TALES OF GOR #3

(With great appreciation to John Norman for the rich world he created)

     (Note: While I believe this story can be read on its own, I think it is more understandable if you first read GOR #2 published under the Guest column in the December 2000 Gorean Voice. I hope you enjoy it. Mara)

The City of Laura in the Fall

      "They need ya' at the docks," the ragged little urchin on my door step informed me, then wiped his nose on his sleeve.

      "The docks?"

      "Feller bleedin' bad. They wantcha to come."

      "Where's the physician?"

      "Busy."

      I nodded. I was actually the town's seamstress, but it wasn't the first time I'd been pressed into service to sew up wounds. The town's many rough taverns provided an endless supply of sword and knife cuts. With winter coming on and few expeditions or traders going into the northern forest, the town seemed almost deserted, and things had slowed down. Thank the Priest Kings. Hopefully, it hadn't been a fight at the docks, but a simple accident.

      "Where at the docks?"

      "Near the wharfs of Tovian."

      I knew the place. I fished in my robes, and threw the lad a coin. He caught it in a grubby hand and sped away.

      I quickly gathered the things I'd need. I grabbed up a small bag of supplies and buckled on a sword under my robes. Not the usual free woman accessory, but I was quite skilled with the weapon and had sewn a special slit into my robes so I could draw it. Although I would never engage a true warrior, I felt competent to cross swords with most of the gutless ruffians that peopled this town.

      I adjusted my veil and hurried out the door. It was early, and few people were about. I approached the docks, and turned down a narrow street between two warehouses. I was nearly at the end of the street when a man came around the corner. I recognized him. One of the town's many nary do wells. I stopped dead, the hair on the back of my neck prickled in a primitive warning of danger. I hadn't survived this long on my own without a healthy dose of caution. I decided to run. It might not be a dignified thing to do, but neither was finding oneself tied naked to a slave ring. I'm slender and quick, surely I could out run a man whose main activity seemed to be tavern crawling. I lifted the hem of my robes to free my legs and started to turn. I stopped cold when two men entered the street at the other end. I didn't recognize either of them, but their appearances were no more reassuring than the first man's. They looked like hardened, rough men. One had a wicked scar on his cheek from his eye to his mouth. The other, a smaller man, had a lean, hungry look. Not the kind a free woman would care to find herself on a deserted street with.

      They exchanged looks. "I told you she'd come," the bigger of the two said. Confirming my worse fear, that this was no chance meeting.

      The first man approached, and I turned back to him, still clutching my robes.

      "Watch her," one of the men behind me said. "She's going to try and run."

      The man was right in front of me now. He smirked as he reached for me. "Don't worry, I have h...."

      His words ended in a grunt of pain as I kicked out at his leg with all the strength I could muster. I'd aimed for his knee, but got mostly shin. Still, I'd hurt him, and he was off balance. I got my foot behind his good leg and swept it out from under him. He fell heavily, with a sickening thud, to the hard stones of the street.

      I made to sprint past him, but the other men were upon me now. An arm closed about my chest from behind with such force that my feet left the ground. I struggled wildly, my hood and veil coming loose. With my arms pinned, and no solid footing, I used the only weapon left me and gave his forearm a vicious bite. He swore violently and tried to shake me loose, but I hung on stubbornly as the coppery taste of his blood filled my mouth. I didn't release him until a blow to the side of the head sent me staggering. The other man made a grab for me, but the sleeve of my robe gave way, freeing me enough that I was able to bring my elbow back in savage jab to his midsection. He went to his knees besides the first man who had accosted me, his face ashen as he tried only to breathe.

      I looked up and saw the man I had bitten draw his sword. "Kneel, or die woman," he snarled.

      Three to one I would not have wished to turn this into a contest of steel. One on one was another matter. I reached into my robes and cleanly drew my own blade. The stupid tarsk in front of me blinked in surprise, and barely managed to parry my first blow. He recovered quickly and we had a sharp exchange. He was even stronger that I would have thought. I caught one of his blows on my sword, and nearly lost the blade as the stunning force slammed me against one of the warehouse's walls. Fortunately, like many big men, he was slow. My blade reached him twice, nicking his arms. He eyed me warily as he backed away. Just then I heard the unmistakable sound of a sword leaving it's sheath. I spared a glimpse toward the sound and saw that the first man had regained his feet, his sword in his hand, and a look that boded ill for me on his face. The man in front of me grinned evilly. It was over, and we both knew it. The stark consequences of what I'd done hit me. I took a breath to steady myself, and determined to see it through to the end. I'd come to far to meekly surrender now. I'd known, of course, when I dared to draw my sword that my death or serious injury could be a possible outcome, but you can't dwell on such things, or you've already lost. I thought they would probably still try to take me alive. They no doubt still wanted my selling price, since that had to be what this was all about in the first place, not to mention they'd now want revenge. It seemed they would likely get what they wanted, and I'd end up kneeling at their feet....but they'd have to make me. As I waited for their next move I became aware that the man in front of me had become very still, his gaze fixed on something over my shoulder. I took a quick glance back and caught sight of a tall man in warrior red with a naked sword in his hand. Surely one of the town's guardsman who had either heard the commotion, or chanced upon the scene. Relief flooded me. I doubted if even the stupidest of lowlife's would challenge a warrior, even three to one.

      "It seems this isn't your day," the warrior stated, in a deep, calm voice. "Take yourself's off to lick your wounds."

      They showed they at least had well developed survival instincts, if not great intelligence, by not arguing. The big one nodded to his companions and they left. One limping badly, one who's color still had not returned, and one with blood flowing down his arms. I'm sure it wasn't the outcome any of them had foreseen.

      I watched them go until they were out of sight. I fumbled with my veil as I turned toward my rescuer. "My thanks, warri....." I stopped, stunned, as I faced the man. I knew him. I led something of a double life, and I'd lived for a time among the panther girls. I still returned to them from time to time to trade for furs that I sewed into various articles, a profitable enterprise, since I avoided the middle man. On my last visit the previous spring I had obtained more than furs. I'd obtained a man that my sisters had captured as a slave. I'd used him to pack out furs. Upon impulse, I had also used him for my pleasure while he was helplessly bound. Also upon impulse, I had freed him. Taking care that I was well away before he'd actually freed himself of his bonds, of course. Now he stood not five feet from me, tall and strong in a warrior's red. I had suspected he was a warrior. The panther girls had kept him naked, but he didn't have to be in red for one to see his caste.

      He casually looked me over as I stood frozen with horror and gape mouthed before him.

      "I see you remember me. That's good. A man doesn't like to think he's been forgotten."

      I managed to close my mouth and take a few faltering steps backward until I came up against a warehouse wall. My hand tightened on the sword that I still gripped at my side. He saw the slight movement and the man's own sword came up into the on guard position., He raised an eyebrow in question. My strength drained from me like water from a sieve. My sword felt like lead, my knees barely held me. My body was two steps ahead of my mind. I couldn't fight this man, and I couldn't out run him. My body wanted to kneel....to submit....to live.

      "I...I freed you," I reminded him.

      "Oh, I remember....everything. Now, drop the sword."

      I closed my eyes and let the sword fall from my hand. I started to slide down the rough wall when his sword under my chin caused my eyes to fly open. Pressure from the sword urged me upright.

      "No," he said. "Not yet. Put your hands over your head, backs to the wall." I obeyed, terrified of the lethal blade at my throat. He kicked my sword well down the street then removed his sword from my chin to run the flat of the blade down my side, where he stopped at a bulge in my robes.

      He smiled and tapped the bulge. "I didn't think even a part-time panther girl would be without her knife." His blade went back under my chin and he reached into my robes and drew the knife.

      He stepped back slightly, hefting the knife. "Balanced for throwing," he noted. "Is it poisoned?"

      Unable to speak, I shook my head no.

      "Well, it's not a warrior's way, but you're not a warrior, are you?'

      Again, I shook my head. I thought it a stupid question, but refrained from comment.

      "Perhaps some poisoned needles?"

      "No," I said, finally finding my voice, although it was weak. Poison had always seemed so cowardly, and one had to take such care with it. A prick could be lethal.

      "It doesn't seem your style....but I intend to see for myself. If you're lying to me, you'll regret it."

      I didn't doubt that. I already very much regretted ever making his acquaintance.

      He glanced about himself. "Adjust your robes and veil."

      It seemed and odd request under the circumstances, but I did as he said, pulling up my hood and fastening the veil. I tucked in the sleeve where it had ripped at the seam and smoothed down my robes. I felt less shaky, the protection the robes gave me, at least from his eyes, seemed to give me strength. I knew it an illusion. I was still very much at his mercy, but I straightened my spine, and even managed to briefly meet his gaze. I couldn't read his expression, men's emotions were seldom as close to the surface as a woman's, but just being reminded of his size, caused me to lower my eyes.

      "We are going to my camp in the forest outside of town," he informed me. "If we meet anyone, you're to politely acknowledge them, and keep walking."

      I then understood what he was up to. A naked woman without a collar or brand might attract attention, and surely my women friends would recognize me. I had many friends among my fellow business women and customers. We often went unveiled in the privacy of our homes. Even some of the men with sharp eyes might recognize my size, my carriage. Many would recognize my voice. Would I endanger any of my friends or their companion's by seeking their help? I didn't think so. If we crossed paths with a guardsman I might risk calling out, but one on one this warrior would be more than a match for most this town had to offer.

      'I know what you're thinking," the man said. "Even if you do mange to escape me, which isn't likely, it wouldn't be for long."

      He offered me his left arm, like a gallant escort. I put a cold, slightly shaky hand on his hard forearm. He covered my hand with his free one. To others it would seem a gesture of affection, but I knew better. I felt the strength of that calloused hand as he briefly close it about mine. A small sound escaped me as I felt the beginnings of pain and realized he could easily break my delicate bones with one hard squeeze.

      He smiled and loosened his grip. "We understand each other?"

      "Yes, I understand." There really wasn't much to understand. Go with him docile and quiet, or pay the price. Seeing no choice, I let myself be led off down the street. I almost felt relief when we didn't encounter anyone as we made our way to the outskirts of town. I knew there could be grim dealings if we did. As we entered the dark isolation of the trees and I knew myself completely alone with him, panic seized me, and I would have bolted except for his hand still covering mine. He felt me tense and tightened his hand in warning. Out of sight of others I thought he'd put a hand in my hair and lead me as a slave, but for whatever reason, he seemed willing to let me walk upright. We walked for over five ehn before we reached his camp in a small clearing. He released my hand and pointed to a spot in front of him. I went to stand before him, casting furtive glances at the nearby forest that seemed to offer so many places to hide. I turned to face him and could see by the smile on his face, and his arms crossed over his chest, that he well knew what I was thinking. I curbed the almost over whelming impulse to run, I wouldn't get away, and it would only provoke him into handling me roughly.

      He nodded to me, "The robes."

      I unfastened my veil and brushed back my hood. I worked at the tiny hooks holding the robes closed. My hands felt clumsy and I feared I took to long, but he was patient. At last I was free of the robes, and I dropped them at my feet.

      He eyed me appreciatively and I swallowed hard. Part of me glad he found me pleasing, that perhaps he'd let me live, and part of me afraid of what that meant.

      "Step back from your robes and kneel," he ordered.

      I stepped back then knelt as a pleasure slave, knowing that was what he wanted.

      He came to me and his large hands went to either side of my head. I thought for a frantic moment that he would crush my skull like an egg shell, but then his fingers threaded into my hair and he began to comb through my thick tresses, removing hair clips as he went. I realized that he searched for the tiny sheath of a poisoned needle that some free woman were known to hide in their robes or hair. He took his time and I had time to think about what was in store for me. What little control I had left broke, and although I didn't want him to see me cry, tears rolled from my eyes.

      He brought his fingers to my cheek and smeared the salty wetness down across my lips. "Now you act the woman. If I hadn't seen that sword in your hand, I wouldn't have believed it." He smoothed a hand down my arm to cup my fingers, running his thumb over the callous my sword had made in my palm. I remembered his threat to break my hand and tried to pull back, but his hand tightened and I stopped the futile attempt. He took one of my wrist into each of his hands and placed them behind me. He easily held both of my small wrist in one hand as he pulled a pair of slave bracelets from his tunic then locked my hands behind me.

      He brought one hand to my shoulder and the other to my neck, high and tight under my chin. Feeling the strength of that hand, and the tension in him just below the surface, I couldn't stop myself from pleading with him.

      "Please, don't hurt me," I begged, in a voice I didn't recognize as my own.

      He laughed, and I clamped my mouth shut. I remembered that he hadn't pleaded when he'd been at my mercy. He'd only cursed and made threats. I remembered, perhaps a bit late, that warriors didn't threaten idly.

      Both his hands went to my shoulders and he laid me back on the grass. He came over me and his body dwarfed mine. For a few moments all his weight rested on me, crushing the breath out of me and hurting my bound arms, before he took some of his weight on his elbows. I was on the far side of fear, his size alone was a danger to me.

      He slowly lowered his mouth to mine for a lingering kiss. I was surprised at the gentleness of it, but still didn't dare to try and refuse him anything as his tongue leisurely probed my mouth. One of his hands slipped down my body to the tender flesh between my legs. I cried out as his hand explored me. My body had been aware of his since I first laid eyes on him, and with no more stimulation than his mouth on mine, and the caress of his fingers, I climaxed. He felt my response and stayed with me, giving me a full measure before supporting himself on his hands and studying me. Mortified that I'd so quickly responded to him, I turned my face away. He chuckled and pulled me up onto kneeling position and stood before me.

      "I knew you'd like a man's hands on you."

      I couldn't even look at him, but his hand on my chin forced me to face him.

      "As I recall," he said, seeming to consider the matter, "you also like the taste of a man. I'm feeling indulgent and plan to give you much more of a taste than you had last time."

      With that he pulled off his tunic and brought his hands to either side of my head. He urged me forward and I took him in my mouth, wanting to please him, afraid of the consequences if I didn't. He obviously intended to leisurely enjoy himself, and set the pace accordingly, sometimes pulling me away. He was very exacting, and by the time he finally took his full pleasure, I was exhausted. He stepped away and I swayed on my knees.

      "Lean forward, head to the ground," he order.

      I gratefully did so, and rested my forehead on the ground, trying to regain strength for whatever was to come.

      I could hear him moving about the camp. In a short time he came back to me. To my surprise he freed my hands.

      "Kneel up."

      I straightened, sitting back on my heels. I saw he had dressed and had a pack slung from one shoulder.

      "Can you find your way back to town?" he asked.

      "I...I, yes," I stammered. Not sure what he was up to. I knew I could find my way back. He'd allowed me to see where we were going, and as one experienced in the forest, I had automatically taken careful note. It wasn't unknown for the unwary to become disoriented after going as little as five feet off a trail.

      "Good," he said, and turned and walked across the clearing.

      "You're...you're letting me go?" I asked in disbelief.

      He stopped and turned back to me before entering the trees.

      He smiled, "You think a Warrior less generous than a part-time panther girl?"

      "I...I..."

      "Generosity is not against the codes," he said, with a wink. With that he blew me a kiss and disappeared into the trees.

     Mara

     marascribe@hotmail.com