Dunes of Gor Chapter Forty Two (the final chapter)

Chapter Forty Two: The Verr Herders

The slave girl, Sarissa, watched her master’s verr as they ambled and grazed on the tufts of coarse grass that sprang up in patches along the stony desert floor. Like her, they were clearly marked as property, though in their case the verr did not wear steel collars and ankle bells, but rather leather tags clipped into their ears, and single bells worn around their necks. The verr mingled with the verr belonging to other men of the small village and here and there other slave girls moved about, making sure their verr didn’t stray too far. This area was communal ground, fertile enough to provide grass and shrubs for the animals to feed on. Later in the year it might be necessary to graze the verr further away, and during that time a couple of men would watch over the slaves to ensure their safety. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty One: The Taste of Freedom

It was actually the small things that Ghadir really appreciated now. Things that other free men probably took for granted: things like sipping a small cup of black wine in a café, and being able to sit cross-legged at a table. He still wasn’t used to the lack of weight where a collar had once rested on his neck. For all of his adult life it had been there, barely noticeable due to familiarity, but now that it was gone, with only a few indented marks to indicate where it had once rested against his skin, he noticed its absence. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty: The Legacy Endures

Deep in the heart of the great Keep of Al-Quada-a-Dhum, the victorious warriors of House Shahzad assembled alongside the warriors recruited by the Steel Worlds. They waited with swords sheathed, forming lines either side of a long rug, solemn in the presence of an ornate curule chair, wreathed in purple and gold cloth – the seat that would now be occupied by the head of House Shahzad, as undisputed ruler of this region of the desert. 

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Daan’s face was impassive as he watched the former high ladies of the Landsraad as they were herded into the large courtyard of the Keep, encouraged by the whips and switches of Daan’s own kajirae. How eager his kajirae seemed to be, to herd the high born ladies through the iron bound gates. How distraught the ladies in turn seemed to be, now that they were stripped of their pretty footwear and fine gowns, clutching each other’s hands for moral support as they screamed to each lick of the lash on their bare skin.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Thirty Nine: The Gates of Al-Quada-a-Dhum

“I’ve brought you some black wine, Master. I thought you could use it.” Ghadir offered the cup of the steaming black liquid to Daan Shahzad. Black wine, made from Thentian beans, resembled Earth coffee in many ways.

“Thank you, Ghadir, I appreciate it.” Daan took the goblet as he gazed over the high walls of Al-Quada-a-Dhum. Below, beyond the range of any short bows, the army of the Landsraad was setting up camp. They were now effectively an advance force, since news had broken that a Sardaukar army was marching from Tor to support them. Four legions strong, with each legion numbering five hundred men, plus one hundred auxiliaries. Two legions remained to guard the Emir and the walls of Tor. The siege of Al-Quada-a-Dhum would begin now, but the assault on its walls would be delayed until the Sardaukar arrived. Which they would, very soon. The Sardaukar marched liked demons on their kaiila, barely resting when lesser men would be forced to. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Eight: Submission

Javad Mohsen had ridden hard all through the night with his two kaiila. He had followed one of the common caravan trails, guided along the way by his knowledge of the stars overhead. His intention was to reach a water well fifty three pasangs from the walls of Al-Quada-a-Dhum and rest there for a while. Reyhan lay on her belly across the front of his saddle as he rode, her wrists fastened to a steel ring on one side of the saddle close to the stirrups and her ankles fastened to the opposite ring. The flimsy red silk had been lifted from her bottom and during the journey Javad amused himself by stroking and caressing it. The helpless wriggling had been profound after just a few ehn. Quite remarkable really. There was much mumbling through her gag as Reyhan desperately tried to form words, but Javad had no interest in anything she might have to say now. He was taking her deep into the desert as revenge for what her free companion had done to him. A mere woman was hardly full recompense for the treachery Daan Shahzad had displayed, but she would certainly make for an interesting down payment. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Seven: Treachery

Reyhan was alone now in the guest chamber, and already, after just a few ehn, she was deeply regretting her wild and reckless decision to come here. She wore pleasure silk, a collar and ankle bells. She knelt, chained to a slave ring by her collar with her wrists clasped in slave bracelets. Soon, in maybe half an ahn, the Kavar raider would return to his suite of rooms, drunk, and eager to enjoy his slave girl for the night. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t go through with this. The reality was so much more terrifying than the hypothetical concept an ahn and a half ago. Back then she had felt like a brave martyr for her family, a woman who might do whatever was required to seal this military alliance. But now she felt very differently. Now she wore pleasure silk, and a woman who wore pleasure silk was left in no doubt what it might do to her body.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Six: Apprehension

“Inside, kajira,” snarled Javad Mohsen as he unclipped the short leash from Reyhan’s collar. She stumbled slightly, for her wrists were braceleted behind the small of her back. She looked round at him, alarmed, for the reality of this was far more frightening than the mere possibility earlier when they had discussed the matter high up on the terrace, beside the ornate balustrade.

“My wrists,” she said, turning slightly. She stood in the threshold of Hassan’s private guest suite of rooms within the Keep. Very soon he would return from the strategical planning with Daan. He would expect to find a curvaceous slut chained to the slave ring on the floor.

Javad wound the leash back into a coil and tucked it in his belt. “I should whip you,” he said, angrily.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Five: The Dancer

“The spiced verr is excellent,” said Hassan of the Kavar as he sat cross legged in the great hall of Al-Quada-a-Dhum and helped himself to some more from an engraved bowl set on a rug before him. “Would you perhaps consider selling the slave who cooked this meal?” 

Like Hassan, Daan Shahzad sat on the one of the rugs scattered around the hall in the Bedouin manner, and close beside him knelt his woman, Reyhan. Reyhan wore modest veils and hoods and nervously regarded Hassan from time to time. She had deliberately spoken very little during the meal, and felt sure that Hassan could not possibly recognise her from that day out in the desert when he had commanded her to strip, and he had assessed her body with his hands. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four: The Free Companions

“Hmm.” Daan Shahzad gazed down at the half revealed body, still partially covered in a rug of fine textile weave, though now hideously soaked in blood. “Do you have a good reason for cutting the throat of our metal worker locksmith and hiding his body under a rug?”

“Yes, I do, beloved,” said Reyhan as she stood beside one of the windows, nursing a goblet of ka-la-na to calm her nerves.

“Excellent. I would hate the death of a talented artisan to have been a waste, otherwise.” Daan said nothing more, except to cross the floor of the room, pass into the outer chamber, open the door into the corridor beyond and then call two of his men inside. He took them back through to the personal reception room of his companion and indicated the body.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Three: The Desert Serpent

“Secure the women! Secure the women!” screamed the kaiila rider as he swept past Laleh Sasani’s kurdah, his scimitar hand thrust high above his head. 

They called it the desert serpent – the long coiling line of march that travelled through the Hamada region of the desert. The combined Landsraad army was over 3,300 lances strong, each mounted on its own kaiila. Travelling with that military force was a baggage train of five times that number of pack kaiila, and a further 250 male work slaves who trudged on foot, and 300 kajirae, transported in kurdahs. It was in part a logistical nightmare, if only because the column consisted of the personal household warriors of virtually all the Landsraad, each with its own captains and command structures. Although nominally under the overall command of Hashim Sasani, the various House factions often disputed who should ride in which position in the snaking column. It travelled slowly, taking perhaps twice as long as a smaller troop of kaiila might take. And within the first two days of travel it came under attack by raiders. It became clear that the raiders were Kavars, pursuing hit and run tactics. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Two: La Kajira

Reyhan stared, but said nothing. Her face was unveiled in her own rooms, but her expression registered shock and remained indecipherable.

“Mother…” Tupa held out the palms of her hands before realising that was what slaves did. She pulled her wrists back, but it felt strange to do so. She was a slave. It was natural for her to hold out the palms of her hands. She swallowed a lump in her throat and moved forward a step, the bells fastened to her body jingling as she did so. She felt the soft touch of the gossamer slave silks against her skin. Her body seemed to scream at her that she was a slave. 

And still Reyhan said and did nothing. She stared at Tupa, giving nothing away.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty One: Pleasure Silk

“I see you’re wearing lipstick, Tupa.”

Tupa hadn’t heard Javad approach, though she had noticed Kala and Vika staring in surprise over her shoulder. The girls had been given a rare day of leisure – the first in fact since they had arrived at Al-Quada-a-Dhum – and they had been permitted to dress themselves in short djellabas, pretty slave ones, that is, with nipped in waists and three quarter length sleeves. The djellabas were cut high on the thighs, but as they knelt in the shade of one of the rarely used gardens, they were in no risk of burning their long legs. They had been laughing at some story involving clumsy kettle girls in the kitchens, when suddenly Vika and Kala had fallen silent. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty: Consequences

It was late in the afternoon as Jaleesa Shahzad lay snuggled beside her cousin, Aleah. Aleah had rolled on to her side after a while and now lay with her back to Jaleesa. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Aleah’s body began to quiver until Jaleesa could ignore it no longer.

“Naughty, but beloved cousin, are you doing what I think you are doing?” she whispered into Aleah’s ear.

“Oh!” Aleah, blushed and ceased, moving her hand away from between her thighs, embarrassed to be caught out.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Nine: The Whip

“Slave! Come here, Slave! Now!” 

Ghadir frowned as he heard the young woman’s voice. It would be that child from the Sasani House, of course. The one who had been flouncing around the Keep, pretending to be Serafina Shahzad. That had been her Aunt’s idea of course. Reyhan Shahzad. Ghadir frowned but cleared the expression from his face before he turned around. He wasn’t used to being addressed like that. He was Daan Shahzad’s high slave – an essential part of the administration of the Keep in Al-Quada-a-Dhum; cherished and respected, even though he wore a steel collar. Reyhan treated him with reserved cordiality. The daughters had always left him to his work. But this Sasani girl was insufferable.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight: Slave Wine

“Tupa begs slave rape, Tupa begs slave rape,” sang Vika as she danced about on a small spot in the girl pen, teasing Tupa mercilessly.

“Oh, I’m so pretty,” sang Kala as she joined in the teasing, mimicking Tupa, “I’m hot and needy and I want my master!”

“Tupa needs her master, Tupa needs her master,” sang Vika. It was early morning, and of course the girls had heard and seen Ella, the fist girl, teaching and training Tupa last night before bed. They had found it funny that Tupa had been permitted to keep the mauz fruit to practice sucking on it during the night. She had slept with it close to her hands, dreaming strange dreams in which she was dressed in the most translucent of pink dancing silks and made to perform on a beautiful mosaic floor while drum and flute players urged her on. She had woken up in the morning feeling hot and aroused by the dreams and had touched the mauz fruit, before the other girls were up, kissing and licking it to prove to herself that she remembered what Ella had taught her. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Seven: The Work Chain

“Tupa!” Javad’s voice sounded surprised, almost as if he had forgotten about his slave. “It is you, isn’t it, girl? I almost didn’t recognise you.” He gazed down at the naked girl on the work chain. She was working in the courtyard with her coffle sisters, straining under the weight of verr skin sacks of water that they were being forced to carry over their shoulders from the well and into the ornamental gardens on the other side of the keep, where the water bags would be emptied into a central cistern to irrigate the plants. Each twin bag of water, stitched together like a set of saddle bags, contained twenty gallons of the slightly salted and unclear water that could be drawn up from underground wells. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six: The Council of Steel

The fortified Kasbah that was situated many pasangs northwest of Klima had once been a closely guarded secret, back in the days when it was the stronghold of the Salt Ubar, Abdul, also known as Ibn Saran; the man who had controlled and manipulated the lucrative salt trade throughout the Tahari. Then, following the intervention of Tarl Cabot in 1975, the Kasbah had fallen into a succession of hands, as warring tribes had settled within its walls only to be expelled by other tribes through rite of conquest.

Decades passed, and as new powers rose to dominance in the arid wastes of the hamada desert, the claws of the Steel Worlds once again took hold of the region. Now the Kasbah was occupied and fortified once more, and its location guarded by lances loyal to a man known only as ‘the Sleen’. Few men had ever seen him, fewer even had lived to tell the tale, for in Kur circles he was known as the ‘Tarl Cabot’ of the Steel Worlds – the sacred executioner and bloody red hand who enforced the will of the Kurii amongst its ranks on Gor and sometimes even Gor’s twin, the world known as Earth. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Five: Parlay

“Beloved sister, you grace me with your warm and welcome presence. My heart sings that your journey across the desert sands has been a safe one and that we are reunited once more,” said Laleh Sasani as she crossed the beautiful mosaic floor to clasp Reyhan’s hands softly with her own. “I was so worried, as any older sister should be, when her sibling travels with such a small escort. I myself have travelled with over three hundred lances of various houses of the Landsraad!”

They stood together in the ornamental chambers of Al Jishana; an area that was open to the sky and filled with pleasant sculptures and gently bubbling fountains with water piped in from the natural wells beneath the bedrock of the kasbah.

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four: Conversations in the Sand

The sun had set in the desert while Reyhan had waited nervously inside the kurdah. It was customary of course that a guest should not be hurried on his way, and so Javad had entertained Hassan until the bandit finally decided it was time to move on. During that time Reyhan had knelt or lain on her side in the white rep cloth canopy, as a slave might. She was naked, for her haik lay discarded on the sand somewhere. 

She had not been told to pick it up when she had been sent back to her kaiila, and so she had not dared to touch it. She suspected it was possibly a test, and that  Hassan would have reacted badly if she had tried. 

Dunes of Gor Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Three: Tea in the Tahari

“You look alarmed!” said the Bedouin raider as he reined his kaiila in fifteen yards from Javad and his men. “There is no need to be alarmed – we are Kavars! Now, if we were Aretai…” he spat onto the sand as he said that word, “then, yes, you would be right to be alarmed, for they are desert sleen of the worst kind, and not to be trusted. But rejoice! We are Kavars!”

“How reassuring,” said Javad as he leaned into his high saddle. “This is merely a courtesy call then, to ensure we are not bothered by Aretai bandits?”