Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition (28 page)

"Tal."

"I
looked to find you before you left. This holding has a small tarncot,
not used by Pel. I have had a tarn brought for you, a gift from the
Lady Allina."

"She
is generous."

"She
is free, thanks to you and Tullius."

I
nodded.

"She
bids me give you this, too," he said. It was a purse, heavy. I
opened it, to find gold.

"This
is not necessary," I said. There was a fortune in the purse.

"The
Lady Allina insists. She bids me give you this, too. Open it only
after you reach Ko-Ro-Ba." It was a parchment, sealed with the
Lady Allina's crest. I tucked it in my pouch. We stood.

"I
wish you well, warrior," said Claudius Flavius.

"I
wish you well, Captain," I said. We clasped hands and then, with
a nod, he went out.

I
finished my food and, taking up my possessions, enquired the way to
the tarncot. There was but a single tarn there, a sable monster,
harnessed, ready, who eyed me steadily as I approached. A keeper came
out of his hutch.

"Your
mount, Captain," he said. He grinned. "I see you know
tarns." He passed me a tarn goad. "You may still need
this."

"My
thanks, keeper," I said.

"Do
you need aught else of me, Captain?" the keeper said. "Because,
if not, I shall break my fast."

"Go.
I can manage here," I said. He nodded, saluted, and left me. It
took me little time to prepare the tarn. I was just about to release
its shackle and mount when I became aware of a figure near me.

"You
are ready?" said Lady Melna.

I
nodded. "To leave, yes." I shrugged. "For other
things, no."

"You
will not take me?"

"I
am a warrior. There has been no place in my life for a Free
Companion. Yet..." I was about to say that I would come back for
her, as soon as I had acquired apartments suitable for us to share,
when she forestalled me. She face-stripped herself, tearing away her
veils, pushing back the hood of her robes of concealment. She went to
her knees before me, her head lowered, her arms extended to me,
wrists crossed for binding.

"I
submit me your slave," she said, her words clear in the quiet of
the tarncot.

"I
cannot," I began, but she interrupted me.

"Acknowledge
me as your slave, Master, or slay me, else acknowledge your codes
betrayed."

I
stared at her, a vast joy rising in me. "Stand, slave," I
said. She came immediately to her feet. "Strip," I said.
she did not hesitate, quickly removing her robes of concealment. Her
last garment was a ta-teera, the ridiculously brief garment of the
slave girl. I smiled to myself. She was truly ready to submit herself
slave. She hesitated for a moment. "Everything," I said,
then she was naked before me. I reached out and took the last comb
from her hair. "Kneel," I said. She knelt quickly, her
knees apart, her hands, palms up, open on her thighs. She was lovely.

I
took from my belt some binding fibre. A warrior always has binding
fibre, for he does not know when he might need it. I did not,
however, have a collar. Nor did I carry a branding iron. There would
be time for that later. I quickly knotted binding fibre about her
lovely throat.

"That
will have to do as your collar, slave, until I can have you branded
and a collar prepared."

"Branded?"
she whispered. "You would brand me?" She laughed. "Of
course you would, for I have declared myself slave."

"On
your belly," I said, "ankles crossed for binding, hands
behind your back, wrists crossed." In moments she was secured.
They were capture knots, a warrior's. She would not soon untie them.

"What
is your name, slave?" I said.

"Master
has not yet named me," she said.

"An
appropriate answer," I said.

"Is
Master not going to name me?"

"Curiosity
is not becoming in a kajira," I said.

"Forgive
me, Master," she whispered. I smiled. She would leave Rorus, her
home, nameless. I would name her Melna, perhaps, but later, as a
slave name. A name is useful for a slave, it helps to tell them
apart.

I
took her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. She winced, but
smiled at me, tears in her eyes. "Master is ruthless." With
her ankles crossed and bound, she would have fallen had I not held
her upright. I lifted her and slung her across the saddle of the
tarn, on her back, lashing her in place. It does not do to have a
slave fall to her death because she is badly tied. It reflects badly
on the warrior. She winced again, but smiled up at me. "I love
you, Master."

I
leaped to the saddle of the tarn, unleashing the hobble. Its wings
cracked and it moved to the perch at the exit of the tarncot. The
rain was still falling, heavy now, and I sensed it was going to be a
miserable trip, even more so for the woman tied naked before me.
Ready to leave, I looked around, startled to see the Lady Allina and
Claudius Flavius standing, well back, watching me. They raised their
hands in farewell. Why had they not challenged me, taking the Lady
Melna as slave? Had they seen her submit, her own choice? I looked
again to them and smiled. Their free hands were joined. I thought
perhaps a companionship might be likely. Or would the Lady Allina
simply take Claudius Flavius as her lover? I dismissed them from my
mind, for it was their affair and theirs alone.

I
pulled on the one-strap and the tarn launched itself into the rain.
Within minutes the rain was soaking through my tarnsman's leather.
I'd had an idea, for I remembered an abandoned peasant's dwelling
some half an ahn's flight from Rorus. My tarn was young, strong, and
it was less time than that when I brought it down in what had once
been a sa-tarna field, overgrown now. I dismounted quickly and threw
the slave down on the ground. She was shaking with cold, but not a
word of protest had I heard from her. I covered her with my cloak and
led the tarn into what had been a barn, half-collapsed now, but with
room for the giant bird. I hobbled it and threw it a haunch of tarsk
which I had brought with us from Rorus.

I
picked up the slave, still wrapped in my cloak, and carried her into
the peasant's hut. One side of the roof had collapsed but the area
near the hearth was dry. Kindling was still at the fireside and I
soon had a fire going, a small blaze fighting its way into life in
the hearth. The slave was shaking with cold and I quickly untied her
hands and ankles, chafing her, trying to get the circulation going,
towelling her roughly with my cloak. She soon had colour in her
cheeks again and her trembling eased.

"Thank
you, Master," she said. "A slave is grateful."

"Tend
the fire, slave," I said. "We need warmth. Did you break
your fast this morning?"

"No,
Master."

"Foolish
slave," I said.

"Yes,
Master." She smiled, a soft curving of her lips. "Your
slave had other things on her mind. She thought she was still a free
woman."

I
laughed. I had sa-tarna bread, and some cold roasted tarsk. No slave
gruel, but there would be plenty of time for that later. I threw her
some bread and meat. "Feed yourself, slave."

"Yes,
Master, thank you, Master."

I
stood and went to the entrance, looking out at the rain. I feared it
would be late afternoon before it cleared enough for travel. I was
lost in solitude when I became aware of her at my shoulder.

"Master
is pensive," she said.

I
smiled. "There is much to think about," I said. I looked at
her, slender, naked, my cloak discarded, for I had not given her
leave to wear it, her hair a tangle from the rain and the rough
towelling. Beautiful. I wanted her.

"When
does Master travel again?" she asked.

I
gestured at the rain. "Not before late afternoon, I fear."

She
indicated the fire. "If Master is to be warm, a slave must find
more fuel." She indicated herself. "This slave is dressed
for the weather," she said, a smile lurking at the corner of her
mouth.

"Go
then, slave, find more fuel," I said. I watched as she moved
lithely into the rain. Intelligent, I thought, for she made straight
for what was left of the peasant's fuel store, discarding the top
layer of logs, bringing only drier fuel from the lower layer.

"Sufficient,
I think," I said, after she had brought several armloads.

"I
should re-cover the fuel," she said, "others may need it."

"Do
so," I said. I moved to the fire and added fuel, sufficient to
warm us, not so much as to overwhelm the hearth.

"Does
Master have plans for the time he spends waiting?" the slave
said softly, pausing near me as she returned.

I
glanced at her, smiling. "Master does indeed have plans."

"Do
his plans include a slave?"

"They
do."

"A
slave is grateful," she said, falling to her knees before me.
"Your slave begs to serve you as slave, Master. She has only
known your touch as a free woman pretending slavery."

"Do
not fear, slave, you will be taken as the slave you are."

"Taken,"
she whispered, "I will be taken. The thought excites me,
Master."

I
regarded her. Kneeling, her knees spread, her hands on her thighs,
open, palms up, the position of the pleasure slave. Her breathing had
quickened, her nipples hardened, and I could smell the slave heat of
her. I slowly removed the leather of the tarnsman, then my tunic.

"Loosen
my sandals, slave," I said. "Do not use your fingers,"
I said, as she reached for me. Obediently, she began to loosen the
sandal thongs using only her teeth. Loosened, I kicked off the heavy
sandals, boots almost, and was naked before her.

"Master
is beautiful," she breathed.

"Beautiful?"
I laughed. "Surely not. Handsome, perhaps, although the face I
see in a mirror is scarcely that."

"May
a slave dispute?"

I
gestured assent, amused.

"Master
is indeed handsome, but only beautiful conveys the joy I feel on
seeing him, as he is, naked, virile, wanting me. The beauty of the
Master."

"Yes,
slave, I want you. Spread straw before the fire, then spread my
cloak. Recline on the cloak, on your back, arms above your head, left
knee raised." There are many delightful positions a naked slave
may adopt, but that is one of my favourites. I lay beside her,
propped on my left arm, running my right the full, beautiful length
of her. She smiled.

"Will
Master take his slave vigorously?"

"I
will take you as I choose, nameless slave."

"Yes,
Master. Of course, Master." She did not seem unduly disturbed
about how I would take her. I suspected that it was only the fact of
the taking that concerned her. She was a slave, she would respond.

Her
nipples were engorged, erect, and I stroked her breasts with my right
hand, cupping them in turn, caressing the nipples. I bent to take one
between my teeth and she gasped, moving into a moan as my bite turned
to a suckling of her loveliness.

"Please,
Master, have your slave," she said, entreaty in her tone. I
moved over her and she flung her legs apart, ready. I pressed into
her, sinking to her depths as her hips drove back at me. It was only
a few strokes before she was trembling in ecstasy, crying herself
mine. I stopped moving, deep within her, feeling her core pulse
around my hardness, slowly quieting as her breathing slowed. She
stretched up and kissed me. "I love you, Master," she
whispered.

I
smiled down at her as I began to move again. "No," I said
as her hands reached for me, "hands above your head." She
smiled up at me as I moved to take my weight on my outstretched arms,
our only contact my hardness moving in her softness, in her wetness.
She closed her eyes and I felt her begin to contract about me,
rhythmic, timing her contractions to my strokes, her love juice
audible to us as I moved within her. This time it was I who could not
restrain myself and I cried my joy and mastery as I poured my seed
into her, her own cries augmenting mine as she reached her own climax
once more.