Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Eight: Submission

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

The slave girl, Tupa, lay similarly bound on the other kaiila that trailed behind Javad’s beast, the pair of them tethered together by a long leash. Tupa was perhaps squirming too, or perhaps not, for she wasn’t experiencing the same stimulation as her mother.

Reyhan’s squirming grew even more frantic as Javad inserted a couple of fingers into her sex. She was totally helpless now and unable to stop him touching her as he wished. He played with her for maybe twenty to thirty ehn, learning how quickly her responses grew, and when he needed to slow down and let her subside. Gradually he began to understand the way her body responded to his touch. He was not going to give her an orgasm – not yet, anyway -  but he wanted to know how responsive she could be. Time and time again he brought her reasonably close to the edge and then allowed her to subside. Occasionally he spanked that lovely bare ass with the flat of his hand, just because he could, and because it amused him. With each practised slap he heard a muffled and indignant yelp from the girl. 

Javad relaxed somewhat when he was ten pasangs from the fortress walls. The imminent danger was passed. Even if Daan discovered the theft of his free companion and eldest daughter, Javad was now far enough away to make pursuit during the night largely impossible. The kaiila tracks would be invisible in the night, and by morning he would have enough of a head start to lose himself amongst the tall dunes. Javad had considered fighting until he was cut down inside Al-Quada-a-Dhum, for he was of the caste of warriors, but he knew he could best serve his men by bearing witness to what had happened, and seeing that the sword of vengeance was wielded by six legions of Sardaukar who would now march to join the Landsraad army when they heard the news. Javad would send word to Tor as soon as he reached a village settlement and found a caravan that was heading to that city. The Sardaukar would march, and they would march quickly. In maybe five days after receiving news of the massacre, the Sardaukar legions would be at Daan’s fortress walls. If the Landsraad chose to besiege those walls, then they would gladly join forces with the Emir’s men. Daan was doomed. And yet, Javad knew that Daan was no fool. He had known what would happen in the long term if he struck at the Sardaukar within his walls. Javad could understand the logic of dealing with the short term threat that was at hand, and a pre-emptive strike made sense if Daan believed that Javad would strike at him without warning, but Daan also had to take into account the fact that six legions of Sardaukar would march to exact revenge. That could only mean Daan was confident he could deal with the Landsraad threat quickly, and then turn to face the legions in a second battle. Did he have other allies beside Hassan and his Kavars? It was possible. Javad had seen much in the way of secret scheming, with mysterious riders coming and going, to and from Al-Quada-a-Dhum. Something was in the air it seemed. 

He stroked Reyhan’s bottom again and smiled at the thought of having the woman soon as his slave. He had been thinking of her too often. She was a recurring feature of his dreams. Each morning he woke up, still hard, thinking about her. The woman had bewitched him. The Landsraad women were like that, or so the stories said. They were witches, with honeyed tongues, beguiling and whispering in the ears of their free companions. But no more. This one would soon have a new life in a collar with a kef brand on her left thigh. Oh, she would plead and beg and make all manner of offers, but Javad wanted nothing from her or her family now, except her neck in his collar. 

He judged the time was right, for her simmering had receded, and so he slid his fingers inside her once again. There was a muffled squeal of protest and then more pleasant wriggling across the hump of his saddle. He grinned as after a while he felt her thrust her bottom to his hand, obviously enjoying the sensations despite her desire not to. 

Dawn was slowly breaking on the far horizon as Javad reached the reassuring sight of the water well. He slowed his kaiila to a casual trot and brought them both up to one of the hitching posts that were placed randomly in the vicinity of the well. Reyhan was simmering nicely it seemed. Javad lifted his fingers from within her sex and licked them, savouring the taste of a highly aroused female. It had been an educational journey for her, he suspected. Javad dismounted and secured both the beasts before addressing himself to the leather bindings that secured Tupa to the second animal. He had decided during the journey that Tupa would be first girl in his coffle, and therefore it was only right that he untied her first. He was still angry with her for running away, but that would be addressed at a later time. He was in no hurry to inflict a punishment on her now. The punishment would not be forgotten of course. But of the two girls, Tupa was the one who was already well trained and broken to her collar. More or less, anyway. Reyhan – and he thought of her still as Reyhan, rather than Sarissa – Reyhan would be clumsy, ignorant and poor first girl material. Yes, Tupa would be given the switch to wield on her mother. Tupa would be responsible for her mother’s training. Tupa would be held to account for her mother’s progress in the training.

He placed the bound form of Tupa onto the stony ground and untied first her ankles and then her wrists. He gave her five ehn to rub some feeling back into her limbs and then he motioned for her to kneel.

“You are first girl,” he said, removing her gag.

“Is that my mother?!” she cried as she spat the gag wadding from her mouth. She had seen Reyhan briefly last night while Javad had stolen the kaiila, but gagged as they both were, neither girl could say anything to the other.

“That is a slave,” said Javad, indicating Reyhan, fastened still to the saddle. “Just a slave. Any relationship she may have had with you in the past is now irrelevant. Her name is Sarissa.”

“That is my mother!”

“You will be first girl. You will have discipline rights over Sarissa. I will hold you responsible if she displeases me in any way. Do you understand?” he lifted the collar around Tupa’s throat, which in turn lifted her face to look at him.

“Yes, Master,” she said in fear. She knew that he would punish her eventually for not going to his rooms as commanded. 

“Build a camp fire,” he said. “Boil water for tea.” He slapped her rump and watched as she ran to do as he said.

Javad threw a bound and struggling Reyhan to the ground. He gazed at her for a while before turning her onto her stomach and untying her ankles. “You are called Sarissa, I believe. Understand that this is a slave name. You are a slave called Sarissa because the name pleases me.”

The girl whimpered and struggled again. 

“There is a village thirty pasangs from here. Tomorrow I will take you there and pay a man to brand you with the kef.”

The girl struggled violently, but after a few ehn settled down again, unable to free herself. Javad removed her gag before untying her wrists.

“You will address me as master from now on. If you do not, you will be whipped. Do you understand?”

“Yes… Master,” she said as she coughed up the wadding from her mouth. 

“There is another slave here. Her name is Tupa. You may know her from somewhere. Slaves often run into one another in the halls of the keep. But there is no relationship between slaves beyond their collars and chains. I do not want to hear you referring to any past relationship that free women may once have had. Tupa will be first girl in my coffle.”

“First girl!” exclaimed Reyhan. “But I’m her…”

Javad slapped her hard across the face. “The next time you are about to say something like that, I will have Tupa whip you. Do you understand? She is your chain sister. That is all.”

“Yes, Master,” sobbed Reyhan. 

“You are a slave now. You wear a collar, and tomorrow you will have a brand to match it.” Javad rose to his feet after he had finished untying the girl. “Kneel in nadu.”

She did. But clumsily. Javad picked a coiled whip from the saddle of his kaiila and threw it to the stony ground in front of Reyhan. “You know what to do,” he said.

“No… no I don’t…” Reyhan looked at the whip in alarm.

“Are you really that stupid? You are not an immature girl, Sarissa, ignorant of bondage. You know what to do.”

Slowly, her face flushed with shame, Reyhan bent forward and kissed the whip where it lay on some stones.

“Now speak the words, Reyhan. You know them.”

“I…” she sobbed. “I have kissed and licked the whip of my master…” 

Javad took his tea when it was served by Tupa. He watched her closely as she knelt and presented the tea, nodding with satisfaction as she moved smoothly and gracefully. Although the girl was still white silk, she had spent more than a month in that collar, and it was beginning to show. He gazed over at Reyhan and saw her dark rimmed eyes regard him back. She still wore the slave cosmetics and the pleasure silk. She really was a delicious thing, kneeling there in apparent nadu. Her position was poor, but the girl herself was irresistible.

“First girl,” said Javad, having made up his mind.

“Master?” said Tupa, gazing up at him.

“Lay a blanket on the ground and instruct Sarissa to lie on it. I will take my pleasure with her once I have finished my tea.”

There was a choked gasp from Tupa, and nearby a startled cry of despair from Reyhan. Tupa did as she was told, laying out a large blanket from the packs on the kaiila, readying it so that her master could put her mother to use in front of her very eyes.

“This will be educational for you, I think, Tupa. You will see how a sexually experienced woman can move and writhe under the touch of a man.” He finished his tea and stood up, nodding as he saw Reyhan lying on her back, trembling now. He knelt beside her and lifted the skirt of light pleasure silk, exposing her sex. He ran his hand over the silk that lay, fluttering across her belly and breasts. She gasped, feeling his touch through the silk. For many ahn now she had been aroused to heights of sexual need by Javad’s hand, and then made to simmer down again. It took but an ehn or two for her body to remember that and flare up responsively once more. 

“Oh!” she cried; a long drawn out cry of frustrated heat, as Javad’s hand moved between her thighs. Reyhan wriggled on the blanket, pushing her hands to her sides, desperately fighting the urge to touch Javad in any way.

“Mother!” cried Tupa. 

“She is not your mother anymore,” snapped Javad. “She is a slave. You are first girl. She calls you mistress and you call her Sarissa, or girl, or slave, or slut. It is your choice. If you forget that again, you will be whipped, once for your mistake, and then whipped again after you have recovered, for ruining my pleasure with Sarissa.”

Javad returned to touching and arousing Reyhan. She was blushing furiously , knowing that her daughter could see everything.

“Please, not in front of Tupa…” begged Reyhan. “Not in front of Tupa…”

“Do not yield to him, girl!” cried Tupa, angry that her mother was wriggling the way she was. How could she move like that! She was Tupa’s mother! Her face flashed in anger. “Sarissa!” she cried again. “Do not shame us! Listen to me! I am first girl here!”

But Reyhan was powerless now. She writhed and spread her legs, sobbing as Javad took hold of her wrists and forced them down into the sand. He pushed into her, thrusting, and then, once he was fully inside her, he began to put her to use. 

Javad took his time with Reyhan, feasting on her breasts and nipples, caressing her flanks and kissing her deeply, tasting her lips and the rouge that decorated them. He took hold of her hair, pulling hard, as she began to buck and writhe in time to his thrusts. Her moans and cries had given way to a series of yelps, gasps and screams as she was ridden in the sand. 

“Sarissa! Control yourself!” sobbed Tupa. She was disgusted by what she saw. Her mother was responding like some common slut! She didn’t want to look; didn’t want to witness any of this, but she was afraid that if she turned her eyes away, she would be whipped afterwards. She had been told to watch and to learn. But this was too much! She clenched her small fists in anger. Her mother was a slut! Her mother was a slave! A natural slave it seemed! How could she! And in front of Tupa herself!

Reyhan’s screams grew louder as she was pushed past the point where Daan would have allowed her to come back from and recover. She was losing control. All her pent up fears of how a woman might succumb to slave rape and the helplessness she might feel in the face of being dominated and taken in this fashion resurfaced. She was falling, helplessly, unable to control or rein in her body now. Words escaped her lips, urging Javad on harder, faster, as she now clutched his back, raking his skin with her nails as he pressed down hard inside of her body. 

And then Reyhan began thrashing in the sand, pinned down by Javad, her legs wildly kicking stones aside as she felt an exquisite rush of sensations, as she experienced her first orgasm in living memory. There had been accidental orgasms before in the dim past, before Daan had learned how to control her body, but never like this, never triggered by slave use, and never so wild and uncontrollable. She screamed, throwing back her head as Tupa cried, covering her face with her hands, distraught at the sight of her mother acting so shamefully. Reyhan convulsed and then collapsed in the sand, her hair wild, her eyes wild, her skin flushed, her breathing ragged. Javad paused inside her and then continued to thrust, tearing the silk from her breasts, playing with them as he continued with his own pleasure. He pulled out and turned her round, thrusting her onto her stomach, He re-entered her, riding her like an animal, until he came. 

They lay together for a while on the blanket as Tupa shivered and clutched herself nearby. She hated her mother, for she now knew her mother was a shameless slut. Tupa was white silk, and would never have imagined her mother could fall so far from grace. 

Reyhan lay there in a state of tranquil shock, hardly believing what she had felt and experienced. It was beyond anything she had known in the past. She felt enclosed by Javad's arms, held against his chest, with her back to him. She felt him still kissing her shoulders and playing with her large breasts, stroking her plump thighs and using her as he wished. 

And she realised with horror that she liked being touched that way. She turned round in his embrace and pressed herself to him, touching his chest with the palms of her hands, closing her eyes, hardly daring to think what this might mean.

“Slave, girl,” said Javad as he stroked her ass. “My helpless, responsive slave girl.” 

“Take me back…” cried Reyhan. “Please?”

“After that performance? No. Never. You will wear a kef brand tomorrow. You will be my Kajira.”