Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Two

In hindsight, I should perhaps have forewarned Felix and Adam that I was going to put Misa to use last night, but in my defence it had been a spur of the moment decision when I had left the campfire to find my bed.

 

Misa served us breakfast in the morning, on her knees, in nadu. Nearby her so-called sisters knelt in the grass, still chained between their Harl rings, glaring at the slave as she made no attempt to resist my commands.

 

“You had a good night, then,” remarked Adam, drily.

 

“I of course offer you the use of my slave, Misa, from here on in,” I said. Unlike me, Adam and Felix still had not enjoyed a woman in over a week. Misa looked up, startled by my offer. I had not consulted with her before offering her use to the men.

 

“That is kind of you, sword brother,” said Felix, before Adam might object. “Perhaps tonight?”

 

“She is yours tonight, Felix,” I said, slapping his shoulder. “Misa,” I turned to regard the softly curved slave, “serve my brother well tonight, or you will feel the  whip.”

 

“Yes, Master,” said the former huntress as she lowered her gaze. She would know a second man tonight, and perhaps once again experience a slave orgasm. 

 

“And what brought about this remarkable and sudden change of heart?” enquired Adam as he sipped some Black Wine.

 

“I have decided finally to embrace who I am. My life now is on Gor, and I no longer regret being brought here. This is a vibrant world and for too long I have prevaricated on the subject of Gorean society. I am going to dedicate myself to my caste once this mission is concluded.”

 

“Well said, brother,” said Felix as he grinned at me. This was news he wished to hear. “You will return to Corcyrus with us, of course?”

 

From his words, I knew he had no idea that Adam would not be returning to Corcyrus again, unless somehow he learnt that his Caitlin Ambrose happened to be a slave there.

 

“I will.” I grasped his hand in my own, at shoulder height and made that promise. “My future now is with the mighty Corcyrus, and my caste. I have A Home Stone!”

 

Felix embraced me and we both laughed, while Adam sat there with his usually impassive expression. “You are Gorean, my brother. I am proud of you,” he said. “You have friends, caste and companionship in Corcyrus. And you have a Home Stone. A man is not truly a man without a Home Stone.”

 

“I will be branding the slaves at the first opportunity,” I said. There was a soft cry of despair from Misa as she heard the news for the first time. “A common kef on the left thigh.” My one regret was that my change of heart had come too late to take advantage of the branding rack and the brazier of hot coals yesterday afternoon. Apollo and Julius would be moving on this morning, and there wouldn’t be time to set up their apparatus. 

 

“But not Livinnia,” suggested Adam.

 

“Her name is Nia now. There is no Livinnia of the Assante.”

 

“She is still a free woman,” remarked Adam, “and in her freedom, potentially valuable to us.”

 

“If the matter troubles you, then I will enslave them all this morning.”

 

Felix’s face erupted into a grin again as he thumped my shoulder once more. “My brother!” he exclaimed, delighted for me.

 

“No you won’t,” said Adam. “We are no longer in the wilderness. This territory belongs to Torcadino and under Torcadino merchant law the women are technically free captives until they either submit of their free will, or you file papers in the central cylinder claiming them as foreign slaves who do not share Torcadino citizenship.”

 

“Tell that to Apollo or Julius. I think you’ll find that many of the women in their coffle failed to meet those criteria before they were taken to the rack.”

 

“Apollo and Julius are citizens of Torcadino. You are not. They operate under licence from their city, and that licence permits them to enslave foreign women who are taken in areas other than roads and travel inns.”

 

“I suspect some of those women were travelling along the main road.”

 

“Quite possibly, but Apollo and Julius will claim otherwise, the women are now branded, and no one in Torcadino is going to listen to their pleas. You, on the other hand, do not share citizenship. The huntresses…”

 

“Former huntresses,” I said.

 

“… are simply captives, taken legally, but due process has to be observed. You are a member of an honourable caste. There are rules.”

 

“Then by your own admission, once I have them branded they will be slaves.”

 

“Livinnia offers us a guarantee of safe passage in the event Stannis Assante…”

 

“Stannis Assante doesn’t know we have her, and he will not find us before we reach Torcadino. In just over a day we will be travelling along a road that is regularly patrolled by Torcadino’s soldiers. There will be way stations with units of armed men. Stannis Assante cannot ride his cavalry deep into Torcadino’s territory. He would never get out alive.”

 

“And I say it would be stupid to throw away our primary safeguard in the event you are wrong.”

 

“I am not wrong, Adam. And, besides which, the slave belongs to me. She is my property. I will do with her as I wish.”

 

“She may well belong to you, but I am responsible for seeing Laetitia safely to Torcadino, and I believe Livinnia’s freedom will guarantee that. You swore an oath to the Tatrix, and you accepted my command in all matters pertaining to the safety of Laetitia.”

 

“Very well. I’ll spare Nia the brand for now. But the other girls will receive a kef as soon as I’m able to arrange it.”

 

“Master…” there was a quaver in Misa’s voice. “Please may I speak?”

 

“No.”

 

The slaver caravan was already breaking camp by the time we finished our breakfast. Apollo had made the offer last night that we could travel with them to Torcadino, and that seemed like a good idea to me, but to my surprise Adam politely declined before I might accept.

 

Afterwards he explained why.

 

“Yes, there would be greater safety in numbers but I’m concerned that they might grow suspicious of Laetitia if we spent any longer in their company. I went to great lengths to ensure Apollo and Julius never got the chance to assess Laetitia, and I’ve kept her apparently busy with minor chores so that they haven’t really questioned her lack of training, considering she is supposed to be our First Girl. We’ve been lucky, and I don’t want to push that luck.”

 

“Laetitia looks convincing enough in her collar and tunic.”

 

“No she doesn’t. And you’re showing a lack of experience if you think so. She doesn’t move like an experienced slave would move. There are a thousand and one things wrong with her that any slaver would pick up on, that any slaver WILL pick up on, given just a few more hours in her company. Laetitia is white silk, and it shows.”

 

“Some slaves are white silk,” I pointed out.

 

“Not First Girls. I have never heard of a white silk First Girl before. It just doesn’t happen.”

 

So that was that. Adam had spoken. I suppose he was right, but even so, travelling alongside the slaver caravan would have had its advantages, not least I would have been able to brand my girls when we next made camp. I was now determined to place kef brand on their thighs. I wanted them to be slaves. I wanted to begin training them. Last night with Misa in my furs had been a Road to Damascus moment, and I think I can pinpoint it as the very moment when I finally decided to cast aside the last of my Earth born weaknesses and insecurities and embrace a new life on this planet. I wanted to learn all I could about my caste. I wanted to gain hands on experience in training slaves, preparing them for sale, and in time capturing new ones. I felt incredibly positive for my future. 

 

Many people think only in terms of the functionality of the slave brand as a means by which slaves can immediately be identified. Unlike the collar, a brand cannot be removed. Once marked with a kef, a slave remains marked for the entirety of her life. Even if she somehow finds a fool who will free her, she will always bear the brand on her thigh. But the significance of the brand goes far deeper than that. It is the moment when a girl knows she can cease resistance and choose instead the path she secretly desires – that of complete submission. Women – free women, that is – are conditioned by their upbringing to think they must fight the collar. It is expected of them. And, yes, so long as they only wear a collar, there is always an outside chance that they might remain free, and so they feel compelled to wage war on themselves, refusing to fully accept their femininity. But once branded, a slave knows she has reached the point of no return. There is no further purpose in thwarting her internal desires. Now she can surrender and accept what has been done to her. No free woman will respect her struggles, for she now has a kef on her thigh, and free women will consider her a natural slave as a consequence. In fact, her very peers who might have urged her to be strong when she was simply in captivity, would now have her whipped for looking at them the wrong way. It is a kindness, therefore, to brand a girl sooner rather than later. Why force her to fight her desires? Why confuse her with false hope? Why compel her to live some half-life, caught between freedom and slavery? She can only be one or the other. 

 

I stroked the left thigh of Misa, knowing it would bear the imprint of the Gorean kef as soon as I might come across a metal worker. She wanted to speak to me, but I had commanded her to silence. I didn’t want to hear her futile pleas. 

 

We bade farewell to the slavers from Torcadino, and promised to call in on them when we reached the city ourselves. 

 

“I do not understand why you choose to travel after us,” said Apollo as he secured the last of his slaves in line. “There is still time to reconsider?”

 

“It is a kind offer,” said Adam, “but I fear your pace would be too swift for us. We have an injured kajira and I would prefer to take our time travelling the final pasangs.”

 

“It is good that you care for your livestock,” said Apollo. Adam’s excuse seemed reasonable enough, but I noticed the way Apollo glanced occasionally at Laetitia. Now that Adam had mentioned it, I too began to notice how untrained she seemed. She walked the way a free woman might, or at the very least, a girl new to her collar. And of course Laetitia was supposed to be an experienced First Girl. “A word of advice, caste brother.” Apollo took me aside and I began to have a very bad feeling about what he was going to say.

 

“Kayra is obviously a free woman,” he said, simply. 

 

“She is a slave,” I replied.

 

“Then perhaps you might care to show me her brand?” countered Apollo.

 

He had me there.

 

“The matter is complicated,” I admitted. 

 

“You are transporting a free woman in the guise of a slave, and she seems to be co-operating,” said Apollo. “You understand my curiosity?”

 

“She is a special acquisition to order. My client wishes to brand her himself.”

 

“Please do not lie to me, Roland. It is insulting, and frankly you are not very good at it.”

 

“It is a matter of honour,” I said.

“Ah. Honour.” He nodded. “I cannot imagine how that might be, but I shall take your word for it as we share caste. But understand, Roland, she will not fool anyone. A word of advice – hide her amongst the other girls. You are making a mistake posing her as a First Girl. Your deception might go unobserved if she appears to be just another fresh acquisition, naked save for her collar, like the others.”

 

“I cannot strip her,” I admitted. My coffle was naked, as most coffles of fresh captures always are. Men would be curious if they saw fresh captives clad in tunics. A girl commonly earns her tunic after a period of training in a kennel pen. It becomes a reward that she strives for.

 

“You cannot strip her?” Apollo gazed at me with curiosity.

 

“It is complicated.”

 

“Who is she that you cannot strip her?”

 

“It is a matter of honour,” I said again. “I cannot say more than that.”

 

Apollo turned to where Laetitia was gazing out at the road that snaked over the horizon to a distant point where Torcadino might lie. That road was her future. That road would open up a new chapter in her life where duty and chastity would be all she might look forward to as the years unravelled before her very eyes. I don’t think any of us really appreciated the great sacrifice that she, and women like her, were making for her city – a city she might never even see again. “Kayra, come here,” he said.

 

Laetitia turned about, evidently startled, for she had been carefully segregated from the slavers until now. “Master?” She was alert enough to respond the right way. Moments later, Adam appeared by my side. 

 

“Is there some problem?” He was all charming smiles, but he was far too obviously keen that Apollo didn’t inspect the girl.

 

“I know,” said Apollo.

 

“Know what?” said Adam.

 

“Your pretence is dangerous. I am going to do you a favour now, though you will not like it.” He turned to Kayra again and said, “remove your tunic, girl, and hand it to me.”

 

Laetitia froze in shock., then quickly she turned to look at me and Adam, expecting us to intervene, and of course Adam did so.

 

“She is not yours to command,” he said. 

 

“The girl will strip and hand me her tunic, or when I reach the first military checkpoint on this road, I will inform the soldiers that you are illegally escorting a free woman in a slave collar. They will stop you and make their own enquiries.”

 

Adam gazed at the slaver and made note of the four professional armed men who accompanied the slave caravan. He seemed to mull his options for a moment or two, and then he reluctantly said, “Strip, Kayra. Do as he said.”

 

“I… I can’t!” cried the girl. She crossed her arms about her chest as if she might protect her tunic from being removed.

 

“You may be free,” said Apollo, “but you will be whipped as a slave might be whipped if you do not obey a command.”

 

Fighting back any semblance of tears, Kayra removed her tunic and for the very first time we saw her lithe, small breasted body. Felix looked away, and this was noted by the slaver. Kayra now wore nothing but a slave collar. And of course there was no brand on her thigh.

 

Apollo took the discarded tunic and directed Laetitia to the coffle chain. “Lock a Harl ring to her ankle and hide her amongst your other slaves. Third ring position.”

 

“Come, Kayra,” I said gently. The girl’s shoulders were shaking. She had crossed her arms again in front of her breasts. The former huntresses watched with interest as I unlocked the extremities of their coffle chain and, after locking a Harl ring about Laetitia’s left ankle, added her to the Harl ring sequence in the centre of the line. She sank down and knelt miserably in the grass, lowering her gaze as the slaver, Apollo, watched her. 

 

“Now she is invisible,” he said.

 

“Am I supposed to thank you?” I asked.

 

“I don’t know, Roland, are you supposed to thank me?” I notice he retained her tunic. 

 

The slave, Loana, was sent again to tend to my coffle. She reapplied fresh slave cosmetics to the faces of Nia, Misa and Ana, but this time instructed them to copy her so that they might learn how to do so in future. Slaves need to learn such skills.

 

The girls were hardly naturals when it came to makeup, but they would get better in time. Laetitia, too, had makeup applied to her face by the talented brush strokes of the girl, Leona. Laetitia looked crestfallen as Loana made her lips seem bigger with the application of slave rouge and brought her eyes to the fore with intense eyeliner and mascara. Then she had her long hair trimmed at the ends and styled into the traditional slave flame shape that so many masters love on their girls. By the time Loana was finished, Laetitia blended in amongst the rest of my coffle, and no longer seemed quite so young. Now she might easily pass for a girl in her early twenties.

 

It was hard to believe I was looking at a coffle chain of former huntresses and the daughter of a Tatrix. They just seemed soft, perfumed slave girls, all new to the collar and wrestling with their doubts and uncertainties. I owned them all. I could have any one of them whenever I chose.

 

Finally the camp was cleared and the slaver caravan moved out. A long, single line of slaves marched down the slope, flanked to the sides and rear by armed guards. The three slavers marched at the head of the column without looking back. Felix and Adam remained silent until the tail of the column had cleared enough ground. 

 

“Right, let’s get Kayra out of the coffle chain,” I said. 

 

“No.” Adam gazed at Laetitia as she knelt with the other slaves. She still had her arms crossed in front of her small breasts. Beside her, the former huntresses did little to disguise their amusement that the girl was now chained alongside them. 

 

“No?” I turned to confront Adam.

 

“Your slaver friends was right. Laetitia is invisible like this. Much as I hate to admit it.”

 

“I don’t want to be part of this coffle!” she cried. “I want my tunic back.”

 

“Apollo has your tunic. We don’t have a spare.” He gazed out over the horizon and seemed troubled. 

 

“Remove this Harl ring from muy ankle!” she demanded. It was good Gorean steel and she would never be able to remove it herself. The long coffle chain passed through the front loop of her ankle cuff and joined her to the other girls. 

 

“Forgive me,” said Adam, “ but we are almost at the gates of the city. Just a few more days. You simply weren’t convincing as a First Girl.”

 

“You’ve chained me in a slave coffle!” she cried. “I am the daughter of a Tatrix!”

 

“It’s where you belong,” said Ana, with a hint of vitriol to her voice. “You’re a slave!”

 

“No squabbling,” snapped Adam. He pointed his finger at Ana, and then at Nia and Misa. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

 

“I am not a slave!” Laetitia hissed at Ana. “It is you who will soon be branded and sold in Torcadino! I will be free companioned to the Ubar’s son, and then the armies of Torcadino will join us on the battlefield, and your armies will be routed! Your women will be enslaved by Corcyrus!”

 

“ENOUGH!” said Adam. “That means you, too, Kayra.”

 

“Since when does a slave become a free companion!” cried Misa. “You don’t even know what you are! Someone should tell you that…”

 

“QUIET!” Adam placed his right hand on the handle of his whip. “This is your final warning. All of you!”

 

The girls fell silent. Even Laetitia. 

 

“You should not speak to me like that,” said Laetitia after a moment’s silence. She gazed up at Adam. “Sometimes I think you forget just who I am.”

 

Adam simply turned away and walked to the edge of the stones without offering a reply.