Black Beauty Chapter Eight

 

Black Beauty[1]
Peony D. Beckside

With appreciation and thanks to John Norman for creating the wonderful world or Gor, in which this story is set.  Also to ‘Emma of Gor’, the fanfic blogger, for the use of some of her characters and concepts.

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[1]     Not the same story as Anna Sewel’s horse story of the same name, or of any films based upon that.

Chapter Eight: A Future?
 

I see the man pass to another a purse of coins.  I belong now to the new man.  They are both slavers, but it’s clear that one of them, my new Master, is poorer than the first; ‘lower down the food chain’ to use an Earth analogy.  I have been sold as part of a job lot of ten girls.  I giggle to myself.  Clearly I’m not a ‘gold piece’ girl anymore!  We are all locked in sirik’s, we cannot escape.
There stands ready a wagon.  It has an awning of blue edged with yellow.  Even I know that this is a slaver’s wagon.
One by one, we are divested of our siriks, lifted onto the wagon and attached to a central bar in the bed of the wagon by ankle chains.  Where we are going, I have no idea.  We won’t and aren’t told, of course. As the saying goes, ‘Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira, we might be beaten for it!’.  Of course we are curious.  We can’t help it.  Women, in this regard are a lot like cats.  Curiosity is bred into our genes, I’m sure.  We just have to be discreet and careful as to how and where we express that curiosity.
The journey takes several days.  Each is the same as the last.  I lose track of how many.  At the end of each day’s travel, we are all glad to get down off the wagon.  The benches down the sides are hard and the track we traverse is rough.  Even kneeling, ankle chained between two trees is a relief.  Some of the girls are taken off the chain, hobbled and sent off to gather firewood.  Others are set about preparing a meal.  I am not chosen for such duties.  I begin to wonder if specific instructions have been given about my handling.  No… Probably not.  It’s just coincidence, I’m sure.  After eating, the teamsters and off-duty guards usually select one of us to assuage his needs.
My libido has definitely suffered since my torture, but it is coming back slowly.  Last night’s cries of passion from the girls being put to use awakened the need in me.  I was so jealous of them!  One of the teamsters isn’t bad looking.  Quite exciting, even.  I catch his eye as I am offloaded from the wagon.
“Will Master come for me tonight?  I’d so like to ‘grease your pole’, Master!”
Look what a slut, I’ve become!  Disgusting isn’t it?  I giggle to myself at my mock outrage.  Gor has a way of doing that to women, at least to us ‘barbarian’ women; slaves.  I don’t know about Gorean free-women, and I’m not stupid enough to postulate that thought in the hearing of one.  I did however once hear a comment.  ‘Every woman is a slave, the free ones simply haven’t been brought to their collar yet!”.  Would these ‘high and mighty’ free woman, learn how to become just as much of a slut as I, if enslaved?
“Forward little tart, aren’t you, girl?”
“Yes, Master, Your ‘forward little tart’, Master!  I burn, Master…!”
He tousles my hair.  I see however the glint in his eyes.  I suspect that I’m going to be ‘used’ this night.  I feel sure that this man can slake my lust, douse the burning fire in my crotch.
 
I stagger forward blindly.  I cannot use my hands to steady myself.  They are braceleted behind my back. The hobble chain between my ankles is just too short for my normal stride.  I feel the danger that I will fall and hurt myself, not being able to protect myself from such a fall.  The hood I wear is totally opaque.  There is not slightest hint of light getting to my eyes.  The blackness is complete.  It’s a good job that I don’t suffer from claustrophobia.  To panic in my present situation could be fatal.
They came for me this morning.  I was thoroughly scrubbed, made up, my hair dressed.  The chains were added, followed by the hood.  I dread to think what it’ll be doing to my hair and make-up.
I am pushed forward at the maximum speed my fetters will allow.  I am thrust to my knees.  One of the men controlling me adjusts the buckle of the hood.  I see light.  I screw my eyes up to block out the flood of brightness.  In only three seconds I regain ordinary sight.
I am kneeling before a woman.  She sits on a curule chair.  She’s clearly important.  The decoration on her robes of concealment is exquisite embroidery.  Strangely, she’s not face-veiled.  Set into an oddly beautiful face with a slight Asiatic caste, are the most compelling eyes I’ve seen since meeting  Udumi Ayeola.  In less time than it takes to describe her, I press my forehead to the marble floor.  I would not want to offend this woman.
“Is this the one that betrayed you, Castartius?”
I gasp.  I am at once ecstatic to know that Master escaped, and that he’s here, now.  At the same time the accusatory tone of this woman’s question terrifies me.  Does she have the authority to order my execution.
“It is, Tatrix!”
I am stunned that Master is important enough to be in the presence of such an important person.  At the same time I moan in horror.  This Tatrix can have me ‘snuffed out’ of existence with a wave of her hand.
I so want to throw myself at the feet of Master, cover his sandals and feet with my kisses, casting myself on him to protect me, as a drowning person clings to rock in the river.  I know that I dare not move.  I have a pretty fair assumption that even Master can’t save me from this woman.
“It behaved perfectly, just as the agents of the shaggy-ones planned and predicted?”
Shaggy ones?  A memory surfaces from the Gor books of the Kur, the giant bear-like beasts that are the enemies of the Priest-Kings.  I’m doomed!  I shiver in dread.  I’m caught in the middle of a planetary war!  I should have realised sooner.  Who but the Priest-Kings or Kurii have the technology to bring me to this planet?
“She did, Tatrix.  Flawlessly!”
“You managed to use its conditioning, not just to escape but to complete your task?”
“Yes, Tatrix, but should we even be talking about this subject in front of the slave?”
“It’s not a problem, Castartius.  I’m sure that you can keep her silent until the matter is moot, perhaps even permanently if you think there is a danger before that.”
Another shaft of fear spears me.  Is she using diplomatic language to order Master to have me killed?
“Is everything ready for the assault on Argentum, Tatrix?  The main force and the feinting one?”
“It is, Castartius.  There’s no possibility that the gate can be quickly blocked or reinforced?”
“No Tatrix.  The Argies will be finding out right now, that not only can they not simply wall-up the gate-hole, but that they can’t brace the structure so as to keep its use as a gate.  The only thing they can do is tear the whole thing down and quickly rebuild the wall.  That’ll take time.  If you launch the attack at the right moment, our forces will break through easily.”
“Well done, Castartius!  Torcadino is proud of you!  I shall order our forces out.”
So this is Torcadino, and as I suspected, Torcadino is ruled by this Tatrix.
“This slave has served it’s function, and you were able to twist that to your advantage.  You may keep it, or free it after the invasion if you wish.”
I cannot believe what I’m hearing!  To not be a slave anymore?!  Master responds.  He knows me so well. He doesn’t need to tell me what in my heart I know is true.
“She will remain slave.  She’s too much of a slut to ever be free!”
The Tatrix laughs.  She waves her hand.  The men who brought me here hood me again.  I am dragged away.
There is fresh air on my body for a brief while before I’m again inside a building.  The men fasten a largish collar round my neck.  Not so large I can slip it.  They remove the hood and depart.  A chain snakes away from my collar to a solid staple fastened in the floor.  The chain isn’t long enough for me to stand.  I must remain on my knees, or lie down.  One thing’s certain.  I must wait, but what for?  For Master?
I use this time to try and make sense of what’s happened to me, to Master, to the game of war between cities, to the greater war between space-faring aliens and god-like beings.  I cannot get the whole picture.  I still don’t know if Torcadino is the ‘good-guy’ or the ‘bad-hat’.  Ditto is Argentum the ‘baddie’ or the ‘goodie’.  To quote the Earth playwrite Shakespeare, ‘A plague on both your houses’.  I still don’t know if the love I had for Master is true or just a programmed sham.  I dare not be so presumptuous as to think that he loves me.  Do I, will I be able to love him again?  Could I be his slave without any love for him? Would such be a kind of hateful living hell?  I’m sure that there are slaves who live in just such purgatory.
I hear the sound of footsteps.  Master enters the room, he stands just beyond the reach of my chain for me to kiss his feet.
“You’re an expensive asset, Vita!  Having to buy you twice!  I’d punish you for that if it were your fault.”
Even though I could do nothing to stop myself from doing it, I feel that I owe Master an apology for my betrayal of him.
“Master.  You must punish me for my betrayal of you in Argentum.  I hold myself ready for whatever you deem suitable.”
Master Laughs.
“Yes, I must, mustn’t I?  Very well!  Your punishment is that you are not to be punished!”
WHAT?!  Did I hear that right?
“Did you not hear the Tatrix, slave?  You know, and it is acknowledged, that you acted in ignorance of what you were doing, until it was done.  You were given orders to betray me.  Like a good little kajira, you obeyed perfectly.”
He pauses.
“Here obedient little kajira, have a candy for obeying so perfectly.”
He drops a candy in front of me.  Candies are rare for slaves.  I bend down and pick it up with my teeth. Why are there pools of tears on the marble floor?  One thing I know for sure.  I do love my Master more than life itself.  This time I know that my love is genuine.
“Kneel up Vita.  I’ve new collar for you.”
I comply shaking the tears of happiness from my eyes.