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. 

Tupa span round, her mouth wide open, as she saw her master standing behind her, his hand resting casually on a coiled whip at his belt. Suddenly she found herself kneeling before him in nadu, her forehead pressed to the grass. “Master! I didn’t hear you!”

“You weren’t meant to, girl. You look good. Slave beautiful. You have some curves now, I see.”

“I… I do, Master,” said Tupa. It was still a source of much resentment that a man could dictate the shape of her body. Her hips were now wider, her thighs plumper, and her breasts much heavier. She had become a very curvy slut. 

“No water carrying today, I see?”

“We have a day of leisure, Master.” Tupa had thought she might be cool and calm when faced with her master again, but in truth she was a jumble of nerves. Had she known he would appear today she would have planned what to say, what to do. Desperately she tried to remember her lessons, the many subtle things she was supposed to do before her master. 

“Stand.” 

Tupa jumped to her feet and stood perfectly in display position with her hands clasped behind her neck. Her ample breasts were thrust out towards him, and her legs were parted with feet pointing either side. 

“Oh!” she twitched as she felt Javad’s hand move beneath the hem of her short djellaba and touch her ass. Despite her shock, and unfamiliarity with being touched, Tupa remembered to smile and flutter her lashes. “I long for your touch, Master,” she said.

“Be quiet,” snapped Javad.

Instantly Tupa regretted her clumsy choice of words. She sounded like some needy stupid girl! She was supposed to be more seductive than that! 

“Yes, Master.”

“I’m not interested in what you long for. You’re a slave. Your desires are unimportant to me.”

“Yes, Master.” She held her head up in display position. She felt him touch her thighs under the djellaba, but she could not read from his face if he liked what he felt. 

“Turn round and bend over. The fence post, there.”

She did so, thrusting her ass out to him in the process. Now she felt the hem of the djellaba raised over her buttocks and his hand go between her legs. 

“Oh!” she squealed again, louder than before. “Oh!” more cries as his hand began to arouse her. “Master!” She was juicing, wet between her thighs as he continued to stimulate her as she was bent over, helpless, held in position. She was juicing harder than she thought she might. She felt so ashamed. 

“Reasonable responses. Have you learnt anything since I last saw you, Tupa?”

“Yes, Master!” she cried. She couldn’t think clearly while he was doing THAT to her! Oh, how she writhed now to his touch, her buttocks pressed against his hand, her thighs spread wider than before. 

“What have you learned?”

“How to kiss and move before a man. How to respond to his touch. How to please him with my mouth!”

“It’s a start,” said Javad.

“Ohhhhh!” Tupa’s whole body shook as Javad continued to play with her sex. 

“Do you want to please me, Tupa?”

“Yes!” she screamed. “Please, Master!”

“But you are just a simple kettle slave. Do you think you could please me?”

“Yes, Master, please try me! Try Tupa! Please!”

Javad laughed and withdrew his hand. “Do you know where my bed chambers are in this keep, Tupa?”

“I… I think so… Master…” Tupa shook where she still lay, bent over the fence, her hair draped across her face as she gazed at the ground. She didn’t dare rise or try to straighten the hem of her djellaba. 

“This evening I want you to go there.”

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

“You are going to be so beautiful,” said Ella as she watched the other two girls apply makeup to Tupa as she knelt on the floor of the pen. She looked startled still, knowing that in a couple of ahn she would be sent into the inner keep to present herself before her master. He was going to put her to use. Full use. 

“I feel so nervous,” said Tupa. “I can’t think straight…”

“That is because you are white silk,” said Vika. “We are all scared at first. It is no small thing to part your legs for a man for the first time.”

“Will he chain me?” asked Tupa.

“Possibly. It depends on whether he wishes you to participate in the sex,” said Ella. “You are unskilled so he may think you will be clumsy and make mistakes. He may decide to simply restrain you. It depends on the man. But if you are tied or chained, I think you will like it.”

Kala smiled. “Your orgasm will feel even better if you are tightly bound when he forces submission on you.”

“Is this the same for all women?” asked Tupa.

“I think so,” said Vika. “Slaves, certainly. Who can tell when it comes to free women?”

“I was free once,” said Tupa.

“But you are not free any more. You are a natural slave, Tupa, and so you will open to him as a slave. It will hurt at first, but then your body will relax and shape itself to him. Then just relax some more and accept your new feelings. Your body will instinctively know what to do.”

The girls had carefully drawn erotic lines of kohl on Tupa’s eyelids and coloured them in, drawing out her lashes with mascara. Her lips had been coated in red lipstick, and her face contoured and powdered, with slave rouge to the cheeks. Her hair had been brushed until it was like silk, and then she had been adorned with erotic bangles, bracelets, necklaces and ankle chains. She had been dressed in the sheerest, most enticing of slave silks – light wisps of silk that fluttered as she walked. The girls were helping Tupa, as girls in a coffle did for one another. 

“What if he doesn’t like me?” asked Tupa anxiously.

“You will make him like you. Remember to smile, to look pleased when you see him again. Show him the palms of your hands,” said Ella.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” added Kala. “Always show a man the palms of your hands. It excites them. And move gracefully. Touch his feet with your lips. Let your glossy, silken hair fall over those feet as you show obeisance to him. Oh, there is so much for you to know. But you are white silk so he will not be expecting perfection.”

The girls touched various parts of Tupa’s body with dabs of cheap slave perfume. Tupa felt excited just smelling it. Her body jingled as she moved, a mixture of bracelets and bells. 

“Will it be easier the second time?” she asked.

“Perhaps. For some women it is several times with a man before they relax fully. You will know after tonight.”

“Look at you,” said Ella proudly. “Your hips and thighs and bottom are so plump and full now. And your breasts are heavier. He will desire you greatly. You will be a tasty pudding to him.”

“Oh.” Tupa ran a hand over her plump, but toned hips. She didn’t recognise her body any more. “I have the body of a dancing girl now, but I do not know how to dance.”

The other girls laughed. “That is true. Maybe he will have you trained one day. Would you like to learn to dance, Tupa?”

“I do not know. Perhaps.” Tupa felt shy admitting that. “Is that bad of me?”

“So, you are ready, pretty Tupa.” Ella brought a mirror for Tupa to see her reflection in. When she did, she was amazed by the vision of loveliness that presented itself. Dumbstruck, she cupped her hands before her face and peered out over her fingers, each one with painted nails in shades of coral blue. “That is me?”

“That is you. Tonight a lowly kettle slave can walk with pride for she resembles a pleasure slave.”

Despite her fears and reservations, Tupa also felt excited. She walked proudly from one side of the pen to the other, laughing as the light silks trailed with the motion of her limbs. “Pleasure slave!” she cried, pirouetting on the ball of one foot, her hands raised high above her head. “Pleasure slave! Look at the pleasure slave!” The other girls clapped and laughed, pleased to see Tupa so happy. Even Kala praised Tupa, though she found fault with some motions of her hands. “Relax your wrists, white silk. And don’t stare. Offer shy glances at first and then a more smouldering look of desire. Better.”

“Thank you for everything you taught me, Kala,” said Tupa as she knelt down and kissed her chain sister. “And you too, Vika, And my beloved Ella. You have all been so patient with me.”

“We had to be,” sighed Kala. “White silk girls are clumsy and know so little.” But then she laughed and gently rubbed noses with Tupa.  

When all was finally ready and Tupa’s nerves were simmering at an unprecedented level, Ella sent her on her way, alone. Tupa had never left the pens on her own before, and never without the ankle chains of the Harl ring coffle. In fact it felt strange to be taking small light steps of her own, unimpeded by the weight of Gorean steel. She felt light and fragrant as she emerged from the kennel area and stepped out into the setting sun as it shone its last rays over the courtyard. Guards admired this exotic beauty with her pleasingly rounded hips, large breasts and plump thighs. Even if they had known Serafina Shahzad intimately, they would probably not now have recognised the same girl in this silk clad vision. 

She travelled through some of the gardens, holding her head proudly as she walked. A few men actually applauded, striking their left shoulders with their right hands as she slipped past them. When one man reached out, took hold of her wrist, and pulled her to his body, she cried out, but then submitted to his touch. He pressed his lips to hers, tasting the slave rouge and she in turn felt the short bristles of his unshaven chin. 

“Where do you go, girl?” he asked.

“Inside the keep, Master. I have been sent for. My Master wants me tonight.”

“He will be a lucky man then. Priest Kings grant me a woman like you for a night and I will die happy in battle when my time comes!”

“Oh, Master,” Tupa laughed softly as she touched the palms of both hands to his chest. She felt giddy with arousal from his rough handling of her. She felt his hand caress her bottom through the silk and she shivered, feeling heat between her thighs. If it felt like this now, what would it feel like when she was taken by Javad? “I am white silk,” she said as the man’s hand moved dangerously close to her more intimate area.

“I see.” The hand reluctantly withdrew. “I suspect you will not be so, next time I see you, girl.”

“Probably not, Master,” she laughed. Now was a good time to perhaps test her skills. She tilted her face, lifting her lips, looking with lowered eyelashes at the man. “My lips are red silk though…”

He was on those lips in an instant, kissing and savouring them. When he finally released Tupa, she was breathless and even more aroused than before. It had worked. She could lure a man to her lips with the right look.

“You had better scurry away, white silk, before I forget you belong to another tonight.”

“Yes, Master! Thank you, Master!” Tupa hurried away but lingered at the far doorway glancing back with teasing glances from over her shoulder, laughing softly as the man growled at the sight of her, and then she was gone, heading to the main gate of the keep where the private residences lay.

At the gate she was questioned by several warriors. Javad’s name was sufficient to let her pass, as they had been told to expect a slave girl. This was the very first time that Tupa had been permitted in the central keep where the Shahzads themselves lived. And as she paced barefoot down the winding corridors, she suddenly realised that she was now within the part of Al-Quada-a-Dhum where her sister, mother and father lived. She could try to find them! The thought of doing so actually scared her. She had been told to report to her master, not to dawdle and certainly not to go anywhere else inside the Keep. She was frightened. She had been made to obey for so long now that freedom of thought made her scared. And yet, this was her chance. If she only knew here Jaleesa lived…

Or her mother… 

Tupa felt an anxious churning of her stomach as she recalled what she had overheard so many, many weeks ago, early in her slavery. Javad had talked about secret orders from the Emir; secret orders to be carried out once the Shahzads had settled into their new home and believed themselves to be safe. Tupa’s father and mother had no idea that they harboured a treacherous viper in their midst, that Javad and his fifty Sardaukar had secret orders to strike when the time was right. Tupa chewed her lower lip anxiously. She was terrified now of disobeying an order. She had to report to her master! He would be waiting for her! And yet, she had promised herself all those weeks ago that she would somehow find a way to pass news of the imminent treachery to her family. She had to do so. They knew nothing of what the Emir had ordered! 

And yet she was a slave now, and she must obey. Tupa squirmed in self-inflicted torment. She had been whipped and trained to do as she was told. Her self-resolve was a shadow of its former self.

I’m a kettle slave, she thought to herself. I must only obey my master and my first girl. I will be whipped otherwise. Indecision made her walk from one wall to the next, hesitating to either find her mother, or report as ordered to her master. And what would her mother say if she saw Tupa now? She would be ashamed of the girl.   

Her attention was suddenly drawn to a kettle girl walking down the corridor. In her hands was a tray with a crystal decanter of wine and a beautiful stemmed glass. She recognised the set as the one that was brought to her mother each evening after she retired to work on her papers.

“Slave!” cried Tupa suddenly. The kettle slave stopped and turned round to see Tupa walking serenely towards her. Tupa knew the girl – it was Greta from the kitchens. Greta, of course, did not recognised the Shahzad daughter; she only saw and assumed that Tupa was a silken pleasure slave – one of the highest of slaves kept within the Keep.

“Mistress,” said the kettle slave, for pleasure slaves were known to be arrogant and cruel to them.

“You are Greta, yes? You are taking this wine to the Lady?”

“Why yes, Mistress, I am.”

Despite her own slavery, the air of authority she used to possess came back to Tupa now that she was no longer scrubbing floors on her hands and knees with lank, greasy hair hanging down her face. The silks and perfumes gave her some confidence and she remembered how she had once spoken to slave girls with an air of superiority to her voice. “I don’t know what you have done, but you are in trouble in the kitchen. I was sent to find you and tell you to report back there now. Right away! If you hurry, your punishment will be lighter than it would otherwise be. I will take that.” Tupa didn’t give the girl the chance to even ask a question as she reached for the wine and goblet. “I said, give it to me now! You need to return to face your first girl. I suggest you fall to your knees in obeisance when you speak to her.” Tupa took the tray from the startled girl. “Where does the Lady reside?”

Quickly, apologising for whatever it was she had done (the girl obviously had no idea) Greta offered directions to Reyhan’s suite of rooms, three corridors away, and then back away nervously, to hurry back towards the kitchens. She would reach the kitchens in maybe seven ehn, and then discover that the first girl had not sent for her. Tupa had maybe fifteen ehn before she might be brought to one of the slave masters to explain herself. 

Her heart was beating so fast now as she walked down the set of corridors to where a number of guardsmen watched in front of a heavy panelled door that secured the private suite of rooms used by Tupa’s mother. They watched Tupa as she approached, but the sight of a soft, perfumed girl in silks, carrying a tray, did not alarm them. Even so they made Tupa stand for a moment while they searched her body, quite intimately, even reaching between her thighs and inserting their fingers, as if she might conceal a weapon in such a small cavity! Ridiculous as it seemed, for she wore nothing more than a few wisps of silk, those guards were not prepared to take any chance of missing the weapon of a potential assassin. They then checked the seal on the bottle to ensure it had not been tampered with and, as a further precaution, they wiped the glass goblet clean with not one but three pieces of rep cloth, to remove any trace of a poison coating. 

Only when they were finally satisfied did they knock and announce to the Lady that a slave had arrived with her wine for the night.

“Go in, girl. Serve the wine, ask the Lady if she requires anything, and then leave her alone.”

Tupa nodded. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were shaking. Could she do this? Could she confront her mother, while dressed like this? She had to. Never mind she wore a collar and there was a kef brand on her thigh or that her ears and nose were pierced, or that she knew in her heart now that she was a slave. It didn’t matter what happened to her. She had to warn her family about Javad.

The door swung open and Tupa felt dizzy as she carried the wine and goblet into the room. There was her mother, seated at a desk, leafing through some papers. Tupa felt like crying. It felt unreal. How her mother be there, after all this time? 

“Put the wine on the low table,” said Reyhan without looking up. “And pick up that basket of washing by the door.”

No matter the shame, no matter the humiliation, Tupa had to do this.

She stood there, hardly moving. And then she spoke.

“Mother, it is I, Serafina. Your daughter…”