First Girl of the Sardar

 

 

((Being, the third in a series of interlinked PoV Chloe stories that comprises the anthology book, ‘First Girl of Gor’. It’s been a while before the previous two were posted, so you may wish to refresh your memory by re-reading those first. You’ll find them under the ‘First Girl of Gor’ sidebar tab. And just a reminder – the events here take place parallel during the early chapters of Ubara of Gor, before Cassandra is captured by Yishana. The current Simon and Cassandra serial takes place AFTER the conclusion of Ubara of Gor and parallel with the upcoming Gods of Gor))

 

 

The next morning I lay on my belly in an area of long grass with my close circle of trusted girls beside me. We watched the Lady Donna and her free companion as they supervised the setting up of their elaborate equipment. Everything from the crates had to be carefully unwrapped, assembled and calibrated. We watched as the Lady in particular inspected each piece of equipment in turn, focussing, adjusting, making minute alterations to the settings of the dials and scopes.

 

“What is all of that?” asked Candice as she lay beside me, her left hip touching my right hip. “I’ve never seen so many metal boxes and devices.”

 

“Measuring equipment. She’s taking readings of the gravity waves around the Sardar mountains,” I said. Coming from Earth, I understood a little more of this than Candice did. Like all the other Gorean girls who weren’t once Scribes or Builders, Candice was mostly oblivious to the areas of advanced science that were permitted on Gor by the edicts of the Priest Kings. While weapons technology and mechanised industry and transportation was strictly forbidden, medicine and analytical science was permitted. But still, it was strange to see these advanced machines and measuring instruments in the incongruous setting of an ancient Roman era estate. 

 

The Lady had been provided with the service of three of the male slaves from the stables as she, quote, didn’t want clumsy girls damaging her sensitive devices, unquote. Presumably she thought our fluffy heads would be distracted by the thought of new lipsticks and handsome men. Well, we were all quite pleased that we didn’t have to satisfy her, no doubt exacting, instructions.

 

“Who are the men?” I asked. Candice would know their names as she was my go between to the stables. She met regularly with the slave overseer for meetings and reported back to me afterwards.

 

“That’s Kursk, Davos and the dark haired one is Pellan. He’s from Vonda.”

 

“Oh.” I gazed at Pellan. Like all the slaves here, he was strong, heavily built, with broad shoulders from years of hard manual work, and no doubt sexually frustrated by the lack of access to women such as us. They all wore simple work tunics of coarse, rough wool, and we couldn’t help but giggle as we saw distinct signs that the men had erections as they worked closely beside the Lady. The tenting effect against their tunics was unmistakable.

 

“She’s pretending not to notice,” giggled Candice as she pulled some strands of grass from in front of her.

 

“I know. It’s really funny. They can’t help themselves. Not being that close to a free woman. They don’t usually get to see free women.”

 

“Poor slaves…” said Candice with mock sympathy. “I expect they haven’t had a woman in a long time. Oh, it must be sooo difficult for them…”

 

We all giggled but made sure we laid low in the long grass. It wouldn’t do to be spotted. 

 

“Oh, look at the way Kursk twitched when the Lady brushed past him! Look at the way he’s flexing his fingers in frustration!”

 

We all laughed again. It was fun to tease male slaves. It was difficult to think of them as true men as they had submitted to slavery and were subject to the lash. I could have any of them beaten if I felt it was necessary. I didn’t do that, but it was in my power. 

 

The hem of the woman’s ankle length robes had brushed the man’s bare feet as she had passed too closely to him. He had felt the soft fabric edge against his bare foot and it had been like a sudden shock. 

 

“Poor Kursk. He’s really hard now.” We could see the front of his tunic twitch. “I bet if I kissed him there he’d explode!”

 

“Candice!” I said with mock surprise. “You wouldn’t kiss a slave’s penis, would you?”

 

“Of course not.” She quickly added. “I despise men like that. But it’s fun to tease them.”

 

We watched for a while longer as some extendable metallic umbrella thing was attached to a long pole and set deep into the ground. It seemed to me to be a bit like a small signal dish that pointed towards the mountains in the north. But after a while I could sense my group of girls grow bored and begin to fidget. They didn’t understand the devices and they were losing interest in whatever the geodesists were doing.

 

“Shall we see what Shannon’s girls have been cooking in the kitchen?” I suggested. “There are bound to be some fresh pastries.”

 

That was all it took. My girls were overjoyed, and together we crawled back the way we had come through the long grass until we were clear of the woman and her work. We ran on bare feet towards the kitchens, our mouths watering at the thought of hot spiced pastries. 

 

“These are so good,” said Candice as she nibbled at the pastry in her hands. Five of us sat on the floor of the kitchen while Shannon beamed a smile and brought us a plate full of samples to try. We were eating very well ever since I’d given the kitchens over to Shannon as her empire. She always had something for us each morning. 

 

But we hadn’t just come for pastries today.

 

“Tell us everything,” said Candice as she motioned for Shannon to join us. “You were with them both last night? Did he use you? What are they like? What happened?”

 

My girls all gathered round to hear what Shannon had to tell us. She had returned from the building assigned to the Lady Cassandra’s guests earlier this morning, just in time to oversee the morning batch of rolls and pastries. But what we wanted to know, with all the sordid details, is what the guests were like in private.

 

“Did you see what the Lady looks like without her robes and veils?” asked Candice.

 

“I saw her briefly without her veils when she kissed her free companion. It was quite tender. I think they love one another.”

 

“And?” Candice poked Shannon with a stick.

 

“Stop that,” I quickly said. 

 

“She’s pretty, but very stern. She has short hair. I didn’t risk staring directly. I just caught a glimpse in my peripheral vision as I kept my eyes averted.”

 

“Short hair?” Candice said that, but we were all surprised by the revelation. 

 

“Yes, shorter than the Master’s hair. Brown, with highlights. I thought it odd.”

 

“Why does she have short hair?” asked Candice.

 

“I wasn’t going to ask. I’m scared of her. Aren’t you?”

 

Candice and I didn’t answer that. I think we were both very scared of her. 

 

“She didn’t ask you to bathe her?” I suggested.

 

“No. I ran her hot water in the morning and laid out clean towels and soaps and oils, but they bathed together without me.” 

 

“Surely you dressed her?” suggested Candice.

 

“She dressed with the aid of her free companion. I didn’t see her body close up.”

 

“How frustrating,” said Candice. “Why would a man want to help dress his woman! Slaves can do that!”

 

“I think they like doing intimate things together,” suggested Shannon. “They often touched one another in private.”

 

“Really?” Candice tore off another bit of pastry. “Did she touch him? Without being told to?”

 

“Yes, several times. Placing her hand on his forearm, brushing close to him, exchanging gentle kisses, that kind of thing. It was common place - small intimate moments throughout the evening. It was rather sweet.”

 

“But he put you to use?” asked Candice.

 

“Yes. The Lady seemed to expect it. Her companion waited until she was ready to join the Lady Cassandra for drinks that evening. She spoke to me before she left and told me that she understood what I was going to do, but that there should be no mention of it when she returned. She knew, but she didn’t want to know, or to be reminded of it after the event.”

 

“And then?” Candice leaned forward and snatched another pastry from the plate. 

 

“When the Lady left, I was alone with her companion. He told me to strip and crawl to the couch. He used me throughout the night. He didn’t chain me in any way, and he didn’t talk much.” Shannon nibbled her lower lip in thought. “Some men like to talk to me after they have come, but not him. He was… different from the men on the estate. The second time he had me, I was on my belly. He seemed to like that. By the time the Lady returned it was over and I was told to kneel on the floor and remain quiet before she returned. He told me that his free companion might whip me if I looked at her when she returned. I was to look at the floor instead. I was still naked when she returned. She barely looked at me as she entered her bedroom. They acted as if nothing had happened in her absence, and they spoke of the pleasant evening she had spent with the Lady Cassandra, and the conversation she had, and no direct reference was made to what I had done with her companion. She removed her veils and they kissed tenderly and told one another that they loved each other. And then they sat together by the fire and talked about things I didn’t understand – science things to do with their reason for being here. They held hands when they talked. When the Lady grew tired she suggested bed and I was taken by the Lady and led from the bed chamber by my hair as a leash and chained in the building’s kitchen for the night. She gave me some sack cloth to sleep on. They then went to bed together.”

 

“Did they have sex?” asked Candice. 

 

“I don’t know. They might have done. It’s possible. But the man had used me three times so I would think he had little left to give. Though he pulled out from me the third time before he was finished. So, maybe just twice then. Perhaps he was saving himself. Or perhaps I no longer pleased him. I don’t know. They seemed close. In the morning the Lady freed me from my chain and ordered me to run hot water and make breakfast. Again, the Lady didn’t speak to me much, but she expected me to remain close by and attentive in case she did have a command. She seemed content from the night before.”

 

“Do you think a free woman makes any sounds when her man takes her in bed?” asked Candice as she nibbled at her pastry again, holding it between both hands like a squirrel. “Or does she just lie there quietly?”

 

“I think free women are supposed to remain still and quiet,” Shannon suggested. “I was white silk before I was enslaved, so I don’t really know. My mother and my sister told me that was how I should behave when I was eventually free companioned, but I was enslaved before that could happen.”

 

“Me too,” said Candice. “But it may be different when you have been companioned for a while. What do you think, Chloe?” Candice turned to regard me.

 

“I suppose it depends on the free woman. Some may take a more active part on the couch than others. I’m sure free women have needs too.”

 

“The ones who find themselves enslaved certainly do!” laughed Candice. 

 

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

 

“I assume that, while you may not understand the purpose of my equipment, you understand what they are – delicate measuring instruments of a sensitive and advanced nature?”

 

“I wouldn’t know, Mistress," I said as I knelt there before the Lady Donna. I had been sent to bring her a light lunch as she worked. 

 

“You are a barbarian girl, so you understand modern scientific equipment.” She motioned towards one of the antenna dishes that was looped into a bank of screens and dials. “Brinn told me you are not native to Gor. I asked him earlier today which girls on this estate were barbarians.”

 

That was interesting. Why would she want to know that? “Yes, Mistress. I was born on Earth.”

 

“So none of this seems strange to you. Except in the context of Gor.”

 

I nodded. “That is correct, Mistress.” 

 

“You will understand then that much of this is in the nature of receiving equipment. Victor and I are already receiving useful numbers and other data from the transmitters we are setting up here in the foothills of the Sardar regions. I study gravity waves. It is my speciality.”

 

I watched as she walked slowly around the open space, between her ticking and buzzing machines. “Much of this equipment comes from your planet. It does not break the technology laws of the Priest Kings. Although some of the devices skirt close to the spirit of the laws.” She paused beside a monitor on which wave forms were fluctuating. “Decades ago this site was the ground zero for gravity anomalies that threatened to rip Gor apart. My caste have been analysing the residual effect to the planetary waves ever since. The mountains to the north still act as a centre point for waves radiating outwards to varying degrees. The Priest Kings have considerable influence over gravity, but sixty years ago they almost lost control of those very same forces. For forty years Victor and myself have been studying the forces that shape this world. We are custodians, if you like, watchmen who ensure that the ripple effects from the incident do not threaten Gor again. It is my job to sound an alarm if ever the gravity waves begin to oscillate to dangerous degrees. I tell you this because you are not Gorean. So this is not magic to you.”

 

“It’s not magic, Mistress.”

 

“Good.” 

 

 

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“The mountains are dangerous above a certain elevation,” said Brinn as he reclined back in his curule chair, late in the evening, with myself kneeling at his feet. We had all eaten earlier in the great hall and now Brinn entertained his guests beside the hearth. The Summer months had drawn to a close and we were now into the Gorean equivalent of Autumn, so fires were lit in the evenings. Although central Gor has a Mediterranean climate, the Sardar mountains range far north, touching the southernmost part of the Northern Forests which in turn shares a northern border with southern Torvaldsland. We feel the chill air late in the season where we live. “There will be ice and strong wind and the pathways are treacherous. It is no place for a woman, free or otherwise.”

 

“My woman is resourceful and used to hardship in the pursuit of her duties,” said Victor as he warmed himself, standing beside the fireplace. His woman, the Lady Donna, knelt demurely to the side, close to the Lady Cassandra. A low table had been placed between them, and Shannon knelt quietly some distance from that table, watching out for any hand signal that might indicate her services were required. “She has technical knowledge of our instruments that will be essential when it comes to setting up the transmitters.”

 

“I can make no guarantees that she will be safe beyond a certain elevation. If I do take you up there, it is with the understanding that you will both obey my instructions without question. I have been up there before, higher even than where you need to go. Our very survival will depend on the discipline of the group.”

 

“Of course,” said the Lady Donna. “We will recognise your authority at all times.”

 

“It will be a small group,” suggested Brinn. “Myself and Geralt will guide you. Three of my strongest male slaves will act as porters to carry your equipment and our tents.  “

 

“Tents,” The Lady Donna seemed surprised that we might be camping.

 

“It is an arduous journey and one I do not intend rushing. We will travel slowly due to the frozen ice on the slopes. It will take several days to reach a height suitable for your…” Brinn tried to recall the word with a wave of his hand.

 

“Transmitters,” said the Lady. 

 

“Those things, yes.” Brinn waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “Are you sure you wish to do this?”     

 

“Yes. The data we will receive from the mountain slopes will be worth the risk. These slopes are the domain of the Priest Kings, yes?”

 

“They are,” reflected Brinn. “I have met with them once, or rather the alien shapes they assumed when they spoke to me. They can assume any form they wish of course, for they are above such material concerns and are not limited to flesh and bone as we are. We will not be climbing as high as I did when I entered their halls. You will not see them, but they will see you.”

 

“How thrilling,” said the Lady with a hint of a smile, crinkling the edges of her eyes. “Will they know you are with us?”

 

“Of course,” said Brinn. “The Priest Kings know everything that occurs there.”

 

“Then they are likely to look kindly upon our journey?”

 

“I suppose so.” Brinn indicated that he wanted paga and so I served him some as he sat and studied the Lady who knelt beside his sister. Cassandra placed the palm of her right hand on the back of Lady Donna’s hand and patted it with affection, as if to confirm her approval in all of this. “But do not expect them to save us from our own stupidity. We make our own lives.” 

 

“Thank you for this, brother,” said Cassandra. 

 

Brinn nodded as he took the paga from me. “So, you, Lady, your companion, myself and Geralt, three pack slaves, and…” he was counting the members of the party on his fingers, “you will require a kajira to look after you, I suppose?”

 

“That would be helpful,” said the Lady. 

 

“Hmm, my tents are three-man tents, so we may as well add two kajirae to the group and make it nine strong, that way we have a tent for the men, a tent for the pack slaves and a tent for the women. If you sleep with your kajirae for warmth, you will not freeze. The winds can be savagely bitter on the exposed slopes. Chloe…” Brinn turned his attention to where I lay at his feet.

 

“Master?” 

 

“Our guests will require cold weather clothing suitable for the mountainside. Which of the kajirae are best at sewing and stitching?”

 

“The French barbarians, Master: Lisa and Nadia. They’ve been trained to stitch and mend clothes.”

 

“Have them customise cold weather clothing for the guests, our pack slaves, yourself, and whoever you appoint to join you.” Brinn already had cold weather clothing for Geralt and himself. 

 

“Me, Master?” I didn’t like the sound of this. I’m a warm weather kajira, not at all comfortable or suited to ice and wind. I didn’t want to climb the Sardar mountains! “I’m not sure I’m a good choice for climbing mountains. I’m from the Tahari. Perhaps a Northern born girl…?”

 

“You will be serving the Lady and keeping her safe and as comfortable as is possible up there. You are first girl, and you hold that position because I have a high opinion of your ability to make good decisions. I’m not going to risk the Lady’s life with semi-competent kajirae. And besides, with the number of Taharian girls you’ve been buying recently, I’m not sure we actually have any northern girls on the estate…” 

 

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“How long are you going to keep me like this! I am the Lady Euphrosyne of Vonda! My father’s men will find me if they have to scour every inch of central Gor!” The Lady Euphrosyne continued to be in a foul mood, locked in the small outbuilding as she was. The chain attached to her display collar allowed plenty of movement, but she mostly sat or lay on the piles of sack cloth as she found the floor surface hard. Mostly she was bored as there wasn’t much to do in the outbuilding.

 

Candice and I had brought her some food. She had been locked away for three nights now, and already the men were asking me what had happened to the new red-headed girl with the amazing breasts. I had told them that she was still being processed, but they were growing impatient to see her again. 

 

The Lady sneered at me as I set down a bowl with a kind of thick paste like stew made from offcuts of meat, some vegetables and wheat grains. I did not allow her a spoon, for I didn’t want her throwing it at me. At first she had refused to eat, but hunger has a way of overcoming such delicate sensibilities and so we watched as she reluctantly put fingerfuls of the food into her mouth. “I hate you all,” she snarled. “You cannot treat me like this! You’re just slaves!”

 

“Tell me how you were captured?” I asked, as I knelt close to where she crouched. 

 

“Men stole into my home. They were paid to do so. They weren’t thieves.”

 

“They stole you though?” said Candice with a smile. 

 

“They weren’t thieves in the sense that they routinely broke into rich houses to search for valuables! They obviously came to my house with a single intention in mind. I had been asleep, but work to a hand on my mouth. I tried to scream and struggle, but they quickly forced a gag into my mouth and rolled me on to my stomach. I have guardsmen! But no one came to my aid! One of the men tied my wrists behind my back and then crossed my ankles and tied those too. I was completely helpless. They called me Pepita!” she fumed some more as she shifted position and ate some more of the thick stew. 

 

“Your name is Pepita, at least as far as your slave papers are concerned,” I said.

“They have not been signed or witnessed! I have not been branded. This is a farce. My father’s men will find me soon. There will be a rich reward for my safe return. Obviously I am worth far more as a free woman than as a slave. No one will enslave me. It doesn’t make economic sense.”  

 

“What happened then?” I asked.

 

“They left me on my belly for a while. One of the men was literate and it was he who filled out the slave papers while I writhed furiously. They took measurements of my body! They worked slowly, carefully and precisely, not seeming to care that I had guardsmen in the house.”

 

“Perhaps they had already dealt with the guards?” Candice suggested. “Perhaps your guards were dead or bribed to ignore sounds of your struggling?”

 

“Call me Mistress, slave!”

 

“I am sorry, Mistress," said Candice as she slid away a few more inches. She was still a bit scared of the woman so long as the woman was free.

 

“Then, when they were finished, they pressed a cloth to my face. It had been soaked in capture scent. The next thing I knew I woke, still bound, in a sack, in that filthy trunk. An hour or so later I arrived at this estate. Why are you keeping me here? Why haven’t I seen the man who ordered my capture? Who is he? I wish to negotiate my release. Bring him to me.”

 

I gazed at Candice who looked as troubled as I did. We still feared that this woman had been captured on the orders of the Lady Cassandra, and as such we really didn’t know what to do with her. While we didn’t exactly relish the thought of the girl competing with us for the attentions of the men if she was enslaved, we couldn’t exactly let her go. 

 

Candice and I had talked this over A LOT. Basically, we didn’t want her as a slave on the estate. We couldn’t compete with those breasts of hers. Logically then we should suggest to the Master that she was ransomed back to her father. That made perfect sense because she was worth more as a free woman than as a slave. BUT, if her capture had been arranged by the Lady Cassandra, and the Lady Cassandra wanted the girl to suffer the indignities of being treated as a dancing slave, then to save her from that fate would be to cross the Lady Cassandra, and she would not forget that insult in a hurry. BUT we still didn’t know if it really was the Master’s sister who was behind all of this. Maybe she wasn’t? The funny thing is, she had made no attempt to see Euphrosyne in bondage, and it hadn’t even been mentioned at the evening meals when she dined with the Master. She seemed to have no interest in the red-headed girl who had arrived mysteriously by wagon. If Euphrosyne was a hated rival who had insulted her, then surely the Lady would have at least gloated a little? Time was running out. We couldn’t simply hide the woman away indefinitely. Either she would have to be enslaved or set free for ransom. We didn’t want the former, but we were afraid of the consequences of the latter. 

 

“Do you have any enemies in Vonda?” I asked. 

 

“Possibly. Or rather my father has. He is powerful. He is rich, and he knows many Ubars.”

 

“Have you angered anyone? A woman perhaps?” I didn’t dare speak the name of the Lady Cassandra but I hoped to prompt such a name from Euphrosyne’s mouth.  

 

“A woman? What has that to do with anything?” The Lady looked at me suspiciously. “What are you suggesting? That a woman could do this to me? Ridiculous. I am one of the most securely protected women in Vonda! This would be the work of a mighty Ubar at the very least. Who is he? I wish to negotiate. There is something he obviously wants from my father, so there is. No need to prolong these indignities. I wish to be freed from this chain, bathed, dressed and then fed properly. And then I require a whip to lash the two of you. See that it is done. Especially the whip.”

 

Candice regarded me again. I felt sure the Lady honestly thought she was here for some sort of ransom, but if this had been the doing of the Lady Cassandra, then ransom was an irrelevance. 

 

“We have been instructed to teach you to dance, Mistress,” I said. 

 

“Dance? Are you insane! I will not dance!”

 

“The sensuous dances of a Taharian pleasure slave in fact.”

 

 “Oh, I am going to whip you both so hard and so long. You will be screaming for mercy!” 

 

We left a few minutes later, closing and locking the heavy wooden door of the outbuilding. We had closed the shutters on the windows when we had spotted various men peering inside. Several of those very same men waited, not so patiently, to speak to us as we left the building.

 

“When is Pepita coming out, Chloe? Is there a list for her use yet?” asked a warrior in scarlet.

 

“Um, not yet, Master. Not for quite a while. She is to be trained in dance before she is considered for use by men. The instructions are to keep her white silk for now.”

 

“Why?” The men seemed annoyed at that. “The Captain has said that? Why is that woman to be kept white silk? We all want her! Give her to us. She should be put out for use like the other girls. We want her.”

 

“I am sorry, Master. I do not know.” I could sense the mood outside the building was growing ugly. These men were well disciplined warriors but they wanted a girl, and, well, I didn’t think it was a good idea to flaunt that girl in their faces and then say no. “I will speak to my Master, I promise you.”

 

As Candice and I hurried away, we heard one of the men kick at the door to the building in frustration. 

 

 

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The Lady was naked now, in her private rooms, as Nadia set a pile of garments down on a nearby table. With the assistance of the other French kajira, Lisa, the Lady had been gently and courteously undressed, ready for the fitting and adjustments of her cold weather garments. Her hair was indeed cut short, neatly and professionally done, in something of what would be referred to as a pixie cut on Earth. Her hair was brown with highlights that suggested a sense of vanity in her appearance, but not to an excessive degree. She was perhaps five feet, ten inches tall, just an inch shorter than Shannon, with C/D cup breasts, slim built, and reasonably fit for a presumably sedentary free woman unaccustomed to manual labour. 

 

“Hang my clothes up,” the Lady Donna had said, gesturing to her discarded robes and gowns. “I don’t want them folded on a table, girl.”

 

“Of course, Mistress.” Lisa’s Gorean was still French accented and it sounded beautiful. They had been amongst the first girls I had purchased, back on the very day when the Master had appointed me first girl. I had bought the girl called Urt, too, along with others. Both Lisa and Nadia had adjusted reasonably well to their slavery, and I think that was because they both had submissive natures. The men liked their accents, and would often stop and talk to them on the grounds, simply to hear the way they spoke. As Lisa hung the clothing, Nadine sorted through the garments she had brought with her. There were several sizes to choose from, and any of them could and would be adjusted to fit, with needle and thread. The robes and gowns of a free woman are not suitable for mountain walking, let alone surviving cold winds and ice rain.  

 

First came a camisole like garment made of soft cotton. Nadine pulled it down over the Lady’s upper body. The camisole touched her hips by a few inches. Next came a waist coat/vest garment of soft animal skin inlaid with fur. The waist coat/vest sat high on her hips, above the hem of the camisole, a bit like a corset. And like a corset, the front of the garment had clasps and hooks allowing for it to be closed tightly at the front.

 

Nadia produced a pair of long woollen stockings that she slid up each of the Lady’s legs. These were very warm, spun from soft and water-resistant wool. Pretty ribbons were attached to the open ends and these were then tied, one at a time, with neat bows to ringlets set on the underside of the waist coat. The waistcoat therefore acted a little like a garter belt. The stockings were long enough to reach almost to her crotch, but not quite. 

 

The next item from the pile was a length of cloth much like a nappy – though not as thick - that was folded into a crisscross, and then drawn between her front and bottom with the crisscross twist between her legs and the wings were then secured in place either side of her waist with pins at the front. Women’s garments on Gor rarely have nether closures of any kind as the garments tend to be layers of long gowns and skirts to ankle length or more, but in the frozen north or, in this case, climbing a mountain slope, it wouldn’t be sensible to be exposed and have a draught blowing up there. 

 

“The cloth can be removed by dispensing with the pins, Mistress, for when nature calls,” explained Nadia. She demonstrated, removing the pins and the cloth then fell away, barely tucked in place, and was easily removed. Nadia then folded and pinned it back in place on the Lady, making it snug and comfortable.

 

Then came a loose, long-sleeved blouse that had laces in the open back and a smooth front. The idea here is that having an opening at the back, rather than the front, makes the garment more airtight against the wind because the jacket will then cover it. The Lady was asked to raise her arms and the garment was pulled down past her head. The long sleeves covered the beginning of her hands and had laces that threaded through holes in the sleeves and pulled the sleeves closed around her wrists. I smiled softly and looked away because technically, leather thongs were being tied at each of the Lady’s wrists. There was little difference between these thongs and binding fibre for slaves except of course her wrists were free from one another and at no point did the thongs actually touch her bare skin. Billowing open sleeves are no good on a mountain side of course. Nadia moved behind the Lady and pulled on the laces at her back, pulling the blouse closed about her body. She then knotted the thongs at the back of her neck in a pretty bow, sealing her in the garment. The blouse, once secured in place, resembled a dress of sorts, with a hem line that came to mid-thigh. 

 

Then came the boots. Each one was laced at the back, and they were an over the knee design, coming a third of the way up her thighs. It was a struggle to pull them onto the Lady, but once the laces at the back were loosened, Nadia managed it. The laces were then worked tight and further thongs were threaded through eyeholes along the top of the boot to then tie it in place around her upper thigh. The flap of the boot was then folded over the eyelet thongs, securing them from the wind and rain. 

 

Next was a water-resistant leather jacket, again close fitting and lined with fur, but with spaces cut for the under armpits. This allows easier movement of the arms. The jacket had a high neck with a fur lined hood. The skirt of the jacket overlapped the skirt line of the blouse and the tops of the woollen stockings and almost, but not quite touched the top of the folded boots. 

 

Finally, Nadia produced a thick cotton scarf that she wound about the Lady’s lower face to act as a veil. It was knotted behind her and the hood drawn up and, with further thong toggles, secured about her head. A pair of soft, fur lined leather gloves completed the outfit. 

 

“Mistress looks like an intrepid explorer now,” I said, as Nadia moved around to adjust the fastenings and tighten certain of the thongs. “She will survive on the mountain slopes with men to help her. Are the garments comfortable, Mistress?”

 

“Yes.” She took a few steps along the floor in the boots and swung her arms around. “I feel rather hot like this, but that is the point, because I will need that insulation when we climb the Sardar range. 

 

 

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

 

It was late in the evening. Shannon was serving Victor in his guest rooms, while I had been asked to serve the Lady Cassandra as she entertained her friend, the Lady Donna in her sumptuous bathing chambers that constituted one luxurious wing of the villa. 

 

Two talented Tahriain kajirae knelt in the corner of the candle-lit room, playing soft, relaxing music on a pair of desert flutes as the Ladies left the sunken, heated bath and waited with arms held out to be wrapped in soft, luxurious towels by Nadia and Lisa, the French girls; formerly Mademoiselle Nadine Moreau and Mademoiselle Lisette Dubois of Earth. The skin of the free women was soft, fragranced by the bath oils, and as we towelled them dry they spoke as if none of us were even there.

 

I tried not to be caught staring at the Lady Donna’s earlobes, because I and the other kajirae had been shocked to discover that they had been pierced in the past! While the woman did not wear earrings on the estate, she obviously had done so at some point. There was no sign of a slave brand on her body, and so it was unlikely she was a former slave who had subsequently been freed. Her behaviour ruled that possibility out completely. Former slaves unfortunately never really forget their time in bondage. That left the suggestion that despite her convincing Gorean accent she had originally been born on Earth. 

 

All the kajirae present of course had pierced ears and wore beautiful earrings of Taharian design. 

 

I can’t emphasise enough how very unusual it is for a free woman to have pierced ears. Normally the piercings would not be visible to men when she wore a hood in her day to day dealings with them, but in private when she had disrobed, it was plain to see, especially on account of her short pixie-style haircut. And again, free women rarely wore short hair. It was not socially forbidden – it was just unusual. A bit like wearing flared trousers in 1985. I could only imagine what my Master might say and do if he knew the Lady Donna had pierced ears. The Lady Cassandra obviously knew this some time ago, for she made no mention of the piercings, perhaps having reconciled herself to the revelation back in Vonda. 

 

“I’m so glad you came here,” said Cassandra as I softly dabbed at her breasts with my towel. “I can only do so much writing and drawing in the gardens during the day, and evening meals with my brother invariably run into the same endless anecdotes relating to shield walls he has stood in, in the past.”

 

“I wish I could travel more, but it is difficult. Not to mention dangerous,” said the Lady Donna as Nadia towelled her dry. She seemed to like the French girls and had requested their presence specifically tonight as she bathed and dined with the Lady Cassandra. She smiled at Nadia as one might smile at a well behaved pet, as the French girl dabbed the towel gently between the free woman’s thighs. 

 

“I can send you men as an escort any time you want them. I have plenty to spare. With my men at your side you can travel anywhere you want. Like here.” Cassandra smiled in a way I rarely saw her do. “I get so bored. Visit me more often, Donna. Please?”

 

“You need to cultivate some hobbies, sweet little girl.” 

 

“I have hobbies! I write. I draw. I help the poor. What I lack are friends. Especially out here in the foothills of the mountains.” She sighed and lay down on one of the long ottoman couches that formed an L-shape close by the fire. Both women remained naked as they took their places amongst the soft cushions. During the day they were smothered in clothes, hoods and veils, and so there was considerable comfort and luxury to wear practically nothing in private. Their clean, freshly scrubbed bodies glowed in the combined fire and candle light as I set about arranging flasks of ka-la-na wine and trays of delicious canapes on the low tables beside each couch. Cassandra’s couch was covered in blood-red fabrics, befitting a warrior, and on top of the fabrics some plush animal furs. Cassandra of course wasn’t a warrior. A woman would never be admitted to the warrior caste, but in her private quarters she had a preference for the colour above her own Merchant caste colours. 

 

“You’re the daughter of a warrior, Cassandra. You can do so much more.” The Lady Donna motioned with her hand and I moved quickly to fill her goblet of wine. “You can BE more. You have your own banner. You command soldiers. That’s rare on Gor. The blood of warriors runs through your veins.”

 

“I know.” She curled her feet under her and smiled. I had never seen the Master’s sister look quite so relaxed and comfortable before. It was almost like she was actually human. “The serpent banner of House Assante. Just a small banner in the scheme of things, but prominent in Vonda.”

 

“I am a bit disappointed in you though,” said Donna as she raised the goblet to her lips. “The flower of House Assante has not been following her regimen of daily exercises, since I spoke to you in Vonda, has she?” She gave a tutting sound.

 

“I have!” Cassandra didn’t sound absolutely convincing when she said that. “The exercise routine you designed for me. I’ve been following it.”

 

“No you haven’t. Stand up. Come on.” Donna motioned with her hand, like a big sister telling her younger sister off. I watched, very interested as Cassandra stood and, when Donna motioned, she turned around on the balls of her feet on display for her body to be assessed, looking very much like she had been caught out cheating. When Donna said nothing, Cassandra stood there uncertainly, until eventually she shook her head.

 

“Okay, I have been forgetting them a few times. But I’m hardly fat…”

 

“No, you’re not fat, but you could be stronger. That is not the body of the daughter of a warrior. You’re soft, Cassandra. One day you might not be able to rely on your men for protection.” Donna rose from the couch and walked towards her. She ran her hands briskly over Cassandra’s thighs and buttocks, assessing her body, in much the same way I might assess a slave offered to me for purchase. “Yes. Soft. You have the typical body of a free woman. Pampered and lazy. Show me. Show me your fighting technique.”

 

As we watched, the Lady Cassandra put herself into a relaxed fighting stance and began to punch and kick into air as presumably the Lady Donna had taught her previously. She was clumsy, but the techniques she demonstrated seemed like martial skills from Earth. She lacked grace and the punches and kicks didn’t come naturally, but I could see that Cassandra was trying her best and wanted to impress the Lady Donna. 

 

Donna let Cassandra demonstrate for a few minutes until she began to slow down, uncertain whether to continue, and then Donna moved in and with a smile began trading some practice blocks with the Master’s sister. Unlike Cassandra, Donna seemed more adept, as if this did come naturally to her. 

 

“That’s it, Cass, don’t let me get into your body space, keep me away.” They traded a few simple blocks and punches, with the Lady Donna watching closely what Cassandra was doing. “Imagine that I’m a man and I’m trying to grab you. Here, this is your knife.” Lady Donna picked up a piece of firewood kindling – just a stick, and threw it to Cassandra. The woman stepped back and held her left hand out, with her right hand holding the stick held back, ready to strike. “Good enough. Now distract with your left hand and… strike.” Donna watched as Cassandra stabbed and slashed with the make-believe knife. “There’s an enemy to your left now!” said Donna urgently, and Cassandra turned on her hips to face the imagined threat, but as she did so, taking her eyes off Donna, Donna struck the side of her head sharply with the flat of the palm of her left hand, and while Cassandra was off balance and distracted, took hold of the knife wrist and twisted it sharply behind Cassandra’s back, simultaneously sweeping her feet out from under her with her own. Cassandra cried out as she fell to the floor and was pinned there by Donna. 

 

“You took your eyes off your first assailant,” said Donna as she held Cassandra in place on the tiled floor. “Never do that. Never.” She knelt on top of Cassandra and worked the kindling stick free from the woman’s fingers as Cassandra whimpered in disappointed protest. “Now he has you. You see? You’ll be stripped and tied. Just another pretty little slave girl, kneeling in nadu with a steel collar. You lost.” Donna rose from the floor and ran her hand through her short pixie crop of hair. “Do you want to wear a slave collar, Cass?”

 

“No!” Cassandra looked defiant as she lifted herself from the floor. 

 

“Then train. Train every day like I showed you. I don’t want to see this puppy fat ass on you next time I come and visit.” She smacked Cassandra’s cute Vonda-bred bottom with a force that made a loud crack and made Cassandra jump and squeal in shock. We could hardly believe what we were seeing, and of course we wouldn’t dare whisper a single word of it for fear of our lives, but this was a sight of Cassandra we’d never seen before.

 

“That hurt!” she snarled.

 

“Good. Perhaps next time I do it to you, you’ll have learnt enough to make me regret trying it again.” Donna laughed. “You look so indignant right now. I wish I had a camera. We will do some more. Kajirae!” She clapped her hands to get us all on to our feet.

 

“Cass, you must understand that some of the things I will teach you require practice and when we do that things might get a bit heated, do not take that out on the slaves afterwards. They are obeying my orders now. And I will beat them if they do not do as I say precisely. Also, I do not want to upset your brother by damaging one of his slaves. He might want me to replace it and frankly I don’t have the money.”

 

“We’re going to train with… the slaves?” said Cassandra in amazement. 

 

“Yes, we are. On my world, women can be warriors. Before we start the lesson, we need to warm our bodies up, we do not want injuries because we suddenly strain our cold muscles.”  The Lady began to undertake a series of stretching and bending exercises, encouraging the others when necessary.

 

“So now I shall ask you, what do we think are a man’s vulnerable parts if he attacks us?”  Nadia held her hand up and suggested ‘his eyes’.  “Good and what else?  His sexual organs?  They are a bit difficult for free women wearing robes of concealment to kick, but let him in close, grab his sexual organs, use your fingernails to dig in and twist hard.  Consider the eyes of a man – always a good place to strike.  We all have fingernails, so drive your nails into the corner of his eyes and drag them outwards like a hook.  Be like a wild, hissing Larl. He will stop, and possibly you will blind him.  I will demonstrate on Nadia. Get over here, girl.” The French slave stood out somewhat reluctantly as the Lady Donna held her hand up close to the girl’s eyes and demonstrated the sudden clawing strike.  “Now, Cass, show me how to do it.”  

 

The Lady practised some more. Whenever she got it right, the Lady Donna was complimentary. Whenever she got it wrong, the Lady Donna corrected her position and movement. 

 

“Then there is dealing with a knife attack.  Do not think like a silly girl; do not signal your intentions; do not scratch and bite, and keep away from pulling hair.  Simply ball your fist, and keep your thumb outside unless you want to break it.  Hit hard and keep hitting hard and quickly until your attacker leaves you alone. There are two ways a man might attack you with a knife,  and the first approach is with it held above his head.  That is relatively simple to deal with, just grab his arm with your left hand, ball your fist and using the base of your palm smack that into his nose, that will drive his nasal bone into his brain and kill him. Demonstration time.”

 

The Lady Donna picked up a length of kindling and handed it to Lisa, “Lisa attack me in slow time.” Lisa did so and was shortly sat on the floor looking baffled, rubbing her ass. The training went on like this for quite a while before the Lady saw how tired Cassandra was becoming and called a halt. 

“We finish, then.  Girls, into the pool. Clean yourselves up before you return to the fireplace.” The Lady clapped her hands again sharply and I followed Nadia and Lisa into the deep scented pool where we enjoyed the luxury of feeling the warm pipe-heated water against our skin. Ordinarily we only got to enjoy the water when a master or mistress required some service.

 

As Cassandra hung around away from the edge of the pool, the Lady Donna frowned. “You too, Cass. I said ‘girls’. That includes you. Clean yourself up.” Donna clicked her fingers and pointed towards the pool. 

 

“There are slaves in there,” said the Lady Cassandra.

 

“So? You have slaves in with you when they’re bathing you. Get in and wash.” She landed a playful slap on Cassandra’s ass that startled her. I hid any trace of a smile as the haughty free woman lowered herself from the side of the pool into the scented water and submerged her tired body. The lady Donna watched us all for a while before she entered the pool too, but she descended down the small set of steps, entering the water like the mistress of a harem. Lisa was washing me and, seeing Cassandra standing waist deep in the shallow end, Nadine slid over to begin bathing the free woman. Cassandra raised her arms as Nadine began scrubbing her skin gently with a sponge.

 

“Don’t look like such a startled tabuk, Cass,” said Donna as she slid through the water herself and placed her hands on Cass's back, lifting her long hair from the water and knotting it so that it draped over her left shoulder. “We don’t want sweaty, clammy girls serving us, do we?”

 

“I suppose not.” Cassandra looked nervous as the Lady Donna picked a bar of soap from the side and began to wash Cassandra’s back. With Nadine in front of her, and the Lady Donna behind her, Cassandra was being washed and cleaned by four sets of hands. I saw her cheeks redden as the Lady Donna dipped the sponge between the Lady’s legs. At the same time, Nadine happened to wash the Lady’s nipples carefully with her sponge. 

 

“I think I’m clean now,” said Casandra in a quavering voice.

 

“Good,” said Donna with a smile on her face as she leaned forward a little to smell the scent on Cassandra’s bare shoulder. “You can wash Nadine then.”

 

“What? She’s a slave…”

 

“Masters and mistresses often groom their slaves personally,” said Donna as she passed a cake of soap. “Your brother used to trim and cut Emma’s hair himself, you know. And he would often bathe her when they swam together in the sunken pool room.”

 

“Yes, well, my brother and Emma’s relationship was a little bit different than…”

 

“A clean slave is a healthy slave,” said Donna as she stroked Cassandra’s right arm. “And it builds a bond between mistress and kajira. You may even enjoy it.” She placed the cake of soap in Cassandra’s open palm and then closed her fingers around it. 

 

Cassandra made a half-hearted attempt to wash Nadine as she stood there with the water lapping close to her breasts. I could see Cassandra’s face had reddened a bit more as she washed the slave, not enjoying such an intimate moment with a woman whatsoever. It was obvious she wanted to be anywhere but there, right now. Nadine stole a brief glance in my direction and I saw the traces of the smile in her eyes if not on her lips. 

 

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

 

I had been a little distracted this evening, as the night before I had been with the Master and the conversation had turned eventually to the matter that had been obsessing me these last few days and nights.

 

We had lain in bed together, the master and I, with me cupping my hands around his stiff, erect penis. I stroked it slowly and gently while we talked, keeping him hard until he decided to use me again. He liked that, I had discovered, prolonging his need, but delaying the delicious, inevitable moment when he would push me onto my back, part my thighs and thrust inside me again in the furs. He liked the simmering feeling of being kept ready. I had learned by now how to stroke him slowly to keep him at a certain level of exquisite desire, without pushing him towards the edge. Many other girls hadn’t yet mastered that technique because they didn’t lie with him often enough to see the tell-tale signs when he was becoming too aroused. It was one of the things he liked about me, and one of the reasons I shared his couch so often during the nights. 

 

“Sleek little Taharian,” he said, despite the fact he knew I had never lived in the Tahari. 

 

“The sleekest and silkiest, Master,” I said as I kissed his chest. “And all yours.”

 

“My men have been grumbling today,” said Brinn as he stroked my ass cheeks. 

 

“Oh?” I had a horrible feeling I knew where this was going.

 

“Yes. They say you have a large breasted red-haired girl that you keep locked up and they have no access to her. More to the point, why haven’t I seen her? I’m rather partial to large breasts.”

 

“Then touch mine, Master. I love your touch.” I moved his hands to my exposed breasts and smiled as he played with them. 

 

“I hear they are much larger than these,” said Brinn, with no regard for my feelings. “How much bigger?”

 

“Oh, just a little, Master. Your men probably exaggerate.” I felt it a good moment to intensify the touch of my hand on his thick rod. It helped him forget that line of conversation and I directed it away from the Lady Euphrosyne’s breasts. I allowed the Master to experience a blissful sense of rapture from my hand before I slowed things down again when I felt his shaft quivering with need. I wasn’t going to let him come just yet. This was the perfect time to address the subject of the Lady while he was floating in his euphoric head space.

 

“I hope you’re not doing that thing that Emma used to do?”

 

“What thing is that, Master?”

 

“That thing when she used to hide certain girls from me because she was afraid that I might like them too much. She hid Shannon from me to begin with, because Shannon has auburn hair. She was afraid Shannon might be a threat to her.”

 

“I didn’t know that, Master. What a terribly deceitful thing for a first girl to do. I’m appalled. I certainly don’t approve of anything like that.”

 

“I had to whip her.”

 

“Shannon?”

 

“No, Emma. When I found out she’d been keeping Shannon where I couldn’t see her, I took Emma to the whipping ring in my bedroom and gave her four strokes of the lash. I didn’t want to do that, but I had to put a stop to that sort of manipulative behaviour.”

 

“You did the right thing, Master,” I quickly reassured him. “It’s a terrible breach of trust for a first girl to deprive her Master of the full choice of slave flesh. I’m astonished that Emma would even have done such a thing!”

 

“Well, it’s good that you feel that way, Chloe. You wouldn’t do anything like that?”

 

“Oh no, Master. I would feel ashamed just thinking such a thing! The pleasure of my Master always come first. And if my Master wishes a girl with slightly larger breasts than mine, well, who am I to say otherwise?”

 

“Slightly larger?” asked Brinn with a trace of confusion.

 

“The comparison is probably quite trivial, Master. You like my breasts, don’t you?”

 

“Very much.” Brinn kissed and licked them, much to my joy.

 

“To be honest, Master, hers are a bit droopy. And I didn’t want to say this, but, well… she sometimes has a bit of a fishy smell…” I made a mental note to rub the girl’s vulva with a wet fish if ever I had to deliver her to the Master’s couch. “We would need to do something about that before I could ever send her to you in any conscience.”

 

“A fishy smell?” Brinn didn’t seem to like the sound of that.

 

I shrugged. “I’m sure a physician can deal with it eventually, but for now, probably best to leave her where she is. The thing is, Master, I’ve been thinking…”

 

A couple more slow strokes from my hand, and a resulting groan of pleasure from the Master. Oh yes, he liked that very much.

 

“Ordinarily I would have enslaved the free woman, but…”

 

“She’s a free woman?” he looked surprised despite the fact I’d told him that much several days ago.

 

“Yes, Master, I told you about her before. She is a free woman from Vonda, abducted from her bed chambers, dosed with capture scent and transported here mysteriously in a wooden box.”

 

“Why don’t I know about this?”

 

“I have told you, Master. When you were watching the wrestling. I thought you were paying attention… please tell me you are paying attention now…” I moved my body to slide closer to him where he could see my lips close to his, and smell my most sluttish perfume. I continued to caress his penis and stroke it occasionally under the tip of the hood. “You are paying close attention to me now, Master, yes?” I slid my lips softly over his as I gave him a momentary glimpse of my most pleasurable touch.

 

He groaned in pleasure and nodded, “Yes, Chloe, I am…”

 

“Very good, Master. Very good. The thing is, Master, she is an important free woman in Vonda and her father is very rich. She is worth much more as a free woman for ransom.”

 

“So ransom her then,” said Brinn as he trembled in the furs with deep arousal. “We have enough slaves.”

 

“An excellent idea, Master. We should do that, yes. That’s so clever of you. But…” and here we came to the thorny thing I had to say to him. “I’ve been wondering who might have abducted her. Who might wish to see her enslaved, and most importantly who might want her toiling away in humiliation on this estate.”

 

“Does that matter?” asked Brinn. “If we’re going to ransom her back?”

 

“Well, it would matter if that person happens to be your sister, Master…”

 

“What? Cassandra?” Brinn looked startled and so I quickly calmed him down with the touch of my hand again. That always calms a man down and makes him listen attentively to his first girl, as she should do. “Please don’t alarm yourself, handsome Master, just concentrate on Chloe’s hand and what it is doing to you right now. Isn’t this lovely?”

 

His sighs of contentment were all the answer I needed. He really was putty in my hands right now. “The thing is, if I returned the Lady to Vonda, if your sister, whom we all admire and respect, if your sister was the cause of her abduction, she might be angry that we returned her to freedom. That’s what I’ve been afraid of doing and why I’ve hesitated in either freeing the Lady or enslaving her. You understand that, don’t you, Master?” I stroked him in my special way again until he nodded, too asphyxiated with pleasure to say much. “So, what should I do?”

 

“I’ll… speak to Cassandra…”

 

“You must make it seem that it is you who has suspected her involvement, Master. If she thought I had whispered this to you, I would be savagely beaten or worse and then I couldn’t do such lovely things to you…” his penis was getting dangerously close to the edge but I dared a couple more stokes of my special touch until I withdrew to let him calm down a little. “You’ll tell her it’s your suspicion, not mine, won’t you Master?”

 

“Yes…” he was agreeing quickly now as he took hold of me and thrust me down onto my back with a growl of desire. “My idea, not yours.” I spread my thighs and felt him thrust deep inside me. 

 

“Such a good Master,” I said with a smile as he began to fuck me hard and fast. 

 

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

 

Cassandra settled back down onto the couch and sulked for a moment before she said, “It’s not a puppy fat ass. Whatever a puppy is, anyway.”

 

“I’m sure it’s a lovely ass. I’m sure the men would love it if they saw it.” Lady Donna motioned for me to fill her friend’s goblet, which I did. “talking of which, who do you have your eyes on here?”

 

“Donna!” Cassandra squirmed on the couch as she chose to avoid the question.

 

“Oh come on, lighten up, girl. You’re the only free woman here, surrounded by over a hundred warriors, training with their tops off and getting all sweaty. This should be heaven for you. Who do you like?”

 

“I really don’t think about it,” said Cassandra as she curled her feet under her again and picked at some grapes. “I’m too busy.”

 

“No, you’re not. You sit in the garden during the day, painting pictures, and unless there’s something very wrong with you, you’ll often think of sex, or at least knowing you, you’ll try to imagine what it might actually be like, if only you knew.”

 

“Donna!” 

 

“Yes, we’re going to be talking about sex, tonight, sacred flower of House Assante. That’s what women do when they’re alone and can’t be overheard.” Donna paused for a moment and then slowly turned her attention to the kajirae in the room, including myself. “Any girl who even remembers a single word of what free women say in private, let alone repeats those words, well, she’ll be sold to a peasant farm where she will spend the rest of her life pulling a plough. Am I understood?”

 

A series of terrified slave voices all murmured, ‘yes, Mistress’. We knew it was no idle threat. 

 

Cassandra then added, “if I even think a slave has spoken out of turn, I will remove her tongue and nose with a knife and then sell her. I will not even look for proof. And do not think for one moment that my brother would protect any one of you from my wrath. I sold Emma, remember. And I could do it again. Easily.”

 

None of us dared to look at her. 

 

“A sex drive is healthy, Cass. Remember what I told you back in Vonda when we first met?”

 

Cassandra nodded. “A woman doesn’t become a slave because she desires sex. A woman becomes a slave because she is weak. Those words are so wise.”

 

“Yes. My star pupil.” Lady Donna raised her goblet and smiled. “Are you weak, flower of the Assante?”

 

“No. This flower has thorns!” she laughed. “Men will be badly scratched if they try grasping it.”

 

“Sex is good, Cass. I have lots of it with Victor. He knows how to satisfy me in bed, and I like to think I satisfy him too. Victor has kajirae from time to time, but I have come to accept that because this is Gor, and we have talked about it a lot. It wasn’t easy at first, but we both know we are never going home and so we have become Gorean. We have rules of course. Victor understands what I will accept and what crosses a red line. We’ve had fights. What couple hasn’t? But we have renewed our free companionship annually for over forty years now. We work together, we share caste, we have gorgeous children and we have mutual respect and love for one another. I certainly don’t deprive myself of good sex. Oh, now I can see you’re blushing, Cass. That’s sweet, but also systemic of how uptight Gorean women are.”

 

“It’s difficult for us. And I do not have a free companion.”

 

“Would you like one? You’re certainly of companionable age, and with your brother’s fame surely there is no shortage of men who would agree to companion you?”

 

“Yes, but I don’t know any of them. My brother told me yesterday that Targid of Rarn has put in an offer for my companionship. My brother proudly tells me Targid of Rarn commands three hundred men. He has seen a sketch of my face and desires me. But I have ambition, and Targid of Rarn will expect a dutiful companion who is meek and submissive in his presence. That is not me. I do not wish to submit to a man, not even in free companionship. I want to be my own woman. That is difficult when a man claims you for his own. Which a warrior would do. I would no longer be my own woman.”

 

The Lady Donna nodded. “So take your pleasure elsewhere if you do not trust your liberty in companionship with one of your brother’s recommendations. You are wealthy. You could buy silk slaves. It is not unheard of. Men from Earth often make suitable silk slaves for a Lady of good breeding. And part of the fun is shopping for them.” Donna smiled and seemed to enjoy the embarrassed reaction on Cassandra’s face. “We could go shopping together,” added Donna. “Oh God, Cass, you are so shy about this sort of thing!”

 

“I need more ka-la-na,” said Cassandra as she laughed too and thumped the base of her goblet against the low table, imitating a man who demands a refill. “I can’t talk about things like this when I’m sober!”

 

“Hmm, so have more ka-la-na.” Donna motioned for me to slide over to the Lady and top up her goblet, which I did. “You’re always more fun when you’re drunk. It’s really quite exciting attending one of the auctions in one of the finer houses when they put on a sale exclusively of silk slaves from Earth. Some of those men… well, and they are all trained to accept commands from a woman. Just think, if you had one chained to the foot of your couch now? You could feed him by hand and with a click of your fingers,” she clicked her fingers, “you could know how good his tongue is.”

 

“You’re such a bad influence, Donna,” cried Cassandra as she laughed, possibly intrigued by the idea. “I could do this, I suppose. The auctions are discrete? I would not wish to be recognised at such a gathering.”

 

“Oh yes. Believe me, all the women attending will be just as nervous as you. You wouldn’t believe how many veils they wear!”  

 

“I’ve missed you, Donna. Please come and visit more often? Please?”

 

“We’ll see. But anyway, you never answered my first question. If you could have anyone on this estate, who would it be?”

 

“Oh no, I’m not doing this!” said Cassandra as she squirmed a bit. “I can’t…”

 

“Give her more ka-la-na,” said Donna to me. “Lots more. You are obeying me tonight, not her. Remember that, slave.”

 

“No, don’t, please… Donna, no…” said Cassandra as I poured more wine for her. “I’m going to be so drunk and then I’ll say things I’ll regret. I always do…”

 

“I know, that’s part of the fun of being with the gentle flower of House Assante. Watching her petals unfurl in the sunshine.”

 

“Geralt.” 

 

My heart froze as I heard Lady Cassandra speak that name. She had piled some cushions in front of her and had hidden half her face, squinting her eyes, almost nibbling the cushions, before she had spoken the name of my natural master. My blood ran cold as I realised the enormity of this. She wanted Geralt. She wanted my Geralt. “He’s a captain. One of my brother’s captains. We played together when we were children. He’s very strong. I’d couch with him.” Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in the pillows. “I can’t believe I just admitted that!”

 

“There, the flower of House Assante is human after all. Actually, I’m going mountain climbing with him in a few days. Shall I put in a good word for you?”

 

“DO NOT DO THAT!” said Cassandra in alarm as she sprang up from the cover of the cushions. “I’d die!” 

 

“Have you spoken to him?”

 

“Of course not! I can’t do that!”

 

“Yes, you can. Doesn’t he attend any of your brother’s dinners?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, then…”

 

“I can’t talk to him! You don’t understand. It would be obvious to everyone at the table. My brother would not be happy.”

 

He wouldn’t be the only one who wouldn’t be happy, I thought to myself. 

 

“Fuck your brother,” said Donna. “Well, not literally. I mean, he doesn’t get to tell you who you can have feelings for. Who you can talk to.”

 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

 

That’s right, I thought to myself, you can’t. Not my natural Master, you can’t. 

 

“Cass, you can do anything you set your mind to. You command a serpent banner. The poor in Vonda bless your name whenever they speak it. You are entitled to be happy.”

 

“I should free companion with Targid of Rarn, and then I won’t have to think about what I want. And then my brother would be happy because he would have another three hundred men at his disposal. I should just do what is expected of me. I should only think of duty to my family. Nothing else.”

 

“Hmm.” The Lady Donna leaned forward and patted the back of Cassandra’s right hand. “You need to buy a silk slave when you get back to Vonda. I think it might do you some good. It will also give you some experience with men before you couch with a free man. One of the main reasons why free women are at such a disadvantage when it comes to consensual sex is that they are always nervous and inexperienced. A man will often take advantage of that and do whatever he wants to you, because you don’t know what is expected and what you should rightly refuse. I’m very experienced when it comes to sex, so sex for me is always on my terms. Men can’t play me. The Assante flower needs to learn that same strength. And that comes through experience. You probably don’t even know how to kiss, do you?”    

 

“I…”

 

“It’s not your fault, Cass, but we can do something about that. You can practise on a kajira. This is often how free women of your status learn how to approach and interact with men. Let’s do it now in fact, as we have plenty of kajirae here. Chloe, stand up.” The Lady clapped her hands sharply, summoning me to my feet in surprise. “You’re going to be a man. I want you to kiss your mistress like a man would. You know what I mean, girl. As a man would. How a man would try to take advantage of an inexperienced woman. Cass, stand up please.” When the Lady hesitated for a moment, the Lady Donna added, sharply, “Now, Cass,” and clicked her fingers. 

 

The Lady Cassandra climbed off the couch, setting her goblet down on the table. She looked unsure of herself, which wasn’t surprising, but she’d had several glasses of ka-la-na by now, which gave her a little confidence.  

 

“With your permission, Mistress?” I said as I approached the Lady. She nodded and watched me suspiciously as I assessed her body with my gaze the way men did.

 

“Am I supposed to kiss her?” asked Cassandra. She stood there with the weight of her body on her left foot, as if ready to move forward. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do?”

 

“No,” said the Lady Donna. “You are inexperienced – that would come across as clumsy and desperate. Needy even. You’re the Assante flower. You can offer signals to a man that he is permitted to kiss you. Catch his eyes. Smile. Nod imperceptibly.”

 

I watched as the Lady did these things, looking directly at me, smiling, nodding ever so slightly.

 

“Part your lips just a little,” said Donna. “Good. You see, you’re inviting him to taste them, but you are not throwing yourself at him. You can be more assertive and proactive once you know the man well, but to begin with just make yourself seem inviting. Now look to the side briefly, inviting hm to consider his options and approach you while you are looking away.” We watched as Cassandra did so. I noticed she raised her left hand slightly to the middle of her body. None of this was arousing her, and there was no reason why it should. I’m used to recognising signs of arousal on slave bodies, but there were none present this evening on the Lady Cassandra. 

 

“Chloe. You’re a man who has been invited to move closer to the Lady. You wish to kiss her. Show the Lady what men do.”

 

I nodded and stepped forward. Now Cassandra looked at me again, her left hand still a barrier between me and her body. I grasped that hand and pulled it down to her side. As I did so she looked surprised, her eyes widened and a frown crossed her lips.

 

“You don’t like that, Cass?” asked Donna.

 

“No.” Cassandra pulled her hand free. “Beware. This flower has thorns.” Her eyes hardened towards me and I was a little scared what she might do, even though I had been told to play this part. 

 

“Chloe, show her how a man responds to that rebuff.”

 

I simply put my hand against her lower back and pushed her towards me. Her hand pressed against my chest, palm first, creating a barrier, but I simply moved my hand up her back, seized her long, unbound hair, and pulled it gently but firmly to tilt her face towards mine. Then I pressed my lips to hers as she pushed with the palm of her hand and, ignoring that hand, forced a strong kiss on her. Cassandra broke away, twisting her head to one side, but I twisted her hair to make her face me again. 

 

And then she slapped me hard and hissed. 

 

“Chloe, a man would take that as a challenge, wouldn’t he?” said Donna as she watched carefully.

 

I nodded and took hold of the hand that slapped me and pulled it back down. Now I was holding Cassandra by both her hair and her right hand. And I kissed her again, pressing harder than before, parting her lips with my own. She pulled away and at that point Donna clapped her hands together and shouted ‘and break!”

 

I stepped back, releasing Cassandra who glared at me. I hope she remembered this was just training.

 

“I didn’t like that” said Cassandra as she rubbed her wrist. “If that’s how men kiss, then I don’t want to kiss them.”

 

“But now, you see, you will control the kiss,” said Donna. “You set boundaries to begin with. Now when the man first moves towards you, you know what he will do and before he even reaches you, you lift your hand gently and touch his chest with the flat of your palm to make hm pause. Do it, Cass.”

 

I moved forward again and Cass stopped me with the soft palm of her left hand.

 

“See, you are not challenging him, nor are you refusing him, so soon after inviting his approach. Your touch is firm but gentle. It is not a change of heart, you are simply saying, yes, I am available to you, but gently, please. Consider that I am a free woman. Now take that moment when he has paused, unsure perhaps what you mean, and now you lean forward slightly and touch his chin with the fingers of that hand.”

 

Cassandra did so, 

 

“Smile. You like him, remember. You are not refusing his kiss, but you are not a slave. He is perhaps not experienced in kissing a free woman. Smile. Pretend you know what you are doing, even if you don’t. Perhaps you should say something that puts him at ease. What would you say to Geralt now?”

 

Cassandra smiled at me and after a moment’s hesitation, touching the side of my face, she said, “you are handsome, Captain. Handsome and strong.”

 

I kept my feelings under control as the Lady said that.

 

“Now lean forward slightly and open those lips just a touch. He will be able to smell your soft, delicate perfume and he will see the parting of your lips as a firm invitation. Unless he is stupid, he has picked up on your signals that the kiss should be gentle to begin with. He will restrain himself from the way he might kiss a slave. Go on, Chloe.”

 

I leaned into the Lady’s kiss and met her lips with mine.

 

“Now, Cass, don’t just freeze, but kiss the man back. You’re not a skittish tabuk! Meet his lips and taste them gently. Control the pace of the kiss. When he becomes a little fierce, withdraw an inch or so and shake your head just slightly, but touch him lightly on the chest as you do so. That way he knows you do want this, but not quite so roughly. He will pause as he takes in the signals and then you smile again, telling him everything is okay and then you lean in again to meet his lips and you control the kiss. The mistake free women make is that they remain passive and freeze, uncertain what to do. Kiss your man, taste him. How does that feel?”

 

Cassandra laughed as she pulled her lips back from me. “That’s how we do it?” She seemed delighted to discover this. “And I can be in control?”

 

“Yes. Remember, the man probably has little experience with free women, so he will adapt to your signals. As long as you project an air of being in control, of being experienced in what you want, he will abide by that. It is only when women are scared, passive, frozen, that a man will switch to his natural dominant state and treat you in a way you may not want.”

 

“That is good to know, Donna,” said Cassandra as she placed her hands on my hips. “I had never thought to practise on a kajira before.”

 

“It’s what they’re for. They serve us as well as the men. If you really want to develop your true potential, Cass, then I have an offer for you to consider,” said the Lady Donna as she motioned for Lisa to top up the woman’s glass as Cassandra returned to her couch, feeling pleased with her own progress. “Free women gain nothing in the way of life experiences while they are locked away behind high walls and barred windows, guarded night and day by men who allow them little to no freedom. You need to live. You need to experience life outside of this stronghold of warriors in the shadow of the Sardar mountains. Next spring Victor and I will be working on an extended field trip outside of Vonda. We will be camping for six months or so, moving around from site to site. Why don’t you join us?”

 

“Me?” Cassandra looked surprised by the offer.

 

“You’re well educated. You’re literate, you have a good grasp of mathematics. You’re an intelligent woman and I think you have potential. I would teach you the science of the geodesists, and you would help me in my research and studies. I’m not saying it would be a luxurious six months. We would be sleeping in wagons and tents, calling in on villages in the area for supplies. There would be no luxuries to hand. No fine clothes, no warm sunken baths in the morning and evening. The food would mostly be pots of stew. But you would live, Cassandra. You would experience life the way men do. You would learn more in those six months than most free women learn in their entire lives. The flower of the Assante would grow strong as well as beautiful. Think about it.”

 

“My brother would never allow it. Anything could happen to me out in the wilderness. I am too precious.”

 

Donna laughed. “It’s hardly wilderness. Victor and I have been doing this for over forty years now. Nothing bad has happened to us. You don’t know the countryside outside of Vonda very well, do you? It is an area of overlapping farm estates and villages – there’s nothing wild about it - and believe me the peasants do not tolerate bandits, outlaws and criminality. The lands are often safer than the city at night. Victor is well known in many of the villages and the peasants would come to our aid if we were threatened or injured. They would consider you a friend while you were with us. What sort of woman do you want to be, Cass? Do you want to be a soft, helpless girl, trapped in a life of tedium and endless days of practising small, delicate steps through cloistered gardens with men watching your every move, or do you want some adventure in your life?”

 

“I… I can’t imagine myself like that. I’ve never even considered…”

 

“It would be hard work. We would have one or two slaves with us, but your pampered luxuries would be put on hold for six months. And I’d expect you to buckle in and work properly with me. This wouldn’t be a holiday. But think what sort of woman you would be at the end? The confidence you will have. It’s a once in a lifetime offer.”

 

“My brother would insist I have warriors with me at all times. I’m too valuable as a captive. Men would try to capture me if they knew I was unprotected.”

 

“You wouldn’t be travelling as an Assante. Just an anonymous free woman working alongside me. No one will know who you are. It will just be Victor, myself, and a couple of slaves. You would live a new life for six months and you would have the freedom to live a life different from the stifling one you live now. You will see a side of Gor that you will never see otherwise.

 

“Perhaps.” 

 

“But this will have to go.” Donna leaned forward and ran her hands through Cassandra’s long maiden-length hair. “Hair like this can’t be maintained on a field trip. And we wouldn’t want you getting lice. Every girl, free or slave, has her hair short when working with us. That would mean you too, Cass. I’d cut it myself. You’d look pretty with a short cut.”

 

“My hair…” Cassandra didn’t look as shocked by the suggestion as I would have been. 

 

“It’ll grow back, and anyway, you cover your hair in public, so no one is even likely to know while it grows back. You have until I return to Vonda to think about it. I won’t make the offer again after today. If you want to be my apprentice, if you want to feel truly alive under the moons of Gor, then we’ll arrange things before the winter ends.” 

 

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

 

 

“First girl approaching! All kajirus to kneel! NOW!” barked Satine, one of my fierce Taharian girls who preceded me and my entourage as we approached the area of the stables. Satine held a switch and she cracked it against a wall to remind the male slaves that she was prepared to use it if necessary. The male slaves assembled as expected in four ranks. To a man they were all naked, and the Taharian girls in my entourage walked between them, inspecting each kajirus for a straight back, spread thighs and hands on their thighs. No doubt the men didn’t like this, but after the humiliation I had endured during my first visit, I had been persuaded by my Taharian girls to enforce discipline and enforce it hard.

 

“The kajirus must respect you, khalila.” they called me that – khalila – a desert word for first girl. It was spoken with pride by the Taharian girls I had bought in bulk that first day Linus had insulted me by withholding the prize of the catch – the noble Taharian woman. The girls I had bought were grateful they had been kept together instead of being sold off to separate owners. They knew one another and they were alone in a foreign land. That they could remain together as a group meant a lot to them, and they thanked me for it often. They appreciated too that I looked Taharian, even if I had never visited the desert before. They took pride in their small grouping of pens and knelt proudly before me when I inspected them. They had taken to saying prayers for me, and blessing the pens in their desert dialect. They had even begun escorting me, unbidden, acting as a retinue of sorts to watch over me. At first I was a little surprised by this, but then gradually I realised it conferred on me additional status. The non-Taharian girls on the estate saw the presence of this growing clique of Taharian kajirae and in a sense they were like some Praetorian Guard as I walked the estate. I would have to ask them to tone things down a bit at times because they would genuinely be upset if they saw signs of a girl not respecting me the way they thought their khalila should be respected. 

 

In fact I sensed they didn’t like the casual way Candice spoke to me often, not that Candice cared what they thought. She had her own band of girls who she believed were more vicious in a fight than the Taharian girls. But the number of Taharian girls were growing steadily and they had a sense of loyalty to one another that was stronger than the bond between Candice’s girls.

 

Candice stood to my right as we came to a halt. The other Taharian girls flanked us and watched the assembled kajirus like eagle eyed tarns watching out for a tasty tabuk to seize. One thing they did not put up with was the sight of an erection on a kneeling kajirus as I addressed them. Such a thing disrespected their khalila, as it implied the aroused kajirus was looking on me as a sexual plaything. There were several sharp screams from various kajirus who couldn’t control themselves at the sight of all these lovely kajirae, as the Taharians went amongst them with supple switches, striking swift sharp stinging blows on any penis that stood to attention. One swipe from a switch and the erection was quickly gone. 

 

The simmering resentment at this treatment was evident in their eyes, but even this the Taharians didn’t tolerate. 

 

“Eyes down!” they snapped, admonishing the men for gazing any higher than my ankles as I spoke. “You are not to look directly at the khalila!”

 

“They’re vicious little things,” said Candice as she regarded my Praetorian Guard. “I almost admire them.”

 

“I’m not sure I should find that reassuring,” I replied.

 

“How many Taharian girls are you planning on buying exactly?”

 

“We’ll see. I think they’re working out very well. They’re popular with the men and they seem very loyal to me.”

 

“A couple of them have had run ins with my girls,” said Candice. “Tell your girls to behave themselves or they’ll get hurt.”

 

Candice was referring to the fact that she and her gang were getting spooked by some of the Taharians who had brought their native tribal rituals with them to the Sardar estate. Like most Goreans they worshipped the Priest Kings, but out in the shifting desert sands their faith and practices differed slightly. Goreans in the central cities simply refer to the Priest Kings as the Priest Kings, but far out in the distant lands of palm trees and oasis, the desert tribes give names to some of the Priest Kings. These are ancient names, probably made up, for I had never heard of a Priest King actually descending from the mountains to speak to people in person the way these Taharian folk tales describe. My girls had told me some of the names the Priest Kings supposedly had in their land: Ny-lo-tho-tep, Ibn Ghazi, Has-Tah, and Iot Sotot. They made small offerings of food to the Priest Kings and prayed to them together - Ny-lo-tho-tep in particular. The prayers often involved ululating Arabic chants. Many of the girls from central Gor found the foreign practices unsettling and didn’t like it. Goreans are very superstitious and believe in magic, and Candice was no exception.

 

“Your girls had better not cast a spell on me,” she said once. 

 

“I’m sure they won’t, Candice.”

 

Although Candice was our principle go-between with Sebastian, the kajirus in charge of the stables, I made a point of travelling to the stables once a week, mostly to read out news, confirm punishments for misdemeanours and to reward hard work. In particular I had instigated a wine ration to be given out to the kajirus at the end of each week. I say wine, but it was very basic. It was made in a barrel with ten parts crushed grapes and two parts of very pungent vinegar. Add two parts of boiled wine and fifty of sweetened water. With a paddle mix all these three times a day for five days. Add one forty-eighth of seawater drawn from some time earlier. Place a lid on the barrel and leave to ferment for ten days. Lovely… 

 

And once a fortnight a kajirus who had excelled in some way would be presented with a girl for the evening. This was always a moment of high expectation and hope for the male slaves as they waited patiently for my final announcement - the name of the man who would enjoy a kajira.

 

I made a point of never awarding one of my Taharian girls. The kajirae considered it a punishment of sorts to be given to a kajirus for the night, and, most would do anything to avoid such a fate. I wanted to train the male slaves to view my Taharians as untouchable – beyond their grasp – and by doing this add to their air of authority. Whenever a man saw a Taharian girl he would know that she was entitled to carry a switch (I had said that Taharian girls could carry switches on my behalf), and she would never be thrown, tied with binding fibre, to the straw bales as a reward. 

 

Today I had an American girl who had been on Gor for five weeks. She looked terrified as she gazed at the rows of hungry looking kajirus, all eyeing her as the prize she obviously was. One of them would have her tonight, and they all hoped it would be their name I would speak. The girl had to be supported by two of my Taharians, so scared was she that she could barely stand upright. I had tied her slim wrists behind her back and given her a little ka-la-na to calm her nerves. Mia Madison Braithwaite had been a young wall street broker when she had been abducted from her plush penthouse apartment. Now she was just Mia, having sent two weeks being transported across the lands of Gor in a slave cart, one week in a slave pen before auction, one week to the Sardar in another slave cart and almost seven days on this estate. As a kindness to her I had ensured she was used by one of the kinder warriors before she was to be awarded to a kajirus. It would have been cruel to make her first experience of men with a hungry, brutal kajirus. 

 

“Please, no!” Candice held her by her hair as she was pushed to the front of the sand for the ranks of kneeling kajirus to see. She was naked, unlike the rest of us, and this time the Taharian girls did not object and strike with their sharp switches as the kneeling men rose to full erections at the sight of the prize on display. This was a reward after all, a reward for one of them and a source of hope for the rest that maybe soon they too would be rewarded. Men are easier to control when you give them some hope in their lives.

 

“One of you has earned this girl,” I said as I looked at the rows of men before me. “One of you will have her chained to an iron ring in the stable tonight. This is how the Master rewards hard work and obedience. And with the girl comes this.” I held a flask of good ka-la-na that Candice had passed to me. “Who am I?”

 

“Khalila!” said the assembled men on cue. 

 

“Who do you obey?”

 

“You, khalila,” came the chorus reply. They were all hungry for the girl, Mia, and each hoped he might be the one to have her tonight. No one therefore wished to offend me now.

 

“What is your name?” I looked down at one kajirus in particular. He had been the one who had laughed at me that first time when I had addressed the men. He had suffered my swipes of the switch but had then been beaten by Sebastian and had spent weeks recovering. Now he knelt before me again, but he was no longer laughing at me.

 

“Torvin, if it pleases you, khalila.” He looked down at the ground at me feet.

 

“My feet are dusty. Clean them.”

 

And so he did. He licked and kissed my feet as the other kajirus watched.  

 

In cases where a kajirus was to be punished with the lash, another kajirus was assigned to deliver the blows, as I had no confidence that any of my girls could strike hard enough to really make the punishment a deterrent for the future. But in case the kajirus wielding the lash decided to go easy on the man tied to the whipping post, two of my Taharian girls would observe and if they thought he was going easy, then he too would be tied to the whipping post and feel the lash for trying to cheat my sentence.

 

I didn’t want any of this, but Candice had persuaded me that I had to be especially hard with the male slaves, for they had to take us seriously. It wasn’t just a case of maintaining order on the estate, for if I failed to do so, the Master would not be pleased and his solution would probably extend to beheading some of the kajirus. They were like wild dogs, and ironically I had to be brutal with them if I was to save them from a worse fate from their own stupidity. 

 

Two men had broken the rules. Lobar had stolen some cooked meat from the kitchens. I looked away as he was tied to the whipping post and lashed in front of the others. The whipping continued until he fell to his knees and then I ordered enough. My stomach felt sick, but I held my composure. The second man, Yorik, had touched a kajira. This was an incredibly serious offense! My kajirae had to be safe as they moved about the estate. Tasia had run back to report to me in tears that she had been seized and pawed and kissed by a kajirus before she manage to slip free. Her tunic was torn and I had immediately ordered a line-up of all the kajirus in the area. She had identified the man and unsurprisingly he had pleaded his innocence. In fairness to Sebastian, I had allowed Sebastian to question my kajira and he had satisfied himself that my girl wasn’t lying. Sebastian can generally tell. 

 

The punishment for a kajirus touching a kajira like that is the loss of the offending hand. I commuted that to a whipping after the man begged for mercy. I made him crawl in the dust to my kajira and kiss her feet. I permitted my kajira to kick and scratch at him. I permitted her to spit on his body. And then he was lashed with the snake, the most brutal of Gorean whips. He was carried away, for he couldn’t stand any more. And then I had my kajira walk in front of the kneeling kajirus and display herself proudly, as if to say, do not even look, let alone touch. 

 

And then I spoke a name.

 

“Craston.” There was a cheer from his friends and the striking of shoulders in the Gorean fashion as an elated Craston sprang to his feet and, as I bid him come forward, he grasped his prize, the lovely Mia who almost fell to the sand in shock. Craston tied a leash around her throat and led her away to the stables as the other kajirus all cheered him on. 

 

“Serve well, slave girl,” cried Candice as the terrified Mia was led away. 

 

That is what it took to offer hope and therefore maintain order amongst a large coffle of violent, savage men. One girl, every fortnight. 

 

And then we were done. 

 

“I notice you tend to use new girls,” said Candice in approval.

 

“Yes, I can’t look our regular girls in the face and tell them they have to serve in the stables. Not unless they have offended me.” The thing is, we didn’t keep all the new girls. Many of them were bought, worked for a time and then sold in the Sardar markets. We had a turnover of girls with the intention of only keeping the best ones. With at least one new girl being bought and sold every couple of weeks it meant I could mostly satisfy the kajirus requirements without inflicting the punishment on the girls who looked to me with loyalty in their eyes. 

 

So far I had not sent a single one of Candice’s girls to the stables, even when I had been aware they had stolen pastries or skimped on chores. I was turning a blind eye to minor offences carried out by Candice’s girls, but that could not last forever. It was being noticed by the other girls and resentment was simmering. At some point I had to demonstrate that no girl was immune from discipline. But to punish a girl of Candice’s would anger her. She would expect to be consulted first, and even then she would argue for her girl to be let off. There would be a conformation of sorts on the issue at some point. 

 

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

 

It was cold and early a few mornings later when we assembled outside in the main courtyard to begin the journey to the Sardar mountain range. The warmth of summer had been and gone and now the second month of Autumn was gripping the land. Kajirae would soon be issued with fur lined jackets to wear when working outside, and cute fur lined ankle boots, but for now the temperature was still within an acceptable range during the day time. That wouldn’t be the case high up on the mountain plateaus of course.

 

The Lady Donna had been up early along with her free companion, Victor. They had already inspected the loading of her equipment onto the back of a wagon and the Lady Donna was now inspecting each of the male kajirus, one at a time. 

 

“They seem strong, healthy specimens,” she remarked, “though I do not have the experience of a physician.” The men were chained together by the heavy iron neck collars they wore. Each man wore a long work tunic that hung to just above his knees. On the mountain slopes they would be issued with warmer clothing and boots to wear, as would we. “Let me see if I remember your names. Kursk, Davos, and you are Pellan?” She tapped each of the men in turn with the tip of her switch. They nodded and growled a low, gravel-voiced, ‘yes Mistress’, in reply. They were savage brutes, as any Gorean man is if he is chained and deprived of his freedom and forbidden the use of women. They became easily aroused by the touch of the Lady Donna’s gloved hand, the proximity of her body, and the scent of the perfumed soap she had used when bathing. Pellan stared quite boldly at her, I think, practically licking his lips as he imagined taking her in the long grass. To her credit, the Lady Donna seemed quite relaxed and not at all worried to be standing alone with three men who could tear her apart with their bare hands. 

 

She lifted the hem of Pellan’s work tunic with her switch and saw the erection that he had. “Hmm, to be expected, I suppose.” She was neither insulted nor shocked. I suppose she had seen this effect in male slaves before. “When did you last have a slut thrown to your feet?” she asked.

 

“When I was free…” he said through gritted teeth.   

 

“Hmm. And when was that.” 

 

“Over two years ago.” He paused for a second or two and then added, “Mistress.” 

 

“All three of you will be given a girl each for an evening at the conclusion of this expedition. IF your work meets with my approval.” And with that clever promise of reward, she had given the men some hope for the future.    

 

I approached the group with Nadia beside me. We girls wore warm woollen tunics with sleeves, but on the sleeves were embroidered stitching in the shape of a knotted length of binding fibre. Anyone running their hands over the arm of my garment would be able to feel the stitched design and would know even in a snow storm, where vision was limited, that I was kajira. 

 

“Good morning, Mistress, Master,” I said as I approached. “Have you breakfasted?”

 

“Yes.” The Lady seemed disinterested in the question. “Where are the free men?” She referred of course to my master, Brinn, and the man I wished was my master, Geralt. 

 

“They are still eating, Mistress. They will be here shortly. Has everything been loaded to your satisfaction?” I indicated the canvas covered poles that were the transmitters that the three kajirus would carry up the mountain slope along with the bulk of our camping supplies. Lighter supplies would be carried by Nadia and myself, and even Brinn and Geralt would carry some items themselves. The Lady of course would not be expected to help in such a regard. Her companion would no doubt be tasked with carrying their personal items. 

 

“I believe so. How many pasangs to the mountains?”

 

“Thirty-five, Mistress. We will be there later today. The climb will take maybe two to three days. The same coming down.”

 

The Lady had already changed into her warm clothing, having been dressed by Lisa before breakfast but had yet to put on her hooded jacket. She had tied the long dress blouse that fell to mid-thigh with a belt. I think Lisa had been glad not to be part of this hiking group. The Lady had curiously requested that one of the French girls should be the girl I chose to accompany us up the mountain slope, and so after some deliberation I had chosen Nadia as she had done walking holidays in the mountains of France before. 

 

There was a chillness to the air, blowing down from the north, and I was glad for the long sleeve tunic that I wore. Nadia and I checked that our supplies and equipment were all tied down securely on the flat bed wagon while the Lady turned to greet the Lady Cassandra who had emerged from the villa. She wore warm woollen gowns, white in colour, with white larl fur trim around the wrists and collar.

 

“Assante flower,” said Donna as she paused what she was doing. “Come to wish me well?”

 

“Yes,” said the Lady Cassandra as she approached and held out her white gloved hands, which Donna took and held for a moment. “I will beseech the Priest Kings to look after you as you scale the Sardar. Are you sure you should be doing this?”

 

“Life is for living, precious little flower.” Donna squeezed the Lady’s hands. “My life is a life of adventure, and all the better for it. You should try it.” The suggestion of course referenced the offer she had made a few days ago. I couldn’t imagine the cosseted, rich Lady Cassandra living rough for six months from the back of a wagon, being made to work hard in the wilderness on various camp sites, but who knows. Maybe she might agree. I doubted though she had any real understanding of what that sort of life might actually entail. Her hands were soft and delicate from a lifetime of doing nothing more tiring than embroidery. Everything was done for her by slaves, but was she happy? It was hard to tell.

 

“So these are the kajirae you’re taking with you?” The Lady regarded me and Nadine. 

 

“They will look after me and keep me warm in the tent at night,” said Donna. “They’ll work hard or their bottoms will feel my lash.”

 

“Good. Bring my friend back safely, or do not bother to return yourselves,” said Cassandra with a voice tinged in warning. Nadine looked scared as she understood perhaps that the Lady Cassandra would blame us both if anything happened to the Lady Donna. 

 

“We will, Mistress,” I said to reassure her. “We will protect her with our lives.”

 

“See that you do, slaves. For if you fail, you may as well throw yourself from the mountain slope.” Cassandra held my gaze for a moment before turning away. She had heard the approach of men, the footsteps and laughter of Brinn and Geralt as they left the feasting hall. Brinn had one arm draped across his Captain’s shoulder as they leaned in to one another and shared a bawdy joke. Behind them came an escort of two armed warriors. These men would ride with us as far as the base of the mountains. They would camp below and await our return, looking after the wagon and the animals. 

 

“Ho! Victor! Lady Donna!” shouted Brinn as he clasped his hands together in the chill air. “You look all set.”

 

“We are, Brinn,” said Victor as he climbed down from the flat bed wagon. “Our thanks again for your help in all of this.”

 

“Lady Donna,” said Brinn as he gazed at her tall, slim form, dressed in the cold weather clothing of woollen stockings, over the knee boots, cotton long sleeved blouse belted tightly, and leather gloves, “you look every inch the hardy woman of adventure.” He slapped an amused Geralt on the back. “Doesn’t she, sword brother?”

 

“She does,” said Geralt with a polite bow towards the Lady. “Our swords are at your service.”

 

“Thank you, Captain,” Lady Donna said as she buckled a strap tightly on one of the waterproof packs.

 

“You’re not veiled, I see, Lady,” said Brinn as he regarded her.

 

“No, I’m not. You are very astute. It will not be practical to hide my features continuously on the mountainside, and so I have given in to the inevitable and allowed you to see me sooner rather than later. As I know your sister well, I consider you friendly acquaintances and grant you permission to view my features.”

 

I think it was Geralt who noticed the tell-tale tiny marks on the woman’s earlobes. Brinn then noticed them too. They were no longer holes, but the marks of holes from when she had worn earrings. The men stood there not sure whether they should say anything, for the Lady would no doubt be embarrassed to have reference made to those marks. And yet she was making no effort to conceal them.

 

“Is there something you wish to say?” asked the Lady Donna with a smile. She knew exactly what had silenced the men just now.

 

Cassandra shot her brother a stern, hard stare as if to say, “do not cause a scene!’

 

“No, it’s, um, I just wanted to reiterate what Geralt just said, Lady, our swords will protect you until you return home safely.” Brinn seemed very uncomfortable by the sight of the pierced ears and he couldn’t look directly at the woman. She however had no difficulty in looking at him.

 

“Thank you. I feel very safe with you both, already. So then, I understand it is 35 pasangs to the foothills. Shall we begin?”

 

((Soon to be continued in the fourth of the Chloe adventures: First Girl of Gor - teaser pic below))