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.

I suppose I get lost in the rhythm of the dance and fail to notice strong, handsome, virile men riding up close to me and reining in their mounts in order to watch.

“Superb,” I heard him say as I came to a graceful finish. From the expressions on the faces of the kajirae facing me and the men behind me, I could see they knew exactly what I was doing. None of them dared to say so though.

“Oh, Master!” I turned around, flushed with excitement from my routine, as if surprised. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Geralt leaned forward in his high saddle, gazing down at me. There were spears slotted into his weapons harness along with a large round shield and a crested helm, the harness itself strapped to the back of the giant lizard where he could easily reach them. As always, I felt weak in the knees and wet between my legs as I looked at him and imagined what it would be like to be his personal slave, to wear his collar, to run to him when he summoned me.

I hoped he had liked what he had seen. I had been practising hard on that dance routine for a couple of weeks now with the aid of the Taharian trainer that was now employed on the estate. I think Emma would be surprised and probably green with jealousy if she saw how good I was since she had been first girl here.

“Your dancing is exquisite, kajira,” said Geralt as he applauded with his right fist against his left shoulder. I flashed him a warm smile and dropped to my knees before him in nadu.

“I work hard, Master. How was your hunting?” I gazed at the pack animal that trailed behind him and saw it had a large tabuk tied across its back. A few smaller animals hung from hooks on its harness – rabbit size creatures and a few game birds mostly. They would be delivered to the kitchen where Shannon was overseeing the five kajirae in charge of our evening meal. Shannon enjoyed working in the kitchen and she'd been loyal to me from the start so I'd made her an overseer of sorts in that area. Now she thought of the kitchens as her little empire which meant she was grateful to me and another source of support. Slowly but surely, I was building a stable power base that didn't depend on fear.

“The game is good this year. It's Chloe, isn’t it?”

He knew my name!

“It is, Master. Chloe, if it pleases you.”

“Of course it does. I’m hardly going to quibble about a name that Brinn has given you.” He leaned forward in the high saddle as he spoke, his hands resting on the pommel.

My name can be whatever you want it to be, Master, I thought to myself as I imagined those strong arms pushing me down into the furs and securing my wrists to shackles, ready for rough sex.

“You’re training these girls?” he asked.

“Yes, Master. New purchases and quite clumsy, but we’ll make dancers of them all in time.” I glanced back at the new kajirae and smiled because they had done their best actually. It wasn't their fault if recently they had all been clumsy free women.

“The piercings look good.” He nodded at the sight of their recent ear, nose and belly button piercings, the application of which had brought many of the girls to hysterical bouts of tears. All girls on the estate now had these identical piercings whether they liked it or not. Even proud Candice. The estate was becoming famous for it, throughout the Sardar region.

“They do. The girls hated them at first, but it’s not down to them. Any more than they get to choose whether they dance for the pleasure of men.”

“They will never dance as well as you, Chloe.”

Oh wow! I tried not to show how excited I felt when he said that.

“I love dancing, Master. I love dancing for men. Especially in their private quarters…” There it was. If that wasn’t a full-blown invite for him to use me, I don’t know what was.

Geralt looked long and hard at me for several moments. I knew what he wanted and I made sure he could plainly see it as I spread my thighs.

“You’re quite the brazen slave, Chloe.”

“Sometimes, Master. Sometimes. When I find myself kneeling before true masters. True men who could easily make me theirs by snapping their fingers.”

“Has anyone claimed you tonight?”

“No Master, they haven’t.” My eyes were practically begging him. Please. Please. Please.

“Come to my chambers tonight. Tell the guards I have requested your use.”

“Yes, Master!” I felt giddy with excitement as I watched him lead the procession of hunting tharlarions back towards the stables. Geralt had asked for me! I was going to serve Geralt! At last!

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“You’re such a slut, Chloe,” said Candice as she lay on some furs in my personal pen as she rifled with her fingers through my casket of cosmetics. “I heard about you at the gates with Geralt. Could you be any more obvious? Ooh... can I borrow this nail polish?” She held the violet one up for me to see.

“My crafty campaign has been successful,” I said with a contented grin. “Three weeks of ensuring he saw me every day. I think Master Geralt is going to be our Master's favoured Captain in time. He’s already one of our Master’s close confidantes.”

“When you want a master you certainly pull out all the stops,” said Candice. “Oh, and this lipstick too?”

I nodded. We often shared cosmetics. In the three weeks since I had made her second girl to see off any resentment to my new position, Candice and I had become sort of friends. Which was good because she was still very influential in the pens. Interestingly though her little empire of seventeen loyal girls had shrunk over the recent period to just eleven now. Under the shiny new Chloe regime all the previously powerful girls were seeing their notoriety ebbing away, which was exactly how I wanted it. Large rival factions were giving way to smaller family like groups of girls, mostly centred around the living spaces in the pens. As time went by it became harder for any one girl to wield enough power to seriously destabilise me as first girl. Because there were a thousand ways powerful kajirae could make a first girl look bad in the eyes of masters. I had seen some of them try with Emma, except of course with Emma it was never going to work because she was Brinn’s love slave and the mother of his children.

And Emma was vicious when someone threatened her position.

I wasn’t vicious and so I had to become clever. It is a much better way.

“Oh, we’ve had delivery of the Taharian garments,” I said, suddenly remembering the box that lay in my pen. My personal pen was comfortable, one of the pens designed to house five girls, but it was mine alone. There was a wood burning stove, which was common in each of the pens, a good supply of chopped firewood that was brought to me by a male slave every day, piles of plush furs, a low table with a mirror and all my cosmetics, flasks of water and a bowl of fruit, and a wall rail with a selection of slave garments that I chose from each morning. It was a comfortable pen, but one I spent few nights in. The Master was now calling me to his furred couch three nights a week – Gorean weeks that is – a Gorean week is five days - which was pretty much on a par with how often he had shared his bed with Emma. I had worked hard learning everything that pleased the Master, building on my already comprehensive knowledge to begin with from everything Emma had confided in, in the past. I also made a habit of interrogating other girls the morning after they spent the night with the Master, asking them to recount what they did that pleased him. They knew better than to lie to the first girl, and so I learned many things that I hadn't already thought of. Gradually I incorporated them into my routine until I began to think I might know Master Brinn better in bed than even Emma did. I wasn’t trying to claim the Master as such – I was just aware that my position as first girl could be stripped from me at a whim, and that I didn’t have the natural superiority of having given the Master children. I didn’t have Emma’s security, and until she returned, I had to keep the Master satisfied if I didn’t want some other kajira charming him and stealing my title.

Life is tough as a first girl. Men are mercurial and easily grow bored with once favourite girls. I was determined to keep sex with the Master fresh and exciting.

I tried to be everything the Master might want, but my heart belonged to another. I knew Captain Geralt was my natural master and that I would be a perfect slave to him if only he wanted me as much as I wanted his personal collar. My success with the Master Brinn was unfortunately a double-edged sword, for the success I needed was also an obstacle to opportunities for Geralt to summon me to his chambers. But now at last he had.

“You mean the chalwar harem pants and vest?” Candice wrinkled her nose at the thought of these foreign garments. “I’m not sure I want my legs covered up.”

“The silk is incredibly sheer and transparent,” I reminded her. “The men will still see your legs.”

“Why can’t we just wear our slave tunics?” said Candice as she placed my lipstick next to my nail polish. “You keep introducing all these Taharian features. We’re not Taharian here! I’m from Ar!”

“The Master spent many years in the Tahari. He has a fondness for the place.” I opened the box and pulled out one of the sets of slave garments suitable for a Pasha’s harem. “Try them on, Candice.”

“Not now. Maybe later.” She lounged in the furs and continued to rummage through my cosmetics box.

“I am the first girl, remember.” I handed her the harem pants.

“And I’m Candice. Don’t push your status with me, Chloe.” She handed the chalwar pants straight back. I suppose I could have done an Emma and threatened her with discipline, but that wasn’t my style. It was important to have her on board as an ally while I was still securing my position. In fact it was good for her to see that I wasn’t a tyrant and that I wasn’t going to enforce everything upon her. Let her win the small disagreements and it gave me room to put my foot down on the important issues without too much resentment from her side.

“Okay, later then.” I smiled and folded the silken pants back into the box. Candice looked pleased with herself. She felt reassured now that she had status with me. Of course when it came to the big things, well… she was wearing earrings, and a cute little ring through her nose and belly button wasn’t she? Chloe got her way with the important things in life.

I watched Candice as she applied my red lipstick to her lips, slowly turning the stick to evenly coat each lip in turn. I watched her blot the lipstick and pucker, pleased with the effect. “You have such lovely things,” she said as she began to coat her nails one at a time with my nail polish.

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The Lady Cassandra spent much of her time during the day in the gardens to the rear of the main building. She had been slow to leave ever since the Master had returned with me beside him on his war tharlarion three weeks ago. There had been much to discuss at first, with Cassandra explaining what had happened during his lengthy absence. The Master was not happy that she had sold many of his kajirae but he understood that since she owned kajirae of her own and since she thought she was taking up residence here there were simply too many kajirae when both households were combined. Naturally enough her own kajirae took precedence. I had been relieved to discover familiar faces still in residence though, like Shannon and Candice. But all the girls who had been loyal to Emma had been sold in the Sardar markets. Shannon told me how heart-breaking it had been to see them led away in a chain coffle to be disposed of wholesale.

I remained cautious whenever I saw Cassandra. If she remembered that I was a close friend of Emma's she didn't show any signs of it. To be fair she was neither cruel nor kind to me when she very occasionally spoke to issue a command. She was of course a free woman and so looked down upon slaves, but provided we were obedient and silent in her presence she barely acknowledged us. Every night we kajirae speculated on when she might leave the estate and return to her home in Vonda. Most of her belongings had been packed up and lay under sheets of tarpaulin on heavy wagons ready for the journey home. But still she remained here like a bad smell. From time to time I saw her seated at a table in the shaded area of the gardens writing page after page in a leather-bound book. Maybe she was writing her life story? At such times I would ensure that a kajira knelt modestly close to hand in case she required a drink. An hour might go by before Cassandra would raise her left hand and indicate her goblet, at which point the kajira would silently serve her. Few words were ever exchanged. The estate was crowded with both Cassandra's banner men and the Master's in residence. Although technically both armies served the same house, that of Assante, there was naturally enough a rivalry similar to two regiments of the British army sharing the same barracks. This rivalry would often spill out into drunken fights that the officers would be forced to break up and discipline. Warriors love to fight, even in peace time, and we kajirae had been quick to learn to keep out of the way when one of the paga fuelled bar room brawls broke out.       

“Chloe!” The voice belonged to a man and so I looked round quickly to see one of Brinn's warriors passing by to my left. “You might want to go to the main courtyard, girl.”

“Oh?” I ran lightly towards him and stopped several feet away. I think his name was Dieter, one of the men from Tarnburg, but shamefully I wasn't absolutely sure of the fact. Luckily for me though I only had to remember a single name and that was 'master'. “Why is that, Master?”

“A wagon has just turned up with some girls you bought.”

“I don't think I've bought any girls, Master...” Three weeks ago I had bought a number of girls from Linus the slaver, but he hadn't been back since then.

“Well, tell that to the wagon men. They have a coffle of Taharian girls chained to the central bar.”

“Taharian girls!” My face lit up there and then. Of course, I had told Linus that I would be interested in any Taharian women that came into his stock.

“They're beauties,” said the man who might have been Dieter.

“Of course, Master, they're Taharian after all! May I be excused?” He nodded and so I hurried to the main courtyard close to the gates where I saw the wagon, several men standing around it talking to our guards, and there they were - five obviously Taharian slaves chained by their ankles to the central bar at the back of the wagon. A number of the kajirae on the estate had gathered to stare at these exotic beauties with their sun kissed olive skin, dark hair, and Persian features. None of the estate kajirae seemed happy that such beautiful women had been delivered. A few of them looked to me with expressions of concern that I instantly recognised.

“Chloe!” shouted one of the other men, obviously pleased to see me, and I gave the man a warm smile. I was growing very popular with the warriors on the estate, both those belonging to Brinn and those loyal to Cassandra's serpent banner. This was no stroke of luck but rather the result of clever manipulation on my part.

The thing about men is that they are very competitive when it comes to women. Oh yes, on Gor they rule over my sex, but as Emma had once confided in me, they secretly want women to admire them. And they will fight one another for the admiration of women they crave the most. I don't think Emma has ever really thought this through to its logical conclusions, but in the past three weeks I had.

Men want beautiful women, but they most certainly want the first girl on an estate as large as this.  There's a certain status associated with a first girl, and while the first girl is no more than a slave, she is a valuable commodity. Any man could have Shannon. Shannon was lovely, with rich auburn hair and slim ankles, tall, with long legs, but there was no particular achievement in sending Shannon to your furs. Anyone could do it. But to have a first girl chained to your couch for the night? Ah, now that was a reward. But to have that first girl be seen by your peers to be excited whenever she greets you? Well, that's the secret power I understood I had. And so over the last three weeks I had endeavoured to make the warriors I met regularly feel special whenever I spoke to them. I worked hard to remember little things that they liked – something that Emma with her iron clad status wouldn't have bothered to do – and I kept these facts in my head to have personal conversations of a flirty nature whenever I had the chance. Pretty soon the men watched out for me and a few of them, the poor souls, even loitered in areas where they knew I might pass by on my supervisory patrols. I would always seem delighted to meet them and beg to spend a few minutes in their company, playfully flirting.

It's really that easy. Women in collars do have some power if they figure out how to wield it. So, work this to the natural conclusion, pretty soon the men were competing just a little for my attention and company. If one warrior was making a play for me, then the other warriors would become jealous and try to outdo their colleague. I would rarely be available sexually, which worked in my favour because it made nights with me something to work hard for. Most nights I slept in the Master's bed, and so unlike the other girls who were routinely available my use was severely rationed.

“When are you available, Chloe? I must have you in my couch, in my chains?” said one anxious and frustrated warrior called Tomas only three days ago.

“Not for weeks, Master. You know I share the Master's couch three, maybe four nights a week and so I am only available one night a week to others. Believe me, I so wish to lick and kiss your chains. I could...” I seemed to suddenly look a bit nervous at what I was about to suggest.

“What, Chloe? What could you do?” Tomas held me by my upper arms and gazed with frustrated longing at my mouth and eyes.  

“I could... this is so wrong, but... but, I need your touch, Master... I could, at night, when I report on things for the day while I lie in the Master's bed, I could perhaps praise some things I happened to witness you doing? I could suggest maybe you should be rewarded in some way? And then we could be together for a night?”

The way his eyes lit up was a pleasure to behold. “A few words of encouragement from me, Master, would do you no harm at all. I would be proud to do so.”

It is that easy. Very soon many of the warriors understood that I had the Master's ear at night in bed while we fucked, and that I could offer words of praise for various warriors in his service. And yes, to a subtle degree I was sometimes able to influence who I slept with on the nights I didn't share Master Brinn's couch.  

Why didn't Emma ever understand this? I suppose she felt she never needed to. She was always so sure of her power base. I love her like the Earth sister I never had, but she was very overconfident when it came to Master Brinn. She never considered the possibility he might one day grow tired of her. She didn't know what I knew, that the Master Brinn had once had a love slave who was a blonde barbarian, much like Emma, during his days in the Tahari and after many years had simply discarded and sold her when it was time for him to leave.   

I was sensible enough to never take this too far, to never ever give any man the idea that he was my love master or anything like that.

Though Geralt was, and because he was, I was too afraid to tell him.

I didn't want the men to feel I was deceiving them in some way, because it would be no secret on the estate that I would be flirtatious with many of them. That is okay, slaves are supposed to be flirtatious with men. It is expected of us. But if I ever gave various men the idea that they were very special, then they would become angry when, not if, they discovered I was saying that to several of them at the same time. So no, I just did what slaves did, showed them how much I wanted to be in their chains. Their desire for me did the rest, filled in all the gaps, made me extremely desirable to the point that the men would visibly compete with one another for my attention and warm smile.

A first girl has so much power on an estate like this. More so than even a free woman.

But slaves must present no sign of this if a free woman is watching. That was my greatest fear; arousing the anger of a free woman like Cassandra because men wanted me so badly. I knew she could be a terrifying enemy to have.   

Linus the slaver seemed to be arguing with a couple of the Master's men as I arrived.

“Chloe's arrived,” said Numan as he noticed me approach. “Now you can unload your slaves for inspection.”

Linus seemed furious as he turned to face me. “Her?! I'm supposed to deal with her? She's a kajira!” Yes, he was definitely furious. I dropped to my knees in fear and lowered my head.  

“Brinn has put her in charge of acquiring slaves,” said Numan with a shrug. “He hasn't got the time to deal with things like that personally, and he trusts the first girl to have a good eye for slave flesh.”

Oh. So that's it. Linus was expected to conduct transactions with a kajira. No wonder he wasn't happy. He normally dealt directly with men. I kept my head very low. The way he looked now he might beat me just for the hell of it.

“You wanted Taharian slaves. Here they are!” He spat the words at me.

“Thank you, Master...” I was trembling on my knees before him. I knew he had a broad, heavy whip coiled on a hook at his belt and, as an experienced slaver he would be very proficient with it.

“A silver tarsk each. I'll collect the money before I leave.”

“May...” I swallowed hard, “May I... inspect them first?”

“WHAT?!” Linus stamped over towards me and pulled my head up by my hair.

“I... please, Master... I need to inspect the girls before we buy them...”

“How dare you!” He suddenly slapped me hard across the face, bringing blood to my nose and lips. “You insolent little slut! Whipping position! Now!” He threw me to the dirt and lifted the whip from his belt. Immediately I complied, bending my body down and exposing my back as I felt his spare hand pull the silk away from my body so that nothing lay between my skin and the whip. But then before he could raise the whip, I heard Geralt's voice close by.

“No.”

I sensed Linus hesitate and look round. In terror I raised my head an inch so that I could see the lower half of my natural Master step close to face Linus.

“Chloe belongs to us. You do not have whip rights over her. If and when she is whipped it will be for me to decide,” said Geralt.

“I find her insolent!” screamed Linus.

“That is not my problem. Chloe...” he addressed me now and I suddenly felt a strong desire to crawl to that wonderful Master's feet and kiss him. “You have some slaves to inspect?”

“Yes, Master! I do! May I rise?”

“You may.”

I didn't dare look at Linus as I regained my feet. I walked towards the wagon where I saw the girls released one by one from the central bar. The men gestured with their whips and, understanding this, the Taharian beauties filed down in a row beside the wagon, their collars secured in a coffle arrangement with a long length of chain.

I began to examine them, one by one, noticing first how fresh their brands were. These girls had only recently been enslaved and so probably still thought of themselves as free women, or did they? They seemed obedient and cowed as I touched and examined them carefully.

“Please, Master, how were these women acquired?”

“You dare to ask me questions?” spat Linus in fury.

“Answer the first girl,” said Geralt who I could sense was growing impatient now with the slaver's attitude.

“They were hand maidens to a high born Taharian woman. They were captured as a set recently. The Taharian noble woman has not been touched, but these girls have been taught their slavery, or at least the basics of it, in the time they have worn a brand. They are all red silk.”

“Which one is the Taharian noble woman, Master?” I asked in a respectful and soft voice.

“She is not here. I will sell her in Ar. She is an exquisite beauty, ripe for the finer markets south of the Sardar.”

Oh. So he was reserving the very best Taharian girls for other clients? I was suddenly annoyed by this. I wanted the best Taharian girls we could buy! And so, I suspect, would the men. The hand maidens were all beauties and I would probably buy them all, but I was irritated that he hadn't brought the Noble Woman.

“I think my Master would want to see her too, Master...”

“Insolent slave!” Linus grabbed my wrist and threw me to the ground again. “You do not talk to me like...” and then his voice trailed off as Geralt, Numan and two other warriors circled him.

“Chloe is conducting Brinn's business,” said Geralt with a look he probably reserved for the front ranks of shield walls that faced him on the field of battle. “She makes a valid point. Our Captain will not take kindly to the thought that you are not offering him your finest stock.”

“But... a woman of Lady Roksana Parisa Elaheh's pedigree is destined for the chains of a central auction block in the Curulean in Ar, and...”     

         

“Shall I send for Brinn? He happens to be in a foul mood this morning, I understand.”

“No... there is no need to trouble him, Sir,” said Linus quickly.

“So, this Lady Roksana that you have in your pens?” asked a very stern looking Geralt.

“Will be brought here of course for the Captain to consider.”

“For Chloe to consider,” said Geralt.

“As you wish.” Linus didn't meet Geralt's gaze. I expect it was quite a ferocious gaze.

“Good. That's settled then,” said Geralt. “Chloe? What do you make of the women?”

“They're beauties Master, and look how graceful they are.” I motioned for them to walk a few paces one at a time. I could see the men approved. “I think they will be very popular here.”  

“A slave approves of my stock,” sneered Linus. “I am so lucky.”

I ignored the barbed comment and simply watched the Taharian girls walk in line together in a graceful circle. I had made the right choice to buy up girls from the desert regions. The Master would be very pleased with them. But I wanted to see this Lady Roksana too.

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The auburn-haired kajira, Urt, was in a hysterical state as she was led out into the pleasant walled courtyard on the south side of the estate. Normally this degree of hysteria would be seen in a girl who was about to be branded on her left thigh, or perhaps one who knew she was about to have her ears pierced – both frightening prospects for a free woman. Urt was naked, for I had not yet given her the right to wear clothing. Just a few weeks ago she had been the haughty free woman, the Lady Seraphina Manara of Teletus, who had been so indignant and rude to me when I had assessed and purchased her that day soon after the Master and I had returned to the Sardar. To begin with I had been scared of her. The Master had made me first girl on the spot and I was still processing such an abrupt change in my position, and when faced with the disdain of the free woman, even though she was naked and in manacles, well, I withered before her stare.

But only for a few minutes. And then I understood she had no power over me. None at all. She was presented to me in a chain coffle and I had been given the power to buy her or not. The other girls had shown me some respect, but not the former Lady Seraphina Manara of Teletus. To her I was just a slave. True, she had not yet been branded or trained, and so I suppose she still thought of herself as a free woman, but she was in a chain coffle and no one was going to free her. I bought her and gave her the name Urt in response to her haughty demeanour. But even then, I had given her the opportunity to reform her manner. I did not want to be cruel to her. Work with me, I had said to her. You are a slave now, like all the other girls on the estate, for the only free woman for pasangs in any direction was the Lady Cassandra. All other women were in bondage. Train hard, accept your new condition and all will be well, I had told her.

She had been stubborn, sensing my reluctance to hurt her. I do not like whipping girls, and consider it a last resort. It’s almost a failure on my part if I have to whip a girl. My fault. It should never come to that. And yet Urt resisted my authority. I kept her naked, thinking she would beg for clothing, but she was too proud. Reluctantly I whipped her with the crop on her third day of enslavement on the estate. After that she did not disrespect me openly but I could see she turned passive aggressive, doing everything she could to make it clear she thought of herself as different. While she didn’t disobey me, she did only the literal minimum I ordered, just enough so she could claim she was respecting me. I put up with it for a couple of weeks. Candice said I was being weak.

“I’d flay the skin from her back if she spoke to me the way she speaks to you,” said Candice one day as she walked beside me while we did the rounds of the estate. “You can’t be weak, Chloe. I know you think it is compassion, but it will be seen as weakness.”

“I will never flay the skin from a girl’s back,” I said. “I don’t do that.”

“Well, use the crop on her thighs. And ass. Give her some stripes.”

“I’m not sure that will cure this passive aggressive attitude. I’ve always heard auburn haired girls are stubborn.”

“Oh no, Mistress, we’re not,” said Shannon quickly, in alarm. She was the estate’s tall, auburn haired girl, long before Urt came along. “We try to please our first girl at all times!”

I smiled. “I’m only joking, Shannon. Hair colour has nothing to do with attitude.” She seemed relieved when I said that. I forgot sometimes how literal Gorean kajirae took my words from time to time.

“You need to do something, Chloe,” said Candice. She never called me Mistress, and I never pressed the issue with her. She was my second girl, and I wanted her to think she had a lot to gain from backing me. “A first girl has to be strong, especially in a series of pens as large as this. Girls like me, you buy the support of, but girls like Urt you need to make an example of. That’s just the way it is.”

“I’ve already used the crop on her once.”

“I’ll whip her for you, if you like,” said Candice with a cruel smile. “An afternoon spent with me and my crop and she’ll be kissing your feet in no time. Just say the word.”

“No.” I didn’t want to encourage Candice’s cruelty. I could only imagine what her rule might be like if she became first girl. It would not be a pleasant environment for any of us. “But you’re right, I have to do something. The other girls have noticed her passive aggressive routine. A couple of them have even been seen copying it.”

Two of Candice’s girls forced Urt into the centre of the courtyard. Her eyes were wild with fear as she saw the chair that awaited her. Candice had told her what was going to happen, and just the news of her punishment was enough to break her spirit. In fact, looking at her now, how pitiful she seemed, I was tempted to call the punishment off. I felt sure that if she was spared this awful thing that she would have learned her lesson. But Candice was right, an example had to be made, and Urt’s suffering would send a signal to all the other kajirae on the state. Better one girl suffered, if it meant I didn’t have to use the same punishment again.

I had assembled all the kajirae to watch. Word had spread amongst them what was about to happen to Urt, and I could see genuine dismay in many of the faces assembled here this morning. The girls understood I think that I had the power to do the same thing to any one of them. I had not said so, but the implication was clear. Watch and learn. It will be Urt in the chair, but it could be you in the future. Many of the girls did not want to be here. Some of the girls had difficulty watching. I noted which ones looked away as Urt was pushed into the chair and her forearms were fastened with leather straps to the arms of the chair.

She was begging, pleading, making all sorts of promises.

“Please, Mistress!” she screamed to me. “I will be good, I will be obedient, I will work and train hard! Please do not do this!”

Oh, so now she’s calling me Mistress? What a change in her attitude…

I didn’t want to do this, but Candice was right. An example had to be made. I was a new first girl and I did not want pockets of resistance that I would have to deal with one at a time. Hard as it was, it would be better this way. One example, one girl, one warning.

Urt cried, howled, pleaded. She would be a better kajira, she would learn everything she was taught, she would please men and help her chain sisters, she would do anything I said.

I had to force myself to stay aloof and not surrender to this display of genuine fear.

“You know why this is happening, Urt?” I said as I gazed at her.

More begging, more pleading, more promises to obey. I motioned with my hand for her to be quiet. The only sound now was her sobbing as she sat in the hard-backed chair. Even then she was clinging to a last shred of hope that if she obeyed me, I would cancel her punishment.

“I gave you three weeks, Urt. I have been patient with you, but you have exhausted my patience. I am first girl here, and I will have your obedience and respect.”

She was nodding, afraid to speak, but it was plain from her tear streaked eyes that she would never disappoint me again if only I would spare her this.

I looked at Candice. I expected Candice to be smiling, happy that I was being strict with Urt, but to my surprise I saw that even Candice looked disturbed and… yes… just a little bit scared… of the punishment I had devised. Now that was interesting. The strong, cruel, manipulative Candice, my ally yes, but a rival possibly in the future; the ever so proud, pleasure slave, Candice, was scared of what I was about to do to Urt. I had found Candice's weakness. I had found something she was scared of. I could imagine if she was in the chair in place of Urt that she too would be pleading and crying, desperate to beg for mercy. I recognised that expression in her girls too – Candice’s ‘gang’. They could all imagine this being done to them, and they feared it.

“I am not going to show you mercy, Urt,” I said at last. The girl broke down into fresh hysterics, and I saw Candice look away, not wanting to see what was going to happen next. This would spare me having to use the lash in future. They were all afraid of what was coming next.

“Kajirae,” I said, gazing around the two lines of girls. “You will all watch this. If I see any girl looking away…”

I saw girls swallow hard. I hadn’t said what the punishment might be if any girl looked away, because the fear of an unknown punishment was far more powerful than me describing it. Could the punishment be the same as the one I was going to inflict on Urt? I hadn’t said. And because I hadn't said, the girls let their imaginations run wild. “That means you too, Candice,” I said quietly, so that only she might hear. Candice looked startled. She gazed at me, and then looked back at Urt. Good.

A man had been waiting patiently nearby. With a nod from me he walked over to where Urt sat crying. She seemed numb with shock now, unable to fight what was going to happen to her. Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car she was paralysed with fear.

We all watched as the man produced a set of sheers and began to cut Urt’s beautiful auburn hair away in clumps. There was no style to his technique, he simply grabbed handfuls of her hair and hacked it away. Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks and the girls watching all looked ashen faced. The man didn’t finish hacking away until Urt’s once beautiful mane was reduced to uneven clumps no more than a centimetre or two in length. It had taken her many years as a free woman to grow such a beautiful head of hair and now it was gone. I wouldn’t say she was ugly – Urt was a beautiful woman – but with her hair gone she looked the least of us. Men would not give her a second glance. Instinctively she was now the lowest slave on the estate. And then the man produced a bowl of warm water, soap and a long-bladed razor.

Urt begged me again. She begged like I had never heard a slave beg before as the man soaped her head, preparing it to be shaved clean. I could still end this now. The punishment had worked, not just for Urt, but for all the kajirae on the state. Even Candice seemed scared by the implication that this could happen to any of them. There was no need to sheer Urt completely.

The man looked at me and waited for my signal.

“Do you want to say something, Urt?” I asked.

“I'm a slave, mistress! I want to learn to be pleasing! I only want to please you and the Masters! I will never, ever disobey you again, Mistress, or give you any reason to be angry with me! Please, please, please!”

The man held the straight bladed razor and watched for my signal.

“You will not be given another chance after this one, Urt,” I said as I gazed at her. “You understand me?”

“La kajira, Mistress, la kajira!” Urt was broken. To go further would be cruelty for the sake of cruelty.

“That’s enough then. Leave her the remainder of her hair. Urt, you will spend two weeks working in the latrines. I want to hear pleasing reports about you. Kajirae – you all have work to do! Back to your places!” I clapped my hands to signal the punishment was at an end.

A few minutes later I was alone with Candice. I noticed she couldn’t look me in the eyes.

“Thank you for your advice, Candice,” I said in a friendly tone. “It was very helpful.”

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

Three days later there was another surprise for me. Candice as usual was the one who told me about the new arrival at the gates. Candice’s sources of information were legendary around the estate. For some reason she had a constant stream of information, much of it trivial in nature, but some of it interesting and useful, not only in respect of the comings and goings of slaves, both male and female, but also the free men who worked for our Master.

“There’s a man with a locked trunk for you, Chloe,” she explained as she nibbled at a soft, savoury pastry. I had no idea where she had got that pastry from. A treat, no doubt, from one of the men who liked her. A lot of men liked Candice. “At the gates.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard that right. A man had arrived with a locked trunk for me? “You mean for the Master?” I replied.

“No.” Candice seemed very interested. All kajirae are curious, but Candice doubly so. She was probably the kajira for whom the saying, ‘curiosity is not becoming in a kajira’, was invented for. “The delivery is for you. The wagon driver asked for you specifically.”

“But that’s not possible. No one sends goods to a slave.”

“Well, someone has. You have a delivery. I think that’s exciting. Don’t you think that’s exciting? Of course it’s exciting. You should be more excited.” Candice took hold of my hand and gave me a little tug, which really wasn’t the sort of way she should be treating the first girl. “Come on, you must want to know what it is?”

Meaning, she wanted to know what it was. 

We walked hand in hand over to the gates, Candice no doubt doing this because it benefitted her to be seen holding my hand as a sign that she was my confidante and favoured kajira. If it made her feel special, I didn’t object. I still wanted Candice on my side in those early days. 

The wagon master was a peasant of some kind and he spoke in a friendly tone with a couple of the guardsmen as he awaited my arrival. His wagon was a flatbed construction with a series of poles over which tarpaulin could be stretched as a canopy. The canvas was rolled up and tied in place on the flat bed, alongside a large secured trunk that had air holes drilled into the two longest sides. The trunk could of course be used to transport pretty much anything, but the proximity of the air holes suggested to me that it contained someone rather than something. 

“A new slave girl,” said Candice with a wary tone to her voice. She had an ambivalent attitude to all the new slaves we’d been buying of late. None of them knew her, the way her loyal girls did, and I think she understood that the presence of an influx of new girls watered down her loyal supporter base. Also, she didn’t take kindly to the Taharian girls I’d been buying, since it was obvious how popular they were with the men. By now a new gang of sorts had begun to take shape, comprising native-born Taharian girls who quite naturally tended to stick together for mutual support in this new land. They were already almost as numerous as Candice’s gang, though not as well organised or well led, and she suspected they had loyalty towards me. And as I said, they were popular with the men. Who wouldn’t want a slim, sweetly hipped, ripe breasted Taharian girl dancing before him in the sand? 

“You’ve bought another slave,” said Candice with an irritated tone to her voice. “I would have thought the Sardar markets would have run out of Taharian girls by now.”

“I… haven’t bought any more girls…” I said, though I’d had to think about it for a moment. I was pretty sure all the ones I’d bought had arrived by now. So why was there another one?

I knew the guards at the gate and I made a point of greeting them warmly as I approached. Men like that. They like to feel they’re special, and I always gave them the impression that I thought they were. 

“This is the beautiful slut you’re looking for, Atilius,” said the guardsman on the left as he caught sight of me. “Chloe, this man has a delivery for you.”

“For me, Master? I wasn’t expecting anyone.” I stood there in a relaxed pose while Candice literally sniffed around the wagon, touching the sides and peering through one of the air holes. The hole was too small and the crate inside was too dark for her to see anything of course.

“I’ve been paid to deliver this trunk to Chloe, the first girl at the estate of Brinn of the Sardar,” explained Atilius as he gazed at my legs, then my breasts and then my legs again. 

Men!

“What is it, Master?” I asked. Candice was now tapping the trunk with the knuckles of her right hand. “Candice, stop that, please,” I said. She was always far too curious for her own good.

“See for yourself.” The man brandished a key which Candice took on my behalf. 

Once Candice had worked the key into the lock and slipped the padlock free, the two guards lifted the lid to reveal pretty much what I suspected lay inside. There was a brown hessian sack, wriggling, with the contours delineating a body. Like the trunk, the sack had airholes punched through the rough hessian with a dagger. Whoever was in the sack was aware that the lid had been lifted and was now making urgent mewling sounds that suggested she was gagged. At least I assumed it was a she. 

“So we have a new slave,” sniffed Candice. She prodded the squirming sack with a stick and watched it jump to the extent it was able to. “What an anti-climax.”

“Well, I’m really not expecting another girl.” This was very strange. All the girls I had agreed to buy were by now delivered to the estate. They were all in training to various degrees. I couldn’t have forgotten an extra one, could I?

“Wait!” Candice touched my arm as I was about to reach towards the draw string that pulled the neck of the sack tightly closed. The draw string was knotted but Candice had a game in mind. “Let’s try and guess her hair colour. We can bet for treats? How about it, Master?" She offered the guards her warmest, most beguiling smile. “You do have treats, lovely, handsome masters?”

The men laughed, knowing Candice’s ruses very well by now. “Of course we do, little slut.” One guard opened a pouch and placed a handful of candies on the lid of the open trunk. “Guess away.”

“I’m first girl,” I said quickly, eyeing the delicious treats. “So I get first guess. I’m going to say blonde.”

“Blonde?” Candice furrowed her brow. She had probably assumed I was going to say dark brown/black on the assumption I’d bought another Taharian girl, but I was absolutely sure I hadn’t bought this girl. “Well then, I’m going to go for…” Candice thought about this for a moment. “Red hair. We don’t have many red-haired girls. Wait! How do we know the skin colour? That makes a difference. We need two guesses each! The other guess is skin colour.”

“How does that work,” I said, unimpressed “She’s almost certainly going to be white. Whichever one of us guesses white is almost certainly going to win that bet. No, just hair colour.”

“Breast size?” Suggested Candice. 

“Pierced or unpierced ears?” Suggested one of the guards, trying to be helpful.

“Not pierced,” said Candice quickly. I saw her subconsciously finger the earring in her left earlobe as she spoke. “But that will soon change!”

I began to work the knot free from the draw string with my finger nails. It was a tight knot and took some doing, but eventually I worked the string loose. “Are you ready?” I asked. We all crowded forwards as I pulled the draw string loose and slid the sack cloth down around the shoulders of, dammit, a red headed girl with no holes in her earlobes. 

Candice shrieked a victory cry as she scooped up all the tasty candies. She popped one into her mouth and sucked on the flavour, grinning at me all the while. I focussed instead on the girl in the sack who was indeed gagged with a simple slave gag. Her eyes were wide and tear stained and she writhed and struggled as she saw us, muttering all manner of things that we couldn’t make out. She was probably naked as I could see her bare shoulders. There was no collar around her throat, but then I suppose we were expected to use one of our own. Many slavers do not include a collar in the sale price of a girl. 

Candice pushed forward, which was beginning to irritate me, and she pulled the sacking down further to expose the girls breasts.

“She’s big…” said Candice with a pout. And yes, she was. The girl was endowed with large, firm breasts, larger than the average on the estate, and definitely larger than either Candice’s or mine. The guards seemed pleased at the sight of them and the girl cried out again in her gag as they touched and stroked those breasts for a minute or two. 

Although the girl wasn't collared, she did have a length of binding fibre tied loosely around her throat, with a long strand descending into the sack. Candice pulled it free and found a wide strip of leather attached to the end. Words had been engraved into the soft leather label – words in common Gorean that I couldn’t read. Neither could the guard for that matter.

“Candice, can you read?” I asked.

Candice shook her head in disdain at the very suggestion. “Why would I read? I wasn’t a scribe. My father was a slaver,” she said proudly. 

“Slavers have to keep written ledgers,” I pointed out.

“Well, we hired scribes to do that.”

Whatever was written there was obviously the answer to who this girl was and why she had been sent to us. Shannon could read, and so I told Candice to fetch her. In the meantime I pulled the sack cloth further down to the extent of the girl’s slim waist. I could now see her wrists were secured behind her back in tight steel cuffs, separated by just a few inches of chain.

“Who is she?” asked one of the men.

“I really don’t know, Master. I've never seen her before. I didn’t arrange to buy her.”

“Perhaps Brinn saw her and bought her on his travels recently,” mused the other guard.

“Perhaps, Master.” I thought this unlikely, though. The Master had not left the estate these last few weeks. “Who are you, girl?” I asked rhetorically. The girl fumed and tried to speak again, but couldn’t due to the gag. 

“Should we ungag her?” suggested one of the men.

“We’ll wait until Candice is back. She’ll be annoyed if she misses it. She’s my second girl after all.” Candice would sulk for days if I carried on unwrapping our new present without her. Instead, I tidied the girls long red hair back with my hands and, as she struggled helplessly in her slave bracelets, told her to be still and quiet. 

While we waited, one of the guards – Tarrant, I think his name was, asked me whether I was available in the coming days. 

“You want me, Master?” I said with a warm and enticing smile.

“Very much, Chloe. Which nights are you not sharing the Captain’s bed?”

“Oh, I may be already assigned for the next few weeks, Master.” I pouted a little as if disappointed that I couldn’t share his bed right away. I moved closer so he could smell the Taharian perfume in my hair. “But if you tell me your preferences in girls, I can see that you are sent a very lovely surprise tonight…” I moved close to him and smiled sweetly. “Two lovely surprises… perhaps…”

“Please, Chloe, yes…” the guard looked very eager indeed. It was in my power and prerogative to assign multiple girls to men if I saw fit. It was amazing that I had that power, and using it carefully I was able to have the lower ranking guards on the estate practically eating out of the palm of my hands. You have to understand that the rank and file men here couldn’t just send for girls whenever they wanted. We all belonged to the Master. They were entitled to use us a couple of times a week, but if they wanted more than their allocated ration, well, they went and saw me, and I had a certain leeway in satisfying their needs. Even more so now that we were buying fresh girls. Any disappointment they might normally show in being given an untrained girl, new to her collar, was offset by the fact that they wouldn’t have any girls outside their normal allowance if I didn’t bend the rules for their benefit. 

“Look to the chain at the foot of your couch tonight, Master. Who knows what I may have left for you there?” I kissed him softly and withdrew a little. Emma had never understood the power over men that a first girl could wield on an estate as large as this one. I was growing more and more popular with the guards as the weeks wore on, and that could only be good for me and my authority here. Kajirae could see that I had the overwhelming support of the rank and file men, and that cemented my power in the slave pens. Perhaps soon even the male slaves would fear to cross me. I felt sure that the guards would flay them alive if they so much as touched me without permission. Not that I would want that. A brief whipping, perhaps, to maintain discipline, but nothing more brutal. 

“I’m back!” Candice looked relieved that I hadn’t continued in unwrapping our new present. She was slightly out of breath, having run a long distance to fetch tall, barefoot, Shannon who regarded the sack with similar curiosity to Candice. 

“You can read, can’t you, Shannon?” I asked.

“A little, Mistress,” she replied. “I’m not proficient to the degree of a scribe.”

“See what you can read on the leather label.” I indicated the label that hung from the binding fibre that hung between the girl’s large breasts. 

“Oh, she’s quite big isn’t she!” said Shannon in surprise. The girl writhed furiously as her valuable assets were being discussed.

“I’m afraid so,” I said. “Now, can you read the writing here?”

“I’ll try my best, Mistress.”

I knew she would. Shannon was very loyal to me and genuinely happy whenever I praised her for her work. 

“It says…” she studied the Gorean letters, tracing them with her finger, “it says, ‘my name is Pepita’…”

“Pepita…” snarled Candice in disdain. “That’s a slut’s name.” She gazed down at the girl, still half wrapped in the sack cloth, and kicked her with her right foot. “You’d better not be thinking of flaunting your slutty breasts in front of the men here,” she hissed in warning. I could sense that Candice considered Pepita’s large breasts a serious threat to her. 

“Candice, please.” I called my second girl off. 

“Have her work in the cellar, away from the men,” she suggested. 

“Candice, not now.” I said sharply. “Shannon, what else does it say?”

“Well, it says… ‘I am white silk and to remain that way’…”

“Hah!” Candice laughed. “Good.” She stood there with her hands on her hips and regarded Pepita again. “Quite right, too. She’s probably clumsy and wouldn’t know how to please a man. Have her work in the cellars! We should whip her first though, so she knows to fear us.”

“CANDICE!” She backed away a step or two as I raised my voice. “Please… not now!” I had never been told to keep a white silk slave that way before. 

“Oh.” Shannon looked surprised as she read the remaining words. 

“Shannon?” 

“Well, Mistress, I may be reading this wrong, but… it ends by saying ‘I am to be trained as a dancer.’ I’m sure that’s what it says.”

“But she is to stay white silk?” I must have looked confused.

“Yes, Mistress, but shown the techniques to please a man through dance. Just, not with any actual use of those skills…”

“But that doesn’t make sense.” A girl could of course be trained in that way, without actually being given to a man, though white silk girls were never as good at dancing as red silk girls who knew the touch of men. Experienced girls could teach the techniques, but I’d never heard of it being done without practical experience towards the end of training. 

The girl, Pepita, was struggling wildly now once she heard she was to be trained as a dancer. Candice kicked her again until she lay still. The look she gave Candice, over her gag, was angry enough to burn a hole in a block of wood. 

“So where is she from? Who bought her and sent her here?”

“It doesn’t say, Mistress,” said Shannon. “All we have are those instructions.”

“It has to be the Captain,” said Tarrant. 

“My Master would have given me those instructions personally, not written them on a leather label for me to find,” I said. “He doesn’t play games like that.”

“It seems a waste to keep her white silk,” said the other guard as he stroked Pepita’s breasts again. The girl reacted frantically to his touch until he withdrew his hand.

“She must be newly enslaved,” suggested Shannon as she stood beside me. “She’s showing all the signs of a recently branded girl.”

“I agree,” I said. “new to the collar.” I gazed at her bare throat. “Well, figuratively speaking. We’ll rectify that when she’s in the pens.”

Now Pepita began shaking her head vigorously at the mention of a collar. She wriggled again, trying to free her lower body from the close-fitting sack. One of them men spotted a small leather pouch that had been in the trunk, separate from the sack bound body of Pepita. Inside it were two keys – the key to the bracelets about her wrists and presumably a key for similar shackles around her ankles.

“Perhaps we should remove the gag, Mistress?” suggested Shannon.

I nodded and watched as one of the men undid the stiff buckles at the back of her head. As soon as the gag was pulled from her mouth she choked, coughed and spat saliva onto the grass. Then she took deep lungful’s of fresh air before exploding into a torrent of angry words.

“How dare you! I’ll have you all slow boiled in a vat of tharlarion oil for this! I am NOT a slave! I am a free woman!”

Candice and Shannon looked shocked by this revelation and I felt pretty sick too. We had all been treating a free woman as a slave! 

“I’ll have you flayed alive, you filthy slave sluts!” she screamed.

Instinct took over and I dropped to my knees, forehead pressed to the floor in obeisance as she shouted and swore at us. Candice and Shannon did the same and we all crouched there, terrified that we had treated a free woman the way we had done. 

“I am the Lady Euphrosyne of Vonda, and my father is one of the foremost council members of the city! Already my absence will have alarms sounding throughout the city! Warriors of Vonda will search every building and every miserable farmyard like this one! When they find me, which they will, you will all be tortured to death! You have no idea how important my family is! I am Lady Euphrosyne!”

“Vonda, you say?” said Tarrant with amusement.

“Yes, Vonda! This farm may be a few pasangs outside its mighty walls, but you are still subject to our justice!” spat the Lady. 

“Vonda’s authority doesn’t carry as far as the Sardar mountains, Lady,” said the guard with a smile.

“The Sardar mountains?” A look of alarm crossed the woman’s face.

“Yes, this estate lies in the foothills of the Sardar mountains. See.” He pointed towards the north where the vast mountains dominated our view. “You are a long way from the security of Vonda’s walls, Pepita.”

“Pep…” the Lady shook her head in dismay. “No! I am not Pepita! I am the Lady Euphrosyne of glorious Vonda! Eldest daughter of Tarwin of Vonda, high council man. My family own vast tracts of land!”

“You have a tag tied to you that states your name is Pepita. So, Pepita it is.” The guard tapped me with his left foot. “Get up, Chloe. You shouldn’t believe this tall story from Pepita. She obviously has a vivid imagination.”

“I’m not Pepita! I’m the Lady Euphrosyne!” She began to wriggle even more furiously. “I’m not branded!”

“Not all slaves are branded,” said the guard, “though personally I think they should be. Ah.” He bent down and pulled something else from inside the trunk. It was a set of papers, folded once. Although I couldn’t read, I recognised the style of the papers as soon as Tarrant opened them. They were unmistakeably slave registration papers. I took them from the man and showed them to Shannon.

“What name is written on these registration papers?”

“Pepita, Mistress. The papers relate to a kajira called Pepita.”

“Ah.” I smiled and regarded the struggling girl at my feet. “What colour hair does this registered kajira have?”

“Red hair, Mistress.”

“No!” The chained girl was crying and wailing now.

“And does it say anything about her breasts?”

“They are recorded with measurements that are really quite big, Mistress.”

“No! I am not a slave! I am not Pepita!” cried the girl. “I am the Lady Euphrosyne of Vonda!”

We were all back on our feet now, regarding the new slave. “Is she red silk or white silk in the papers?”

“White silk, Mistress.”

“Well, I suppose we will need to check the details closely. There will be measurements that leave little doubt, but I think it’s fairly clear that this girl has been enslaved.”

She was crying now, and as I talked, Tarrant pulled the rest of the sack away from her lower body. Sure enough there was no brand on her thighs, but that could easily change. 

“It seems we’ve been sent a new slave from Vonda. Welcome to the Sardar, Pepita.”

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

“You should ask her,” said Candice as we regarded the large breasted, red-haired girl as she lay on the wooden floor in one of the out buildings that we used to process new slaves. There were heavy, really heavy, iron rings set into sections of the floor and lower walls. Attached to one of these was a steel shackle, from which twenty feet of chain lay coiled on the floor. The other end was attached to a display collar that was locked around the throat of the new girl who claimed to be a high-born woman of Vonda. She certainly sounded convincing with her claims. She glared at us as we considered her body once again.

“I wish I had breasts like that,” said Candice. “You are going to ask her, aren’t you?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m afraid to even voice the suspicion. I mean, if she heard us even suggest it…”

We were talking about the Lady Cassandra without daring to mention her name. Candice had whispered the very same suspicion that had run through my mind as soon as Pepita had claimed to be a high-born Lady of Vonda. Was this one of the many high society women who had snubbed, shunned and belittled Cassandra when Brinn had made Emma a mother? Was this her revenge against one of the women who had laughed at her in public? Cassandra lived in Vonda. She was pretty much a social pariah thanks to Emma becoming pregnant with children that were Cassandra’s niece and nephew. Had Cassandra arranged for the Lady Euphrosyne to be abducted somehow? If so it was audacious, difficult, dangerous and highly illegal. If it became known that Cassandra had engineered such an abduction she would face a fate of public impalement. 

“Ask her if she knows the Lady Cassandra,” whispered Candice again.

“I’m afraid to,” I confessed. “If word got back to the Lady... if she thought we were even suggesting such a thing of her…”

“True.” Candice shivered slightly. “But you must want to know?”

“Well, yes, but..”

“We are naturally curious,” said Candice. “And I can’t think of any other reason for a woman to be shipped to the Sardar like this. The Master wouldn’t have arranged it.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He doesn’t do things like that.”

“So… it’s her?”

“We don’t know that. We’ve just been sent a new slave.”

“Uncollared, no brand, no piercings. The slave papers aren’t even dated.”

“What?”

“Shannon noticed. The details are filled in, but there’s no seal or stamp or witnesses to an enslavement. It just records all her physical features. Like, we’re supposed to do the rest.”

“So… she’s not even a slave?”

“I don’t think she is,” admitted Candice. “Well, obviously she’s a naked captive far from home, so the distinction is vague at best, but from a legal point of view, I think she might still be free.”

“Oh. What are we supposed to do?” I really didn’t like this. “I know. I’ll tell the Master. Let him sort this out.”

Candice nodded. “He will almost certainly talk to his sister about this. We won’t even have to voice our suspicions. He’s a clever man. He’ll make the same connections we did.”

“What do we do with her in the meantime?”

“Leave her here in the out building. I’m not going near her while she might still be free.”

And so that’s exactly what we did. I went straight to the Master and told him we had a new slave on the estate. I was careful not to suggest what was obvious to anyone who knew the facts. I simply said we had no record of buying her and that she was a free woman of high status in Vonda. The Master would connect the dots, realise what seemed obvious, and speak to the Lady. What he did then was down to him. Only…

“My fame must be spreading that I receive unsolicited gifts like this,” said Brinn as he drank some paga and gazed down with appreciation at a sand pit where some of his men were wrestling together, their bodies slick with oil. I was finding the wrestling display quite interesting too as they grunted and pummelled one another into the sand. Gorean wrestling can be very violent, but also quite sexy and arousing to kajirae. 

“She’s from Vonda.” I explained again.

“A fine city,” said Brinn as he drank more paga. “My sister speaks highly of it. She lives there, you know?”

“The girl is a high-born Lady of Vonda or so she claims,” I said with a lingering glance at the wrestlers again. They were very strong, and stripped naked as they wrestled – which is the style on Gor. 

“I suppose they fall to slavery as easily as the lower classes from time to time,” remarked Brinn.

“She was startled in her home by intruders. They used capture scent on her. She woke up in a trunk several hours before arriving here.”

“A daring abduction indeed,” mused Brinn. He wasn’t really concentrating on what I was saying.

“So, Master, someone in Vonda perhaps didn’t like her… maybe she offended someone with a desire for vengeance? Someone with… men and resources to kidnap her?”

“It happens,” said Brinn. “Oh, good blow, Vincent! Excellent! That IS going to hurt!” He laughed and pulled a silver coin from his belt and threw it down into the sand as a mark of his admiration. Vincent’s opponent was beaten and crawled away on his hands and knees, blood streaming from a broken nose.

“It could have been an affronted man, or perhaps a woman… a powerful woman in Vonda… with armed men at her disposal…” I suggested, meaningfully. “A woman can be insulted and offended by other women. We’re very sensitive to such things and very competitive when it comes to members of our own sex.”

“Hmm.” Brinn had lost interest in our conversation. “Are you sharing my couch tonight, Chloe?” He yawned, moved away from the balustrade and finished his cup of paga. 

“Yes, Master, if it pleases you. Tonight is one of the days of the week you put me to use.”

“Hmm. Bring another girl with you. I’ll leave the choice to you. One of the Taharians perhaps. I’m in the mood for two girls tonight. I’ll see you both later.” And with that he kissed me and ruffled my hair and by the time he had descended the steps he had probably forgotten all about the Lady Euphrosyne and the mystery of who had ordered men to break into her secure home and abduct her from her couch.

“Well?” asked Candice as she pestered me for details.

“I’m afraid the Master doesn’t really pick up on ‘subtle’, the way I hoped he might….”

“Oh. So, what are we going to do?” Candice gazed at the girl through one of the barred windows of the out building. She knelt on some sack cloth that we’d given her for comfort. She looked angry, furious, indignant, as she occasionally tested the length of steel chain that secured her to the floor ring. 

“They always do that,” I sighed. “Always. Why do new girls think they can somehow work a length of chain free from either their collar or the iron rings screwed into the floor?”

“I don’t know,” said Candice. “They’re stupid. But again, what are we going to do with her?”

“Enslave her, I suppose. We have papers filled out, and none of the men are likely to object.”

“Gods of the North, you’re so stupid sometimes, Chloe!” Candice rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she faced me. “You’re not thinking things through properly.”

“What do you mean?” Candice was getting very confident in this second girl to first girl arrangement, the way she spoke to me. Sooner or later I would have to enforce some reasonable boundaries to remind her that we weren’t equals, but not quite yet.

“We can’t enslave her.” Candice said it with a firmness of voice that surprised me. What had got in to her? I’d never known Candice show mercy when it came to free women and potential enslavement.

“Am I hearing you right? You don’t think the Lady Euphrosyne should be enslaved?”

“I think we’d regret it very quickly.” When I still didn’t register anything remotely resembling understanding, Candice sighed again and stated the obvious. “Do you really want her parading around naked, or in a slip of close-fitting silk on this estate? Those are the biggest, firmest, breasts I’ve ever seen on a woman. She makes us both look flat chested in comparison. You’ve seen how the men reacted when they saw her pulled free of the slave sack! Every man on this estate is going to be petitioning the Master for her use! She’s going to be their favourite within a few weeks! I’m not having that! I’m Candice the Pleasure Slave! I have an important status on this estate! You may be stupid enough to think she’s not a threat, but luckily you’ve got me as second girl to knock some sense into you.” Candice gave me a playful slap across the back of my head.

“Don’t do that, Candice,” I said, annoyed.

“She’s a threat to us Chloe, if she’s collared and branded. Look at her! Even I find her sexy, and I don’t like women! I can’t stop looking at her breasts! Imagine what the men will be like! She’s a disaster for us.”

“The label says she is to be kept as a white silk girl…” I pointed out.

“Oh Gods, you really are stupid, aren’t you,” said Candice in derision. “Who wrote the label? Does anyone know? No. So who cares what it tells us to do? Answer – no one. You honestly think the men will keep her white silk? The only reason they haven’t raped her already is because they have superb discipline and they naturally assume a senior pecking order will apply.”  

I really was going to have to talk to Candice about the way she spoke to me in private. It really wasn’t very respectful. 

But yes, I hadn’t thought about it that way. I gazed through the window again. The Lady Euphrosyne really did have beautiful breasts. And somehow they were balanced out well by a very ripe, full bottom. She must have had to wear extremely loose gowns and robes when she was a free woman.

No. She still IS a free woman, I thought to myself, correcting my understandable mistake. No brand, no witnessed and authorised paperwork. Hard as it was to believe that she could be free, she still technically was.

“I don’t see what we can do, Candice. I can hardly free her, escort her to the gate, apologise for the mistake and tell her to leave!”

“Can’t you sell her?”

“I don’t have that kind of authority. I can recommend the purchase of girls. I suppose I could petition the Master to get rid of a girl, but as you say, no man is going to want to sell the Lady Euphrosyne once they’ve seen those breasts.”

“And the ass,” said Candice with a sullen expression. “Why does she have to have such a good ass too! It’s just unfair. I hate her.”

“You hate everyone new, Candice. Until they kiss your feet and promise to obey you unconditionally, that is.”

“You exaggerate. I’m really very nice and kind to new girls, and very supportive during those first few weeks when they’re scared and crying,” said Candice with an offended expression. “Everyone loves me.”

“Everyone with a penis, yes.” I moved away from the barred window. I think she had caught sight of me and the look she gave me was unsettling. Candice was right. She already hated us both, and if she became the men’s favourite in a couple of weeks, that didn’t bode well. I wouldn’t even put it past the Master moving her into his bedroom and making her first girl in time, in place of me. 

“She’s far too dangerous, Candice.” I crossed my arms and nodded. 

“Exactly what I’ve been saying. We cannot let that piece of slave flesh anywhere near the men. We’d never get a look in whenever she’s around. You’re first girl. You have to think of something. And quickly.” Candice sniffed and glanced again at those perfect breasts.

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

But it was a while yet before I had the chance to think on the matter. Events continued to arise that complicated matters. At least once a week the Master meets with his senior officers in what Emma used to call ‘Brinn’s fucky pool’. It’s an indoor heated sunken bath with beautiful mosaic tiles that measures fifteen feet in diameter. The pool has sunken ledges lining the sides on which you can sit with the warm water at mid chest level. There are recessed slots for placing goblets of ka-la-na or paga, though most men rest them on the edges of the floor, and it is a relaxing way to wind down from work at the end of the day. This is where the Master likes to discuss informal things with his officers. Kajirae are on hand in abundance and it is a rare night when one or more of us aren’t thrust against the sides of the pool and, well, fucked. A lot of ka-la-na and paga is usually spilled by accident into the water and it’s been known for the men to drop treats to the bottom of the pool and select pairs of kajirae to dive for them. Girls are only allowed to serve in the fucky pool as a reward because most girls find it fun. We get ka-la-na, good food and lots of attention.

As first girl I’m on hand each week, serving the Master personally. He likes his first girl to snuggle in the water by his side as he discusses things with his men. Other kajirae usually pair off with the officers. Lately Candice has always managed to work her way onto the invite list, though she knows my feelings for Geralt and has the sense to clearly not make a play for him. In fact, all the girls know more or less that I have eyes for Geralt, and the poor girl that Geralt does select is always nervous, knowing I’m watching her on his lap from the other side of the pool. I understand it’s not the girl’s fault and that she has to please Geralt, but I keep an eye on her nonetheless.

I know Geralt is my natural Master, and I am his natural slave.

Sometimes Geralt notices my eyes watching him and he smiles or raises his goblet just a little in acknowledgment. But I do not think he knows how much I yearn for his touch and his personal collar.

It wasn’t long before the kajirae learned why the Lady Cassandra had been in no hurry to return to Vonda. She had been expecting guests before the Master returned from the dead. The Master explained one night in the ‘fucky pool’ that we were going to receive guests. 

The guests were a man and a woman who arrived in the fourth week, accompanied by five of the Lady’s personal warriors as an armed escort. They marched alongside a couple of wagons transporting a man and a woman and their extensive luggage. Lady Cassandra's distinctive serpent banner flew at the head of the small column, warning prospective bandits in the Sardar countryside not to even think of attacking. It was the banner of an important house and bandits are renowned for not taking unnecessary chances.

The Master had told me to dress modestly when I greeted the guests. To that end I was given a long, loose dress that came to just above my knees and wasn’t figure hugging or belted. I really wasn't used to wearing anything like this but I understood it was commonplace when a free woman visited; not that free women ever did visit the Sardar estate. The only free woman in residence was the Lady Cassandra, and so this visit was highly unusual.

Both guests wore the colours of the caste of scribes – prominent blue designs. The man dismounted first from the wagon and held out his hand for the woman to step down via a small set of folding steps. I’ve never worn robes of concealment except for my brief appearance in one of Boots Tarsk Bit’s plays, but I understand they make climbing up or down very difficult. The Lady seemed unsteady on her feet as she was helped onto the ground. I stood, not knelt, beside my Master as he regarded the visitors with a sense of disinterest. They were the guests of his sister and he probably considered it his duty to welcome them to his home, but really, he looked bored and probably wanted to get back to his sword practise and drinking.

“Lady Donna,” said Cassandra warmly as she walked towards the visitors. “It is so good to see you again. I hope your journey was safe and uneventful?” The women clasped hands and regarded one another, though with their robes, veils and lose hoods, there wasn’t much to see of one another.

“Safe and uneventful,” said the woman. “I don’t travel much, so it was nice to see the countryside. Your men have been considerate, honourable and dependable.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Cassandra with genuine warmth in her voice. “Please, let me introduce you both to my brother.” She walked them over to where Brinn stood with me. As the guests regarded us, I lowered my eyes, conscious of the fact that they would both be thinking very different things as they looked at me.

“This is my brother, Brinn, the hero of Gor,” said Cassandra. “Brother, this is the gentle and kind Lady Donna of Dover, now a citizen of Vonda, and her free companion, Victor of Larkhill.”

Dover and Larkhill? Those were places in England, but not Gor. I was fairly sure of that.

“You’re scribes?” said Brinn as he took the Lady Donna's gloved hand and lightly touched his lips to the tips of her fingers.

“Geodesists,” she said. The blank expression on Brinn’s face probably matched my own.

“It’s a sub caste of the caste of Scribes,” explained the Lady. When Brinn’s bemused face still showed no sign of recognising the term, Cassandra chipped in.

“They study gravity, brother. Gravity and the determination of the shape of the planet.” She paused. “You know what gravity is? It stops us from falling off the…”

“I know what gravity is,” snapped Brinn. “I know the planet is round. I’m not stupid.”

“Of course not, brother,” said Cassandra quickly. “Forgive me.” She curtsied to her brother in a mark of deference. For all her arrogance towards slaves, the Lady Cassandra was always obedient towards her brother. In public at least.

“Welcome to the Sardar,” said Brinn to the Lady and her free companion. “My home is your home for so long as you require it. This is my first girl, Chloe. She is in charge of the kajirae here.” he indicated me, prompting me to look up slightly, but in a modest submissive manner.

“Greetings, Master, Mistress. I will ensure you are given anything you require during your residence. Throughout your stay, please call on me if you need anything, but also, I have appointed one of our finest kajirae to be your personal slave while you are here. This is Shannon…” I motioned for Shannon to step forward, which she did with a warm smile which disguised her fear. 

The poor girl was terrified, and rightly so, for the most terrifying thing a kajira can be called upon to do is be the personal slave of a free companion couple. We understand only too well that we have to act very differently around free women to when we are with men, but that is incredibly difficult when you happen to be assigned to a couple. The man will expect a certain kind of behaviour from you, while the woman will be angry and disgusted if you attempt to satisfy the man’s expectations. Either you anger the man or you anger the woman. To make matters worse you will be seen as a threat to the free woman. She will know that her man desires you and your presence relegates her to a second place in his thoughts. The more the man touches you and spends time with you, the angrier the woman will become. 

Shannon had cried when I told her she would be assigned to the couple. She thought I was punishing her.

“Please, Mistress, I didn’t mean to anger you!” she had cried. “Whatever I have done to offend you, please whip me instead of this!”

“You’ve done nothing to offend me, Shannon. You are a very good kajira. But I have to assign a slave, and of all the slaves on this estate, you stand the best chance of getting through this without incurring the worst wrath of a free woman.”

It was true. Free women hated slaves, but they seemed to hate Shannon a little less than the others. I don’t know why this is, because Shannon is a deeply sexual girl, and very curvaceous, but she has an air about her that seems a little less threatening and rather more friendly as far as free women are concerned. Simply put, Shannon stood the best chance of not being whipped by a free woman, and I had to take that into account when I chose a girl. 

The free woman regarded Shannon for a while, her expression hidden beneath her veils. One of the things that strikes fear in our hearts when we face a free woman is that we cannot easily know what their mood might be until it is too late. The array of veils and hoods on their garments makes it impossible to guess at what they are thinking. And so I felt sorry and just a little scared for poor Shannon as the Lady inspected her for the first time.

“You’re quite tall,” she said after a while. Shannon was tall for a kajira, taller certainly than the Lady Donna, though still much shorter than men in general. 

“Yes, Mistress,” she said softly.

“I believe a slave should be quietly attentive, but remain in the background where she can be unobtrusive and unlikely to affect the ambiance of a room,” said the Lady after a while. “When I motion with my hand, it will be a signal for you to kneel a few feet away from me and listen for my commands. When I gesture like so,” she made a slight dismissive motion with her fingers, “then you will know to retreat once more to where you will not be intruding. You will not look at my free companion unless he tells you to. Do so and you will be whipped. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Shannon in a quavering voice.

If Shannon expected any intervention on the part of the man, he said nothing, except to smile and watch Shannon closely. He seemed to like what he saw of the girl. 

“He may make use of you at some point. But you will control yourself when he does so. Act appropriately and I will not punish you for that. Now crawl to my man and kiss his feet.”

We watched as Shannon did so. The Lady Donna obviously had an understanding with her free companion, and while she might not particularly enjoy him using slaves, she understood it was a common feature of Gorean society and one she would have to live with. I could but hope that Shannon would be able to avoid punishments during the time she served the couple.

“If you have any complaints regarding Shannon, Mistress, I could of course punish her on your behalf?” I hoped she might agree to this. My punishments would probably be far less severe.

“I’m not stupid, girl,” she said with a cold expression that regarded me as if I’d just tried to trick her. “Do not ever try to play me like that again.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” I swallowed hard and lowered my head.

Thankfully the Master broke the ice by changing the subject. “Consider the estate your home for as long as you require it. Any friend of my sister is always welcome here,” he said with a smile as he considered perhaps what the Lady might look like naked. I knew that expression of his by now. 

“Thank you, Brinn, but this will be a working visit, not a vacation. I have considerable equipment disassembled and stored on my wagons. Please ensure they are lifted and carried carefully to my rooms. Many of the pieces are delicate.”

“You will be working?” said Brinn with interest.

“Yes. Surveying the Sardar mountain range for gravity anomalies. The readings from the mountains vary considerably and produce interesting variations. It is home to the Priest Kings after all.”

“Praise the Priest Kings,” said Brinn as he gazed up towards the north, his eyes sincere with admiration for those mysterious beings.

“Indeed. I am hoping to make sense of the data I will extrapolate from this region. And perhaps…” she paused for a moment, eyes sparkling a little above her veils.

“Perhaps what?” asked Brinn.

“Who knows, perhaps my lifelong ambition might come true while I am your guest here.”

“Which is?”

“To meet a Priest King, Brinn. To meet a Priest King.”