On the Banks of the Bighorn Chapter Twenty Five – by Tracker

 

Training Day

 

“My owner calls me Tiffani, Master.”

 

“I am a dancer.”

 

Slave Juliette’s Narrative

 

From the minute I saw her, I hated her.  Even before she opened her mouth and uttered her name in a husky voice, so obviously fake, I hated her.

She moved out of the water like Venus rising from the waves, her green short dress clinging to her body like it was painted on.  She glided towards us, and then she knelt in a smooth movement, seemingly going from her bare feet to her knees in an instant, continuing on to what I recognized from my Gor book, Dancer of Gor, as an obeisance position.  Her arms were towards Patrick, her head pressed right to the earth of the riverbank, her rump in the air.

 

I hated the smooth grace with which she did this.

 

Patrick was smiling. I guess any man would.

 

“Follow me to my camp, Tiffani, I must report this to the Lazy F.”

On the Banks of the Bighorn Chapter Twenty Four – by Tracker

 

Smith’s Secret Diary

 

Last night’s dinner was good, but we shut down early.  We knew we were going out again this morning, and anyway, there is still a shortage of captive women.  After our first two pitchers of beer for our table, we had weak cocktails.  We know this fight is not over; the struggle continues. Not that we didn’t have our fun training the new girls, but an untrained girl cannot compare to a girl whose desire is solely to give pleasure and has been trained to do so.

 

This morning Wilson Frick gave us a briefing and our orders.  Our Native American friends have reported that they broke up a large formation of survivalists and mercenary contractors heading north to their own lands by the simple expedient of stampeding a bison herd through them.  The enemy broke formation and scattered. Some women and cattle will be returned to us today or tomorrow, and the enemy headed west.  The fuel truck they were using to refuel their ATVs was captured. 

 

Our task now is to track down the broken small groups and one by one neutralize them.  Mr Frick is very anxious to get Tiffani the dancer back. “She is worth almost the rest of the girls combined.”  She was a loan from Willard Frick, the chieftain of the Frick clan, so to lose her would be a huge loss of prestige for the Lazy F in the Frick Family.  And if the other families ever heard?  That might even mean losing the leadership of the Old Families!

Outcast of Gor Chapter Twenty Five

 

Kulai was a brave girl, but she screamed helplessly as men stripped her of her knee length, long sleeved, high collared tunic. They used knives to cut it away from her body. There might have been poison pins lurking near the fastenings for a man to find the hard way, after all. 

 

She screamed again, held by her wrists, as she was thrown to her belly on the grass. Her soft brown leather ankle boots were removed, and then, again with the knife, her woollen leggings were cut from her and pulled away from her legs.

 

Entangled in the net, as I was, with men forcing me to the ground, there was nothing I could do to help Kulai. Nothing at all. I could only watch, helpless myself, as the Turian girl I loved – yes, loved – I recognise that now - was dragged before Kelsee.

Outcast of Gor Chapter Twenty Four

 

Kelsee’s enforced silence would make this difficult. I had no way of knowing what she had said to Darian. I could speculate that she had been captured in the woods by outlaws when she had blundered through the trees in panic. They would perhaps have put her to use throughout the night and then come morning, taken her to Darian’s camp to sell her for whatever they might get. 

 

I don’t think Kelsee had known beforehand that it was Darian’s camp. She had only known there was a slaver camp somewhere distant from the paved road. Did she try to appeal to Darian when she had been brought in terror to the branding tent? Had she seen him and cried out his name? And if so, what had she told him?

 

I weighed up my options. So she had claimed to be a Free Woman of Argentum? Fine. I was an outlaw. I wasn’t expected to hold that Home Stone to any sacrosanct status. All women were assumed to be my prey. Darian would know that.

 

I shrugged. “Most slaves were Free Women once upon a time. The number of bred slaves is surely still in the minority?” I phrased that as a question for him. There you go, I thought – here’s an opportunity for you to show off with your caste knowledge, Mr Athuk.

Outcast of Gor Chapter Twenty Three

 

Darian laughed. 

 

“What’s so funny?” I asked. 

 

“An outlaw complaining that other outlaws stole the girl that I suppose he stole from someone previously. That is what you are trying to tell me, yes?” said Darian. 

 

“She ran away last night. There was a lapse in my security.”

 

“Evidently so. My advice to you: learn from your mistakes and do better next time.” He turned to go.

 

“Her name is Kelsee. I know you have her. I want her back.”

 

Darian turned slowly back. “I am sure you want a lot of things. If I have your girl, it is because I paid good money for her. Your loss is not my concern, outlaw. Slaves are commonplace. Buy yourself another. And buy some chains while you’re at it.”

 

“I didn’t come here expecting charity,” I said.

 

“Good. Then you will not be disappointed.”

Outcast of Gor Chapter Twenty Two

 

“I am Darian Athuk of Talmont. I currently operate under licence from Claudius, the Ubar of Argentum. How may I help you?”

 

There was no sign of recognition in his eyes, for which I breathed an inner sigh of relief. I had been a kneeling silk slave with my head down when he had been entertained in the apartment of the Lady Savanna of Argentum. He had gone there with the Lady Kelapina, and he had explained to Kelsee the arrangements that took place around her transportation to Gor, and then the city of Argentum itself. There was no reason he would have paid me anything more than a cursory glance or two, at the time. Darian Athuk had made it quite clear in Kelsee’s loft apartment that he despised silk slaves. Any man who knelt and submitted before a woman was less than a man in his eyes, and the eyes of most men on Gor. If you are a man you are expected to act like a man, and submission to a woman runs counter to everything that Gorean men believe in.

 

There is a reason why the caste of Slavers delegates the training and sale of such male silk slaves to the women of their caste. It would be a distasteful job for a male slaver to concern himself with. Male slavers much prefer the acquisition and training of beautiful women. And who can blame them.

The Paga Diaries (9) by Arizona Wanderer: ‘First Treatment’

 

I returned as instructed to Mirus’s house on the morning of the fourth day after spending the night in his home.  I knocked on the door and was greeted by young Fen, Mirus’s assistant.  He invited me into the formal foyer and said that Mirus would be with me shortly.  I came unarmed this time, not bringing my short sword with me as it had created some apprehension the last time I was here.  I sat on the cushioned bench.  

 

Fen returned after about ten minutes and told me to follow him.  I followed him into a hallway, then we turned right into another hallway that I recognized.  I had spent the night in a guest quarter three doors down this hallway.  We went past that room and near the end of the hallway entered a room that was bigger than the room I had stayed in before.  The room looked like it was set up for guests too.  It had a low table with cushions around it on the floor.  There was a couch with furs on it and metal rings attached in places.  This room had a window with a view of a large pool outside.  I did not think that the pool was visible from outside the home on the street. 

 

Mirus walked into the room followed by his lovely slave Lina.  “Tal, Rykart,” he said.  “Tal, Mirus,” I replied.  “Sit,” he said and motioned with his hand.  We sat on the floor cushions around the low table.  Lina knelt next to her master, with her eyes lowered.  She had not looked at me.  “Lina will translate,” he said.