One
We are astride a kaiila, galloping through the Tahari to my oasis, where we stop and you dismount, reaching up to swing me off the beast's back into your arms, kissing me passionately, throwing back the hood of the cloak, ripping aside the burnoose, kissing me over and over... alone in the desert where no one can see, you then carry me to the Oasis, a gleam in your eye as you place me on the sand.
You stand there, arms crossed, looking at me, a pensive look in your eyes. I look back, curious, my heart beating madly, still feeling your lips on mine, my mane tousled and wild from the desert nightbreeze, my cheeks chapped and burned from the wind and the ride.
"Submit, woman" you speak, calmly. I gasp, my eyes widening, a hand rising to cover my mouth. Blinking, thinking I misheard you, I shake my head, scrambling to my feet.
A few quick strides and you are towering over me, bent over, your grasp in my hair, forcing my head back, your blue eyes meeting mine, burning into mine, claiming them as you have so often claimed me. The pressure of your hand forces my body to lower, first to a crouch, then with a gasp, as you kick out with one boot, to my knees.
"I said, submit, woman" you repeat, your voice soft, yet your eyes revealing a hidden, deeper meaning. A soft moan escapes my lips as you speak these words, having known they could come at any time, and powerless to stop them, or you.
Two
I begin to tremble uncontrollably, my heart thumping so loudly in my chest I can scarcely even breathe. My mind reeling as you stand there so calmly, so assured, your hand in my hair, and me at my knees before you, the cloak billowing about my shaking form, my mane whipping around my shoulders and back. Taking a ragged breath, I look into your eyes, and say one word.
"No".
I brace myself against what may happen next. According to the codes of a Gorean Rarius, if I were to submit freely, you would have 2 choices, and 2 choices only - to take me as your slave, or slay me. Refusing to submit, however, was another matter entirely, and I had no doubt in my mind that my death was the last issue on your mind at this ehn.
I am but female. A free female, a former panther, a woman well accustomed to pretty much going where she pleases, as long as my behaviour remained correct within the framework of a free female of Gor, and as long as my Brothers protected me and allowed my continued freedom. But you - you are a Rarius, a man of the Red caste, who had seen many a battle, a man who did not speak lightly or foolishly.
You had set your mind on having me when you first saw me, so long ago in Port Kar, when I was traveling with my band in our black robes of concealments and heavy veils. Unlike the other females of my band, I was courteous, even polite, friendly; my lack of hatred for men evident compared to my seething sisters of the forest.
You were not surprised when I left the forests and arrived in the Tahari last year. You knew I needed the company and security of men, my Brothers, my Family. You watched me as I trained the kajirae and verbally sparred with the Vizier, gently pushing the limits of the expectations placed upon me, offering the warmth and hospitality of Tor to guests and visitors.
Yet you also knew my loneliness and need for the freedom of open spaces. You saw how the walls, the robes, the veils, confined my spirit as I paced the terrace of the great palace and prowled the courtyards at night. You were not surprised when I fled to the desert, nor did you seek to hunt me as some did, you knew I would return.
You merely had to bide your time.
Three
I was not like other females you had come across. Some free women, in fact, most, would bat their lashes at you over their veils and flirt outrageously at banquets. You would chuckle to yourself as you remained impassive, polite, respectful. You knew it was only a matter of time before these women found their Masters, and their necks would become encased with the steel of their need.
Many slaves you had had, most were pleasant, some were imminently forgettable, a few others were quite stunningly beautiful, and exciting, and pleased you greatly. Their sultry gait, their smoldering body language, the nuance of their gaze as they did not meet your eyes, their delicious squirming at your feet, begging to be used - ahh what could be more tantalizing.
But still you thought of me.
You did not approach me in Tor much except for the occasional polite exchange, you kept to yourself as I laughed and teased my Brothers, watched in amusement as I drank paga like a man and hurled furniture around in frustration like the panther I was during the waxing of the Moons. The first time you witnessed that you looked to the Vizier with eyebrows raised, but he merely shrugged, took another pull of his wine, and remarked casually "The moons, it'll pass".
You wondered if I had lovers. You wondered why I had no kajirus, no male silk slave to sate my appetites. You watched me with the girls, and saw no sign of attraction on my part to their femaleness other than frank admiration and pride for their beauty and sensuality. You wondered, and you bided your time.
