(based on the Gorean fiction by John Norman)
*
In the side garden courtyard of the Mfalme's Residence a black desert kaiila was saddled. The reins of the snorting high-strung stallion were held by a kijakazi-groom from the stables. The tall animal dwarfed the demur slavegirl in her yellow work-tunic.
Given the extreme heat and humidity of the upcountry Jungle, the Mflame, Ubar of the City of Ruins, Mwindu Rhapsodes, rarely dressed in anything more than a blue paneled nguo, its underwrap, and sandals. But, when he rode, he exchanged the loincloth for antelope-hide trousers, the strapped sandals for mamba leather riding boots. After a long morning and afternoon of holding audience, Mwindu had decided that he, as well as his mount, could use some exercise. It'd been some days since he'd found the time to go out riding.
As he strode out over the flagstones of the courtyard, a glint of dhahabu, the Inlander word for gold, caught his eye and he turned, seeing a blonde-haired slut, stooped by a flower-bed, weeding the red dinas. In contrast to the slavegirl groom with her fresh, dry, and straight tunic, the golden-tressed field girl's tunic was plastered and wrinkled to her svelt form by sweat. Despite the pungent odor of the impatiently stamping kaiila, and even over a distance of some yards, the king could smell the girl, a rich and intoxicating mixture of musk and concentrated pheromones. The natural occuring scent of a woman.
The Mfalme felt his manhood stir beneath the suede of the riding trousers, in moments producing an large and obvious bulge. A smile curved his generous lips as he stood, letting the groom wait, letting the kaiila wait, as his deep brown, almost black eyes, appraised the slut as she worked the bed. Her long and tapered fingers, blackened with the rich garden soil, grasping, pulling, and discarding weeds into a wooden bucket close at hand.
The girl continued to for nearly an ehn before she felt the pressure of the Mfalme's gaze and she turned, seeing the master of the city and all who lived in it. She immediately slipped into a nadu among the red roses, her gold-spun hair draping down behind her as she lowered her pretty head and averted her clear blue eyes, but not before they caught sight of the hump at his crotch.
"Jambo, Maulana."
"Sijambo, kijakazi."
"How may this girl serve, Maualana?"
Mwindu, gestured with his left hand. "Come, attend your Master."
"Yes, Maulana."
She broke nadu and timidly approached the monarch, hurriedly wiping her hands on the soaked tunic. The wet cloth clung to the flare of her hips and hugged the bouncy curves of her heart-shaped ass, plastered around the globes of her plentious breasts, the impressions of her nipples clearly defined beneath the soggy slaverag. The inscribed tab of her braided leather belt-collar winked in the sunlight around her elegant throat.
As she stood before Mwindu, he reached out and took the collar idenitification tag in his fingers, reading what was written there, field slave 646. The girl shivered when his fingers incidentally brushed the hollow of her throat beneath the collar. It'd been some time she she'd been used and her considerable heat responded instantly to the touch and nearness of the dominant male who towered over her.
"You're new here."
"Yes, Maulana. I was brought with the last wave of settlers." Her voice was full and throaty, seductive.
"And before you were shipped here?"
"I was a slave in Schendi, Maulana. Before that I served among the Wagons. Before that, I was the daughter of a Turian Merchant."
Mwindu's smile broadened. "Eeh. It's my understanding that men of the Wagons often bid their girls run alongside their kaiila as they ride across the Plains."
"Yes, Maualana," she responded.
"Then, by now, you'll be needing a good run, I'd think."
"As you wish, Maulana."
"Eeh," he said, flashing teeth. "As I wish."
The Mfalme released the girl's collar tag but kept his smile as he turned and went to the kaiila. From a saddlebag he withdrew a length of leather cord. "Hebu," he said. Come.
The girl obeyed, crossing over the flagstones with a fetching roll of her hips. Mwindu grabbed her collar again, fashioning the long leather thong to it with a good strong knot. He looked the girl over from head to foot once more, grunting in satisfaction to himself, before taking the reins from the groom and climbing into the saddle. With a tsk through his teeth and a snap of the reins, he urged the kaiila forward in a walk and out the side gate. The girl having to skip very fast beside the animal to keep up. :. Once clear of the Residence, Mwindu turned his mount toward the Lake Road, recently cleared and graveled with smooth small rocks gathered from the myriad streambeds which fed into the gargantuan Eiwa Shaba, Copper Lake. He heeled the kaiila into a canter, forcing the nameless slavegirl now to break into a run to stay even with the saddle. Within ihn her musk was amplified by the exertion. Her coltish legs entending full-stride as she ran, a look of concentration on her gorgeous face as her naturally crimson lips parted and she began to breath through her mouth.
It was clear to the Mfalme that this wasn't the first kaiila the athlectic blonde had been forced to keep apace with and he nodded to himself, approving even more of the field slut. There weren't many vijakazi, kajirae, with such outstanding looks and raw stamina. He drove the kaiila into a faster stride and the girl perforce had to stretch her coltish legs to run with everything she had in her, no pleasant jog, no playful trot, a full out hurtle along the gravel road. Her golden hair quickly burnished to antique gold as it grew sweat-wet, trailing out behind her in the wind and plastering to the sides of her face in a wealth of flattened curls, as her slave rag was sticky molded even more securely to the curves of her vivacious body. Her aroma traveled in a cloud around them as Mwindu held the beast to the pace for a full pasang, before reining him in and evenually stopping by a thick clump of silverferns on one side of the road, on the other, the immeasurable blue waters of the Lake shimmering in the light of the day.
He looked down at her, as the slave leaned against the saddle, her shoulder resting against the brushed nap of his riding trousers. Winded, breathing harshly through her mouth, profusely sweating, big drops popping up on her gorgeous face, her fulsome tits rising and falling rapidly with her respiration.
The Mfalme chuckled from atop his saddle. She was disheveled, wet, stinking. To his dark and handsome eyes the girl looked like she'd just been fucked. He growled as his nose caught the full bouquet of her musk. Dismounting, boots crunching over the gravel, he unhooked a waterskin from the kaiila's high saddle, as the slavegirl continued to lean against the saddle.
"Nadu," he snapped out the command.
The girl all but fell to the smooth pebbles, her bountiful breasts heaving as she sucked in air. She spread her knees and placed her hands on her thighs, but she was too winded to arch her back and her head hung down as she continued to rasp in her breath and harshly exhale. Sweat poured off her sunkissed flesh, making her gleam bright in the tropical Sun.
She was lovely, vital. Female.
Mwindu unstoppered the waterskin, letting the bosk bone plug dangle down on its small linked chain. He grabbed the girl's sweat-matted curls in a big brown hand, using it to jerk her pretty head back and forcing her face up.
"Drink."
He upended the skin and squeezed cool water into the falarina's gasping, open lips. The clear, refreshing liquid gushed down into her mouth in a steady strong stream, bubbling as she attempted to swallow it all, but gagging after the first few swallows, making the water run from her mouth, over her chin and down her chest, to sheet off the heaving slopes of her drenched tits and leap from the points of her hardening nipples.
Mwindu righted the waterskin, replugging it as he looked down at the kijakazi for a moment, admiring the beauty of the slut, even in her state of disarray and exhaustion. He rehung the skin over the pommel and opened a saddlebag, taking out a small bunch of bananas, then breaking one off. He peeled the long yellow skin from the ripe fruit and held the blunt end to the slave's parted, panting lips.
