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.