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. 

First Among Kajirae

((Being, the second in a series of interlinked Chloe stories that comprises the anthology book, ‘First Girl of Gor’))

I may, as it happens, have been innocently instructing a number of the newer kajirae in Taharian dance routines in plain view of the main gates, roughly when I knew Master Geralt would be returning from his hunting that day.

I may even, as it happens, have ordered the girls to stop, just as he rode in through the gates, so that I could demonstrate the correct dance steps because they’d been too clumsy.

Of course, I showed no sign of noticing that he had ridden in on his hunting tharlarion, accompanied by a few of Lady Cassandra’s men, as I danced my most seductive routine in apparent ignorance of his presence.

Imagine that.

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.