A Scipio Metellus Vignette

 

A Scipio Metellus Vignette: A Master talks to a Slave girl.

(Entrance to the Curulean of Ar)

It was the morning on the first day following the Sardar Fair of En’Kara. Since the day before the roads had been choked by travellers leaving the Fair. Even before dawn, the din of people returning to their Home Stones or about other business had disturbed the sleep of those hoping for a later stop. All around the encampment of Scipio Metellus, Fairgoers were quickly packing and departing.

But all was leisurely movement in the camp of the Ko-ro-ban slaver. His men moved slowly and quietly. Part of this was their experience in making and breaking camp, part was the oversight of Scipio’s one-legged wagon-master, part was the calm example of Scipio himself, who never moved swiftly if there was no need to. Today of all days, Scipio Metellus was in no hurry to be on the road. There was no need in the first place; with the roads choked with those making an early departure, travel would be slow. He knew he could make as much progress by leaving around noon.

It was a principle of his to not take the lead on the exit from Fairs and the like. Scipio Metellus used to quote a Tahiran proverb: It is the earliest caravan that attracts the boldest bandit. He considered it more economical to leave later. There was less chance of forgetting anything in the packing; besides in the chaos of the choked roads, it was easy for individual travellers, especially women to become separated from the safety of their caravan. He expected to pick up a few of these separated unfortunates and add them to his chain before their comrades could find them. Scipio was a canny slaver.

There was one last particular reason that Scipio Metellus had delayed his departure. After the contest of Girl Catch the day before between Tarn Hill City and Tarn Hill Port there were twenty beauties on the road to the famed and safe Women’s Tower at the Inn at the Ford. Should anything happen to the Ten Free Women of Tarn Hill City, whose men had triumphed in the contest, and the Ten Captive Women of Tarn Hill Port, whose men had been vanquished, Scipio Metellus had no intention of being anywhere near that Inn, a day’s march from the Fair. No, if, by chance, say, the women should mysteriously disappear from the Tower, Scipio Metellus would be nowhere near by. If something should happen, he Scipio Metellus could not be credibly accused. He would make that very clear, if in the unlikely event that the Twenty Beauties were collared, it was not his doing. Nope, not at all.

So, at what would be around 9 AM of an Earth morning, Scipio Metellus sat cross-legged on his prized ottoman looking out the window of his fabulous house on wheels. Unlike most Goreans, who preferred a spare aesthetic, with a few beautiful things around him, Scipio Metellus was a collector. He collected carvings, beautifully embroidered fabrics, little curios, beautiful women; he loved to surround himself with his collections. The ottoman was round, about eighteen English inches above the ground, and about 42 English inches in diameter. It was closely embroidered all over with scenes worked in tiny stitches. There were eight scenes in total around the outside of the top, with the centre having the image of the famed Curulean of Ar, Gor’s most famous and expensive slave mart. A girl sold, even from a side block of the Curulean would boast of it forever.

As Scipio Metellus ate an excellent pastry from the famed Andre the Baker, he looked out the window at his latest acquisition, a blonde from the Earth City of New Zealand, whom he had purchased from a tavern operator at the end of the Fair. As the newest slave, she was the exception to the general rule of no hurry in his camp. She had been loaded with tasks by the first girl, by the wagon-master, and by any girl in the camp who had tasks she wanted to offload. Still the new girl was whistling a happy tune. She had been welcomed to the camp by Scipio Metellus putting her to exquisite slave use. She had yielded completely.

Scipio Metellus turned his head as his slave; Gold Key entered the trailer. He had recently had her, as a morning accompaniment to his hot chocolate and pastry. She had slipped outside to pee after her yielding. Metellus had used the chamber pot in the trailer. A slave would empty it later. As a slave, of course, Gold Key would not dream of using her Master’s chamber pot, or even the little trench dug for the use of the Free Men of Metellus’s caravan. She had used a further trench; one assigned for the use of slaves.

Gold Key knelt beside the ottoman. She looked at the small figures embroidered into the top and sides. The scene nearest her portrayed a burning village with armed red tunic clad men dragging women and girls to a blue and yellow stripped tent. Figures there, robed in the same blue and yellow, were purchasing the captives from the warriors. Some were being collared, some were being branded, some were being added to a coffle. It was all very detailed.

She nodded out the window to where a sister-slave was turning cartwheels.

“She seems very happy in her collar.”

Scipio overlooked her error in speaking when she had not been addressed.

“Yes, Beaker is a very hot and happy slave. Very different from when she was first collared in that little potter’s shop.”

“How did you know to keep her Master? Was it just the red hair on her head and at her love pouch?”

“No, remember I sold a whole chain of red-haired women, many who seemed much hotter than she. It was something I saw within in. A slaver, a good one, develops instincts.”

“Yes, Master. Of course, by the time you touched her she had been collared for over four passage hands. During that time, I told her of the many pleasures of being in a collar, the many things that men extract from a poor enslaved girl.”

Scipio Metellus caressed her shoulder, fingering her collar as he did so.

“What would you then know of such pleasures. You were a High Caste woman, collared even more recently than Beaker, living an even more sheltered life than a girl in a secluded shop.”

“My first companion was a warrior, rough and crude in his ways. He talked of things that are not normally talked of. My last companion was an ambitious and cunning man. I did many things for him that a companion is not usually asked to do.”

Scipio seemed surprised.

“He threw you on the couch and took you in the furs?”

“Oh no Master, he was always most correct in that way. Even though I had two daughters and four sons during our companionship he rarely bothered me that way. But I talked to the women he had in the house for his celebrations and parties, and even more, I listened to their talk when they thought I could not hear them.”

Scipio Metellus said nothing. He sipped his chocolate as they watched the red-haired slave run and dance in the grass by the bosk enclosure. The strip of silk, which she had been given to wrap around her hips had ridden up. The red hair that gave such girls the name fire-crotch was clearly visible.

Scipio smiled. “Her silk has ridden up. She is exposing herself again.”

Gold Key smiled. “It is not an error; she is doing it on purpose.”

“That is known to me. I have been a master of my caste for a long time. How did you come to overhear slave girls talking to each other?”

“My companion was a cunning and ambitious man. He climbed to be Deputy Administrator until his climb was blocked by jealous rivals. He gave many parties, he had listening holes where someone, usually me, could hear what indiscreet men said. I saw and heard many things a Free Woman is not expected to hear and know.”

“Continue,” said the Slaver.

“We hired or leased extra kajirae for these parties. Men were more talkative in front of slaves leased from a tavern than they are in front of the house slaves of their hosts. They expect a house slave will report things if asked.”

“That is known to me as well, it is a well-known technique in certain circles.”

“I saw men demand perfect service of girls, in the most exciting ways, ways I had not dreamed of as a Free Woman. So, when Beaker and I were caged together for a long time in your wagon, I excited the little red-haired potter’s daughter with the delights of slavery. I excited myself too, dreaming of such things once I was in a collar, your collar.”

Scipio Metellus grinned, “And before the collar too, I am sure.”

“Yes Master. How could a Free Woman not be excited by watching slaves with men, I watched through silk we had had painted to resemble the wood panels around it, so the silk panel looked the same as the wood ones.”

“Such panels are known to me.”

“I would tell my Master of interesting things I had heard; things they had whispered in confidence to a friend as they shared a bowl of paga or a cup of wine as the enslaved sluts danced for their pleasure. My companion always had fine wine. Sometimes I heard that a certain man was short of funds for a business deal. My companion was clever. He would have one of his followers, one who was not known to be in his employ, leak the information to a person who would tell another person, who would use the information to the first person’s disadvantage. But nothing could be traced back to my companion. Then he would help the first person out of the difficulty he himself had covertly caused. He would gain the friendship of the first man and make an ally.”

“What else would he do?”

“My companion would, from what I overheard, learn who the up-and-coming men were. He would then befriend them, even before they could be of use, gaining their loyalty.”

“He served strong wine, Kalana and others. Normally such wines are diluted with water, and that is how men are used to drinking them. The first cup would be served diluted, the second cup less so, and the third and subsequent cups served full strength. Men would assume they were more sober than they were, and grow less guarded in their talk, to my companions’ profit.”

“Such tactics are known to me”, said the slaver. “Your companion was a dishonorable man, was he not?”

“I would not say so, Master.” Gold Key answered.

“He betrayed his Home Stone. Would you not say that that was dishonorable?”

“I would not say so, Master”, Gold Key repeated again.

“Why is that?” Scipio was becoming angry at her seeming defense of her former companion.

“I am a slave, Master. It is not for me to comment or have opinions of the actions of Free People. I am a slave.”  Gold Key had slipped into the obedience position. She was on her knees, forehead to the carpet, hands outstretched in front of her. She was shaking with fear.

“Good. Do not forget that.” Scipio Metellus replaced the slave quirt on its shelf.

“What else did you learn when you eavesdropped on the slave girls?”

“Of all the things and positions that a girl can be made to adopt to pleasure a man. Of all the things she must learn to do with tongue and lips, of the things she can do, and must do with the muscles inside her to increase a man’s pleasure, lest she should be found wanting in being perfectly pleasing.”

“I know of such things. It is my business to know.”

“Yes Master. But most Free Women, outside your caste do not. I learned of all the fun slave girls had, even under heavy discipline and demanding labor. I heard them speak of the great pleasure they received when they were made to yield in the furs.”

Through the window they heard the shrieks of delight from the red-haired potter’s daughter as one of Scipio Metellus’s bosk drivers put her to use.

Gold Key continued talking. She judged that Metellus would not punish her for continuing her story.

“I became very observant, at first in the interests of my companion, then by curiosity. Free Women are even more jealous of each other than slave girls are. Competing over little things like status and who first has the latest fashions and most expensive clothes and perfumes.”

“This fact is known to me. Many Free Women are led into foolish decisions by such rivalries. They then become enslaved due to debt or risky decisions driven by greed for standing.”

“Yes, Master. Foolish boasting to increase their status among other women revealed secrets that their men would rather keep. Listening, rather than talking, I learned a lot, all to the advantage of my companion and of the sons I gave him.” Gold Key stopped. “Oh, I see, you are letting me talk. You learn more about me to deepen my slavery.”

Scipio smiled.

“That women, slave or free like to talk is known to me; those women, free or slave, are curious and use their information for currency is known to me.”

“How well you know us; how well you use that information against us!” exclaimed Gold Key.

“What else do you know, slave?”

“I know that Free Women who have leisure drink wine, even in the afternoon. I know that they drink their wine undiluted rather than preserving themselves against drinking too much as men do. I know it leads them into foolish decisions.”

“Again, all this is known to me.”

“Yes, Master. And wise women also know it. But how few women are wise in that way, and even fewer act upon that knowledge.”

Scipio Metellus put down his chocolate. He licked the pastry crumbs from his fingers. Gold Key looked at the remains of the pastry on his plate, but was offered none. “How many end up in collars because of foolish wine drinking! It is known to me and my caste to our profit.”

Gold Key did not dare beg for some crumbs of pastry. It would show bad discipline. Scipio Metellus was a strict Master as became one of his caste. She rubbed her bottom where she had been spanked for a trivial error the evening before.

“What else do you know?” continued her master.

“I know that slaves are not always perfectly pleasing. Sometimes we fall short.”

“And are then whipped for falling short of being perfectly pleasing.”

“Sometimes slaves fall just short of being perfectly pleasing on purpose.”

“Then the master will whip them.”

“Yes Master, but when he is doing that, he is aware of his slave, aware of her curves and her responses. When he is paying attention to her, he is not paying attention to other girls in his collar. The slave has her master’s attention all to herself.”

“But she is being punished.”

“Yes Master, she is being punished, punished by her Master. He is paying attention to her; he is attending to her correction. When her punishment is over, the master will again test her to see if this time she has been perfectly pleasing. What a delight it is for a girl to have her master’s attention; to have him put her to use instead of one of her slave-sisters. What ecstasy for a slave!”

Scipio looked at her. “I know of this, but it is a dangerous path. Instead of taking her again after punishing her, the master might chain her up for a hand or a month to let her slave fires burn higher and higher. He might leave her deprived or even sell her. A very risky thing for her to do, to take such desperate measures to gain her Master’s attentions.”

“But Master, what is a girl to do, when she desires her Master so much? When she desires him so much, she could scream. When she desires him so much, when she loves him so much, when he has made her love him. What can she do, when he buys another girl, a barbarian girl from a tavern maybe, and uses her blonde body in the night when the girl is tied in cage.?”

Scipio Metellus did not answer. The ottoman upon which he sat had rings concealed around the lower edge, to which a slave could be attached. He secured Gold Key on her back on the ottoman. He secured her and then made her cry out as he forced her to yield and then yield once more. After all, the caravan would not leave until noon.