The Paga Diaries (43)

 43.  Swordplay And A Satchel.
 

I drew my gladius as Lenious stepped toward me, his sword brandished.  This was not a wooden training gladius I held, and I was scared, realizing that this test of steel could end my idyllic life on this exotic planet.  What was I risking at this moment and why?

 

“Why are you following me?” Lenious snarled, stopping just out of my sword reach.  I didn’t know the answer to that question, and now I wish I hadn’t followed him.  I didn’t want to risk my life this way in a dark back alley.  I was having a marvelous time on Gor and I regretted following him, now realizing I had made a grave mistake.  I felt stupid and I didn’t know how to answer his question.

 

“Drop your sword and kneel.  If you answer all of my questions truthfully, I won’t take your life,” he said.

 

“I do not know why I follow,” I said honestly.  I was not going to yield my sword and kneel.  I took a step back and said, “I do not want to fight. I will leave now.”

 

“You are not going anywhere,” he said, taking a step forward.  “You have seen too much and I must know why you keep meddling in my business. You will answer questions or taste steel!”

 

“I not see anything. I not meddling,” I said, struggling with the new word.  “I will answer your questions, but I not yield sword.”

 

“Who do you work for?”

 

“No one. I have money, do not need to work. I work sometimes as sawyer for Dimos, lumberyard overseer,” I said.

 

“Don’t play stupid barbarian with me. You spent days with Penny, talking about who knows what. Then I see you at Mirus’s house. Now you follow me into this alley. Do you work for Mirus?”

 

“No,” I said.

 

“This is the last time I am going to ask, who do you work for?”

 

“No one,” I said.  I knew from his body language he was going to strike.  I thought about running away, wondering if he would be able to catch me, stabbing me in the back as I fled.  That brief moment of opportunity passed as he lunged at me, his sword jabbing.  I easily blocked his sword, but I did not counter, still hoping to avert this fight.

 

“I not see anything and I not work for anyone.  I wish you w…”

 

“Liar!” he yelled and struck at me again, seeking my thigh.  I blocked.  This attack I did counter, with a thrust towards his upper torso.  He parried with a grunt and the sound of steel on steel rang out, echoing in the narrow alley as we sparred.  Adrenaline coursed through my veins.  I fell back on my training, trying to remain composed, not letting anger override rational responses.

 

Our fight paused for a brief moment, and then Lenious lunged in again with earnest.  The cobblestones in the alley were rough and uneven, much different from the sands of the practice ground I was used to.  I focused on my footwork and defense, hoping Lenious would tire and settle on a stalemate.  From my first days here, I had noticed the lighter gravity on Gor, as compared to Earth, and this, combined with my age regression treatments, made me very nimble on my feet, able to quickly step with confidence in this deadly dance.

 

Our strikes and parries increased with intensity, often with sparks flying from the edges of our blades when they came into contact.  I was able to slip my sword past his after an overexposed thrust, the edge of my blade drawing a thin line of blood from his abdomen. 

 

“Master!” Penny yelled out.

 

Hardly fatal or disabling, this cut nonetheless signaled to Lenious that victory for him would not come easy.  In fury, he yelled and came at me again.  Lenious is larger than me and he applied his extra weight to his thrusts, making my blocks more difficult and taxing.  I backpedaled tactfully, letting him drive me back the way I came, making him work for his advances.  My fear subsided with the realization that Lenious’s skill seemed comparable with my own.  Despite his larger size, I felt had a chance of surviving this.

 

His advance slowed and paused.  I stopped backpedaling and matched his strikes with blocks and counters.  His intensity diminished and I started backpedaling again, saving my strength.  He pursued my slow retreat and yelled out, “Fight you weak cowardly barbarian!”

 

My training had been mostly defense, while seeking to exploit any mistakes made by the attacker.  My offensive skills were still basic, but I was ready to apply them if the opportunity presented itself.  Lenious seemed to be tiring; it appeared that perhaps he didn’t train as often as I, that he wasn’t in the shape I was in from my from my recent return to trainings.  Maybe pimping coin girls in the streets did not allow for much sparring practice.

 

We were both sweating now and his strikes slowed to a speed where it was easy to anticipate them; he seemed to be nearing exhaustion.  He feinted high, then swung low, his sword catching my tunic as I stepped to the side.  His foot slipped on the cobblestone and I pressed in, attempting to hit his face with the flat part of my gladius, hoping for a knockout.  I missed, the small hilt of my sword hitting his left eye, which knocked him down.  He fell and his head hit the stones hard, his sword clattering on the ground.  Penny screamed.

 

He lay unconscious on the cobblestone, his eye looked ruined.  I did not want to kill him and stabbing an unconscious man on the ground did not seem very honorable.  But I also did not want him seeking revenge.  I wondered what to do, take his life or walk away and worry?  In my moment of indecision, Penny leapt over to her master, coming between him and I.

 

She looked up at me with tearful eyes and pleaded, “Please don’t kill him Master. This slave begs that his life be spared.”  It pained me to see tears in Penny’s eyes on her anguished face.  Would it be self-defense if I killed him now?  In Arizona it would have been murder, or possibly manslaughter, both serious offences, but Gor was a lot more tolerant with violence.  I did not know the law, or what to do next.  If I did kill him, would Penny become my property?  Could I take Penny now, exchanging his life for her collar? Did I still want Penny?  I had felt pity for her before, after seeing the abuse she suffered from Lenious.  But now it appeared that she cared deeply for him.  Did she love him?  She stared at me anxiously, wondering what I would do.

 

I sheathed my sword, and she immediately turned toward her master, attempting to rouse him.  I glanced at the unrolled scroll; it appeared to be a map in progress, possibly the layout of the stadium.  I rolled it up and put it into the leather satchel which I slung over my shoulder.

 

Penny looked up at me from her knees, hovering over her master and said, “This slave begs that you do not take that. You are a good man, Master. That satchel will complicate your life in a bad way. You will become involved with things you do not understand. This slave believes that you will regret taking it. This slave begs that you leave Argentum now, without the satchel.”

 

For a moment I thought she was going to beg me to take her with me. “I wish you well Penny,” I said and walked away, still feeling the exhilaration from winning the fight.  I walked a bit and bought a small bottle of paga, which I sipped on as I walked home, pondering what had happened.  I was beginning to regret leaving Lenious alive, my instinct telling me I should have killed him, but my conscious was satisfied that I had let him live.  I didn’t want to kill anyone.

 

And why did I take the satchel?  Was it anger, curiosity, or the feeling that since I had won the fight, I should have something to show for it?  Would I regret this, should I turn around and return the satchel?  And why had Penny begged that I leave the city?  It was dark now and I sipped paga while I walked.

 

I opened the door to the apartment and heard the now familiar sound of rustling chain as Mena moved into her greeting position.  I had often dreamed about how great it would be to own a woman and have her greet me at the door on her knees, every time I came home.  I had acted on Trem’s advice, buying a strongbox and sirik chains, which I placed on Mena every time before leaving the apartment.  The sirik is what I heard now as she got into her position to greet me near the door.

“Hello Master, this slave is happy you are home and is ready to serve,” she said naked in nadu.  She was always nude when I placed her in the sirik and left her.  In her slavery with me, she was always nude, save for when I took her outside.  She removed my sandals and then kissed the top of my feet.

I immediately noticed that her body was flushed, with a thin sweat covering her skin.  Her nipples were erect.  “Hair,” I said and she stood, and then bent over placing her head at my waist.  I put my left hand into her hair and stepped behind her.  Holding her in place by her hair, I put my right hand between her legs and checked her heat.  Her whole area was sopping wet.  “Nadu”, I said as I took off my sword and set the satchel down.  I took her right hand and smelled it, finding the pleasant odor of her sex.

“Were you touching yourself before I got home Mena?”  I asked.

“Yes Master,” she said quietly.

“Yesterday you told me you were sore and begged me not to use you.  Today, you could not wait for me to get home and beg for use?” Mena had not yet begged me for use, probably because of my daily pleasures with her.  She had begged to please me and begged to be found pleasing but she had not used directly begged to be used.

“This slave is sorry Master, her needs became unbearable.  Master was generous to his slave yesterday, allowing this slave to please with her mouth instead.”

“Did you bring yourself to release?” I asked.

“No, Master. This slave got very close, but then you opened the door.”

“Is your need still unbearable; do you beg use?” I asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Say it,” I said.

“This slave begs use, Master.”

“Are you a slut now?” I asked.

“No Master.”

“No. You are just a naked, branded, collared woman who begs a man for use?” I asked.

She hesitated a moment and then replied, “I am a slut Master.”

“A slut that begs use?” I asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Then beg use as a slut,” I said.

“This slut begs use Master.”

“Good. From now on, that is how you get relief for slave needs.  You do not touch yourself.  I own you and I give you relief.  You do not take for yourself.  Slaves do not take, they receive.  Do you understand Mena?” I said.

“Yes Master, this slut understands. This slut is not to touch herself, but must beg her Master for relief.”

“Fetch the penis gag and put it on,” I said, as I went to the couch.  I watched as Mena put the penis gag into her mouth and fastened the wide leather strap tight behind her neck.  I extended my right leg out from the couch and said, “Kneel on top of my ankle. Ride your Master’s ankle until you get relief for your need.”

She looked up at me briefly in disbelief, and then straddled my leg.  I felt her wet love cradle contact my ankle.  She looked up at me questioningly as the put her manacled hands on my leg for support.  I nodded approval.  She began to hump my ankle and I felt her oiled nether lips slide across my ankle and foot.  I watched in fascination as her breasts heaved, the sirik chain rustled as she exerted herself with the penis gag in her mouth.  I was surprised how quickly she came, grunting as she ground her mound onto my slick ankle.  She rested, catching her breath with both arms clutching my leg.

I removed her sirik and gag and told her to undress me.  She noticed the cut in my tunic from the slash of Lenious’s sword and looked at me inquisitively.  I didn’t say anything and she removed my tunic.

“Master, you have been cut. What happened?”  I had not felt the cut.  Maybe it was because of the adrenaline rush or maybe it was from the sharpness of the blade.  Small cuts from very sharp blades are often not felt at the time of the cut.  I looked at the cut, a thin red line on my hip about two horts long.  I had gotten worse scratches while bushwhacking through dense Arizona undergrowth.

“Master, what happened?” she repeated.

“I do not want to talk about it now. Serve me paga,” I said looking at the blushed skin on her breasts.  Even though the paga slut had gotten me off twice earlier, the sight of Mena humping my ankle with the gag in her mouth had stirred my blood and I wondered if the need for a woman would arise again this evening.

“This slave begs to know. Please Master!”

“Not now, does a command need to be repeated?” I said.

“No Master,” she said and quickly fetched paga and a cup.  After her serve, she stayed at my feet in nadu.  I could see on her face that her mind was racing.  Women sure are curious creatures and I could tell that she wasn’t taking the silence very well.  I was curious too.  I sipped paga and wondered what was in the satchel.  Chances were high that I wouldn’t be able to read any of the documents.  My reading was very poor.  I would have to have Mena read them for me.

I saw Mena taking glances at the counter where I had put the satchel and sword.