I cycled through feelings of shock, disbelief and rage in a matter of ihn, and then my emotions changed to that of fear and abandonment. Simon had dressed himself and then left me here, alone! I tried to think of a motive, why he could possibly have done this to me.
“Well?” said the huge woman as she stood behind me.
“There was a man…”
“Your Master?” she asked.
Cassandra Assante
I paused for a moment on the darkened landing and gazed down the stairwell to the floor below where the café room was dimly illuminated by dimmed lamps. With the door to my bedroom now shut, the landing was quiet, save for the steady beating of my heart and my breathing which sounded pronounced and obvious to me.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.
And then I took another deep breath.
And then I tried to make sense of my feelings.
Always assess the facts, Lady Donna had once said to me. Unless you have the facts, solutions will not become apparent.
Greetings masters and gentle mistresses. Here on the Sardar estate we have been hunkering down over winter. Snow has fallen and the kajirae have been issued with warm clothing including cute fur lined booties and insulated jackets to wear over their tunics when they have to work outside. My Taharian girls hate this time of year and they don’t like the cold. Like cats they prefer to remain close to the fireplaces. I can’t say I blame them.
All the girls on the estate have been trying extra hard during winter to share the furs of the men during the cold months. We all have small iron stoves in our pens, of course, and every morning a fresh ration of firewood is delivered, but even so, nothing beats snuggling up to a man in the furs to keep warm.
Cassandra was a little unsteady on her feet at first. As is often the case, you don’t realise how much you have had to drink until the first time you try to stand up.
“Oh!”
I caught hold of her arm as she nearly fell.
“Careful, beloved. The wine has really gone to your head.”
“I could use some water,” she said as she steadied herself with the palm of one hand against a wall.
The kajira who had been serving our table stood close by, watching keenly. She gave Cassandra a strange look, but I couldn’t imagine why.
“Simon, why are we walking through this city quarter? I can’t imagine any fine dining establishment can be found hereabouts. This is the sort of quarter where I would send Ramon to hire common ruffians without any scruples, if I wished work done that I could conveniently disavow.”
The Lady Cassandra had a point. Our City Walker was leading us down streets that frankly had seen better days. Since coming to Vonda I had frequented the fine dining establishments in the centre of the city, where we ate and drank in ornate gardens with painted wall frescos and the pleasing sound of caged song birds, not to mention demure kajirae in modest white tunics who served delicious food amongst the colonnades. Now however, we were walking down, well, shall we say dangerous, seedy streets?
It didn’t help that Cassandra looked fabulous in scintillating gowns of radiant colours, as she always did when we went out for the evening. She was obviously incredibly wealthy and important. She stood out like a neon sign and would attract unwanted attention from criminals.
Anya was of course quick to point out to me that night what hadn’t been immediately obvious.
“Master, a word in private?” She touched my arm as I stood there observing the sight of my beloved free companion lying on our bed, her wrists still tied to the slave ring. She seemed peaceful, relaxed, content, as women do when they have experienced a healthy orgasm. Her knees were curled slightly to her stomach in a foetal position and her breathing was the female equivalent of a gentle purr.
The sex with Cassandra had been acceptable. Not good. Not superb. Simply acceptable. But that was a big step up from our previous occasions.
“Can’t it wait?” I said, barely turning to view my lovely slave. I was very happy that I had bought Anya. Could a man have ever made a better investment than this striking dark haired slut? She was a marvel in the furs and her advice had guided me well so far in the behaviour of women. And she was smitten with me. It was obvious enough. I think she saw in me her true master.
The estate was impressive, and, like many of the properties surrounding Vonda, was essentially a self-sufficient and fortified farmstead or, in this case, country house with landscaped gardens, set in the centre of hundreds of acres of land on which crops were grown, animals were pastured and most importantly, vines were cultivated. The wines of the Vonda region are quite remarkable, and a personal favourite of mine.
We rode on down through the vineyards belonging to my Lady, observing men and women tending to the vines under the watchful eye of overseers with whips. To the right I could see a river which was the source of the irrigation for the fields. The main building up ahead was essentially a large open rectangle, with porticos enclosing gardens entered through another portico, but decades of expansion had resulted in adjoining buildings with independent courtyards. These were then organically linked by their own porticos or extended as a colonnade, with a roof structure over a walkway, supported by columns or enclosed by walls.
I was in a great mood that morning as I rode through the countryside surrounding the walls of Vonda.
A great mood.
I must have been an impressive sight as I rode like the important man I now was, with my personal banner men who sat with rigid spines on their tharlarions. We flew the serpent banner of Cassandra’s house and from time to time we passed travellers on foot going to or from Vonda.
“Tal, friend,” I would say, offering them a cheery wave. They were mostly poor people of low castes, though we also rode past a few wagons and carts on which sat men and women of the scribes and merchants. I wanted them to feel a little of my benevolence and good mood, and once they realised my banner men weren’t going to rob or kill them, they responded back with polite greetings of their own.
((Something to help tide my faithful readers over while Chloe and I are working hard on the new book, ‘Gods of Gor’. This is a three part short story focussing on Simon and Cassandra, following on from their return to the Sardar after the events of Ubara of Gor))
And so, farewell to the bloodstained coast of the Black Kingdoms, and that bitch, Yishana!
It was a relief when Cassandra and I finally left the Sardar estate, that wet morning. It had been uncomfortable enough on the long voyage home on the ship, Waverider, surrounded by Brinn’s warriors, none of whom seemed to have anything good to say about me. Their grim, silent hostility hung over the vessel like a toxic cloud as the ship sailed north, and the way they stared at me as I passed by on the main deck beggared belief. When I would mention this to Cassandra, she would smile and simply reassure me that ‘my brother’s men can be surly at times. Ignore them, my beloved. We will be home soon.” Her gentle arms would embrace me and we would share a chaste kiss away from the gazes of the men. Cassandra Assante was a rich prize, indeed, and I basked in the raised status that companionship with her bestowed.
So, anyway, I thought I’d post some pages from the work in progress, since you’ve all been so patient. You’ll eventually see it released with pretty pictures by Chloe, but in the meantime, here are thirteen pages from chapter four. The first three chapters have seen Brinn, Tijani, and their gaggle of kajirae sailing down the Nyoka river, into the dark rain forest interior east of Schendi, in search of the distant trading post and Emma’s Earth sister, Bea. The kajirae have been bickering throughout. But here is some intrepid river action!
