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. 

Tupa hated the teasing. She lay on her side, trying to block it out as Ella watched for a while until she grew tired of it too.

“I am Tupa,” sang Kala, “I will let my master kiss me, but only with my mouth closed!”

“I am Tupa,” sang Vika, “And I love sucking my mauz fruit! Oh, I so wish it was a man!”

“Girls, enough!” Ella clapped her hands loudly together to signal that the bullying had to stop. “Vika, Kala, shame on you both. Do you not remember your own first weeks in the collar? Look at poor Tupa. She has worked hard in our coffle and she has not shirked. She is one of us. Yesterday she carried forty sacks of water. She is one of us now. She has learnt her lesson, haven’t you Tupa?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Tupa as she gazed up at the first girl. “Tupa is a kettle slave. Tupa is no longer proud. Tupa does not think she is better than her sisters.”

“There. The teasing must stop. Yes, she is white silk and stupid, but were we not all stupid when we were white silk? I knew nothing before I lay with a man. Were you any better?” she regarded Vika and Kala who had both now fallen silent. “I thought not. We should be helping Tupa from now on. She is not happy as a white silk. Why would she be? I think she senses how content we are to be red silk. Now, we’re going to teach Tupa some things so that she may interest her master. We will all benefit from that. A happy Tupa makes for a happy pen. Does anyone wish to dispute this?”

“No, Ella,” said Vika quietly.

“No, Ella,” said Kala with eyes down, gazing at the straw covered floor. 

“Good. Then this morning sees an end to the teasing. Tupa is no longer a free woman, she is kajira now. She is stupid, but soon she will no longer be stupid. Vika, you will teach her how to walk before men. Teach her the sexy wiggle and how to glance briefly with need in her eyes. Teach her how to stand with the weight on one foot, a hand on the other hip, toes flexed. Teach her to how to invite a man’s touch with just a toss of her hair.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Vika.

“And you, Kala. You are the beauty here, but I think Tupa will be your equal when she has a rounder bottom and fuller breasts. You will teach her how to touch a man, and more importantly, how to move under his touch so that her movements intensify his desire for her. There is a slut deep inside of Tupa who yearns to be free. You will release that slut. Teach her to crawl, to beg, to lick and kiss when in the arms of a man. Teach her to be hot and aroused.”

“She will never be as good as me,” said Kala with a pout.

“Maybe not, but she has potential. Teach her everything you know. Do not hold back.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Kala, reluctantly. 

Tupa’s lessons began before breakfast as Vika instructed her sharply in the art of walking sensuously at all times. “In a few months you will be unable to walk any other way,” she said as she corrected Tupa’s posture, pace and wiggle. “You are not wearing smoky gowns now, girl. You are slave. Think ‘slave’ as you walk. Toss your head proudly when you know a man is gazing in admiration at you. Interest him with the wiggle of your ass and hips. Make him run after you and command you to his feet. Do you understand?”

Tupa spent an ahn practising these things and by the end Vika grudgingly admitted she had potential. “There is a slut in you, Tupa,” she said. “This will not be as hard as I perhaps thought.”

Before the pens were opened for breakfast, Ella told Tupa to kneel in the straw and show Vika and Kala what she had learned with the mauz fruit. Tupa felt embarrassed as she kneeled there with the fruit in her hands, licking and kissing it before taking it into her mouth. She sucked and kissed, working her lips around the fruit as she might do with a man. 

“Now speak,” said Ella, when she judged the time was right.

Tupa slid the fruit from her wet lips, gazed up at where the man might be and said, “Tupa begs slave rape, Master.”

“Good,” said Ella. “Good.”

The girls weren’t chained as they skipped and ran with the other coffles to the breakfast troughs. There they were given simple gruel and water and a small measure of salt, for their work in the hot sun would deplete their salt reserves during the day. The girls ate and drank in their small groups, often eyeing one another across the feeding pen. Some of the groups were friendly towards one another, while others were fierce rivals. But this was one of the rare times during the day when all the girls belonging to all the kettle coffles could intermingle and talk to one another.

Tupa crouched close to Ella, thankful for the intervention of the first girl earlier. She sensed that she had now passed the stressful period of initiation when a new slave is introduced to experienced ones. Now she would be considered part of the coffle and with that came the protection of the group. Ella reached over and hugged her, kissing her softly on the top of her head.

“Welcome to your sisters, Tupa,” she said.

Tupa felt emotional. She belonged now. The worst was over. These girls would accept her now as another kettle slave. She glanced at Vika who smiled and reached over to kiss her on the cheek.

“I will teach you much,” said Vika. “Welcome, chain sister.”

Even Kala sighed eventually and shuffled over to kiss Tupa on the cheek. “If you let me down and make my training seem pointless, I’ll whip you,” she said.

“I will learn, Kala! I want to learn,” cried Tupa. “Please be my chain sister.”

“Very well. You are stupid and clumsy, but I will teach you.” She kissed Tupa again on the forehead. “Welcome to the coffle, stupid white silk.”

Tupa felt a growing sense of pride and accomplishment for the first time since being branded and collared. She was actually happy as she sat with the other girls to be chained in the Harl ring coffle for the day’s hard labour. She was with her chain sisters now, and they would look after one another. 

“I love you. Ella,” said Tupa suddenly without thinking.

“Stupid girl,” laughed Ella. “Don’t get emotional on me. It is just another morning.” But Ella seemed pleased with the words. “Up now, we have more water to carry.” 

“Do you think my master will come to see me today?” Tupa asked anxiously during her first break. She sat in the ankle chains with her sisters, under the shade of some date palms. Her lower back and thighs ached from carrying the first ten sacks of water to the high gardens of Al-Quada-a-Dhum. There had been many stairs which had left her leg muscles burning. 

“No,” said Ella. “He won’t. You will not see him now for several days. That is how men prepare a girl. He is giving you time to decide whether you truly wish to be pleasing. He knows that if you do, you will seek out help from your chain sisters. You will learn things. Then, in a few days’ time he will happen to come across you again, but it will be pre-planned. It will be an opportunity for you to beg again, but this time with some skill. Will you beg?”

“I’ll beg, Mistress,” said Tupa as she gazed out at the lovely garden. It was being fed with water from the steel cisterns that had to be regularly filled by hand. It was back breaking work for the girls. “I will leave him in no doubt that I wear his collar.”

“There will be some pain and discomfort at first when he enters you. The first time is never easy for a white silk. You will be tight and there will be a smear of blood. But then you will be a woman. There will be pleasure too. You have no idea.”

“I think I will be scared when it happens,” said Tupa.

“Of course. You are white silk, ignorant and stupid.” Ella kissed Tupa softly on the cheek. “Your expression afterwards will tell me everything I need to know.” 

The next few days passed quickly for Tupa. Each day before breakfast, and after the evening meal, Tupa would learn from Vika and Kala, practising the things they taught. During the long day they worked together in their ankle chains, and although the work was hard and tiring, Tupa loved the fact she was with her chain sisters. She felt safe with them, and now as they worked they would talk, a few words here and there when men weren’t about. They would even laugh as Kala described funny situations she had witnessed or possibly invented. Kala had a good sense of humour and when she began to grudgingly warm to Tupa, she took time to raise the girl’s spirits with jokes and wry comments. When Tupa’s training was done in the evening, the girls would lie together in their straw, talking quietly, slave limbs entwined, combing and grooming one another. There was always something to do. Life was no longer boring for Tupa. It was often hard, but she cherished the moments of companionship with her newfound sisters. As Tupa’s grooming settled into a regular pattern, and as her bottom, hips and breasts continued to fill out, Ella saw that she was blossoming into a sensual and vibrant slave girl. She was walking with an erotic wiggle now, gazing wistfully at men who passed by. Once or twice a day Ella would see Tupa stroking her brand, apparently lost in thought. Tupa learnt to groom the other girls too, and took pleasure in doing so. The girls grew closer together in the coffle and watched out for one another. 

But always each day Tupa asked Ella, “do you think my master will look for me today?”

Five days passed and he did not.

Occasionally Tupa saw women in the distance as she worked. Twice she saw her mother sitting in the shade of the garden, but Tupa could not go to her, for she was part of the Harl ring work coffle. Occasionally she saw what appeared to be the two Shahzad sisters walking by in the grounds of the gardens, conversing quietly together in their expensive clothes and veils. It continued to puzzle Tupa that Serafina Shahzad should be seen walking with her sister, Jaleesa, for Tupa was sure that she was Serafina Shahzad, not this mysterious imposter. But again, chained to the work coffle, Tupa had no way of speaking to her sister in private. She was just a common kettle slave and would not be admitted to the area of the Keep that contained the personal quarters of the girls, even if she was somehow free of the Harl ring locked about her ankle. 

Tupa clung to the thought though that her slavery wasn’t permanent, that once she was able to communicate with Jaleesa, she would be free of this life. But as the days wore on she found no opportunity to approach Jaleesa. 

And still there was no sign of her master. 

“He will return,” said Ella one night as she watched Tupa comb and brush Kala’s hair. “Men play games with us. It is their way.” 

Later that day Tupa did see her master, but it was at a distance as she carried the double saddlebag of water to the cisterns. Javad Mohsen was walking along one of the raised balustrades overlooking the gardens, and with him was Tupa’s mother, Reyhan. From the expressive way that Javad was gesturing with his hands, and the smile on his face, the conversation between him and Reyhan seemed friendly and informal. Tupa watched, bewildered, as Reyhan stopped to admire a rose bush. She was modestly veiled and robed and seemed to be paying attention to what Javad was saying. Every now and then she would nod, or perhaps speak, for Javad would then fall silent and nod back. Once, Reyhan gazed out over the balustrade and into the garden below where she saw two chain gangs of girls walking with double bags of water over their shoulders, stooped from the effort. Her eyes briefly regarded Tupa, but there was no sign of recognition. From the way her gaze swept the garden, it didn’t seem she was concentrating on any particular girl, just viewing them as they toiled together. 

“Don’t dawdle, Tupa,” said Ella as she pushed Tupa in the small of her back. Tupa stumbled on, just as Javad gaze down too. Tupa glanced back quickly. Had her master seen her? She had missed the opportunity to look up and meet his gaze. Now he was looking at Reyhan again and they were both walking away to one of the raised patios where the afternoon sun was shaded by the walls.

“Mother,” whispered Tupa too quietly for anyone to hear. She didn’t know whether she was disappointed or glad that her mother had not recognised her in the work chain. 

More days passed by in Al-Quada-a-Dhum, and Tupa began to learn how to kiss. These were not sisterly kisses, light pecks on the cheek, nor the chaste and demure kiss with her lips closed that she had always thought she might have to perform with a free companion when the time came, but rather salacious and full kisses given by a slave girl to her master. She practised with Kala in the evenings, the two girls lying together in the straw, Kala teaching her what to do. At first Tupa felt foolish. The girls laughed as they were instructed to practise kissing together by Ella. Tupa felt very shy as Ella demonstrated how to move forward, to offer the kisses. And then they felt clumsy as they lay together, Kala first playing the part of the slave girl, so that Tupa could see and feel what slave kisses should be like, and then, as it was Tupa’s turn to practice, Kala would be the man, and Tupa would be expected to seduce Kala with her mouth. There was much squirming and wriggling as the girls overcame their natural inhibitions and pretended to play the relevant roles.

“You kiss like a slave,” said Kala, laughing, after the third day of lessons.

“I am a slave!” said Tupa, laughing too as she pecked a kiss at Kala’s nose. “Will my master like my kisses?”

“I think he will," admitted Kala. 

And then, one night, after a lighter day’s labours than usual, Ella called softly over to Tupa in the slave pen. Tupa hurried over and knelt before her first girl in nadu. She had been conditioned by now to always kneel in nadu, unless a free woman was present, though that hardly ever occurred. In fact, Tupa now knelt that way without thinking. It was the natural position for her and she felt awkward if instead she might have to press her thighs together. Tupa’s body was being conditioned as each day wore on. 

“You are to be given slave wine,” said Ella, matter of fact, as she produced a small stoppered bottle.

“Slave wine? But… that is…”

“For when a girl is to be used, yes,” said Ella with a bright smile. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Tupa, but it is a good sign.”

Tupa pressed her hands to her mouth in shock. “I’m to be given it now?”

“Yes, I was told to do so. The taste is bitter and you will not like it, but I have some water here for you to drink afterwards. You will be a good girl and let me administer this to you, won’t you?”

Tupa nodded, but a tight knot of fear was developing now in her belly. The reality of knowing she was very soon going to be used by a man seemed very different from the fantasies in advance of it happening when it was only hypothetical. Ella instructed Tupa to lean her head back and open her mouth. She then un-stoppered the small bottle and poured the bitter tasting fluid into Tupa’s mouth. As the girl shuddered in response to the taste, Ella closed her mouth and pinched her nostrils together. “Swallow, little one. Quickly. Then you can have water.”

“Ugh! It’s horrible!” cried Tupa as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, half choking. Quickly she drank large mouthfuls of water to wash away the worst of the taste.

“It is not pleasant,” agreed Ella as she placed the top back on the bottle and put it away. “In just an ahn or so your body will no longer be fertile. From tomorrow morning onwards I want you to use this after breakfast.” Ella presented Tupa with a small stick of slave lipstick. It was a deep red shade and very erotic. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” said Tupa, anxiously. 

“He will notice the lipstick on you. He will know you are ready. You will have a chance to interest him. Just the one chance. Everything you have learnt, you must apply, not forced, but natural. You will only have a few ehn to do so. If you hesitate, he may never come back.”

Tupa nodded “It will be soon?”

“It will be. It could be tomorrow or the day after, but it will be soon now.” She placed a hand on Tupa’s thigh. “There is little more we can do to prepare you. I wish you well, slave girl.”