Slaver of Gor - Chapter Fourteen

 

 

I woke gradually form a sequence of very lurid dreams that I shall not describe, to find it was still dark, though the soft chirping of distant birds outside the tent suggested dawn was close. I lay on my couch and felt a man’s arm around my waist. To my surprise I discovered that Julian shared my bed and in his sleep he had pinned me to the furs, with his right hand cupping my bottom. Obviously I had fallen asleep after the events of last night, and I had neglected to return him to the space beneath my wagon, which had been careless of me. 

 

I’m not good first thing in the morning. It takes me a while to wake fully, and for a few ehn at least, I’m drowsy and can’t think straight. But the presence of Julian on my couch indicated I had probably lost control of the situation last night. I recalled his powerful hands on my wrists as he penetrated me. 

 

It had been magnificent, though also incredibly frustrating, as the brute had told me not to climax! I smiled softly to myself as I snuggled in the furs. It had been a game of sorts, and quite an erotic one. There was something about being told I mustn’t climax to make the penetration even fiercer and uncompromising. Thankfully the light had been poor and so he would not have seen the expression on my face clearly as I writhed beneath him.

 

He was so strong! I had been pinned, helplessly, and the brute had wadded thick fabric in my mouth, preventing me from talking while he sported with me.

 

I could of course have simply spat it out, but the game as such was exciting and I chose to play along for a while at least. 

 

I should have returned him to the chains beneath the wagon though. It was not respectable for a free woman to sleep with her silk slave afterwards. Thankfully no one need know.

 

I smiled again, remembering fragments of the sexual encounter. His thrusts had filled my body with bright sparks. Every pore of my body had come alive! And now, I had to admit, it felt comfortable and secure to be held by a man as I woke. I rubbed my ass against his hand just a little to see if he might wake, but he didn’t. I blew a strand of hair away from my nose as it flopped there. In a way I was pinned to my bed. His arm was heavy and might as well have been a leather strap. 

 

He was such a brute. And I owned him. It had been such a good idea of mine to buy a silk slave.

 

But I had gone a little too far last night, as I recalled. I would back pedal from that and act a little more frigid in future. Julian must be reminded that things would remain the same. He was my slave and I would expect complicit and total obedience at all times. He must not mistake this for some moment of tenderness between mistress and slave. That would never do.

 

But it felt so good to be held like this in my bed. I just lay there and basked in the sensation. 

 

I also felt ravenously hungry. I licked my lips, thinking of fried tarsk strips in buttered rolls and freshly ground black wine. I would be served breakfast in bed by my handsome silk slave. I would let him lick some of the butter from my fingers and I would feed him by hand. It was glorious to own a man.

 

“Julian,” I whispered in a semi-scolding soft voice. I tapped his nose with one of my fingers. “Are you awake, you savage, simple, brute?”

 

“I am now,” he said, opening his eyes and gazing at me in the dying lamp light. The oil was running low, but dawn was moments away, so it didn’t matter.

 

“I forgot to chain you under the wagon, I see.” I smiled. “Don’t expect this to be common practice.”

 

Julian rested himself on one elbow, keeping his other arm around my waist and that hand cupping the cheeks of my bottom. “Mistress seems flushed and happy this morning, for some reason.”

 

“Perhaps.” I laughed softly and dared to twitch my bottom against his hand. He I turn stroked it, which I secretly enjoyed. I felt relaxed and somewhat care free, after weeks of tension. 

 

“Her responses were interesting.”

 

“How so?”

 

“She responded as a woman.”

 

“Well, I am a woman.” I snuggled in the furs a little more. I was beginning to wake up properly, though still caught between the dream world and the waking world. “Where is Beth?”

 

“Outside. I chained her outside. I thought you might wish not to be interrupted when you woke.”

 

“Oh?” I smiled. “And why is that?”

 

“There are things I thought I might do with you that would require privacy.”

 

“That is very presumptuous of you!” I laughed quietly again as I felt his hand shift from my bottom to now stroke my flanks. “You are far too daring in the mornings.” He said nothing, but he took hold of my hand and guided it under the furs to where I touched something hard and quivering.

 

“No!” I quickly withdrew my hand, angrily. “How dare you! You go too far, Julian. Do not expect me to touch you there!”

 

Julian said nothing, but he took hold of my left wrist and then my right wrist and he placed them above my head.

 

“Julian? Are you listening to me?”

 

“Yes,” he said. “But your words do not interest me, so much as your body does.”

 

I wriggled with my wrists held securely. The weight of his body was on me now. I moved my legs and felt my left one seem sluggish. 

 

“Julian, to be clear, you touch me only when I permit it! And only how I permit it.”

He stopped my mouth with his own and kissed me fiercely. By the time he broke away I was wet between my thighs. 

 

“Do you really wish me to stop?” he said with a grin that was clearer now as dawn was finally breaking.

 

“You take too many liberties! Release my wrists.” I struggled and was amazed how good it feels to struggle. 

 

He replied by simply tying my wrists tightly to a slave ring set on the head board. Only then did he release them. 

 

“I don’t like this!” I pulled hard at the ties, feeling more aroused as I did so. My nipples rose, making my state of arousal clear to him.

 

“I think your body betrays you Mistress.” He stroked those nipples and heard me sigh.

 

“Your touch is very distracting!” I said. “Far too distracting!” I shifted position in the thick furs and again felt my left leg sluggish in comparison with my right. It seemed heavier somehow. 

 

“I am going to put my mistress to use,” said Julian as he parted my thighs. “She may climax as and when her body wishes.”

 

“Don’t!” I hissed, but my anger was not nearly convincing enough. I felt the head of his penis press against the lips of my sex and I felt him push inside with ease. 

 

“Ohhh!” I squealed and bit down on my lip to try and stifle any further cries. Why didn’t he gag me? The camp would be rising soon. Was I supposed to silence myself?

I pulled at the slave ring, feeling an exquisite joy in being restrained, that I didn’t think was possible. I could do nothing but lie there as he thrust hard into me, driving me to plateaus of pleasure that crashed like waves through my body.

 

He seemed to sense when I was close to climaxing, and he pressed his hand to my mouth, allowing me to cry out without making too loud a sound. When I was finally sated, he rode me hard to his own climax, and then we lay together again for a while as he untied my wrists and brought them back down beside the furs.

 

“You’re a savage brute,” I cried, rubbing my sore wrists.

 

“So I am.” He turned me on to my stomach before I knew what was happening. I squirmed there as he stroked my lower back. My left leg seemed tangled or snagged now in the furs. I kicked with it, but it felt trapped somehow.

 

“You seemed to enjoy that,” he said. He parted my thighs again as I lay on my belly and I squealed as I felt his fingers slide into my sex. He was being far too reckless this morning! What had got into him? 

 

“That is not the point! I wriggled away from him in the furs. “You are not to simply seize me when you feel like it!”

 

“Oh? And why is that.”

 

“Because…” the light was coming through from the rising sun outside, and I suddenly noticed Julian’s neck was bare.

 

“Where is your collar? Why don’t you have a collar around your neck?!” I sat up and stared.

 

“Why should I?” he smiled.

 

“Because you’re a silk slave! How did you remove it?!” I was furious.

 

“With the key.” He gestured about the tent. “It was trial and error while you slept, but eventually I located the correct key on your key ring.”

 

“You did what?!” I could hardly believe I was hearing this. “Are you insane?!”

 

“Not that I am aware of,” said Julian, “though I have been told before that I have above average bravery, and some men might consider bravery to be a form of insanity as it runs counter to the natural self-preservation urges in all living creatures. Honour, too, runs counter to simple self-preservation, and I consider myself honourable, for the most part.”

 

I sat up in the furs. “You realise you are going to be whipped for this!” I snarled.

 

“Oh?” Julian seemed puzzled, but amused at the same time.

 

“You stole my key while I slept! Did you think I wouldn’t have you whipped for such a thing!” I really was furious now. “You will not be bale to stand after the whipping you will receive.”

 

To my astonishment Julian simply laughed. “Mistress has beautiful dimples when she is angry,” he said, touching them with a finger.

 

“How dare you! I have had enough of this!” I brushed his hand away. “You will regret this moment for weeks to come. Bring me my whip and then adopt whipping position!” I gazed at the far side of the tent where the whip hung for both my slaves to see. 

 

“I think not,” said Julian.

 

“Your whipping has just been doubled! I will have you lashed until you beg for mercy! And then you will be sold as a quarry slave, or perhaps to work in the swamps of Ar!” I jumped from the couch with a jingle of steel chain that I only comprehended after I had taken three quick steps and fallen forwards as the chain fastened to my left ankle brought me up short, once it had extended as far as the locks permitted. 

 

I turned, wildly, on my side, in disbelief. A steel ankle ring was locked about my foot! I could clearly see a small padlock securing the two clasps. The length of chain seemed sufficient for me to be able to walk half the distance from the couch bed to the whip, or indeed to the tent flap, but no further. The extremity of the chain was locked about a slave ring at the foot of the bed.

 

“I should have mentioned the ankle ring, but I was distracted by the loveliness of your body,” said Julian as he rose from the bed, himself. 

 

I rose to a seated position, supporting the weight of my body forwards with the palms of my hands flat on the ground. “You must have a death wish, Julian. Tywin will insist you are killed for this! I won’t be able to spare you! You have locked an ankle ring on me!”

 

“So I have.” Julian walked towards and then passed me as I crouched on the rug on the floor. “It’s a slave ring, though I suspect the ring itself doesn’t care whether the ankle belongs to a slave or a free woman.” 

 

“Guards!” I screamed at the top of my voice. “Guards! Help! Help me! Tywin! Beth! Guards!” I continued screaming for several ehn, but there was no response. Outside, through the closed tent flap, the early morning birds continued to chirp, but no one responded to my cries for help. After a few ehn of screaming, my voice began to break. Julian had patiently stood there listening to my cries and then, when I finally stopped, he nodded.

 

“You are permitted that cry for help, Amicia,” he said. “Just once. Do that again, and you will be whipped for it.”

 

I stared at him in disbelief. This was incomprehensible. Why had no one responded to my screams? I must have been heard throughout the entire slaver compound, if not even further, into the military camp beyond. 

 

No one had come.

 

I looked wildly about. I was in my tent. There was my couch. There was my dresser. There was my tall free standing mirror…

 

I stared at that mirror in shock. 

 

Or rather at my reflection in it.

 

I was naked of course. I knew I was naked. But there was something on my left breast. I swallowed nervously and crawled towards the mirror, hardly believing I was seeing this. A number had been marked on my left breast. The number was 293. I recognised the marking ink that generally survived a week at least of washing. It was one of the serial numbers we kept in our ledgers. All the girls that we enslaved were numbered, and records kept that way.

 

Girls do not have a name in our coffle. They are simply numbers. They are taught to forget their former names, and only to address themselves and other girls by the numbers they could see. 

 

I rubbed frantically at the number on my breast, but it would not smudge in the slightest. The ink only faded as the body shed particles of skin. I stared at Julian, my head reeling.

 

“What is going on? Where is everyone? Why has no one come?”

 

“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” said Julian. “You could be beaten for it.”

 

I screamed again. I screamed wordlessly for close to thirty ihn until I was almost hoarse. Still no one came. 

 

And then I began to cry.

 

I was alone in my tent with a slave ring around my ankle, and no one was responding to my cries for help.

 

I seized the ankle ring and tried to prise it open. It was a foolish thing to do, but I was acting irrationally. Gorean slave steel does not part to the pressure of a woman’s hands. It continued to hold me perfectly. 

 

“Let me show you something,” said Julian. He walked the remaining few paces to the tent flap and drew it open. The sun had risen and it was light outside now. Through the open flap, that I couldn’t possibly reach, I could see grass and trees and the sky. But I saw no camp. No sign of either the slaver compound or the military camp. It just wasn’t there any more. There wasn’t even any sign of churned up mud from the presence of the encampment.

 

It was as if the camp had never even been here!

 

Nothing made sense any more.

 

To the left I could see the flat bed girl wagon, where I might expect it to stand. The six girls I had bought knelt on the damp grass in an ankle chain coffle, talking quietly amongst themselves. Their conversation ceased as soon as they saw me, on my knees, wearing an ankle chain. Several of the girls smiled and then jabbered excitedly to one another.

 

I heard one girl say the words, ‘two nine three’.” Another girl said the word, ‘kajira’.”

 

On the other side of the flap I could see my slave girl, Beth. She had been kneeling outside all this time. As she saw Julian nod, she rose to her feet and walked through the tent flap.

 

“Good morning, Amicia,” she said to me, before turning to Julian, dropping to her knees in nadu, parting her thighs with a look of pleasure on her face, and saying then to him, “and good morning, wonderful Master. How may your first girl serve you today?”