"It's pretty early to be doing that," I warned Lady Tirana as I watched her slave girl pouring her another glassful of wine from the bottle there on the table. The morning was still cool, delightful, although I knew it would be another hot August day after the Sun got a few hours chance to work on things. My footsteps on the heavy carpeting having been perhaps unnoticed. The woman sitting there unveiled on the shaded open porch overlooking the fields and the surrounding forest with her own personal slave girl kneeling there on a cushion beside her. I knew that her own estate had suffered considerably from the Dularnian raiders when she had been captured a couple weeks before. Stripped naked, she had been chained with her own slave girls there on the Squala before her eventual rescue by the fighting forces from the Seahawk!
Her home destroyed, her husband killed before her eyes, such might drive any woman to start drinking in the morning! She was a friend, and I suffered for her, knowing how she felt. Most of her slaves had been recovered, but there was nothing that could be done about her memories unless she visited one of the Priestesses of Lys and asked for the forgetfulness that only they could grant. She needed something to keep her mind occupied. Something to keep her from thinking about the past. The buildings we could replace, but the lives that had been lost were gone forever. She was not a young woman, and remarriage not that likely.
"It eases the `pain', Lady Lorraine," Tirana answered me. I found her name fascinating, although she thought the same of mine too. Her last name was Greyson, although like most titled widows she now referred to herself only by her own title of "Lady Tirana". I did the same now, being "Lady Lorraine" to all but my closest friends. Jack Duval having been dead for six centuries.
"But yet doesn't solve any problems," I answered, taking the glass from her hand and handing it to the slave girl kneeling there beside her. The wench a dark haired beauty, nicely curved. Four of the slave girls on the Squala had been her own girls. I had also given her one of the Dularnian "ship's girls", keeping the other five for my own uses. Many Californians believing that a Dularnian woman, once collared, makes love better than women of their own countries do. Whether or not there is anything to this I don't know as the Dularnians claim the same for our own women!
"I suppose you're right, Lorraine," she smiled, getting up from the chair, smoothing down her dress, adjusting her harness, picking up her veil and tucking it away where it would be handy. I usually don't bother veiling myself on my own estate any more, although I do wear it whenever I go into town or meet strangers. The source of the tradition of "veiling" is lost in history now.
"We'll get Sanda and Mara and go into town for another slave girl," I suggested, feeling that it would be good for Lady Tirana to get out and away from the estate. Away from my wine cellar and slave girls who were ever so willing to get her a "bottle"!
"I think we'd better wait!" I whispered to Lady Tirana, seeing Sanda in the arms of her husband, a handsome older Warrior. Neither of them aware of us, Sanda's black leather skirt drawn up over her hips as he caressed her naked body there beneath it. Bending the blue clad Scribe down over her desk, her mouth like a leech upon his! Her booted high heels digging into the carpet!
"No better than a slave girl!" she answered back, pulling me away from the doorway. The heavy carpet having concealed the sound of our footsteps although the couple just then weren't in a condition to notice much of anything. Sanda's silken "strap" lying there unnoticed on the carpet at her feet telling its own tale of what was soon to be! Her skirt drawn up, exposing her shaved pubes, his hand now caressing her sex as she clung to him!
"Lys! I could just climb the walls for the touch of a man!" I heard Lady Tirana mutter as we walked back into the large living room, the lace curtains, the beautiful furnishings, all reminding me of another now gone except as she yet lived in memory.
"I could hood a male slave," I suggested with a smile. It had been a long time for me too since I had been with a man. Too long. I knew exactly how Lady Tirana felt. I too envied Sanda.
"We do have our `reputations' to think about," she smiled.
"I understand that you want to buy a slave girl for Mara," Sanda Talen said as she walked into the living room where we now waited for her with little Mara. She looked "contented", pleased with herself. "Well used"! I thought to myself with a smile. I had sent Yvette, just in case they still might be "together". Yvette being intelligent enough to keep what she saw to herself. Sanda still looked a bit sweaty and "mussed", having obviously enjoyed herself much despite the lack of comfort on her own desk!
"I was told that you have some experience in such things," I answered, giving Lady Tirana a nod, both of us having a hard time to keep from grinning at poor Sanda like a pair of fools! I suppose after everything that had happened that morning Sanda did need a little "relaxation", although I would have to warn her that in the future she should close and lock her door before making love to her husband there in her own office on her own desk!
"Buy Me, Mistress!" the girl breathed, looking up into my eyes beneath the wide brim of my fashionable hat. Peering at my face through the netting of the black veil that concealed the harshness of my features. The sun was hot on my shoulders. I understood now why Lady Tirana carried a large umbrella despite the fact that there was little danger of rain! The sweat was wet on my body beneath my blouse, my thighs damp beneath my fashionable clinging soft black leather riding skirt that matched Sanda's. Mara clinging to my hand, the girl kneeling naked there before us. A few men, low castes, standing around watching us. There is considerable "underemployment" in this era compared to my own, although on the other hand living standards are considerably "lower" and people are "content" with far less now a days...
The blonde slave girl was a lovely teenage delight that reminded me a lot of Sharon, even having just about the same amount of fine golden pubic hair as Sharon used to have before she shaved it off as upper caste girls do here in the 26th Century.
"She's the best I've got," the slaver announced, holding her by the hair, his whip on its thong just brushing her naked shoulder. He was asking sixty gold crowns for her, an outrageous price even for a small town like Thistle! The girl worth no more than forty at the best! "She's a beauty," he added, giving me a leer that disgusted me. "She'll please you much if that is your wish." His eyes burning through my veil in a way that left no doubt what he was thinking! The girl was badly in need of a bath, her odor offensive to my nostrils as I stood there thinking he'd do "better" in his business if his wenches didn't stink so!
"She is too old for my purposes," I answered, annoyed by the way he looked at me. Lady Tirana's shadowed face unreadable beneath her veil. Sanda's unveiled features were hard to read, although I suspected she preferred that I picked a girl less good looking than this one. This girl was too much like Maris Marn!
"I `want' her!" Mara suddenly spoke up from beside me. "I want her! She's pretty like Maris was!" little Mara begged. The slaver smiling to himself, no doubt already counting his gold! I thought I might have a surprise in store for him as I tossed back my veil so that he could see my features that had until now been hidden. The stern hardness of my face now no longer concealed.
"I am the Lady Lorraine, of whom you may have heard," I said to him in a cold chilling voice, the man shuddering as he realized who I was. That I controlled this entire area with an absolute power that any 20th Century dictator would have "envied". Darlanis herself had often complained to me long and bitterly about such things. About the incredible power that the "Lords" and "Ladies" of the Empire had over those who lived beneath their dominion. I had the power of Life and Death over everyone who lived within the hundreds of square miles that I controlled. Here I was "Queen", absolute ruler of thousands of people. I had not really understood such things until Lady Tirana had explained them to me. It was quite understandable now why Sanda had been so terrified of me! Why she behaved towards me more like a slave girl towards her own mistress than an employee to her employer!
"The girl is yours, my great Lady," the man shuddered, almost going down to his knees before me! "Take her as a gift of my gratitude." No Merchant within my lands could buy or sell without a license from me. No Peasant could farm his lands without my permission. Even Hitler, Stalin and Mao didn't have such awesome powers as I possessed! There was no recourse from my decrees except to Darlanis or the Imperial Senate, neither of who was very likely to override any of my decisions! I also held a permanent seat in the Imperial Senate, which meant that I had a vote in the affairs of the Empire itself! It was almost like as if I had my very own "country" that I could rule as I so pleased! "She is worth forty crowns," I answered, handing him the money. I did not wish to cheat him. Such is not in the Codes.
"I will praise your great generosity before all!" he answered, knowing it was a fair price for the girl, whose azure eyes reminded me so much of my beloved Sharon, my "golden girl" I had lost to Darlanis. The wench seemed pleased with being purchased, I noticed, seeing the smile on her face as she knelt there before me, her hands clasped over her naked buttocks, the youthful jut of her teenage breasts leaving no doubt that she would be a true beauty when she grew up. I wished, however, that she didn't look quite so much like Sharon, as I might have trouble disciplining her. Of course I could always give the task to Sanda, who would not have any such troubles, Sanda being the sort of a free woman whom my hot blooded and sexy slave girls often had good cause to fear! The slave whip always there in her hand!
"I would suggest that instead of praising me that you take some time and see that your girls have baths and clean bedding," I smiled back, my words striking him like a blow as he stood there. "This girl here," indicating the delight before me, "Is in dire need of a bath, and has a sore on her ankle from your shackles that should have been treated." Slaves come under the "humane treatment" laws like all domestic animals, and there is supposed to be someone to inspect for such things, although he obviously had not been doing his job. I would have to see that he was replaced with one that would! The duties of a "Lady" are often time-consuming and some times take her to places that otherwise such "a well-bred and delicate high-born creature" would never think of going! I suspected that Lana herself had been a bit "lax" in seeing that such inspections were performed. It is too easy to neglect such things. The sun is hot, and you are often on your feet for a long period of time. It is easier to sit on a shady porch beneath the towering trees and sip cool drinks.
"How long has it been since you had a good bath?" I asked the teenage blonde delight as she knelt before me on the dirt, the sun on her golden hair beautiful. She kept her knees well together, concealing as she could the triangle of her pubes, her hands clasped over her buttocks, her heels together beneath her. I could see the little golden earring posts that still pierced her pink nipples, the wench having been old enough to have worn "clips" when free. She was doubtless somewhat embarrassed too.
"Over a month, mistress," she answered me. Her eyes, voice, were much like those of Sharon. She was a Dularnian girl, and thus had an accent more like that of a woman of the 20th Century.
"What was your name when you were free?" I asked her, standing there before her, my hands on my hips, my veil now once again covering my features. There are reasons why women like me wear a veil. They have to do with the inability of others to "read" our faces and know what we are thinking. Such things are matters of dominance and submission. The veiled "Lady" you face can often "read" your face, but being veiled, you cannot "read" hers in return. That gives her certain "advantages" over you. She understands that. She utilizes that for her own advantage over you.
"Gayle," the girl breathed softly. "Gayle Marn of Sana."
"Sanda, the whip," I snapped, ordering the slave girl to assume "whipping position" before me. Her head down, her hands in front of her, her back exposed to the lash. Three times I struck her, once on the shoulders, again across the small of her back, and the third time on her buttocks. The girl gasping beneath the heavy blows, sobbing as the whip raised livid welts on her skin!
"You have a sister, Maris?" I snapped, regarding the shuddering girl as she knelt in terror before me. Her eyes, now wet with tears, looked pleadingly up into mine. I needed to know the truth. I knew that Gayle, having felt the whip, would speak it!
"My older sister," Gayle breathed. "Do you know of her?" Slaves do not ask questions of their mistresses without permission. I permitted Sanda to strike her twice for her stupidity!
"Mistress!" Gayle sobbed. "Please do not strike me again!"
"You will be struck again as it pleases me," I snapped back, determined to be "strong" with this girl who reminded me too much of my beloved Sharon. Sometimes I am not a nice person. No doubt I will have several incarnations more to go before I reach that level of moral perfection where I can merge with SHE.
Sobbing, Gayle quickly told me that Maris had always loved sailing and the sea, which indicated to me that she had no doubt looked upon my little sailboat differently than say I would. As events were to turn out, she did make it to Dularn, where she received the glory of a great national hero for her amazing voyage! Ending up marrying Darl Jord and becoming the Queen of Dularn!
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