, the world known as Earth. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Five: Parlay

“Beloved sister, you grace me with your warm and welcome presence. My heart sings that your journey across the desert sands has been a safe one and that we are reunited once more,” said Laleh Sasani as she crossed the beautiful mosaic floor to clasp Reyhan’s hands softly with her own. “I was so worried, as any older sister should be, when her sibling travels with such a small escort. I myself have travelled with over three hundred lances of various houses of the Landsraad!”

They stood together in the ornamental chambers of Al Jishana; an area that was open to the sky and filled with pleasant sculptures and gently bubbling fountains with water piped in from the natural wells beneath the bedrock of the kasbah.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four: Conversations in the Sand

The sun had set in the desert while Reyhan had waited nervously inside the kurdah. It was customary of course that a guest should not be hurried on his way, and so Javad had entertained Hassan until the bandit finally decided it was time to move on. During that time Reyhan had knelt or lain on her side in the white rep cloth canopy, as a slave might. She was naked, for her haik lay discarded on the sand somewhere. 

She had not been told to pick it up when she had been sent back to her kaiila, and so she had not dared to touch it. She suspected it was possibly a test, and that  Hassan would have reacted badly if she had tried. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Three: Tea in the Tahari

“You look alarmed!” said the Bedouin raider as he reined his kaiila in fifteen yards from Javad and his men. “There is no need to be alarmed – we are Kavars! Now, if we were Aretai…” he spat onto the sand as he said that word, “then, yes, you would be right to be alarmed, for they are desert sleen of the worst kind, and not to be trusted. But rejoice! We are Kavars!”

“How reassuring,” said Javad as he leaned into his high saddle. “This is merely a courtesy call then, to ensure we are not bothered by Aretai bandits?”

Finding Gor

It’s the weekend and I thought it might be interesting to write a short piece on how I first came across the Gor books, and what my impressions were of the various ones published between the 1960s to the tail end of the 1980s. 

So…

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two: Sarissa

Javad Mohsen examined the harnesses and high saddles of the troop of kaiila that stood in the shaded courtyard of the great Keep of Al-Quada-a-Dhum. He had twenty lancers with their mounts on standby, and as their commanding officer he wished to ensure that the harness kit was clean, polished and secured correctly. The kaiila were all belled, for it was customary in the Tahari to bell your animals. The bells meant you could be heard approaching and therefore implied you were friendly. Raiders of course didn’t bell their kaiila, and therefore any man in the desert with an un-belled mount was assumed to have hostile intentions and would receive a hostile greeting in turn. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One: The Landsraad

“Javad Mohsen, commander of men,” said Reyhan as she knelt primly in tower beside a low table to the side. “Please, will you share tea with me?” She gestured to a pot and two small glasses, and a small bowl of sugar with a silver spoon. 

“Lady,” said Javad as he removed his scimitar from his belt and placed it, still in its scabbard, on another low table. He then sat down opposite, crossing his legs in the manner of men. “Tea is always a welcome offering.”

“I will serve you tea,” said Reyhan. She was modestly dressed with full hijab and veils and she reached for the pot, pouring a small measure of tea into the two tiny glasses. She then spooned generous measures of sugar into each glass, for the tea in the Tahari is sweetened to give energy. Reyhan had dispensed with the services of a slave girl and was serving tea herself. In doing so she was honouring the man, for free women of status would not personally pour tea to any but an honoured guest. Javad noticed this of course. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty: The Keep of Shadows

Najina was in a good mood as she made her way through the corridors of the mountain keep of Al-Quada-a-Dhum, on her way to the bed chambers of the younger Shahzad daughter. After almost a week of travelling by kaiila caravan through the hot, burning desert, during which time there had been little to no opportunity to dominate the girl, since she camped with her mother, things would now go back to their familiar routine. Najina had missed being able to train Jaleesa in the mornings. Like any slave frustrated with the way free women treated her, it was fun to be able to control her mistress, making her hurry from her soft bed to kneel on the floor and receive instruction in demeaning slave positions and movements. She enjoyed seeing the girl locked into a collar that she couldn’t remove. Her only regret was that Serafina wasn’t there too, for Serafina was the girl who had ordered Najina to be confined to the Box that day shortly after she had arrived at the estate. How Najina would have loved to torment that particular bitch of a mistress in turn. But no, Serafina was by now in some other man’s collar in Tor, no doubt a genuine slave in every respect, like herself, and Najina consoled herself with the fact that Serafina’s slavery would be far harsher than anything she might implement on Jaleesa. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen: Al-Quada-a-Dhum

For three days now Tupa, the lowest of kettle girls, had been toiling away with Vika, Kala and Ella in coffle number three, scrubbing and cleaning the vast halls, chambers and rooms of Al-Quada-a-Dhum. They worked inside the great keep that dominated the town, an impressive fortification that was built on a raised area of solid bedrock in amongst the shifting desert sands. Its high walls dominated the landscape and the humble (in contrast) township itself grew out from beyond those walls, having its own lower walls as a secondary defence, facing out into the desert. 

Ella was the first girl within the coffle and as such she supervised the work of the other three kettle slaves. She watched as they knelt in a line on the floor scrubbing the flagstones of a long corridor with stiff two-handed bristle brushes. The girls were naked except for the red veils of gossamer silk that they wore mockingly over the bridges of their noses. Dirty menial work of this nature would soil or tear their slave garments, and so it was easier to keep them naked while they worked, as free women had yet to take up residence in the fortress town deep within the desert. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: Aleah Sasani

“Should you even be here, Lady?” asked the guard outside the door to the dungeon cell. 

Reyhan stood there with a folded bundle of cloth in her arms. She was veiled and in her modest hijab as she gazed at the man in his calf length djellaba. 

“I am the Lady of this house and I come and go as I please,” she said. “Stand aside.”

The man did so, nodding to her, though he didn’t seem too happy with the order. The Khuda, Daan Shahzad had ordered that no one be admitted to the dungeon cell, though perhaps the order had not been meant to apply to the Khuda’s  free companion. It was a difficult call to make, and the guard had erred on the side of not offending the Lady. He unlocked the cell door, swung it open, and permitted Reyhan to enter.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Kettle Girls

Tupa, the girl once known as Serafina, lay on the side of her body in great discomfort under the clear starlit desert sky. Cramp was setting in to her legs and arms and she moaned softly in pain, afraid to make her cries too loud for fear of what might happen. She rolled on to her belly and felt a little of the pain subside, but knew in just an ehn or so it would be back. She was hogtied now in a slave bow, her ankles crossed and tied and her wrists crossed and tied and then both sets of bindings brought together and tied. She wore, like all the slaves did at night time for warmth, a simple hooded djellaba, cut high upon her thighs. It was a loose cotton shirtdress, but in her case the hood was down and the hem had ridden up her thighs as she had struggled in her tight bondage.

She had been tied like this now for almost an ahn and the cramps and resulting pain were becoming unbearable. Try as she might, her wriggling to relieve the pressure of her limbs being contorted like this only succeeded in jingling the slave bells on her left ankle. And when the bells jingled once too often, a girl’s voice would hiss in the darkness close by, “be still, Tupa. You disturb us.”

Dunes of Gor Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Secret Slave

By the time Ghadir had returned Jaleesa to her house, the girl was exhausted and trembling with accumulated fatigue from the events of the night. Ghadir had made her… no, she couldn’t bear to think of it. 

He had made her… perform like a slut, placing her mouth over his… thing…

She cried under the cover of her haik. True to his word, he had not then placed her onto her belly, or onto her back, parted her thighs and did that thing that men then did with slaves. No, he had simply sat up on the couch in the silk curtained alcove and instructed her what to do with her lips and tongue. He had gripped her head by her hair and had moved her as needed, telling her when she was doing it right, and punishing her when she got it wrong.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: White Silk

Serafina Shahzad cried out in alarm as the centre curtain of her kurdah was suddenly parted by a scimitar tip. The bells jingled sharply on her ankle as she drew back to the extent permitted within the small dome tent built on the raised platform of the pack kaiila. 

Javad Mohsen laughed as he saw the look of alarm on the face of his girl. He rode beside the pack kaiila, mounted on his own beast.

“What?” asked Serafina as she regarded him.

“My eyes have grown tired of staring out at flat stony hamada,” said the Sardaukar Captain. “I thought I might feast them for a while on the loveliness of your body.”

Dunes of Gor Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: The Kef

With each slow, remorseless, plodding step of the pack kaiila, Serafina Shahzad was being taken deeper and deeper into the desert, far from the concentric walls and towers of Tor and her former home. She was being transported inside a kurdah – a small semi-circular cushion covered platform inside a tem wood frame, about a yard in width at its widest point. From this base the frame rose about four feet at its highest point, enclosing a half globe shape, layered with opaque white rep cloth in the manner of a tent. The front of the kurdah was the exception, as it had instead a centre parting curtain, also of white rep cloth. Inside the kurdah, Serafina, now known as Tupa, was naked, except for an anklet of slave bells locked about her left ankle; a steel collar locked about her throat, and a small light silk veil across the bridge of her nose, concealing her lower face hardly at all. The veil was diaphanous silk and was a mockery of the opaque veils that Serafina had worn when she was free.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: The Garden of Veils

Reyhan Shahzad, beloved free companion of Daan Shahzad, placed her hand on her left hip once again and ran it slowly down and over her rump. It was clear to her these days that she was putting on some weight. Soft living over the last year or so had added a little plumpness to her hips, her bottom and, not quite so worrying, her breasts. Her breasts had actually done quite well out of the excessive bak-la-va of recent months, but she regretted the extra padding on her hips and ass. The slight swell of her stomach was hidden by a tight girdle that one of her slave handmaidens had stitched for her. There was little opportunity for a free woman of high station to exercise in Tor, and try as she might she had failed with any diet plans. Luckily for her though, her companion, Daan, had a fondness for a little plumpness around the hips, ass and breasts, or so he told her anyway. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: The Narenj

Hooded and leashed, her wrists locked in slave bracelets behind her back, Jaleesa stumbled helplessly after the man who led her through the dark streets of the market quarter of Tor. Only an ahn ago she had been thrust up onto the rough wooden platform raised above the market square that was the Mazad – the twice weekly night-time auction of slaves; both new to the collar and experienced. She had been designated ‘twelve’. That was her name. She had desperately tried to find her sister, Serafina, but she had been kept on her knees in a small tent behind the platform, with a hood over her head that stank of some other girl’s sweat. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: The Mazad

Serafina could hear the crack of the whip on the auction block and the scream of a girl responding to it. She trembled where she kneeled on some sawdust inside a canvas tent erected to the rear of the Mazad courtyard where the twice weekly auctions were held. She was naked, and like the other girls waiting to be auctioned, she was hooded. Inside the foul smelling leather hood, which still had the taint of some other’ girl’s dried vomit, her breathing felt stale and muffled. The hood was loose and could easily be slipped off, but she feared doing so because a man would immediately whip her and then replace the hood. She felt soiled because ten ehn ago she had released some urine between her legs when the fear had grown too much for her. Other girls had done the same and now the space behind the auction block had the acidic smell of many girls wetting themselves. Flies buzzed around, attracted by the stench. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: A Plan is Hatched

Ghadir didn’t rush back to the house of Muud Attar. First he had to place the paperwork he had been given in the hands of a reliable man who owed him a favour. He explained that he feared for his life and that should anything happen to him those papers were to be made public. He had already taken the liberty of adding names to the documents – names that the former slaves possessed prior to being given the names of Tupa and Tepa. Those names of course were clearly the names of the ladies Serafina and Jaleesa. He had also had the papers officially sealed so that they could not be read without breaking the seal. It might be unfortunate for the young ladies if curious eyes scrutinised them. Tor was a city of intrigue and secrets, and papers like that would be worth a considerable sum to any of the great houses who competed with House Shahzad.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: The Gardens of al Shahzad

“And how are your daughters, Daan?” asked Pedram of Tor as he sat at the low table in the shade of Daan Shahzad’s garden, sipping fine Bazi tea. “Dutiful, Priest King fearing girls, who strive to please their father in every way, I hope?”

“I wish,” laughed Daan Shahzad. “The words, ‘headstrong, impetuous, mischievous, stubborn and wilful’, spring readily to mind to describe Serafina. Jaleesa is a little better, but I fear her older sister will be a bad influence on her over the next couple of years. They both tax my patience abominably, especially when it comes to the matter of free companionship for Serafina.”

Dunes of Gor Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: The House of Muud Attar

“You will, of course, both need false names, gentle Mistresses,” says Ghadir after a while. They have almost reached the slaver establishment of Muud Attar as the solemn sounding bells denoting the time of slave curfew sound. Now there is no going back for the sisters, for they are not permitted to be on the streets of the market quarter unaccompanied after that bell has sounded. 

Jingle

Jingle

Jingle

Their ankles ring out as they tremble. The curfew bell has sounded! They huddle together slightly, knowing that they rely completely on Ghadir now. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: The Hour Draws Near

“NO! Out of the question! Unthinkable! How dare you!” Serafina reacted angrily as Ghadir concluded his polite explanation of what he had in mind to ensure the sisters didn’t boil him alive in tharlarion oil after he had helped them. “Your suggestion gravely insults me, slave! I do not require your help! Jaleesa does not require your help!” She stamped her foot with a jingle of erotic slave bells. “We are resourceful and clever free women of high caste! We will do without your aid! And be sure that when we are safely back home, we will have you soundly whipped for your impertinence! Twelve lashes with the snake! And I will watch each and every one! And then a confinement in the Box where you can sit until you have learned the errors of your ways and you howl for mercy, begging me to free you.” She stamped her foot again with another exciting jingle of slave bells. Men of Tor, many of them at least, associated that particular sound with the promise of the availability of a delicious slave, and as an almost Pavlovian reaction, most men of Tor felt stirrings at the sound of those bells. Ghadir smiled, feeling his manhood grow each time this small slip of a girl jingled her slave anklet in explosive fury. Oh to enjoy that sweet bottom and those sure to be delightful breasts. To turn her on his knee and spank her into submission. But he was but a slave himself and the delights of women were forbidden to him unless his master decreed otherwise.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Six

Chapter 6: Ghadir

Ghadir heard the urgent jingling of slave bells long before he heard the cries of, “Ghadir! Wait! A moment of your time!”

He looked round, bemused, as two girls, clearly and unmistakeably kettle slaves on account of their bells jingling and the presence of slave ownership tags dangling from their left wrists, hurried as quickly as their walking chains permitted. He frowned. Ghadir was reasonably well known on the Street of Brands for he was a high slave, favoured by his master, Daan Shahzad, and therefore other slaves were reasonably deferential around him. He was even on polite speaking terms with a few slavers, for men often treat male slaves differently than they would do kajirae. The fact that two girls considered it acceptable to run after him, however, speaking his name loudly, displeased him.