Nocturnal Journeys (A Hide in Plain Sight Story)

 Nocturnal Journeys
Peony D. Beckside

I know not what makes me wake at this moment.  Perhaps it is the animal instinct that there is danger lurking.  There is, but it’s a danger I’ve been anticipating; dreading but expecting.  I knew that this moment would come.  The other option being delusion, that I have become totally paranoid.  I’m pretty sure, and the present situation confirms that I am not insane.  The signs were there; they’d even tried to ‘spook’ me, tantalise their prey, terrify her, me that is.  I am calm, resigned.  There’s no need for me to be terrified any longer.  I don’t want what’s about to befall me, but I recognise that I can’t stop it.

A woman kneels beside the bed, a syringe in her hand.  She’d been reaching for my wrist, but now hurriedly pulls back her hand.

The woman is kneeling, knees widespread.  She wears a tunic of the thinnest red silk I think I’ve ever seen.  It’s almost gossamer.  It hides little of her.  What little light there is glints off metal. She’s wearing a locked collar.  She is a kajira.

Yes I know what a kajira is; she is a slave-girl.  I soon will be one.  This one realises her predicament.  She’s effectively been caught in an act of abduction, of abducting me.  There’s the danger of me calling the cops from the phone by the bed, but more likely she fears what will happen to her when her owner or controller realises she has failed in her task of anaesthetising me and locking me in the leather sack by her knee.  I can almost see her weighing up whether she can stab me with the syringe before I can throw myself out of the way.  Would a simple scratch be enough or does she have to stick the needle into a vein?  The woman goes to what I believe is called obeisance; forehead to the floor, arms forward beseechingly.

I am remarkably calm, almost ambivalent.

“It’s to be tonight then, kajira?”

“Yes, Mistress.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I laugh at the absurdity.  No, she didn’t, her job is to make sure that I don’t wake.

“You didn’t kajira, yes I know what you are, and that you must obey your Masters.  I simply awoke coincidentally.”

I pause

“I’m glad that you recognise that I am still a free-woman, even though I’m sure that I won’t be for long.”

“Yes, Mistress.  That’s my understanding.”

“Do you have a name, kajira?”

“Yes, Mistress.  I am called Alyena.”

“There’s no escape for me, is there?  No way for me to get away?”

“No, Mistress.  Wherever you go they will find you.  You cannot escape your fate.”

“I thought not.  Do I have time to put some clothes on?”

“Clothes will not be necessary, Mistress.  They’ll simply be removed as part of processing you.  For the present, Mistress, the sleeping gown you currently wear will protect your dignity.”

“Then I’ll have a cup of tea before the men come.  There’ll be more than one, I assume. Would you like a cup too?”

“Yes, Mistress, at least two, and yes, you honour me more than I deserve, by offering tea. Thank you, Mistress.  How can you be so kind to me when you know what I was about to do?”

“Why should I be angry with you?  You are a slave, you have been given a task, you must obey your order.  I recognise that.  Since I’m not going to let you stick that needle in me, might I suggest that you put it down;  on the windowsill over there.”

My suggestion, me being free, has the force of an order to the slave.  She obeys and returns to her previous kneeling position.  This time her knees are closed; in deference to me being still technically free, I assume.

I put Alyena’s cup on the bedside table, and sip appreciatively at my own cup.

“Drink, Alyena.  It is permitted.”

I note that Alyena keeps looking at the door.  It can’t be long now

I hear the click of the latch and watch as the door slowly opens.  Two men stroll in.  Their mein is that of men for whom nothing is impossible, that everything is controllable.  I see their eyes harden at appreciating that everything is not as it is expected to be.  One of them, I take him to be the leader posits a question.

“Alyena…?”

I intercept his enquiry.

“I will deal with this matter, Alyena.”

The poor girl is terrified.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Welcome gentlemen!  I’ve been expecting you.  Not perhaps tonight, as such, but I have been aware of your intention for a while now.  Can I offer you refreshment?…  No? Very well.

I expect them to be fast, but they are still several feet away.  Scumbag kidnappers they may be, but if they are from the planet Gor, I expect them to have some modicum of honour.

“Gentlemen, my understanding of Gorean law is that I am still a free-woman.  Until I have been removed from Earth jurisdiction, I have been branded,-perhaps collaring is enough, or I say the words proclaiming myself slave, I am still entitled to the privileges that a free-woman can expect.  Is that not so?”

The other, the more excitable of the two whispers to the leader.

“If we rush her…”

“Silence, Kurtus.  I’m intrigued as to where the woman is going with this.”

“Continue, Lady Marcie…”

“Until I am enslaved or captured, the kajira Alyena is under my protection.  I don’t know who her Master is, but I will protect her nevertheless.”

The leader inclines his head.  A kind of salute, I think.  I feel Alyena’s lips kissing my feet in thanks.

“The slave should not be punished.  She has committed no wrong, no error.  It was not her that woke me at an inopportune moment for you.  She  was about to stick a needle into me. Some form of anaesthetic?  I would not let her.  As a free-woman, it is my right to refuse to allow a slave to assault me so.  She is therefore not at fault.  If you punish her when she has done no wrong, not only are you being dishonourable, you are in danger of destroying her ability to trust you in the future.  I therefore request that you do not punish this girl.”

The man considers for all of four seconds.

“The logic of your argument is flawless.  I will not punish the slave for failing to complete her mission…”

Alyena grovels for all she’s worth.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“Your knowledge of Gorean Law and its nuances astounds me, Lady Marcie!  How did you come by it, if I may ask?”

“I read. Sir...?”

“You may call me, Flavius for the short period that you have before you yourself are enslaved.”

“I am honoured, Flavius!”

“You say that you read, Lady Marcie.  Read what?”

“The autobiographies that are here marketed as fiction by John Norman, and others.  I had always thought them mere stories until recently.  I now believe them to be fact.”

“I applaud your erudition, Lady Marcie.  Your intellectual prowess will not however save you from your own fate.”

“I did not think that it would. Flavius.  You really should be a bit more careful in how you play the game of Cat & Mouse.  Teasing the prey whilst doubtless delicious, does run the risk that the prey might escape the trap.”

“So where were we at fault then, Lady Marcie?”

“Don’t you think that opening a boutique with the kajira symbol in the nearby shopping mall, is just a bit too daring?”

“Alyena, black-wine for my guests, now.  I suspect you know where the kitchen is.”

Alyena looks to Flavius.

“Master?”

“You have been given an order by a free woman.  Obey.”

“Yes, Master.  Thank you for the clarification.”

The girl scuttles off.

“It’s rare for a woman to know of, even to be familiar with the Gor chronicles.  We might lose the odd potential slave, but there’s thousands that don’t understand the significance of the shop’s sign, and hence will be assessed and considered for enslavement.  The numbers work in our favour.”

“See your point.  But then there’s the men watching, following, the ones that can’t be deflected by a woman staring back…  The arrogance, the boldness of such men.”

Flavius laughs.

“It does work though.  Apart from the women beginning to feel themselves trapped, it’s good for them to understand the kind of men they can expect to meet when they get to Gor.”

“There’s that I suppose…  However when you send someone into a woman’s apartment to rifle through her underwear drawer, that’s just gross!  Where she keeps her undies, is the sanctum of her sanctum.  It’s extremely bad form to go rummaging in a woman’s drawers! At least give whoever it is training as to how to do so without it being obvious it’s happened.”

“Point taken.”

“As for the envelope with the message from my friend Teresa, taken about a month ago,  if you had simply pushed it through my letter box, that’d have been fine, but making it clear you can get into my apartment whenever you want, in an attempt to frighten me?  Well, sorry, that was just crass…”

Shit!  What have I done.  This Flavius doesn’t seem to know what I’m talking about!  If he didn’t transmit it to me, who did?  The Priest Kings?  Will Teresa be punished, hurt because I’ve just shot my mouth off?  I have to get this abduction back on track before I mess it up some more.

“So Flavius, how does it go from here?  Alyena was supposed to drug me and stuff me into some kind of high security body-bag.  You’d come and take me away?”

A quick pause.

“Shall we be off then?  The body-bag is no longer necessary.  I am ready.  My affairs are in order.  I shall not fight my abduction.  I shall not scream, draw attention to what’s happening to me.  I shall not try to get the cops to save me.  I understand the inevitability, the fait accompli that you present me.  Why fight what I cannot stop from happening.  You are going to force me into a Gorean slavery, aren’t you?”

I smile sweetly at Flavius.  He laughs.

“You are priceless, Lady Marcie!  If it wasn’t inappropriate, I’d say that you have balls, lady. Figurative, they may be, but I applaud your courage.  You will make someone a superb slave, but he’s going to have lots of fun taming you!

Why is it that I shiver, or is it a quiver at that comment.  I feel myself dampening.  Damn!  Perhaps I really am slave material.

“So what happens now?  Am I taken somewhere and locked in a cage or kennel in a dungeon somewhere until the flying-saucer comes to take me away?  Or am I one of the lucky ones, the latecomers, delivered to the ship’s landing site for immediate despatch?  Am I going to Gor tonight, or on some date to be determined in the future?”

“If you are so well-read, you should know that ‘Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira.  You might be beaten for it.’  Free now, or not, you will know only what you are told.  If you would be so kind as to let Alyena inject you and bag you, that would be appreciated.”

“Can I make one ‘phone call first, please?  I promise not to call the Police.  I need to tell a friend that they now need to tidy up my estate.”

“No.  You are ready or you are not.  Either way it’s irrelevant.”

Irony kicks in.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to submit myself as a slave to you, first?”

Flavius is laughing fit to burst.

“Are you sure you know how?”

I reach into a drawer in my bedside cabinet.  There’s a piece of cord there.  I’ve thought of everything.  I kneel before Flavius.  I offer my wrists forward to him for binding, the cord held in my fingers.  I speak the words.

“I submit myself to you, Master, as slave.  La kajira.”

I drop my head in submission between my outstretched arms.  It is done!

“Go and have Alyena anaesthetise you, and bag you for travel, slave.”

“Yes, Master!”

**

See also THE 'HIDE IN PLAIN SIGHT' TRAP, JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE PARANOID, and THE TICKING TIME BOMB