Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty One

 

“Ten days ago the Governor of Isurium threatened me with news that the legions of Cato Marius had entrenched themselves to the south of the river Agosta, and that they would advance in good order to join with the legions of Castus Prinium, and push deep into Corcyrian territory.” Aliyyah gazed at her people in the light of the burning torches that surrounded the plaza, as she spoke clearly and powerfully. “I was ordered to surrender. Surrender, he said. The message was delivered to me in the form of a scytale ribbon tied in the hair of a whipped slave who had once been the former Lady Farzenah of Corcyrus – a woman who had been claimed by the last levy of our Free Women that our former Tatrix had permitted in this glorious city – and also a woman who had been my friend before I had been blessed with your faith in me. It was intended as both an insult and a threat. It was the last ever levy of our Free Women, for I have refused to submit to the yoke of Argentum, and I have refused to place any more of our brave Free Women in Argentum collars. The Governor told me that I was but a woman – that my right hand was weak - and that the legions of Argentum are invincible. Invincible, he said. He told me he would be merciful; that General Cato himself would spare my life and that of my daughter, and that we need only submit to the collars of Argentum, on our knees, with our heads down, kissing the boots of Cato of Argentum.” She paused, letting those words sink in to the assembled thousands who lined the plaza. “He ordered me to kneel and bend my head in submission to the throne of Argentum. I told him that he was right to state I am but a woman. I know my limitations. I know my place. I know how physically frail I am.” She raised her right hand high in the air. “This hand is obviously not the right hand of a man. This is not the right hand of a warrior. I know who I am. I know that men are far stronger than me. I do not doubt that. But you and I know another truth. This is NOT my right hand.” She paced back and forth along the length of the twentieth step. “My right hand is General Linus Trillium of Corcyrus! My chosen commander! The man I have entrusted with the security of our glorious city! HE is my true right hand, and I told the governor, that where my right hand brandishes a blade in the name of Corcyrus, there the legions of Argentum will be scattered like wheat before the scythe!”

 

A man emerged from the palace doors and there were loud cheers throughout the plaza as he walked slowly down those marble steps to join the Tatrix. I didn’t need the Lady Herminia, beside me, to whisper that the man was General Linus Trillium. He wore a red tunic  and a white and gold trimmed cloak, and he carried his war helm, cradled in the crook of his left arm. 

 

And then as he stood beside the Tatrix, to my astonishment, she bowed her head to him, and knelt deferentially before him in the submissive position of a Free Woman who acknowledges the superiority of the male sex. The crowd loved this and they were cheering even louder now as General Linus shook his head and urged his Tatrix to rise and take her place before him. 

 

“Stand! Stand!” cried the men in the crowd to their Tatrix, urging her to stand beside their beloved general, but also approving of the humility she showed before such a man. 

 

Again, the general urged his Tatrix to stand equally beside him, and again she paid him deference, befitting his sex and his rank. Finally, with the cries of the crowd now too loud to ignore, she stood gracefully up and curtseyed before the general, before standing proudly by his side.

 

“THIS is my right hand! This man! This mighty man! YOUR VICTORIOUS GENERAL! THE MAN WHO SACKED ISURIUM! THE MAN WHO STORMED ITS WALLS!”

 

I covered my ears for a moment as the noise in the crowd was deafening. 

 

Aliyyah began to descend further, down to the fifteenth step. “Yes, I am just a woman, but I tell you all now, what you all know; my strength does not derive from my skirts, my slender body, my weak arm, rather it comes from where I stand, and I tell you with pride that I stand to the right, two paces behind the shields and spears of men of Corcyrus!”

 

There was a roar of approval from the crowd.

 

“And I tell you all there is no safer a place for a Free Woman of Corcyrus to stand, than behind the protection of our men! Yes, men! True men! Strong men! The greatest men in all of Gor! I have no fear so long as a single man of Corcyrus stands before me, holding high the great shield of war. Is there any man here who would falter in his defence of his Free Women?!”

 

There was an outpouring of men screaming the word ‘no’ at the top of their voices.

 

“This city is NOT Argentum! This is a city of true men! Strong men! Proud men! And I am so incredibly proud of each and every one of you. Your women stand proudly before you as you lift the great helms of war to your heads, as you strap the shields of war to your left arms and as you lift the great spear shafts to march against the tyrants and sleen who would subject us all to bondage. NOT WHILE I HAVE ONE SINGLE BREATH LEFT IN MY BODY!”

 

Men were stamping their feet and shouting, and women were applauding with the palm of their hand to their shoulder. 

 

“And so I told the Governor of Isurium that I would accept HIS submission, HIS surrender, HIS capitulation, for I did not fear the legions of Cato Marius. And where are the legions of Cato Marius now?” A wry smile crossed her lips. “I am told they are manoeuvring. That is what running away is called in Argentum! Manoeuvring! They ran and left us to storm and sack Isurium! WE HAVE ISURIUM!”

 

Most citizens had heard the news already, through the arrival of chain coffles of lovely captured beauties from that town, but the official announcement by their Tatrix brought forth another thunderous ovation of approval.

 

“BEHOLD the Free Women of Isurium!”

 

Women began to spill down the steps of the palace from the great double doors. They were naked, terrified, some clinging to one another, some crying out in despair, as warriors in scarlet tunics compelled them down the marble steps at the end of spear points. These would be former high ladies of the town, no doubt – choice prizes kept from the slave traders who had sold me Clara and my other girls. They appeared unbranded, uncollared. Perhaps, surprisingly, they were still Free Women?

 

I saw then that there must be one hundred or so such women, and that they were chained in ankle coffles of five girls at a time. They descended the steps at either side, and on command they would stop and a coffle of five beauties would be secured to a slave ring set into a marble step, and then the others would descend a few more steps and another five would be chained in display to that step, until there were ten sets of five girls on either side of the palace steps for the citizens of Corcyrus to admire.  

 

How lovely they looked. Such delicious prizes. 

 

“Prizes seized from inside the walls of Isurium! The haughty women of Argentum, now a gift to us from their Governor - a governor who could not save his vassal town from the spears of General Linus Trillium.”

 

“But these prizes are not mine,” she added. “They are yours. They belong to my beloved people. And tomorrow morning they will be placed in pleasure racks in the market of Caphius, to be enjoyed as the right of any citizen of Corcyrus. Look upon them now, and know that they will be your playthings from tomorrow morning onwards. Enjoy them! Enjoy the haughty Free Women of Argentum! Feast upon them. Make them yours. Bend them to your will. And know this – each and every one will serve your lusts in the modality of a Free Woman. They do not have the brands and collars that might spare Argentum the humiliation of how their Free Women might now shame their city. Let them squirm then, knowing they are still free, and that every time they yield in the arms of a man of Corcyrus, they will dishonour Argentum. Hai, Corcyrus!” And with a final, defiant, thrust of her arm into the air, Aliyyah departed, leaving the plaza a cacophony of shouting and applause.

 

It took half an ahn to work our way out of the plaza, and I had to endure many of its men clasping me proudly as if I were a brother, promising me that Corcyrus would inevitably triumph in this war.

 

“Well?” said the Lady Herminia as we finally slipped out into a side street.

 

“She is a good speaker, but at the end of the day Argentum has a lot more soldiers and a lot more money.”

 

“Isurium has fallen,” she said.

 

“Yes, and Argentum will learn from its mistakes. It can afford to make many mistakes before it is weakened on the battlefield.”

 

“Corcyrus will prevail. We have more victories to come.”

 

“And Argentum is an ally of Ar. Have you forgotten that?” I said.

 

“Ar is not the great power it once was. It was weakened in its war with Cos. It will not march to defend Argentum.”

 

“We shall see.” I recalled the cavalry troop of Stannis Assante. They had not lost a battle against Corcyrus. They were formidable enemies, and they fought for Argentum. She had not seen them like I had.

 

I had seen both cities now, and in both cities the people were told that they were winning. In Argentum the news was received with a calm and knowing sense of satisfaction, as if the people there already knew this as an obvious and undisputable truth – a fact of nature, while here in Corcyrus the news came as a form of messianic rapture to a people who had always known the iron boot of Argentum on the backs of their necks. Both nations accepted their own so-called truth, but of course there could only be one actual truth.

 

The side streets were busy with citizens coming and going, There would be a festival atmosphere for a few ahn as men celebrated the latest news. While normally dark, many of the side streets had been lit tonight with lanterns. They felt safe, but even so, a Free Woman needed the protection of a male escort. Drunken men might take liberties in places where the lanterns were dim, or non-existent. A Lady might be touched briefly, kissed even, either through her veils, or, scandalously, with the veils lifted, as she struggled in the man’s brutal arms. Men who have drunk paga sometimes forget themselves. Paga, it is said, can banish honour for a time. 

 

“I suppose you will be putting your slave to use later tonight?” asked Lady Herminia as we walked past some closed store fronts. Men were cheering and hugging one another, even in these side streets. I never felt comfortable with male hugging, and tended to avoid it if I could. 

 

“Yes. And what of you? You have a silk slave waiting, chained to your slave ring?”

 

“I do,” she said. There was a trace of warmth to her voice.

 

“You will make him serve you tonight?”

 

“Why not,” she said, turning to me with a crinkling of her eyes that suggested a smile hidden beneath her veils. “We have reason to celebrate in the city, so I shall enjoy myself, too.”

 

I frowned. “Lady, I do not approve of you owning a silk slave.”

 

“It is my right as a Free Woman. You have double standards, I think. I do not object to your use of Clara.”

 

“I am a man. It is different.”

“Not so different. Women may buy and own slaves,” she said.

 

“Many men disapprove of such a thing.”

 

“So they do. I think it amuses me that you are so disapproving.” She touched my chest lightly with the tips of her fingers. “And it is just a little delightful. Women enjoy tormenting men. Did you know that?”

 

I walked Lady Herminia back to the front of her insula and stood there as she politely thanked me for my company this evening. There was no possibility of me coming inside, now, of course. It would not be proper. It is one thing to escort a Lady for her own safety, and quite another to then spend time with her after returning her home. And of course if she did invite me inside, I would think less of her. Women can only be friends with men on the most superficial of levels. 

 

“Enjoy your slut,” said Hermina, pleasantly enough. “But mind my advice. I have seen novice slavers become attached to their stock. It is a common mistake.”

 

She could tell, I think, that I was not an experienced slaver. That I was new to practising my profession. But she had no idea just how inexperienced I actually was. 

 

“I thank you for your advice, Lady. And I trust you will have a pleasant evening, too.”

 

“Oh? I thought you disapproved of what I shall do tonight?”

 

“I was being polite. Of course I disapprove. Good night, Lady Herminia. Sleep well.” And with that I left, once I saw she had entered the insula safely, and once I heard the heavy locks slide firmly into place. A woman must always lock herself safely inside her home when darkness fell. The city streets are no place for her when the sun has set.  

 

I walked Clara back through the streets of Corcyrus – streets that were still busy with men passing to and fro. Many of them were drinking and toasting one another, in celebration of the sacking of the town of Isurium. Many of the men were relishing the prospect of attending the market of Caphius tomorrow, where one hundred fine ladies of Isurium would be secured to pleasure racks and left to the tender mercies of the men of Corcyrus. 

 

“You are very lucky,’ I said to Clara after we walked through a market square. “Were you not in my collar, you might be strapped to a pleasure rack tomorrow morning.”

 

She whimpered once. She didn’t dare speak while she was subject to gag discipline. I took her into a recessed doorway and worked her snug tunic up around her hips. She gasped as she felt me then press myself against her, and, lifting her slightly, then take her.

 

“Oh!” she whimpered, held against the doorway, me now inside of her. 

 

“Argentum slut,” I said to her as I began thrusting, pushing her each time against the hard wood of the door. No doubt the man or woman inside the insula would know precisely what was happening, but he or she wouldn’t dare to unlock the door and object. Who knows who I might be? Some paga crazed warrior, perhaps. It is never a good idea to interrupt a man when he is putting a slave to use. He might turn violent, especially on a feast night.

 

I was brief and economical in taking my pleasure with the lovely Clara. There would be plenty of time later to enjoy her again in a more relaxed and unhurried manner. But for now I felt satisfied. She cried softly. Perhaps she was angry that I had not bothered to wait for her to climax. I saw her squeeze her fingers into small fists as she whimpered softly. No, I was fairly certain she had not enjoyed a climax of her own. But so what? She was only a slave girl. Such things are for me to grant, or not grant, as I saw fit.

 

I could see she wanted to speak. I nodded. “You may now talk.”

 

“Why did you do that?” she wept.

 

“Because it pleased me. You are very lovely and I felt aroused walking beside you. Your hips and derrière wiggle enticingly as you walk.”

 

“You put me to use in a doorway!”

 

“You were obviously spoilt, last night, when you were permitted the luxury of my couch.”

 

She tossed her head angrily as she worked her slave tunic back down around her thighs. “I wasn’t even given time to climax.”

 

“I didn’t think it was possibly for you to climax. Only natural slaves experience a climax, surely?”

 

Her face reddened. “I didn’t mean climax…” she quickly said.

 

“Oh? What did you mean?”

 

“Well, you used me so quickly, I…” she fumbled for the appropriate words. “Free Women do feel things.”

 

“A pleasant warmth and a soft, gentle stimulation between the thighs, yes, this is known,” I said, grinning. “I understand a Free Woman is capable of experiencing the same degree of pleasure from intercourse as she might from an initial sip of a good ka-la-na wine. But little more than that.”

 

“Yes, that is of course true.” Clara leaned back against the wall, pressing the soft palms of her hands against the brickwork. Her body seemed tight and frustrated now. “But when you are so brief with me, I do not even fully experience such things.”

 

“You cried out several times as I was inside of you. I think you were very much experiencing such things.”

 

She reddened again. “It leads to… other feelings.”

 

“Surely not?” I said.

 

“Not slave feelings! Not those! Just… well, I am not a cold fish.”

 

I smiled at the polite turn of phrase. “No, you are certainly not a cold fish, Clara.” I leaned forward, took hold of her wrist, pressed them either side of the wall where she stood and then kissed her deeply. She squirmed, hot and needy, beside me.

 

“Oh!” she cried softly as I then released her. “You mustn’t do that! Not if you are then simply going to leave me be.” She pulled quickly again at the hem of her ragged slave tunic. It had ridden up in the excitement of her squirming.

 

“You should thank me for sparing you more intimate feelings – feelings that might begin to approach the rudimentary responses of a natural slave.”

 

“I wouldn’t know what those are,” she said, quickly. 

 

“Did you recognise any of the women displayed on the marble steps of the palace?”

 

“One or two, yes,” she said. “I knew them.”

 

“They were friends of yours?”

 

“I knew them,” she said. “I did not have friends, as such. Few Free Women do. We know one another. Often we are rivals.”

 

“I see. You are not concerned, then, what may happen to them?”

 

Her lip curled, slightly. “Lady Kostantina deserves to be tied to a pleasure rack tomorrow,” she said. “She was always flirting with men. Even with my companion!”

 

“Disgraceful,” I agreed. “Hers was a face you recognised?”

 

“Yes. Let the little slut writhe and wriggle on the pleasure rack!”

 

“And of the others?”

 

She shrugged. “I recognised the ladies Aurelia and Cressida. I do not particularly care for them.”

 

“You competed with them, perhaps, in Isurium?”

 

“Of a sort.”

 

“In business?”

 

“In many things.”

 

I smiled and ran my fingers through her long hair. “Perhaps I will walk you through the market of Caphius, tomorrow morning, past the rows of pleasure racks. Would you like that?”

 

She smiled. “I would like that very much, Master.”