Chapter Three: Mimi ni mtumwa
We sheltered under some canvas tarpaulin as the rain continued to fall sporadically where we camped. It was like someone was turning a hose pipe on and off repeatedly. I snuggled close to Brinn as he fed me pieces of cooked fish. It was warm, despite the rain, and I felt good that evening. We had taken the first nervous steps into the Gorean terra incognita and found it not quite as daunting as I had feared. As long as we followed the river itself it was nigh on impossible to get lost, though I would not fancy entering the dark veldt of the rain forest without a native guide to hand. Mina and Saffron’s collars were chained together with a long length of chain, designed of course to keep Mina secure. From time to time I saw her gaze wistfully into the depths of the darkening jungle, wondering perhaps how difficult it might be to escape in the days to come. The men, sensibly, weren’t taking chances with her. She had grown up in the jungle after all, and although this was an unknown area to her, she knew instinctively how to survive in this kind of terrain.
I gasped suddenly as I felt Brinn’s hand stray between my legs. He was touching me there, feeling my sexual warmth and I nuzzled him in response. I could do little else but moan and sigh as he aroused me slowly, feeding the slave fires within my body.
“Slave,” said Brinn.
I simply squirmed and kissed him with renewed passion.
“Do you remember when you were my enemy, Emma?”
“I was never your enemy.”
“You were an agent of the Kurii. Had you been a man, I would have killed you. Instead, I promised to put you in a collar.”
“I remember. And you kept your promise, Master. I now wear a collar.”
“Do you hate me for it?” asked Brinn as he stroked me again.
“Sometimes.” I gasped and reared up slightly, arching my back.
“Do you love me for it?”
“You talk too much, dear Master,” I gasped. He responded by turning me onto my belly, parting my thighs and entering me. There was no privacy as I came. Every squeal and cry was clearly heard by Tijani and the slaves. But afterwards, as we held one another, we spoke quietly in whispers.
“I have some news for you, Emma. I meant to tell you in Schendi, but I was too busy making arrangements for the expedition. Your father is some way ahead of us. His expedition is a large one, and it left before we arrived in the city. You remember that night when he visited the estate?”
I did. I was angry. I hadn’t wanted to see Marcellus – Marc Anderson – my father. I hated him for abandoning his family to live permanently on Gor. And yet, when I saw the shadow of a man he now was, as I saw his body was dying in stages, I couldn’t bring myself to truly hate him. He was my father, whatever his sins. And he had spoken of one last ‘hurrah’ – a final expedition into the water ways east of Schendi. He had something in mind to explore or discover, and he wanted it to be his swan song before he breathed his last.
“By now he will be far ahead of the trading post. He will have no idea that his daughter is there.”
“Bea won’t want to see him. It’s better that she doesn’t know he is dying. Let’s not complicate things. Let’s just find my sister and return home. Let my father play Indiana Jones if he wants.”
“Who is that?”
“An explorer on Earth. A fictional one.” I kissed his chest softly. “I want to see my children again. It’s been too long.”
The next day we continued up the river. It rained for maybe forty minutes, then stopped for twenty, and then rained again and so on, throughout the day. I was beginning to understand why this was called a rain forest. The rain was warm and sticky from the dense humidity, and Saffron seemed to hate it as much as me. Her long hair was permanently soaked and hung about her like wet rope.
“Ask Tijani to cut it,” I said again as our canoes moved through the water.
“No!”
I could understand her fear of having her hair cut, but I was now secretly relieved that my hair was much shorter. I ran my fingers through my floppy fringe and laughed at her. She could see I was more comfortable. “Brinn still hungers for me, regardless,” I said. “It hasn’t made any difference. Did you hear me last night?” I asked.
“Of course I heard you,” said Saffron. “We all heard you. You are far too noisy. You are a slut.”
I smiled.
Just after noon we encountered the first natives. There was a wooden jetty on the left hand bank, and on it a number of dark skinned men watched us with long spears. They had been plunging the spears into the river, hoping perhaps to impale fish. Brinn waved, cautiously, and a couple of them gestured back.
“Who are they?” asked Brinn to Mina.
“I have no idea,” she said. “You would have to ask them.”
“You call me ‘Master’, when you respond to my questions, girl,” said Brinn without looking at her.
“I have no idea, Master.” There was a trace of resentment still in her voice. And then she suddenly found herself struggling, thrown over the gunwale of the canoe, with her bottom in the air. Saffron and I laughed as Mina desperately tried to free herself from such an undignified position, and we laughed again as Mina was spanked hard by Brinn. He used a flat paddle and after a while the tough Mina began to cry and then howl. We could see that the dark skinned men on the left bank were laughing too. This was a moment of unexpected entertainment for them. Then Brinn threaded a length of rope through Mina’s collar ring and tied her collar to a ring set on the outside of the gunwale. Her head was therefore fixed in position over the edge of the boat, looking downwards at the water. Unable to get up, Mina was forced to crouch at the side of the boat with her bottom in front of Brinn. He parted her thighs and inserted his fingers into her and began to arouse her. Now her previous cries changed to ones of despair as Brinn made her gasp and moan in full sight of the dark skinned natives. She slapped the palms of her hands against the side of the canoe, gasping as her ass involuntarily raised itself to each touch of Brinn’s fingers.
“Say it.”
“Master!” she gasped.
“Again.”
“Master!”
And then Brinn proceeded to bring the girl to orgasm. By the time her flushed face was freed from trailing the water’s edge, and she was able to kneel upright in the canoe again, we were heading to the left bank to talk to the natives. Brinn had amused them all, and so there was a good chance they might now be friendly, or at least not hostile enough to throw pointy spears at us.
“Not so high and mighty now, are you, Mina,” said Saffron as she combed her sopping wet hair back over her forehead. The rain had stopped for another brief time. “Just another slave, on a coffle chain. Just like us. How the mighty Ubara of the Black Kingdoms has fallen.”
Mina’s face flushed scarlet as she turned away from the taunts. I had noticed that Saffron was asserting herself rather more now that she was no longer a virgin. Her sexual experience at the hands of Tijani had made her a little more confident around both men and other slaves. I hope she didn’t think that meant she was any good in the furs. Right now she was just an untrained novelty, barely capable of anything more than lying on her back with her legs spread wide, while saying, ‘take me now, Master! Oh, please! My needs are upon me!’
I mean, if that’s all you want from a blonde slave, then good luck to you, I suppose.
Though she did have really lovely long hair, it pained me to admit. She looked like a walking Timotei shampoo advert. It wasn’t fair.
“You okay?” I asked Mina. She nodded and looked away again. This wasn’t a proud moment for her and I guess she didn’t want to talk about it. Fair enough.
I helped with the paddles, as did the other girls as Tijani directed us to paddle on a single side, making the boat turn in the water and approach the wooden jetty. As we neared the platform, I could make out that it was constructed from shaved logs lashed together with rope and sealed with black tar. The men watched us carefully, as men on Gor tend to do. Goreans are suspicious of strangers and it was obvious to anyone that Brinn and Tijani were warriors. They just had that look about them, and the confidence and poise that comes from being a master of weapons.
I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned before that the caste of Warriors is a specialised caste. Lots of men on Gor might claim to be a warrior – because they’ve defended their Home Stone once or twice - but few of them are members of the caste. It’s a bit like the armies of the Dark Ages on Earth where small war bands of professionally trained soldiers would be supplemented by levies of lesser skilled fighters. Or perhaps ancient Japan where you had both the professional Samurais and the more numerous peasants who bulked out the ranks. You could say that the caste of Warriors on Gor were equivalent to our Special Forces units on Earth. The best fighters who individually were worth far more than their numbers on the battlefield might suggest.
As we were maybe ten yards away, one of the natives called out to us, but his words were not spoken in common Gorean. Brinn couldn’t understand what the man was saying.
“Do you understand him?” asked Brinn of Mina.
“Yes. It is the native tongue. I know it.”
Common Gorean is said to be universal throughout Gor, but really that refers to central Gor and outer regions such as the Tahari and Torvaldsland. Once you penetrate deep into Terra Incognita, the use of Common Gorean becomes rarer, and the local tongue takes precedent. That’s not to say that these men couldn’t speak Common Gorean – they seemed to live close enough to Schendi to make that a necessity – but they no doubt chose to speak in their own tongue as a preference.
“What did he say?” asked Brinn.
“He asks what you want.” Mina quickly added the word, “Master,” when Brinn frowned, and this time her use of the word lacked any suggestion of rebellion.
“Tell him we travel in peace to a trading post up river, and that we wish to talk. They may have news or advice for us. Tell him we have gifts to offer.”
Mina nodded and spoke some words across the water. I listened carefully to the exchange to try and memorise the words. The Kurii machines didn’t just change my body, the machines also gifted me with an excellent memory and a capacity to learn things quickly. I suppose it’s why I did so well in the slave pens in the Tahari, though I doubt that was their original intention. Given enough time and enough immersion into the spoken language, I felt sure I could begin to pick up the phrasing.
Tijani stopped the canoe just short of the wooden log platform and waited patiently, instructing us to tread water with our paddles while Mina spoke with the men. She addressed them quite confidently for a slave girl, and they seemed surprised by this. They could see her steel collar, and the fact she was naked. I should point out that free women living in the interior of the rain forest obviously don’t wear long hooded robes and veils, but they do wear some modest garments, usually a wrap of fabric around their body that is pinned in place. Their hair tends to be arranged in complicated effects, usually in what is called ‘Tigray Braids’ where the woman’s hair is parted in two or three sections and braided elaborately to create looks that can vary from flat to hair standing up, or maybe both at the same time. The hair of a slave in contrast is always worn loose. I watched as the village free women gathered on the side of the jetty to glare with savage hatred at Mina, Saffron, Chloe and myself. A few of the women held long whips by their side.
After a few exchanges with the men, one of the men said something and Mina laughed. She spoke back, perhaps a little boldly for a slave and then the men laughed back. None of us had any idea what was being said. More words were spoken and then Mina turned to speak to Brinn.
“We are welcome,” she said. “Especially if we bring gifts.” The canoe contained a sack of trinkets and cheap things that might be commonplace in Schendi but rare in the dark interior, and these were chosen for gift giving, something that Tijani had explained would ease our passage down river.
“What was so funny?” asked Brinn, his eyes watching the men as they held their long spears vertical.
“They are amused by the sight of Emma and Saffron. They look exotic.” She shook her head and added, slyly, I thought. “I think they desire them.”
“Should I offer the men fair use of Emma and Saffron?”
I gripped the gunwale of the canoe tightly, my knuckles turned white, as I heard Brinn say that. He would do it, too, without a thought for my feelings, if he felt it was the right thing to do.
“They would be obliged to you in return, Master,” said Mina. “It would be a good idea.”
Brinn nodded. “Tell them they may use either or both girls while we talk.”
I choked back a feeling of anger as I heard that. Saffron wasn’t quite so disciplined and I heard her cry out in despair. “Quiet,” I hissed. “Just smile. Smile as if you’re happy to hear that. If you’re not co-operative, the native men will whip you. And later tonight, your master will whip you, too.”
As Tijani tethered the canoe to the supports of the wharf, I felt black hands reach down and pull me up onto the log structure. Mina had communicated Brinn’s generosity and the men had readily agreed. Despite my warning, Saffron had begun to cry, though she wasn’t stupid enough to resist when other hands pulled her up onto the platform too. I had been through this sort of thing before. She had not.
One of the men kissed me and I kissed him back, the way I had been taught. I felt his hands explore my body and my pleasure slave training made my responses instinctive enough. I did what I knew would arouse him quickly, and sure enough I was taken by the right wrist and pulled away from the wharf and over to some nearby grass. The man seemed fascinated by my breasts and couldn’t keep his hands from them. Nearby, I saw Saffron slapped hard across her face to make her stop crying, and she was then forced onto her knees and made to suck the man as he stood gazing down at her. As for me, I was accorded more dignified treatment, of a sort. I was put on my belly, my thighs were parted, my hair was gripped in a fist, and I was penetrated and ridden in the grass.
The man took his time with me, tugging at my hair with each thrust. When he came close to coming he bent forward, still inside me, and licked and kissed my neck, earlobes and shoulders, slowing his thrusts. There was little I could do on my belly to add to his pleasure, the way I knew how, but I moved my ass in timed motions to meet each thrust, deepening the experience for him, and, I must admit, myself too.
“Unasonga vizuri, mtumwa,” he growled close to my ear as he licked and kissed me.
“Mwalimu,” I said, surprising him. The word meant ‘Master’ and I had picked up its use in Mina’s phrases. I could tell that ‘mtumwa’ meant either ‘slave’ or ‘girl’ and referred to me. “Mimi ni mtumwa,” I added, which I felt sure was me saying ‘I am a slave.” Again, I had picked up the phrasing from Mina’s conversation earlier. He seemed pleased with the remark and nodded, adding, “Ndio, wewe ni mtumwa,” which probably confirmed I was right to say that.
I was deeply aroused by now. It is a curse I bear, for when the Kurii designed my body, they did many things to it. I have an incredibly strong sex drive that at first I fought hard against, but after being collared, I eventually surrendered to. I am deeply aroused and enflamed by things that should bring me shame and anger. I can’t help myself. Even now, forced onto my belly and with my legs thrust apart, a man’s fist in my hair, and his deep thrusts sliding inside me against my will, I was feeling such pleasure. As I said, the Kurii did something to me. It must have been their joke to give me the sexual feelings of a slut. It still makes no sense to me. I was designed to be an agent of the Kurii – a free woman – surely they should only have given me the sexual responses of a typical Gorean woman?
My body began shaking uncontrollably, much to the man’s delight, for he saw now how aroused I was, how close to the edge. He said something in his dialect that I didn’t understand as I arched my back, raised my head as far as I could and let loose a hiss of breath. My fingernails were thick with clods of earth as I scratched at the soil. He growled more words to me from behind as I felt him grow harder still, encouraged by my loss of control.
I couldn’t help myself now. I was approaching the point of orgasm, and my body was in control of my mind. I wanted him hard inside me. I wanted to reach that plateau and jump, screaming from the edge.
“Wewe ni mtumwa asiyejiweza,” he said, as he began to caress my flanks. “Mtumwa!”
“Mwalimu!” I screamed, which drove him to push faster inside of me.
I could not resist these feelings now if I tried, and I did not want to try. I screamed, I cried, I begged, both in English and Gorean. My body shook and convulsed, and I sank face first to the wet grass, feeling the slick mud against my cheek. I had come, but he had not, yet. He continued to ride me and I savoured the feelings of being ridden through the afterglow of my orgasm. After a while though I began to feel sore and then I cried out not in pleasure but in discomfort. He tugged my head and slapped me, to be quiet. He had not yet finished with me. He rode me a while longer, and it was no longer arousing for me. But I knew what to do. I knew how to move against his thrusts, and when I did so, in a way I had been taught in the training pens of Banu Hashim, then, then at last, he came. He was surprised when it happened suddenly. I’m sure he had planned on taking his time longer, but I knew how to force his ejaculation. It was just a matter of timing. He came inside me, cried out and bit at my neck as his own pleasure overtook him.
In time I was allowed to turn over onto my side, and as I did so I saw Brinn and Tijani in the distance, sitting cross-legged with some of the other men. They had forgotten about me and were talking with Mina as their translator. I couldn’t see Saffron, but I heard moans coming from some nearby bushes on the edge of the river bank.
I curled my knees up against my body and placed my arms around my knees as I lay there on my side. The man whose name I didn’t know, turned me over onto my back and played with my breasts for a while, caressing and then nibbling them.
The Kurii had done their work well. I began to feel aroused as the man played with my breasts. I am incredibly sensitive there and it doesn’t take much. I felt him part my thighs again and place his hand there to feel how wet I was. This seemed to make him laugh.
“Mtumwa slut,” he said. The second word was the same as in common Gorean.
He wasn’t yet hard himself, and so he motioned towards his groin and pointed to my mouth. I raised myself up on my elbows, crawled towards him and began to make him hard with my tongue and lips. Even that lit the fire between my thighs. When he felt hard enough, he threw me back onto my belly and again his fist was in my hair. Then he parted my thighs again and forced himself deep inside.
“Mtumwa slut,” he said again, stroking and caressing my flanks as he thrust quickly and hard. And yes, I responded shamefully as a slut would respond. My body did that for me. There was no mistaking I had slave reflexes.
After the man orgasmed for the second time, he seemed in no hurry to leave me. He lay with me in his arms, stroking and kissing, and I snuggled close to his chest, kissing him back.
I didn’t want to be whipped.
He continued to speak to me in his tongue, and without any reference points it was difficult for me to assimilate any of the language, but I tried. I pointed at things nearby and named them in common Gorean. In return he spoke the words of the dark interior, and as always, my capacity for learning lodged the words deep in my subconscious.
My breasts are ‘matiti’. His penis is ‘uume’. My lips are ‘midomo’. My thighs, which he couldn’t stop stroking, are ‘mapaja’.
But I learnt some other categories of words too. River is ‘mto’ and a spear is a ‘mkuki’. I would learn as much as I could, if only so that Brinn wouldn’t have to rely on Mina as a translator. Even now she was crouching beside my Master, while I was preoccupied, and occasionally I caught glimpses of her laughing with him, and I saw how Brinn would reach over and stroke her as they spoke. With a sickening feeling in my stomach, I somehow knew that I would sleep alone tonight, and that Mina would be squealing and crying out in Brinn’s furs in my place.
That fear of being forgotten and replaced resurfaced in my mind. Mina was a novelty and Brinn was always attracted to novelties.
I was right of course. A fact that gave me no satisfaction, whatsoever. That next night, in the riverside village, I was rejected by Brinn in favour of Mina.
The fucking bitch!
There was nothing I could do, and nothing I could say that might make any difference. Mina didn’t look at me as Chloe broke the news. I’d like to think Mina felt guilty, but I’m not sure the former Ubara of the Black Coast knew how to feel guilty about anything at all. Brinn didn’t even bother to tell me himself. I’m not sure he felt it necessary. To him this was a trivial arrangement for the night, and my feelings didn’t come into it.
“It will just be for tonight,” said Chloe.
“You don’t know that!”
“Brinn just likes variety from time to time.” Chloe had never sounded less convincing than she did just then. Giving reassuring motivational pep talks isn’t one of her strong suits.
“I’ll fucking kill that skanky bitch,” I snarled, glaring sideways at Mina as she reached up on tiptoes to kiss Brinn over by the canoe.
“Emma…” Chloe rolled her eyes, knowing only too well who would easily win in a fight between me and Mina. “Don’t even go there.”
“She’s not THAT tough!” I snarled. Chloe didn’t say anything. “Okay, so she’s that tough… but I’m not going to let her get away with this!” I knelt there with my hands on my hips, fuming. “Has Tijani chosen a slave for tonight?”
Chloe couldn’t meet my eyes as I asked that question. Well, that made that obvious.
“You and Saffron will be chained together for the night. We all have to take turns like that.”
“Not me!” I jabbed my hand at my breasts. “I’m a trained pleasure slave! That fucking skank doesn’t know any of the things I know! She’s just a piece of wood, compared with me!”
“Emma, if you raise your voice like that, Mina will hear you,” she cautioned.
“Oh.” I lowered my voice quickly enough. I was beginning to recall just how tough Mina could be, girl on girl.
“Let’s make you comfortable, at least,” said Chloe, as she placed a hand on my hip, lifted me to my feet, and steered me towards a stake that had been hammered into the ground. A linked set of ankle cuffs were fastened to the stake.
“I’m not going to run.”
“I know that. This is more for Saffron. She’s in an emotional state after her use this afternoon. She might do something stupid. She is feeling rathe vulnerable. Two men put her to use.”
An ‘emotional state’ was Chloe’s way of saying the girl was in a state of shock after being violently gang raped by two men in the bushes. She was new to her collar, and although she had grown to welcome Tijani’s embraces, she hadn’t really understood that she could be given to any man that Tijani or Brinn chose. Despite my advice, Saffron had struggled when the first man had taken her to the bushes, away from the river bank, and it hadn’t gone well for her.
I sat down on the grassy bank and extended my right ankle as Chloe instructed me to do, turning the ankle automatically in a way that men find desperately cute. Chloe, being first girl, clasped the steel snugly about my ankle and locked it in place. There was a length of chain of just under two feet in length extending to the heavy stake. The other ankle cuff, with an equal length of chain, would be fastened on Saffron. To ensure that no girl tried tampering with the stake, several bells hung from the wood. Any attempt to work the stake slowly from the ground in the dark would of course set the bells ringing. A whipping would swiftly follow. I wasn’t that stupid of course, but I knew that if one girl tried something like that, both girls would be whipped. It was a useful way of ensuring that girls policed one another, if only to avoid shared punishments.
A piece of waterproof tarpaulin was then erected above where Saffron and I would lie, and I was given a waterproof skin to cover myself with if the rain got heavy.
Which it undoubtedly would. I was rarely dry for more than ten minutes before a fresh rain storm would soak me again. I was getting fed up with this on-off tap of rain water and wished the weather would just make up its mind what it wanted to do.
“Do you need anything, Emma?” asked Chloe, before she returned to Tijani’s bed roll.
“A man,” I said, in a sulky voice.
“You had a man earlier this afternoon.”
“I don’t like to sleep alone. It feels weird. I feel safer with a man to curl into.”
“Scream if anything comes for you in the dark,” suggested Chloe. I think as soon as she said that she realised what a stupid remark it might be.
“You really need to work on your bedside manner, Chloe.”
“I know.” She kissed me on the forehead and then whispered. “Tijani has asked for your use tomorrow night, by the way.”
“Oh.” I perked up a little.
“And he has told me, in no uncertain terms, that you’re light years ahead of Mina when it comes to sex.”
“He said ‘light years’?” I wrinkled my nose, suspecting this might not be a direct quote.
“Well, you know what I mean. A Gorean equivalent phrase. You’re better than Mina in bed.”
“Damn right. And I’m not teaching that slut anything from now on! She’s on her own when it comes to learning new techniques! Without me to help her, she’ll be lucky to fetch five copper tarsks on the auction block!”
“Jealous little kajira,” laughed Chloe as she stood up. “Good night.”
“Probably just four,” I muttered as I made myself comfortable on the grass with a light jingle of steel chain.
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