Slaver of Gor – Chapter Nine

 

 

This is the way they come for you.

 

Two kajirae called upon me at my house. Their hair was gathered back in long pony tails and they both wore charcoal grey tunics, with modest rounded necklines, on which there was a single vertical light grey decorative stripe running down the left side of the tunic, marking them as the property of the terrifying Pudoris Concilio. One of the two girls carried a hand bell which she rang clearly in the street in front of my house to inform me it was time to emerge. It is wise not to delay doing so, because the little slut will continue to ring that bell, drawing attention to you, until you finally do appear. Other ladies living in your street will hear the chimes and will emerge to see who has been summoned by the Pudoris Concilio, so you would be wise to slip out as quickly as possible, otherwise word of your summoning swiftly spreads like wildfire. 

 

‘Look! See! It is Amicia Katares! What has she done? She must have done something to attract the attention of the Pudoris Concilio!’ is exactly the sort of speculation you wish to strenuously avoid.

 

The slaves say nothing of course. They barely even look at you. The girl with the bell simply leads the way and you are expected to follow her. She rings the bell periodically, making it clear that she is travelling on the solemn business of the Pudoris Concilio. No one will deny her passage. The other girl follows behind you, and she carries a ceremonial slave switch, though she would not dare use it on a free woman. It is purely a symbol of the power and authority of the masked women of the concilio, who enforce the principles of chastity, purity, obedience amongst their own sex. 

 

It is a nightmare walk through the street, knowing that every man, woman and child is staring at you. Thankfully you are veiled and robed, making your identity unclear. You will hear the occasional cry of ‘slut!’ or ‘collar her!’ from free women who are unaware of anything about your case. Just the fact that you are being escorted by two kajirae of the Pudoris Concilio is enough to condemn you already in their eyes. 

 

You probably refuse to look at any of the women who come out onto the streets to watch the farcical parade. To look at them would be to challenge them, challenge their opinion of you, and then they might grow hostile, though that rarely happens. Men usually intervene if women begin to hiss and strike out with sticks. 

 

I am after all a free woman who has not yet been judged. 

 

It is a very long walk to the building that houses the concilio, or so it seems when you are being marched there in broad daylight. 

 

I was escorted through the iron gates and railings that surround the building, standing twelve feet high on all sides with spiked tips at the very top. The gates closed behind me as I was led across the cobble stoned courtyard. Once through the perimeter, the kajira ceased ringing her hand bell. I was then led into the grim faced building that stands five storeys tall, overlooking the street quarter. 

 

There are no windows on the ground floor.

 

There are no windows on the first floor either.

 

I was led through into a great hall with a high domed ceiling, the space illuminated by lamps. Arranged on a raised, curved platform, with wooden railings, were nine throne-like chairs that gazed down at the tiled floor below. One of the chairs was raised higher than the other eight, and it had a taller back and more ornate arm rests. This was where Lady Cressida would sit, flanked on either side by the other masked ladies. A darkened doorway arch was present either side of the curved row of chairs. 

 

The kajira with the switch motioned to a mark on the floor. “Stand there,” she said. “Face the council.” She did not call me mistress. She did not speak deferentially or fearfully. I guessed I had no power or authority to punish her for such insolence. 

 

I nodded, once, and stood where I was instructed to. Beside my slippered feet there was a heavy iron ring, bolted to the stone floor.

 

“Brush back the hood of your robes,” said the kajira.

 

I stiffened, angry that she dared to speak to me this way. She was a slave!

 

“You call me ‘mistress’,” I snarled. 

 

“Not here,” said the slave. “Not while you are under suspicion.”

 

I couldn’t believe this! A slave dared to speak to a free woman in such a way! I stared at her and noticed again that she held a switch in her right hand. It was purely symbolic, of course. A slave would never dare use a switch on a free woman. She would be put to death immediately.

 

“Brush back the hood of your robes,” she said again. There was no fear of me in her eyes.

 

Angrily, I brushed back the hood of my robes, revealing my hair. “I will register a complaint about this!” I snarled. 

 

“Lower your veils,” said the slave girl.

 

“This is outrageous!” The hall was empty, save for myself and the two kajirae. Their faces were impassive as they spoke to me. 

 

“Lower your veils,” said the slave again. 

 

“Or what? I demand to speak to someone! I am not taking orders from you. What do you think you’re going to do?” I sneered. “Switch me?” I laughed.

 

“Yes,” said the girl, without any trace of hesitation. “That is exactly what I will do. Lower your veils.”

 

My blood chilled there and then. She was serious. She would use the switch on me?! Did she not realise she would be killed for that! 

 

And then it dawned on me. Of course she wouldn’t be killed for doing so. She would never have even dared suggest she was capable of doing such a thing, let alone carry it out, if there was any possibility whatsoever that she would then be punished. She had been given authority to switch me if I didn’t comply with the rules of this enquiry.

 

I suddenly felt very afraid. Put a switch in the hand of a slave and tell her she has permission to use it on a free woman, and she will happily do so. Each blow would be sharp, and delivered with a vicious sense of revenge. 

 

“Very well.” I pretended that it was of no consequence to me. I raised my hands, undid the pins and slipped the veils loose, baring my face.

 

The girl lowered her switch slightly. There was no visible sign of approval or any other emotion for that matter on her face. 

 

“You speak when spoken to. Otherwise you remain silent in front of the concilio,” said the girl. “I am Contrition. She…” the girl indicated the other slave that had held the bell, “is Penance.”

 

My fear grew.

 

“You… you are a slave, yes?” She wore a collar, though her brand site was obscured by the mid-thigh length of her tunic skirt. 

 

“Yes.” She regarded me as if I might be a slave too. “You address each Lady on the council as mistress.”

 

I nodded. 

 

And then I waited. From somewhere in these vast halls, I heard the echoing sound of a tubular signal bell being struck once. Fear gripped me again, the taste of bile was present in my mouth as I heard the soft shuffle of feet from the platform of judgement, facing and above me.

 

Eight anonymous women appeared through the archway to the left of the platform and walked slowly to take their seats, looking down at me. Each woman wore a black hooded robe, black gloves, black slippers, and, what seemed to me at least, to be a horrifying mask under that hood. The mask had an orange-red hue to it, with black set lines emphasising and exaggerating the features.  

 

I trembled as they gazed down at me without a sound. Was one of those women the Lady Thamaya? Did she now smile beneath her mask at the thought of passing judgement on me today? I had no way of knowing for sure. Perhaps she had simply heard of my summons and wanted to scare me in advance.

 

A ninth figure emerged from the archway to the right. This would be the Lady Cressida and she now paced silently to her chair, the central throne like chair on which she took her place. 

 

And then there was silence in the hall. The slaves, Penitence and Contrition, watched me carefully from either side.  

 

“Lady Amicia Katares,” said Cressida in a sharp voice that echoed through the domed hall. “You have been summoned here today by order of a decree of Arcessitus Propter. Be not afraid. This is not a trial. This is a simple enquiry into your conduct.”

 

Nevertheless, I felt very afraid. 

 

“Can you confirm you are not free companioned?”

 

“That is so, mistress,” I said.

 

She nodded with a slight tilt to her hooded head. “And I understand you have never been free companioned?”

 

“That is so, mistress,” I replied. 

 

“And yet, you are metaglana. You have submitted to the intimate touch of a man at least once.”

 

“I am entitled to do so,” I said. “It is not illegal.”

 

“No, it is not… illegal,” said Cressida after a moment’s pause. “Tell us of the circumstances.”

 

I had expected this line of questioning and was prepared for it. “You understand, mistress, that it would be wrong for me to name the man. He currently has a free companion, and she might be embarrassed and distressed by any words I might speak. All I can say is, he was a warrior. I was young, impressionable at the time, and he was quite handsome. I saw him one day looking lost and took pity on him. He was in a district he did not know and he seemed so hopeless trying to find his way to wherever he was going. I gave him directions and he smiled warmly and thanked me for my help. There was a charming sparkle in his eyes that I admired. He asked me whether I would do him the honour of permitting him to thank me properly with dinner at the Castelluccia restaurant that night. It is one of the finest in the city. We saw each other for a while after that, walking together in gardens, courting, I suppose, though we were both aware that his duty meant he would soon be posted to the border. He was a captain of an infantry century. I will not say which cohort. Our days together were limited. He would be away for over a year in his posting. It was unrealistic to think there was any future for us.”

 

“And yet, you submitted willingly to his touch?”

 

“I was young and impressionable. He was handsome and witty and charming. It was the night before he was due to leave. We met and… I said yes, after he kissed me. He treated me with utmost respect and dignity. There was nothing untoward.”

 

“A pity,” said Cressida, “that this man cannot confirm any of this. All we know for a fact is you are no longer profalarina. Your virtue is undone outside of free companionship.”

 

“Yes, mistress. I was young. I did not think of my companionship price in the future.” 

 

“Did you, in any way, initiate the intercourse?”

 

“No, mistress, in no way whatsoever. I declined at first, but he was so charming, and he told me his posting would be without women, mostly, for the year. It was a dangerous posting, too.”

 

“Did you climax?”

 

“No, mistress, I did not.”

 

“So you say,” remarked Cressida. “Again, not knowing the name of the man, we cannot be certain your statement is truthful.”

 

“He would confirm, were he here, mistress.”

 

“But he is not here, is he.” Cressida turned to one of the masked ladies on her left. “Record that Lady Amicia can offer no proof of the purity of her responses.”

 

I made a slight fist with my right hand as she said that, but then relaxed the fingers quickly before she might see it.

 

“It is reported that you had marks on your wrists consistent with the presence of slave bracelets.”

 

“One wrist, mistress. The court officer did not look at the other wrist.”

 

“You do not deny that the marks were from the wearing of slave bracelets?”

 

“Of course I deny it. They were just irregular bruises. They could have come from anywhere.”

 

“Have you ever worn slave bracelets or any form of bindings whatsoever?”

 

“No, I have not.” I gazed up at the curved podium. I had rehearsed that answer and the solemn expression I would present when speaking it. 

 

“And yet you have access to many chains, and other bindings.”

 

“Through my caste, yes. I am a slaver. I have reason to own such things.”

 

“What would your opinion be of a woman who chose to wear slave bracelets, Lady Amicia?”

 

“She is obviously a slut, possibly a natural slave. That is beyond question. I stand beside the honourable Pudoris Concilio on such an important matter.”

 

“Of course.” Lady Cressida turned and whispered something to a masked Lady to her right, who nodded slightly in reply. 

 

“You own a silk slave called Julian.”

 

“Yes, mistress, I do.”

 

“You have stated to an officer of the court that you have intercourse with this silk slave.”

 

“I am permitted to do so, mistress. It is not illegal.”

 

“But it is distasteful,” said Cressida, with a hint of malice to her voice.

 

“Opinions differ, mistress. It is becoming quite common place for women to own silk slaves.”

 

“Honourable companionship offers the comforts a woman might seek with a silk slave,” she said. “Have you not considered this?”

 

“I have, mistress, and I am courting Captain Bryssius. But we are taking the courtship slowly.”

 

“And what does Captain Bryssius think of you owning a silk slave?”

 

“He… to be honest, mistress, he would prefer that I did not.”

 

“Quite. Why do you think that is?”

 

“I cannot speak for Captain Bryssius.” 

 

“I have a statement here from the Captain. He says that he has offered you honourable companionship on many occasions and each time you prevaricate and refuse to commit to him.”

 

“I believe a woman should consider such a thing carefully, mistress.”

 

“In his statement, the captain speculates that your prevarication may be because you know you will not be permitted a silk slave if you were to be his companion. We here in the concilio take that to mean you value congress with a silk slave to be greater than the highest state of grace a free woman can know, which is to submit to be a free companion. My question is, what specific pleasures do you derive from your silk slave that prevents you from submitting to free companionship?”

 

I swallowed a taste of bile in my throat. Now I had to be careful. “You are implying things, mistress, that I have not said, nor would ever say. Julian is not relevant to my decision on free companionship and I am shocked that my beloved Bryssius would even suggest such a thing.”

 

“Do you climax with your silk slave, Lady Amicia?”

 

“No. I do not think I am capable. I am frigid.”

 

“But not so frigid that you remain glana, or that you have no interest in a silk slave chained to your couch. Why do you return to this silk slave so frequently if you are indeed frigid? What pleasure exactly, do you receive from him?”

 

“I… it is just a comfortable warmth. I am not accustomed to speaking of such things. I suppose it is a comfortable feeling of wellbeing.”

 

“Is the silk slave restrained when you take him?”

 

“Always, mistress.”

 

“Does he ever initiate congress?”

 

“No! Never! He would be whipped for even touching me!”

 

Again the ladies conferred quietly. My heart was beating wildly, but I felt I was actually doing quite well here, all things considered. The palms of my hands felt sweaty and so I touched them against the fabric of my gown to wipe away the moisture. 

 

“Do you think that a free woman is ever capable of achieving a climax? And for the avoidance of doubt, I use the term as clearly defined by your own caste, the caste of slavers, in respect of the responses shown by slaves?”

 

“No, mistress, I do not believe a free woman is capable of such a response to intercourse. It is a matter of slave hormones. It would be impossible for her.”

 

“Do you ever desire the intimate touch of a free man?”

 

“No, of course not. Nothing that goes beyond the permissible tenderness of courtship. Soft, chaste kisses; the touching of fingers; perhaps my hand resting gently on a man’s forearm.”

 

“The man of course will wish for more.”

 

“And in free companionship it is the duty of the woman to provide him with more. Not to mention the duty of granting children. That is not the same as desiring congress.”

 

“And yet, you desire such things with a silk slave?”

 

“That is… different, mistress. I am in control.” 

 

Again, the masked women conferred quietly in passing whispers between themselves. 

 

“We wish to know how your silk slave is placed in a state of adequate arousal?”

 

I had to be very careful with that question. “He is a simple brute. Highly virile. He reaches that state quite easily with little to no provocation.”

 

“And what exactly does make him reach that state when it is required? Precisely, please, Lady.”

 

“The sight of me,” I said, with a blush to my face. “As I undress.”

 

There was an audible hiss from the ladies as I said that.

 

“I can hardly put him to use in my full set of robes and gowns!” I remarked, not unreasonably.

 

“We understand that, Lady Amicia. We are not puritanical. There are practicalities to such congress. Do you in any way undress in a manner designed to encourage his arousal?”

 

“No, of course not. As I say, he is male, and highly virile. Just the glimpse of my legs as I remove my gowns seems sufficient. He is a beast. That is why I keep him chained.”

 

“Do you touch him with your hands?”

 

I blushed brightly. “I suppose so, yes. It would be hard not to.”

 

“Does touching him excite you?”

 

“No. I do not get excited.”

 

“Do you permit your silk slave to climax inside of you?”

 

“Certainly not! Under no circumstances! I would have him savagely whipped if he looked like he was coming close. He knows to beg me to stop if that is ever likely to happen.” I was beginning to relax a little now, for this had gone as well as I could have hoped it to. 

 

“My thanks, Lady Amicia for your honesty and clarity with your answers,” said the masked Lady Cressida. “I understand it can be stressful for a woman to be summoned by the Pudoris Concilio, but I trust you understand how important it is that we investigate all matters of conduct unbecoming for the good of Argentum.”

 

“Of course,” I said, relieved that this ordeal seemed to be coming to an end. “You’re all doing important good work. Every Lady understands that.”

 

“Our apologies too for the inconvenience this has caused. You will, as a courtesy, be given a formal certificate of purity that you can show to any woman who queries the outcome of this investigation.”

 

“My thanks, mistress,” I said as a feeling of immense relief washed over me.

 

“Oh, just one last thing…” There was a sudden air of stillness in the room. “We would be grateful if you were to consent to a brief physical examination at the hands of a discrete Lady physician we have outside this hall. Just to conclude these matters completely, you understand.”

 

“I… I feel that would be… an intrusion… I wouldn’t be happy with that.” Fear rose through my body again.

 

“Oh?” The masked ladies shifted in their seats slightly, sensing the sudden wriggling of their prey.

 

“I feel such a thing would be undignified, and would offer little more to what we already know.”

 

“But surely, if there is nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear,” suggested Cressida in deliberately honeyed tones. 

 

“I am uncomfortable around physicians. I therefore exercise my right to decline.”

 

“That is unfortunate. But it does however grant us legal grounds to issue a formal document of kajira inquisitonis.” 

 

I felt my blood run cold again. “What, what is that… I thought you said this matter was concluded…”

 

“The kajira inquisitonis permits us to take into temporary custody and question your slave girl, Beth, in a very different hall to this one. You will receive the formal kajira inquisitonis within the week, Lady Amicia, and we thank you in advance for complying with it when it arrives. That will, of course, be all for now.”