Outcast of Gor Chapter Three

 

I was driven back by a series of furious sword cuts that came at me relentlessly. Had Rolfe wanted to actually kill me, I guess I would have been dead within an ehn or two, but even though this was a practice bout, we were using real swords and if I didn’t take this seriously I was likely to be injured. 

 

“Sword arm tired, yet?” asked Rolfe as he circled around me, doing that flashy impractical thing people do when they want to show off in a Hollywood movie – turning the hilt of your blade around in your open hand, tossing it lightly and catching it the other way around.

 

“It’s seen better days,” I admitted. I kept my guard up, because his questions were just a form of distraction, and at any moment he might lunge in again with a perfectly choreographed pattern of chops and cuts. My only saving grace was that he was restricting the nature of his attacks to the ones I was being specifically taught to parry. Otherwise, yeah, that bit about being dead within the first ehn or two…

 

“Muscles burning?” he stamped forward and delivered another sequence of cuts that aimed high and low. Fortunately, I knew what to expect – I knew what type of attacks I was supposed to be parrying, and so I managed to save myself getting cut, but his sword blows rained down like hammer strikes. Fighting with a sword is very tiring on the sword arm if you are parrying a lot.

 

“Perhaps we should take a short break?”

 

”There are no breaks or rests in a sword fight,” he said. He continued to batter away at my blade, tiring my sword arm even further. “If you are fast, and skilled, you may kill your opponent quickly, but if he is a warrior like me, it may come down to whose sword arm tires first. When you feel the burn, when your arm grows heavy, rest assured your death is fast approaching.”

 

“Fuck!” he was getting faster and his attacks heavier. I’m not weak, and on Gor I have the advantage of being used to a slightly heavier gravity on Earth, but even so, this man had trained his body his entire life for this. “Slow down!”

 

Rolfe broke away and laughed. “I’ve seen worse, Roland. I’ve seen worse.”

 

And there was another thing that was bugging me. 

 

“Why are we fighting naked?”

 

My balls and penis swung freely with each leap and thrust I tried to make. It felt weird.

 

“It is how we fight when we train.”

 

“We don’t need to be naked!”

 

“What is wrong? Are you ashamed of your body?” he circled me again.

 

“I just think this is all a bit homo-erotic.”

 

“Homo what?”

 

“Men who like men.”

 

“Ah! You mean, like in Ar!” He paused to twirl his sword in his hand again. If I tried that I’d only end up dropping it. It looked good though. Mind you, I’m pretty sure he’d never do it in a real fight. 

 

I had no idea where Ar was, though I knew it was the nominal ally of Argentum. From Rolfe’s reaction, I had to assume homosexuality wasn’t unknown in Ar. 

 

“I’d feel better wearing a tunic.”

 

“It might get torn or cut.” He lashed out with another series of blows that I’d never have parried in a million years if he had been doing this for real. “Fibres from your tunic, if driven into an open wound, fester and rot.”

 

“A loin cloth, perhaps? My penis and balls are like a pendulum. They don’t know which way to swing.”

 

“And disappoint your slave girl? I think she is enjoying the sight of your body while you fight.”

 

I glanced over to where Kelsee knelt in the grass. Her eyes seemed delighted and she was laughing, and clasping her hands together.

 

“You look lovely, Master!” she cried. “You don’t need a loin cloth! Just keep… um, swinging that sword…” she laughed.

 

“And what of me, slave?” asked Rolfe with a grin. “Have you ever seen a finer body?” He playfully flexed his muscles and posed for her. 

 

“It’s… very nice, Master, but not as nice as my Master’s body, of course.”

 

Rolfe frowned. “I suppose you have to say that.”

 

We had travelled with the warriors now for seven days. 

 

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It began to rain at the eighth ahn, on that first day when Kelsee and I trailed the three warriors. By then we had taken shelter in the perimeter of a wood and waited for the downpour to end.

 

We had probably covered ten pasangs before we sheltered from the rain. It was hard for me to tell. Kelsee and I had hung back at first, keeping a short but significant distance from the warriors as we walked. But after the first ahn, Rolfe turned round and called out to us. “We could have killed you in your sleep, you know. Why do you think we’re going to hurt you now?”

 

They waited with their spears resting against the ground as we caught up.

 

“Are you okay?” I said to Kelsee.

 

“Please, not now. I can’t talk about it. Just keep me close.”

 

“I will.”

 

She took my hand, stroked my fingers. She seemed to need me very much.

 

“I don’t think they will hurt you.”

 

She seemed different now, but that was to be expected after her experiences last night in the long grass to the side of the camp site.

 

“Are you ashamed of me?” she asked after two ahn of walking. I didn’t understand what she meant by that question.

 

“What? No? Why would I be ashamed of you?”

 

She couldn’t answer that, and I didn’t know what she was getting at. “Kelsee? What is it? Speak to me?”

 

“I can’t. Just hold me, Master.”

 

I embraced my girl and kissed her softly on top of her head. I felt her tremble against my body.

 

“I’m scared, Master.”

 

“I’ll protect you. They won’t hurt you,” I said.

 

“That’s not what I mean.”

 

By the eighth ahn, it began to rain.

 

The men wrapped protective leather over their spear points. And then they sat out the rain. Occasionally, Hergessvar would look at Kelsee. He would gaze at her legs, and her breasts, where the nipples strained through the thin rep cloth of her tunic. I gave him a warning look, and he nodded and reached into his pouch to produce a small copper tarsk coin. “Could I offer you this coin, minted in Rovere, of the finest northern copper, to pay for a brief use of your slave tonight?”

 

“With respect, no. She is not available,” I said. 

 

“I understand.” He returned the copper coin to his pouch and looked away. 

 

Rolfe sat beside me and offered some dried strips of meat for me to chew. I gave one to Kelsee.

 

“Fucking rain,” he said. “We should move south where the weather is better.”

 

“Are there any wars there worth speaking of?” I asked.

 

“Probably not.”

 

The rain stopped after half an ahn, We got up, left the perimeter of the wood and continued walking.

 

After a while the men started singing – some boisterous marching song, common to warriors of Kassau, I supposed. I didn’t know the words and didn’t feel like singing along, despite Rollo trying to encourage me to the chorus, which seemed to refer to stamping the faces of their enemies into the mud of a battlefield. I suppose it was a jaunty tune. 

 

We passed some wagons and carts coming from both directions. Most were laden with grain, but some carried slaves. We watched a slave cart roll by with five girls chained on the flat bed back, their ankles secured to a central bar, in much the same way that I saw the flatbed trucks in Montana.

 

Rolfe cheered the naked girls as the wagon trundled by. The wagon masters nodded and kept a wary eye on the armed men. They had an escort of their own, but the men walking beside the wagon weren’t professional warriors. 

 

“It always lifts the soul to see girls bound for the markets,” remarked Rolfe. “War always brings more girls to the coffle chain. Be brave, sweet things!” he called out to the newly seized slaves, “you will soon delight in your helpless bondage!”

 

We walked on. 

 

That day, on the first afternoon, Rolfe redistributed the baggage. 

 

“We will carry our weapons and shields. You and your slave will carry our three packs.”

 

It seemed reasonable enough. I gave Kelsee the lightest of the three packs and shouldered the other two myself. Rolfe laughed when he saw Kelsee’s light load.

 

“I think you spoil your girl. Carrying an extra pack will toughen her up.”

 

“I like my slave to be soft and yielding, rather than tough,” I remarked.

 

“There is that,” said Rolfe in agreement. 

 

We walked on.

 

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Kelsee was understandably withdrawn. She had been raped by three men she didn’t know. That she had agreed to the rape in exchange for food for us both made little difference to my mind. 

 

“I’m not going to push you. But whenever you want to speak, I’ll listen.”

 

“What is there to say?” she said. We sat together under some trees as it rained again, on the second day. The warriors were in a small group close by, playing with some dice. True to their word, they had respected the boundaries relating to my slave. 

 

“We don’t have to travel with them,” I said.

 

“They offer us safety.” She gaze down at her dusty feet. “I feel so ashamed.”

 

“There is nothing to feel ashamed about, Kelsee. I’m the one who feels ashamed that I couldn’t provide for us.”

 

“You don’t understand. You’re not a woman.”

 

“Kelsee?” 

 

“I…” her voice trailed off. She was trying to tell me something about that night, but she couldn’t find the strength of will to do so. 

 

“Take your time.

She began crying. “I’m scared. I’m scared that I don’t know who I am, anymore. I thought I knew, but…”

 

And that was all she could say.

 

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By the third day, Kelsee seemed alert again. The initial shock had worn off, and to my surprise she was no longer shying away from the men when they spoke to her. She seemed very aware of their presence now, but didn’t seem to fear them, as such. She would respond to their commands not with passive aggressive silence – which would have been awkward for me - but with a seeming willingness to obey and serve in the camp. To be honest, I was surprised by her recovery. I had expected her to be traumatised for some time to come. If anything, her recovery troubled me. It suggested she was suppressing her memories of the night.

 

She walked and moved differently about camp, now. There was a tempting wiggle to her movements. The men noticed, as did I. But they were true to their word. They would not put her to use without my say so. They lived by their codes. Too, I remember Rolfe had said she was barely adequate. I supposed they weren’t really that interested any more. Kelsee would occasionally glance at them as they were in her vicinity. When they would smile at her, she would quickly look away, flustered, suddenly clumsy, but I notice she didn’t flee to my arms. She seemed powerfully responsive to working and serving in the camp of four free men, on her knees, in the modality of a slave girl.   

 

Kelsee was put to work each day that we camped. She would be expected to draw water for the camp, set up a camp fire, unpack our belongings, arrange the items in a particular order, prepare food, go to a stream and wash garments, cook, serve, and be attentive. In the mornings she would be expected to slip out from her blankets and re-light the camp fire, and then prepare breakfast for when we got up. The chores of a slave. She threw herself into the work in a way that surprised me. Perhaps she wanted to keep herself busy, keep herself from thinking too much. The work wasn’t too demanding. The only thing that was tiring was carrying the loaded pack during the day as we walked, but even that she accepted without complaint. I was proud of her. Perhaps it helped that she could plainly see that I, as a free man of Gor, was shouldering two heavy packs. It was fair that we contributed something to the group in return for their protection and food. 

 

And they did offer protection. Before lunch on the third day, we passed some men who clearly resembled outlaws: men who would probably have attacked Kelsee and I, had we not been travelling with Rolfe’s Free Company.

 

“Tal,” remarked Rolfe as he leaned on his spear, smiling at the group of three men who led a chain of two women along the road. The women were bruised and dirty, with dried mud on their naked bodies, from where they had no doubt been lain on the ground and raped. They had dusty feet, their heads were down, and they looked traumatised. Neither woman had a brand on her thigh. Neither woman had a steel collar about her throat, though both were on a combined neck chain.

 

“Tal,” said one of the outlaws (for that was obviously what they were) to us. They stepped off the road briefly so they could go round us at a safer distance. Unlike Rolfe, Rollo and Hergessvar, they were clearly not warriors. 

 

“A pleasant day,” suggested Rolfe as he regarded them.

 

“A pleasant day,” agreed one of the outlaws.

 

Rolfe laughed. He could clearly see the men were wary of him.

 

“Fresh captures?” he suggested as he gazed at the women.

 

“No, they are legally ours,” replied the outlaw. 

 

“You have papers for them?”

 

“Of course! But at home,” remarked the outlaw.

 

“Excellent. Girls should be clearly registered with the relevant authorities. It is a shame when fine ladies of Argentum or Corcyrus are taken on the road by rascals.”

 

“My thoughts exactly,” remarked the outlaw.

 

“Help us!” cried one of the girls – a lovely, sweetly hipped, black girl with bigger breasts than my Kelsee. “I am the Lady Tullia of Argentum! These men have captured me!”

 

“And I am the Lady Laurentia, also of glorious Argentum! You must help us!” cried the blonde girl. She was charming and delightful, too, but I thought her ankles were a little wide, to be honest. I would prefer Tullia, I think.

 

“The girls lie,” remarked the bandit. He looked troubled. “They are in fact the slave girls Tula and Tia. They will be whipped about their thighs later for pretending to be free.”

 

“It is a serious offence for a slave to pretend to be a Free Woman,” agreed Rolfe as he leaned on his spear. 

 

“We are not lying,” cried the black skinned Tula. She struggled, for her wrists were tied tightly behind her back with binding fibre. “Oh!” she cried out, in sudden pain, as an outlaw lashed her thighs with a small whip. 

 

Kelsee looked at me. “They look like Free Women,” she whispered. 

 

“And the men with them look like armed outlaws who know how to use their blades,” I whispered back. “Let’s see what Rolfe does.”

 

“Save us,” cried the lovely Tia, “And we will reward you with the soft kisses of a gentle Free Woman!”

 

“A tempting reward,” suggested Rolfe as he rubbed his chin. The bandits looked anxious as they considered what might happen next. Rolfe and his men were clearly professional warriors. “Soft and lovely kisses, you say?’

 

“The sweetest, most chaste of kisses!” said Tia. “Like scented nectar!”

 

“It occurs to me,” began Rolfe, addressing the outlaws once again, “that you may all be scoundrels of the worst kind, prowling the road, looking for tempting female prizes?”

 

“Not at all,” remarked the first bandit. “I myself am of the caste of cobblers. And my friends are both of the caste of basket weavers.”

 

“We weave baskets,” the ugly, hairy, bandits assured us. 

 

“Fine castes, indeed,” remarked Rolfe. “And these girls are in fact your legal property?”

 

“The papers are available to view in Argentum,” said the bandit, as he tugged sharply on the chain leashes. “It occurs to me, in turn, that you are all warriors?”

 

“Why, I applaud your perception. We are indeed warriors!” said Rolfe, proudly, now. “Did the scarlet we wear give us away? I have sometimes thought it a little too obvious.”

 

“My friends and I have always had the utmost respect for the caste of warriors. Without men such as you, Gor would be a far more dangerous place. Would you object if we expressed our admiration of your dedication to keeping a Home Stone safe, by offering you some small tribute?”

 

“How small?” remarked Rolfe with a smile.

 

“In retrospect, the word small may have been misleading,” said the outlaw, quickly. “It is in fact significant and well worth considering.” He reached into his pouch and produced five copper tarsks which he held out in his trembling hand. When Rolfe just offered him a polite look, without saying anything, the man quickly added another five copper tarsks.

 

“That is kind of you,” said Rolfe as he took the money. “We will put the tribute to good use in keeping our Home Stone safe. My gratitude to the noble caste of cobblers knows no equal.”

 

“We are very glad of that,” said the outlaw.

 

“Please, kind Sir!” begged the lovely black skinned Tula, again, “they mean to enslave us! We are Free Women of glorious Argentum!”

 

Interestingly, they were in fact the first Free Women of Argentum I had seen naked, aside from Kelsee. So far, three out of three female bodies had proven to be delightful, suggesting that the Argentum pedigree was a fine one. Slavers of Gor, take note. 

 

“Now, now, lovely Tula, I have it on good authority that there are slave papers registered in your name in Argentum,” said Rolfe as he handed the money to Rollo to look after, and now obviously considered the matter concluded to his satisfaction. “These fellows are hardly likely to lie about such an important thing, now, are they? Be off with you both, and concern yourself now with simply pleasing your kind masters.”

 

The outlaws grinned as they pulled the girls closer to their group. 

 

“They were outlaws,” I said, as the men passed us by.

 

“As are you,” remarked Rolfe as we walked on towards Corcyrus. “Are you suggesting I kill every outlaw I meet on the road? That would be tiring work, and some of them may be fine fellows once you get to know them.”

 

At night Kelsee would hurry to my blankets and lie next to me. I had expected her to be so traumatised that she wouldn’t want to be touched, but in actual fact she initiated sex as she snuggled close to me. 

 

“Your captive hopes to please you, Master,” she would say as darkness engulfed the camp. She would part her thighs to me and ask me to touch her breasts. I needed little encouragement, but still, I was surprised. I had assumed I should be gentle with her to begin with, considering her experience with Rolfe and the other men, but she had other ideas.

 

“Please Master, treat me not as a gentle Free Woman, but rather as a helpless captive.”

 

 I took hold of her wrists and heard her cry out softly. “Like this? You are sure? It is not too soon?”

 

“Put me to use as a captive, Master. Please. Force me to yield as a captive.”  

 

I was surprised to hear that. 

 

By the fourth day she was laughing again. I had made some sort of joke about Free Women, and the way they are always bundled up in blankets and veils, and I suddenly realised Kelsee was laughing along with the warriors. I smiled at her and she smiled back. 

 

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On the fifth day, Rolfe began teaching me some things he felt I should know. He began with capture knots in the evening, once the camp fire was lit and burning.

 

He demonstrated of course on the lovely Kelsee.

 

“Oh!” She squirmed delightfully as Rolfe thrust her onto her belly, drew her wrists back and began to loop binding fibre around them, as he placed the weight of his body on top of hers, to keep her still. 

 

“One must be quick in binding a woman,” he remarked as his hands moved with dextrous speed. “They wriggle like she-tarsks in heat.”

 

“I am not a wriggling she-tarsk, Master! “ cried Kelsee.

 

“I suppose not,” said Rolfe as he crossed her wrists and continued to bind them. “But you do wriggle like one.”

 

“I can’t help wriggling! You’re binding me!”

 

“Some girls find capture knots arousing,” remarked Rolfe as he secured the ties. “You can tell by the frantic wriggling.”

 

“Oh!” cried Kelsee again. I could tell from the timbre and tone of her voice she was affected deeply by being rendered helpless.

 

“Interesting, I said, “I admire your skill.”

 

“it is nothing, really,” said Rolfe. “A boy learns these simple knots from his father at the age of nine. Your father was obviously remiss in teaching you how to capture a woman. I am surprised you have ever had sex.” 

 

“That he was,” I said as I admired the wriggling of my lovely Kelsee.

 

“Speed of binding a female is of course an important factor,” said Rolfe as he shifted position so I could clearly see how his hands moved. “You would be a fool to think a woman is helpless before she is bound. Sometimes they have concealed daggers, or poisoned hair pins. Women can be vicious in defence of their freedom.”

 

“Oh! Cried Kelsee again as the thongs were tightened on her wrists.

 

“Too, a Free Woman often has sharp nails, and will think nothing of trying to claw out your eyes as she defends her modesty. Hergessvar almost lost the sight in one eye last year.”

 

“She was a proud, fierce, woman of Torvaldsland,” he explained. “It is to be expected.”

 

“Ah, the women of Torvaldsland!” cried Rolfe in appreciation. “They add fire to a man’s blood.”

 

“They also make for passionate bond maids once they are tamed by the whip,” said Rollo.

 

I had no plans for taming any woman, be she from Torvaldsland, or elsewhere, but if Gor was now to be my home for the rest of my life, I wanted to learn as much about its people and its customs as I could. 

 

“Once her wrists are safely bound, you may of course relax a little. The female is now unable to stab you with a poisoned hair pin, though be wary when unbinding her hair, for such pins may be concealed in the hope that you might find them the hard way. Her feet however may remain an irritation.”

 

Kelsee began kicking furiously.

 

“A little tip, that helps with a woman who is putting up fierce resistance if she happens to be already stripped.” He paused and looked at me. “With your permission?”

 

I nodded.

 

Rolfe swiftly drew his hand and fingers between Kelsee’s thighs, stroking twice across her sex – there and back.

 

“Ohhhhh!” she now cried, her body ceasing from the kicking and squirming for a brief moment as she came to terms with this new, possibly exciting, sensation.

 

“It can buy you a few precious seconds of lowered resistance for you to swiftly tighten your thongs or draw her wrists together,” Rolfe explained.

 

Seconds later, Kelsee was back to struggling and kicking again. I should mention that Kelsee had not only been given permission to struggle and offer resistance to Rolfe, but she had been actively encouraged to do so.

 

“Make it as difficult for me and Roland as you can, and I will reward you with a piece of candy,” Rolfe had said. He had shown Kelsee the piece of candy between his fingers. “Do you want this?”

 

“Yes, Master! “she had cried. She licked her lips. If there is one thing that unites slaves on Gor, and submissive females in general, it is an unparalleled love of candy.

 

“Then struggle well, like some wild she-larl,” he had told her.

 

“The touch of a man like that will often take a girl by surprise,” remarked Rolfe, now.

 

“Apparently so,” I said.

 

“Next, seize a shapely ankle. I favour the right ankle on a right handed woman.”

 

“Oh! “ cried Kelsee again, as her right ankle was seized. She could now only kick out with her left leg. 

 

“You will find it easier to tie binding fibre to one ankle first, before then crossing the ankle over the other and, with the remaining length of binding fibre, then secure the ankles together.” His hands were very experienced at doing this.

 

“Once bound securely, turn the female onto her back, and admire your handiwork.”

 

“Oh!” Kelsee was swiftly turned over onto her back. She lay there, her breasts thrust forward by the effect of her wrists drawn back behind her.

 

She wriggled and seemed hot and excited from the wriggling.

 

“Can you free yourself, Kelsee?” I asked.

 

“No, Master!”

 

“Do you want to free yourself?” I said, laughing. She frowned and stuck her tongue out at me. 

 

“Quite the pretty little bundle,” said Rolfe as he knelt and checked the ankle bindings. “I will let you admire your helpless slave for an ehn or two, and then we shall free her and it will be your turn, Roland. To make it more challenging, she will begin on two feet and she will have a head start of ten ihn to escape you.”

 

Kelsee sucked on her sweet candy as she heard that.

 

“If he takes more than sixty ihn to catch you, slave, there will be a second piece of candy for you,” said Rolfe. 

 

The look Kelsee gave me now was the very picture of smugness.