Gods of Gor Chapter Five

 

Chapter Five: Lady Taleisha

 

“I’m not talking to you,” I snarled under my breath as I crossed my arms and looked away from Mina. “Slut,” I added.

 

Because she was.

 

Skanky little slut. 

 

Slutty, skanky, little slut.

 

It was mid-morning, and Mina had something she wanted to say to me, but she could fuck right off.

 

“Emma, don’t be like that. I can hardly say no to Brinn, can I? I’m a slave.”

 

Brinn had told me – HE HAD FUCKING TOLD ME – that I’d be in his furs last night, and then he got drunk and Mina was all over him while I was peeling suls!

“Oh, you’re a slave, are you?” I snarled, without looking around. “Well that makes a fucking change to hear you say that!”

 

“He commanded me to his furs.” She shrugged. “He chose me.”

 

COMMANDED YOU?! You were like a fucking cat who won’t take no for an answer, I thought, furiously, to myself. 

 

“Oh, and I wonder why that was?” I turned round and pressed my nose up against Mina’s. “I saw you giggling on your tippy-toes, reaching up for a kiss near the canoe. Pressing your breasts against him and being all needy.”

 

“You’re imagining things. I was once the Ubara of the Black Coast. The former Ubara of the Black Coast does not desire to stand on tip-toes, giggling like an immature Earth girl. Anyway, it’s your own fault. If you reject me, the way you do, I have to turn to someone for sex.”

 

“What?! Is that what this is about? Did you fuck Brinn to get back at me because I wouldn’t…”

 

Mina put her finger to my lips and shook her head. “Not so loud, kajira. You are so beautiful when you are simmering with repressed and futile anger, but you speak without caution sometimes. Remember who I am. Who I was. How I can put you over my knee and spank you if I wish. I want you, Emma. Please don’t reject me. It is cruel of you.”

 

“Oh, no! Nope. We don’t do that!” I stepped quickly away. “I like men.”

 

“As do I,” said Mina with a smile. She had stepped close to me again and now had her hand on my hip. “Men are fun.”

 

“Stop it!” I swept her hand away. From memory, Mina was only about 30% bisexual. Her abiding love was cock, the same as mine, but she also desired girls due to her upbringing when men had been discouraged from looking at her sexually, and slave girls had been the more convenient route to sexual pleasure.  

 

“Your Master enjoyed himself last night,” said Mina, proudly, as she stroked her breasts in front of me. “I was a ripe fruit for him. A fruit he plucked with need.”

 

“You think? Brinn gets so drunk in the evening, he’d take pleasure from fucking a ripe guava if he could stick his cock in it. Try him when he’s sober, and see how good he rates your clumsy squirming,” I hissed. “You’re a fucking amateur, Mina! You think I taught you the good moves? Hah! You didn’t even get the first day lessons at Banu Hashim!”

 

“Well,” Mina sniffed, suspecting I might actually be telling the truth in some regard, “He has chosen to have me again tonight, so I can’t have been that bad.”

 

“WHAT!” I leapt to scratch her face but the bitch caught me quickly and simply held me by my wrists as I hissed and squirmed. 

 

“Will I need to turn you over my knee and spank you, Emma?” asked Mina. God she was strong! “I would probably enjoy that.” She licked my face as I squirmed, my wrists held. “Pretty little kajira.”

 

“Let me GO!” I yelled.

 

And before we knew it, Chloe had appeared.

 

“Nadu! Now! Both of you!”

 

We both dropped to our knees and spread our thighs. Our backs were straight, and our hands rested on our thighs, palms facing upwards. Chloe inspected us both, and nodded in satisfaction, after correcting Mina’s head position. 

 

“Now what is going on?” She regarded me, then Mina, then me again. “Is this about last night?”

 

“No,” I said.

“Yes,” said Mina, simultaneously.

 

“Okay, yes it is! I told Mina that I wasn’t happy about any of it, and it seems she can’t handle criticism as well as I can.”

 

Chloe began laughing for some reason. “Oh, that’s funny, Emma.”

 

“What? What did I say?”

 

“Mina didn’t have any choice,” said Chloe. I don’t think she actually believed that for a moment, but a first girl is supposed to say things like that when slaves argue. “You know your Master beds with other girls. How many times do we have to talk about this? I’m losing count, Emma! You are giving me a headache with your constant complaining!”

“The little skank was wiggling her ass in front of him!”

 

“Enough.” Chloe raised the tip of her switch and I was suddenly silent. “The men won’t want you squabbling. I’m going to chain your collars together this morning and you can both pick some more berries together. It will give you both a chance to apologise to one another. I will not have squabbling in this coffle. When you return you will both apologise to one another. That is my final word.”

 

“Of course, Mistress,” said Mina with a smile.

 

“Oh, no! I don’t want to pick berries with the skank! Please, Chloe, let me pick berries with Saffron. Saffron is my best friend! Apart from you, of course…”

 

“First girls don’t have friends,” said Chloe with a wink.

 

“Um, no, of course not. But let me pick berries with Saffron. Please, Mistress. Please. I like Saffron. I want to bond with her a bit.”

 

“She’s cute when she begs, isn’t she?” said Chloe to Mina.

 

“Very cute,” agreed Mina. 

 

Chloe nodded. “You’re picking berries with Mina, Emma.” 

 

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We had yet to clear the ‘civilized’ region of the Nyoka river. The region between the port of Schendi and Lake Unshindi is densely populated with settlements of varying sizes springing up along the river banks. Almost all the river peoples here engage in fishing. Though, along the narrow sections, where rapids often occur, fishing is only of interest to a small number of villages. The Manyanga, for example, living downstream from the Malebo Pool that we passed, attach fish traps to stakes or to dams built in the rapids themselves. Fishing of a very different nature is conducted in the marshy areas, where the population is more extensive, not to mention hostile to outsiders, than might be imagined. Among these peoples are the Ngombe—'water people’—who inhabit the area between Lake Unshindi and Lake Ngao. Other fisherfolk of the marshes dwell in the lagoons and the flooded forests of the region.

 

Despite unfavourable conditions, all these peoples are also cultivators. They raise dikes, often of monumental size, to plant cassava (manioc) on the land sheltered from flooding. Other minor crops, such as sweet potatoes, bananas, and yams, can also be found. The river basin has the continent’s second most important timber resources, after the Northern Forests, but the timber industry is developing slowly, mainly because the interior is so inaccessible and because the cost of transporting timber to Schendi, on the coast, is so high.

 

A river village typically consists of a settlement of several large multi-generational families. The settlement is either located close to the Nyoka river or a side tributary, or, if deeper in-land, close to a natural well. Each family is generally made up of twenty people or more, so that any one river settlement has a population of about a hundred plus people. The farmsteads of the individual families seem like little villages themselves. Terrace houses are aligned along a circular exterior wall, while on the inside, granaries, a cooking area and stables are situated. Every family owns a small field, which often is cleared and cultivated in the traditional way with a pickaxe. Vegetables, grains and fruits are grown for their own needs. Whoever can afford it buys a draft animal to make field work easier. Life is very simple and is determined by rainy and dry seasons. Seeding begins at the end of the dry season; therefore, there’s a lot to do at that time. The harvest takes place at the end of the rainy season, and everyone has to help, even the children. Afterwards, a thanksgiving is celebrated with home-brewed paga, millet and grain dumplings and a holiday roast.

 

Gender roles in the forest communities are traditionally distinct, as tends to be the case throughout Gor. The women do most of the gathering, using baskets they carry on their backs. Men concentrate on hunting and honey collection. Honey is often the forest product most prized and highly sought after by the people living along the Nyoka. Men will climb more than 100 feet into the canopy to reach the honey-containing beehives. When they reach the hive, the climbers burn wood which produces smoke that stuns the bees, enabling them to collect honey – a precious commodity that fetches a high price in Schendi.

 

Deeper in the interior, forest peoples rely on hunting to secure their primary source of protein. Each forest group has their own approach to hunting. Some hunt their prey almost exclusively with bows and arrows. Other groups use both bows and arrows and nets to capture their prey.

 

Men will arrange themselves into a semi-circle to form a wall, up to one kilometre in length. Their women then flush game into the nets, acting as ‘beaters’, where the men wait and use spears to kill the animals.

 

We set off in the canoe shortly before noon. Brinn and Tijani had been out hunting in the region of rain forest close to the river bank while Mina and I had picked berries, keeping as far away from one another as the chain permitted. The men came back eventually that morning with some fat looking birds that would grace our pot later that night. Brinn had brought along a crossbow for shooting birds and he seemed satisfied with the accuracy of the weapon.

 

“A dishonourable weapon in war, of course,” said Brinn as he handed the crossbow to Chloe to clean and oil. 

 

“But effective,” remarked Tijani with his usual good cheer. “I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of a bolt.”

 

“I grant you that, but it is too often a substitute for skill and experience with a sword in the hands of lesser men, not worthy to call themselves warriors. It is like stabbing a man from behind.”

 

“Well,” Tijani rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I would rather stab a man from behind than let him cut me open with his sword in a fair fight if he was more skilled than I.”

 

“I will pretend I didn’t hear you say that,” said Brinn as he handed the two pheasant like birds to Saffron to pluck, gut and clean.

 

“I am sure it is more honourable to gracefully receive several expertly wielded cuts and slashes from your opponent’s blade than to live to sing, drink and wench another day, but even so, friend Brinn, I am something of a traditionalist when it comes to avoiding crippling wounds, let alone mortal ones.”

 

“I…” Saffron stared at the fat birds in dismay, interrupting whatever Brinn might have said in response.

 

“What?” snapped Brinn. He seemed rather snappy this morning. I hoped it might be because the sex last night had been mediocre.

 

“Please, Master, I do not know how to prepare raw meat…” said Saffron, in fright. 

 

“She was recently free, and high caste,” I said. “She’s never had to handle fresh kills before.”

 

“Then teach her, Emma,” said Brinn. “I have no time for useless slave girls. Tell her to learn quickly, or we’ll use her for Tharlarion bait.” 

 

I took Saffron aside and taught her how to pluck, cut and remove the innards of the first bird, reassuring her all the while that Brinn never uses girls as Tharlarion bait. I saw how Saffron wrinkled her nose in disgust as I drew out the innards and buried them. “If we were camping, we wouldn’t want to attract carnivores,” I remarked, covering the small hole I had dug. “Now, your turn.”

 

She made a mess of the second bird, but I salvaged the meat after she did her worst. Then she ran away to the side of the river to throw up. On Earth, Saffron would probably have embraced veganism, if the alternative meant gutting fresh kills. On Gor, if you’re  a slave, you swiftly learn practical skills in place of the labour saving devices of Earth.  

 

“Master, how was Mina last night?” I asked in my most innocent fashion as I came back from washing my hands.

 

“I really can’t remember,” admitted Brinn. “I was quite drunk last night. It was all a bit of a blur.”

 

Any port in a storm, as the saying goes, and no doubt Mina had just been a convenient hole for him to fuck when it was time for bed. 

 

“I was a little concerned, because I know she lacks skill in pleasing men, and feared you might have been disappointed,” I said sweetly. “You deserve better.”

 

“That is kind of you,” said Brinn without any trace of sarcasm. He really can be quite oblivious to subtlety. “No doubt if I was sober it might have proven less fulfilling than it was.”

 

“Hmm,” I nodded as if something had just occurred to me. “It might be an idea if Mina betters herself before she stumbles to your furs again. She has a lot to learn still. I have been disappointed with what I’ve seen before.” I made a tutting sound with my tongue. “She means well, and she’s hot and excitable enough, but, well…” I sighed. “To be honest, Master, I fear for her block price. You’d probably only get four copper tarsks for her in auction, the way she moves. Maybe even as little as three.”

 

“Tijani would,” corrected Brinn. “She doesn’t wear my collar. I don’t own her.”

“Of course, Master. You wouldn’t buy a girl as clumsy and fumbling as Mina.” I placed my hands on his chest, palms first and kissed him softly. “I was cold last night, Master.”

 

“Were you?” said Brinn with a rising smile, knowing where this was leading.

 

“I missed your arms around me. I missed your chain on me.” I kissed him softly again in several places that only pleasure slaves knew to kiss. “I beg use tonight, Master. Send for Emma and she will be sooo pleasing…” I stroked him in places that I reserved for times like this, and of course I felt him growing very hard as a result.

 

“I will,” he said, entranced by what I was doing. “You will come to my furs tonight, Emma.” 

 

"As Master commands," I said, kissing him again. "As my Master commands." 

 

I look back now on those first couple of weeks as we sailed up river and I marvel that my only concern was thwarting Mina’s clumsy attempts to win some influence with Brinn. I foolishly thought that, with the trading post just a few days away, we would soon find my sister, Bea, and then it would simply be a short journey back to Schendi and then the long awaited voyage back to the Sardar.  

 

But the closer we sailed to the trading post, the more nervous I grew. What was I going to say when I met Bea again? The question had not occurred to me back in Schendi when we discovered her gone from the slaver house. Then and there I was simply frightened for her safety. And when Brinn swore to find her, I of course felt relieved and grateful. But now, many days since I began to ponder the realities of the situation. When Bea had spoken to me in the slaver house, she had had no idea who I was. How could she? I was a woman. A slave. Nothing about me as recognisable as her young brother, Eric Michael Anderson. It was a name from my past that didn’t feel real any more. 

 

My stomach churned when I considered what might happen soon. I was terrified how she might react. And the more I thought about it, the more scared I became. I had always hidden this side of my life from her on Earth, and now, well, now there was no hiding it any more. Would she understand? Could she still love me? I had no idea. And how Gorean was she now? I had been shocked at her causal attitude in the slaver house. That wasn’t the Bea I remembered from Earth. How could she be a slaver? How could she work in a slaver house? What had happened to her? Surely she knew this was wrong?

 

Our canoe made its way through a body of water that sometimes seemed oceanic in its vastness, but with side tributaries that at times barely seemed more than a shallow creek. We were still paddling up river from Schendi in the region where trade vessels were a common sight. Some of them were flat bottomed barges piled high with cargo ranging from iron rods, sacks of mortar, corn, peanuts, fruit, and fish, all covered in a patchwork assortment of tarpaulins tied in place to the sides of the barge. The tropical climate is optimal for rubber and palm trees, labour is cheap, and the river makes possible the transport of palm oil products downstream to a waiting market in Schendi. We saw passengers on the deck of the barges too, crouching down in whatever spaces they might find, cramped and often exposed to the hot sun. Many were itinerant workers looking to find a source of income in Schendi, or returning home with whatever money they had managed to earn. 

 

I saw dark skinned free women seated in a barge, carrying portable charcoal stoves. They wore a style of garment best described as a sarong - a large colourful tube or length of fabric, often a yard wide and two and a half yards long, typically wrapped around and above the breasts to hold it in place. In the centre of this sheet, across the narrower width, a panel of contrasting colour or pattern about one foot wide is woven or dyed into the fabric, which is known as the kepala or ‘head’ of the sarong. This sheet is stitched at the narrower edges to form a tube, or it is pinned in place. A woman steps into this tube, brings the upper edge above the level of her breasts, positions the kepala at the centre of the back, and folds in the excess fabric from both sides to the front centre, where they overlap and secures the sarong by rolling the upper hem down over itself. The women were barefoot with elaborate upswept hair designs and multiple bangles about their wrists and ankles. They chattered loudly, laughing amongst themselves and shouting at nearby men in what seemed to be a challenging manner. Compared with the free women of the central cities, they were immodestly dressed, but their garments were practical for the temperate humidity of the rain forest. 

 

We were paddling through the wet season, when the river level is high and a rich malty smell permeates the air. Falcon-like birds soared above us, and waterfowl skittered across the sky. Every few miles the immensity of rain forest hemming the water gave way to a rickety collection of thatched-roof homes from which young children, mostly naked, poured out of them, waving to our canoe. Some children actually climbed into small pirogues – low dugout canoes, smaller than our professionally made craft - and paddled ferociously towards our canoe, so as to follow in our wake, cheering and calling out to us. They would paddle for a time until it looked like their settlement was fading from sight before then growing bred and turning back around to return home.

 

The children were always delighted to see slaves, and the boys in particular would paddle alongside our canoe, laughing and taunting us with phrases that they probably didn’t fully understand, but had overheard their fathers saying. Some of the boys would prod us with long sticks to get our attention, and they would point delightedly at our naked breasts as we turned round to satisfy their curiosity. 

 

“Remember that they are male and free,” Brinn remarked. “Show them deference and respect.” The most curious boys were those who had obviously reached puberty but were not yet old enough to have had the use of a woman. They called out to us in common Gorean, asking our prices. It was very unsettling. A boy no more than fourteen offered to give me pleasure, and when I looked away, very disturbed by the thought of being sexually attractive to a child, he struck my thigh with a switch. 

 

Brinn thankfully intervened and, with no modern Earth like fear of ‘sparing a child the rod,’ simply capsized the flimsy pirogue by upturning it with his paddle. Two boys floundered in the water, spitting and wailing, but their friends found it as funny as we did. 

 

“Come back when you are old enough to know what to do,” said Brinn, calling out to the boys. 

 

Pirogues are not usually intended for overnight travel but are light and small enough to be easily taken onto land. The design also allows the pirogue to move through the very shallow water of marshes and be easily turned over to drain any water that may get into the boat. A pirogue has 'hard chines' which means that instead of a smooth curve from the gunwales to the keel, there is often a flat bottom which meets the plane of the side.

 

Adult men would paddle up in their pirogues to offer us their own products to barter: bananas, catfish, carp, boas, baboons, ducks, and small crocodiles. This floating marketplace was a common sight this close to Schendi, and it took place multiple times throughout the day, with as many as a dozen pirogues trying to trade with us at each river bank. Occasionally Tijani bought supplies, paying with copper coins for whatever we might need. This meant less time spent on hunting when we put in to land each night. 

 

I was still angry with Mina, and so I deliberately made a show of befriending Saffron over the coming days. I favoured her in the evenings around the campfire, sitting beside her as the men talked and drank paga. We groomed one another and told each other stories. I made a show of not listening when Mina might say something, and gradually she understood that she was out of favour. Chloe had to remain distant, because she was first girl and a first girl derives her authority from not gossiping with her coffle. That left Saffron to decide whose side she wanted to take, and not surprisingly, knowing I was Chloe’s favourite, she sided with me.

 

Saffron wasn’t too bad once you got to know her. As a free woman she had been stuck up and insufferable, but as a slave she was a lot more approachable and I think she sensed there was a lot she could learn from me. I decided it might be fun to elevate her in the eyes of Tijani. Let Mina spend some nights missing her opportunity to bed down with the handsome black rogue. And so I schooled Saffron on how to keep catching Tijani’s eye. My advice worked, and this made her even more keen to take my side in my dispute with Mina. 

 

As I snuggled down with Brinn, and Saffron did the same with Tijani, I felt sure that Mina would be regretting her tippy-toes kissing routine. I was deliberately loud when I was approaching orgasm over the next few nights, so that Mina would know what she was missing. 

 

In the mornings, while preparing the men’s breakfast, Saffron and I would talk about how great the sex had been the previous night in stage whispers deliberately audible to Mina. I was surprised how vocal Saffron now was about sex with Tijani.

 

“I love it!” she cried one morning as we cooked porridge in a pot. “I feel so alive. I’ve never felt so good.” As a free woman she had remained a virgin. Her companion had been unable to consummate with her, due to his impotence. “Sex feels so good. I had no idea.” But she also felt a bit guilty for having these feelings and often sought reassurance that I felt the same way. “Do you enjoy being bound and restrained during sex, Emma?”

 

“Yes.” I smiled. “Very much. It feels delicious even before I’m penetrated.”

 

“That’s how I feel!” she cried, excited that it wasn’t something I’d mock her for. “Is this normal?”

 

“Among slaves, yes. A free woman wouldn’t experience such feelings, of course.” I said that last bit sarcastically, but Saffron nodded, thinking I was serious. 

 

“Then I know I am a slave. I love it when Tijani ties me. I think I would have felt that way when I was free. Does that mean I was always a natural slave?”

 

“I suppose. It certainly means you’re submissive in your tastes and preferences. You want to be dominated during sex. It excites you.”

 

If it wasn’t for my growing fear of facing up to Bea and admitting who I was, I would have enjoyed these long days and sensuous nights, travelling up stream along the river. I had by now managed to secure a permanent seat in the canoe in front of Brinn, and as I paddled I would often feel Brinn pause with his own paddling to handle me. It was always a guilty pleasure to feel his hands on me, especially when they reached round to play with my breasts. 

 

“Do not stop paddling,” he would say as he enjoyed stroking me and eliciting little gasps of arousal from my lips. When it was a rest break I would lean back into his arms, against his chest, and we would say very little as we simply observed the majesty of the rain forest, marvelling in the natural beauty that such unspoilt nature has to offer. 

 

So yes, if my guts weren’t churning with dread, I could easily have treated this as a canoeing holiday.

 

At night there was all the fun of cooking by campfire, and drinking wine from Brinn’s hand. By the flickering flames I would kiss and press myself to him, when I was allowed to do so. Sometimes he would have Chloe serve him, and sometimes he would take Chloe to bed instead of me. Chloe would give me a reassuring gaze as if to remind me this meant nothing. Brinn never put Saffron to use, and Mina had given up trying to worm her way into his affections. If anything, Mina was apologetic and as we gathered wood for the fire, she would try to talk to me.

 

“I don’t want your Master, Emma. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” 

 

“I know you, Mina. I was on your ship for a long time. I know how you think. If there is something you want, you move heaven and earth to get it. Or take it. You thought of yourself as divine all your life. Consideration for others is an emotion you’re a stranger to.”

 

And then without warning, she suddenly kissed me full on the lips. I pulled away quickly, glancing to my left and right to confirm we were alone. We were.

 

“Stop that.” 

 

Mina took hold of my wrists and smiled as I struggled in her grip. She was considerably stronger than me. “I’ll scream,” I said.

 

“I care about you, Emma. You must care for me too. We spent so many nights together in my cabin on board the Larl. That must have meant something.”

 

“I’m a slave. I don’t have a choice who owns me. But now you’re a slave too.” I felt a chill down my spine – my body reacting to make me feel uncomfortable now by a sexual advance from a woman. I hadn’t felt that on board the Larl, but the feelings had resurfaced now that a man owned me again. I didn’t want to have sex with Mina. I felt awkward, on edge when the thought occurred. My body, my rich hormones, were telling me now I could only get satisfaction from a man. 

 

“You’re different,” said Mina. “You’ve changed. You’re stiff and clumsy around me these days. Not like on board the Larl.”

 

“It happens,” I said. “Sometimes the touch of a woman is okay.” I remembered my early days when I had first come to Gor, when I lived on the estate of Kurgus and I assumed I still found women sexually attractive. And how I wrestled with the realisation that my body didn’t respond any more to fantasies of bedding a girl, but rather, fantasies of a darker nature, involving strong, brutal men, and their hands upon me, thrusting me down onto the furs, tying my wrists and ankles to slave rings before fucking me. That is how I felt now that I was back with Brinn. My body was reacting to his closeness all the time. There was no room in my life for Mina. I didn’t want her touch, her kisses. They felt uncomfortable. “But often it’s not. I feel uncomfortable, Mina, when you touch me. I can’t help how I feel. Don’t do it again.”

 

Mina looked at me sadly now. “Let us gather fire wood.”

 

Olive-brown water and marsh grass stretched as far as we could see, as we sailed on towards the frontier grouping of distant trading posts. An elegant, white-headed sea bird gazed down imperiously from a riverside tree as our canoe glided past. Globes of weaverbird nests dangled precariously from shrubs, like lanterns waiting to be lit come nightfall. Hovering above the water we saw birds that resembled pied kingfishers, black and white like a chequer-board design. Chestnut-coloured jacanas walked delicately over the plate-sized leaves and creamy-white flowers of water lilies burgeoning in the shallows.

 

We passed free women pounding pestles on to giant mortars at the riverbank, mixing the resultant brown slurry by hand and singing as they worked. Elsewhere, boat builders used simple hand tools to carve out small pirogues on a stretch of sloping earth that led down to a shallow river tributary. We dined on ostrich eggs for breakfast and a perch like fish that I expertly grilled to great satisfaction that evening, which I then served up on a bed of leaves with haricot verts and some hot pickle sauce we had brought with us in a pot. 

 

Some of the native villages we passed were partly built out onto the shallows of the river itself, mounted on poles that sank deep into the mud. Over the next few nights we camped on the river bank in gloriously isolated sandy spots, listening to unfamiliar raucous bird calls. I lay on my back, being brought to a delicious, noisy orgasm by Brinn, watching over his shoulder the sun's globe setting over the water, my skin caressed by a rustle of warm breeze as the coal-black night slowly descended. It may be a cliché, but it was simply idyllic.

 

Or rather, it would have been if the gnawing fear of what Bea might say when she discovered who I was, wasn’t still churning my guts to vinegar. 

 

Mina would brew a wine-red tea mid-morning when we paused from our paddling for a rest. It was a hot fruity drink made from wild vermilion hibiscus flowers. Lunch was often a fresh salad with sardines and bread, served as we glided through some of the wildest marshes and waterways in the dark interior.

 

We were perhaps four or five days from the remote trading post when a free woman offered to buy me.

 

Taleisha was the daughter of a wealthy man in the Himba tribe. These people have a red tint to their dark skin which is the result of rubbing their skin with red ochre. It makes them instantly distinguishable from other tribes within the area. She stood with a stiffness born of pride and wore a sarong of varying shades of light blue. 

 

“They’re not for sale,” remarked Brinn, in a languid fashion, as he sat in the shade, away from the fierce noon day sun. We had stopped at a small settlement because Tijani wished to question the locals about what lay further up river. Tijani was far more cautious than Brinn. I swear that when Brinn dies, I shall have the words, ‘what’s the worst that can happen?’ carved on his headstone. He is often reckless to the point of arrogance. Tijani on the other hand likes to know in advance what we might expect to find further along the river. Which settlements are friendly and which are hostile, and where the various tributaries lead to.  

 

“I am to be companioned,” explained Taleisha. Her hair was separated and braided in complicated patterns. I thought it a beautiful design. She had pronounced lips and long eyelashes and like all women of the interior, she didn’t wear a veil. “I am to sail up river to meet my beloved. White skinned hand maidens would add to the magnificence of my arrival.”

 

It was traditional for wealthy women, being free companioned to other settlements, to arrive on a platform barge. The companion to be would be richly dressed, seated on a carved box, surrounded by garlands of colourful flowers with slaves as hand maidens to kneel before and behind her. These hand maidens would cast petals into the water, seeking to placate the Gods of the waterways and ensure safe passage. Traditionally, upon arrival, the companion to be would gift her hand maidens to members of the tribe she was joining. In return they would swear to protect her. Companionships of this nature bound tribes together and in theory prevented bloodshed over territorial disputes. 

 

“I am sure they would,” said Brinn. He regarded the woman’s proud stance and her bare face with those lush lips. “But we have no desire to sell our slaves.”

 

Taleisha regarded me with a slight sense of irritation. No doubt she wasn’t used to being refused anything. “Everything is for sale at a price,” she replied.

 

“Not Emma, and not Chloe,” said Brinn. 

 

“And the other two?” She regarded Saffron and Mina, both of whom looked a little nervous at the prospect of being assessed. 

 

“They belong to Tijani. I doubt he wishes to sell them. He is down by our canoe.”

 

“Send for him,” she said. Her voice was regal, commanding. But Brinn was feeling lethargic from the heat. He had no wish to go anywhere.

 

“Find him yourself, Lady,” he said. “I am resting.”

 

Taleisha’s eyes flashed with anger. “Do you wish to be whipped by my brothers? Obey me!”

 

Now Brinn’s eyes darkened. “What did you say?”

 

“I am Taleisha. I could have you whipped.” She raised her right hand in a loose gesture with her fingers poised to make a clicking sound. “I am important here. Send for your man.”

 

“You are a woman, and so I am reluctant to slice that hand from its pretty wrist, Lady, but if you threaten me again, it will not go well for you.”

 

“Master, shall I run and tell Tijani that this Lady wishes to speak to her?” I said quickly, trying to prevent a full scale battle as Brinn would no doubt carve his way through as many of the locals as he could before overwhelming numbers brought him down in the end. At times he seems to have a death wish. “We are guests here, after all.”

 

“Send your slave, if you wish,” said Taleisha. “I understand you find the noon day sun challenging.”

 

“I have killed men for less,” said Brinn as he got to his feet.

 

“Master, please. We are guests here.” I could just imagine what might happen if Brinn drew his sword and stuck the tip of it under the Lady’s throat. A hundred spears would be turned against us. Brinn would be cut down before he could reach the canoe, let alone push it out into the water. “You swore to take me to find my sister,” I reminded him. “You can’t do that if you are dead. It’s not just your life, now. I would never see our children again. They wouldn’t have a mother or a father. This isn’t a matter of honour. She’s just a woman. This is her home.”

 

I could sense conflicting emotions running through Brinn’s mind now. Despite his pig-headedness, he understood that I would spend the rest of my life as a tribal slave if he and Tijani were killed, and that our children would never know what happened to us. When you have a family, things are not as simple as when you are a lone swordsman, swaggering around Gor without a care for your own safety. 

 

“Very well,” said Brinn through gritted teeth. “Go and find Tijani. Tell him that the Lady Taleisha wishes to speak with him.”

 

“Thank you, Master. Thank you.” I ran quickly, afraid of what Brinn might do in my absence. I ran barefoot, as fast as I possibly could, convinced that I might suddenly hear the sounds of fighting behind me at any moment. 

 

I found Tijani by the riverside, the canoe all but forgotten as he flirted with two apparently coy village girls. They wore green and pink sarongs and their hair was piled up high on top of their heads. They laughed softly at his witty remarks and fluttered their eyelashes.

 

“Master, please come quickly. Brinn is moments away from starting a war!”

 

“A war?” Tijani looked round, suddenly alert. 

 

“He has been insulted…”

 

“I’m surprised the man who insulted him isn’t dead yet. He is showing remarkable restraint.”

 

“It’s a woman, Master.”

 

The implication was obvious. A dispute between two men was one thing, but if Brinn struck a free woman of this tribe, the hot blooded young men who were always looking to prove themselves in front of their women, would be compelled to kill Brinn for the provocation.

 

Or at least die trying. 

 

“He hasn’t killed anyone yet, then?”

 

“I can’t hear any screams, Master, but I’m afraid what he might do while I’m not there.”

 

There was a silent stand-off by the time we returned to the village. Lady Taleisha and Brinn were staring each other down in a way that might almost be comical if there wasn’t then the possibility of Brinn doing something reckless at any moment. Taleisha seemed to have no fear of the white skinned warrior, and she stood proudly with that haughty arrogance Gorean free women have. Her expression dared Brinn to do his worst. Brinn on the other hand was looking at her with barely controlled rage in his eyes. 

 

“Friend Brinn!” cried Tijani, in a friendly mood, as he appeared into view. “I leave you alone for half an ahn and you find the most beautiful woman in the village! How do you do it?” Tijani quickly bowed before Taleisha in a manner that seemed sincere. “Lady, I am graced by your presence. My name is Tijani, if it pleases you.”

 

Brinn seemed to frown as he saw what Tijani was doing.

 

“You took your time,” said Taleisha in an irritated manner. “Was the slut lazy in conveying my message?”

 

“Not at all!” remarked Tijani as he bowed again. “The delay, I fear, was mine, for at first I could not believe that someone as distinguished as the Lady Taleisha might send for someone as ordinary as myself. Surely this must be a cruel jest of some kind? I felt, for my own dignity at least, I should interrogate this wretched slave girl, to ensure she hadn’t been duped by one of your clever villagers. The girl, as you can see, is quite stupid, and prone to gullibility.” 

 

“Ow!” I squealed and jumped as Tijani slapped my ass. 

 

“She does seem that sort of girl,” agreed Lady Taleisha. “I assume she is good only for simple tasks?”

 

“The simpler the better, in the case of Emma,” remarked Tijani. “I would fear to put her at the disposal of a free woman. Emma would no doubt bring shame to me.”

 

Lady Taleisha nodded. She seemed now to be a little mollified and less inclined to order us all to be whipped by her brothers. 

 

“The woman wants to buy your kajirae,” said Brinn. He glared again at her. "In my opinion she is...”

 

“… undoubtedly as gracious and charming as she is incredibly beautiful!” said Tijani, preferring not to let Brinn complete his observations. “Lady Taleisha, I am honoured that you consider my wretched girls suitable for your hand-maidens.” I had briefed Tijani quickly on the way back to the village. “Of course, I am sure you would not leave me without any girls, whatsoever, for I am a simple man who lacks the ability to cook for himself. Would one of the two girls be acceptable?”

 

There were soft cries of dismay from Mina and Saffron as they heard Tijani offering one of them for sale. I cried out too, before I quickly forced myself to silence. I could imagine how wretched it might be to be sold to this woman. Surely Tijani didn’t mean to sell Mina or Saffron? Even Brinn looked shocked. 

 

“One would be acceptable,” replied Taleisha. “She could fan me with a palm leaf as we approached my beloved’s village.”

 

“And who is the lucky suitor?” enquired Tijani, pleasantly. 

 

“None other than Jafari of the Kuumu tribes,” declared Taleisha, proudly. “He can throw a spear further than any man along this river.”

 

“Impressive,” agreed Tijani, as he stroked his chin. “He must have a mighty arm?”

 

“The mightiest,” said Taleisha with a slight nod of her head, She now regarded Mina and Saffron. Both girls looked distraught. 

 

“That one looks like a complete slut,” said the Lady as she indicated Saffron. Saffron cried out in dismay, but then realised this remark might mean she would be spared.

 

“She is indeed,” remarked Tijani. “I am glad you noticed. I would have been ashamed if you had chosen Saffron for your companionship barge. Saffron is, frankly, good only for squealing and wriggling helplessly in the arms of a man.”

 

“Disgusting,” remarked Taleisha, with her air of arrogance. “She should be whipped regularly.”

 

“An excellent idea, Lady,” said Tijani. “I shall set about such an agenda, beginning tonight.”

 

“The other one then.” She gestured idly at Mina.

 

“Of course! May I enquire what price you had in mind?”

 

“She too is undoubtedly a slut, to some lesser degree, and so I will pay no more than a copper tarsk.”

 

There was a low angry growl from Brinn. One copper tarsk was an insulting price for Mina. Why, even I was prepared to acknowledge she might be worth four copper tarsks. 

 

“Tijani…” Brinn began to speak, but Tijani quickly interrupted again.

 

“A most generous offer, gracious Lady. I had feared you might consider the slut only worth a tarsk bit or two.”

 

“I am, I suppose, too generous for my own good at times,” said Taleisha with a haughty sniff. 

 

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I should perhaps mention that, well… Mina is currently enduring her… moon blood…”

 

I coughed, hearing this abstract reference to Mina’s period. ‘Moon blood’ is the way men often speak of women’s things that they’d rather not speak about, because it makes them uncomfortable.

 

“Oh.” Now Taleisha looked very disappointed. I presumed that the barge ceremony required cleanliness, and that a menstruating slave girl would offend the river Gods. I knew that in certain regions of Gor, menstruating women were not permitted to milk animals or touch the steel weapons of a man for fear of contamination. And if that isn’t crazy enough, Mina had told me that in certain regions of the interior, free women are condemned if they lubricate too readily during foreplay. ‘Dry sex’ is considered more befitting for a free woman amongst inland tribes. By which I mean the practice of reducing moisture in your vagina in order to seem tighter and cause more friction during intercourse. This is believed to be more pleasurable for the person with the penis, but for the women involved, it's incredibly painful. It's an idea linked to the perception that a tight vagina is one that hasn't been stretched out by overuse, which speaks to the low level of sexual education in the region. To achieve dryness, some free women in the rain forest will insert powdered chalk, herbs, paper, or sponges inside themselves before sex. 

 

Whatever, the Lady clearly wasn’t happy with this news.

 

“I fear so,” remarked Tijani with a sad nod of his head. “I felt compelled to tell you.”

 

“She is out of the question then. It will have to be the more slutty of the two.”

 

Saffron cried out softly, before Tijani slapped her quiet. 

 

“There is… one matter I should perhaps draw to your attention, concerning Saffron…” Again, Tijani seemed visibly upset, as if he desperately wanted to earn a whole copper tarsk for her. “I bought her in a village down river where she was about to be fed to river tharlarion.”

 

“Why is that?” enquired Taleisha.

 

“It seems she is cursed, and her presence causes pregnant animals to miscarry.” Tijani shook his head in despair. “Even a couple of tribal women miscarried what would have been strong baby boys.”

 

Taleisha looked alarmed. Goreans, as I have often stated, are incredibly superstitious. Obviously, the Lady Taleisha would be expected to bear strong sons for her companion to be. 

 

“She is clearly unacceptable!” snarled the Lady as she turned on her heels. “Keep her away from me or I will have you lashed to a pole and whipped! I do not want to see her again!” And then the Lady hurried away, fearing perhaps she had already tarried too long in the vicinity of a cursed kajira who made village livestock abort. 

 

“The problem seems to be resolved, friend Brinn,” remarked Tijani at last. “And look, none of us have been whipped!”