"2567-08" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 5 - The Warlady Of Dularn)"THE WARLADY OF DULARN" 2567 A.D.! By Jerome Bigge Chapter Eight "I am `curious'," Lady Tirana said, a number of the guards- men now gathered around as we stood in the yard before the manor, a cool breeze off the ocean working against the heat of the sun. A couple of slave girls in brief shifts, standing about watching. The female slave is not generally "overworked" as a rule, I note. With them were a couple of hard looking women dressed in leather, swords there at their hips, slave whips coiled at their belts. Women hired as "overseers" here on the estate. The major domo, a woman by the name of "Keri", clad in a blouse and leather skirt, a sword at her hip, now joining us. She was tall, quite slender, dark haired, and very "attractive", I noted to myself just then, wondering why such a woman was not "neck chained". Tirana toss- ing Carol a fencing foil, taking the other for herself. My wife naked but for a strip of cloth about her hips, her "provocative- ness" well displayed. Carol is the sort of a woman that to "see" is to "want". I knelt naked, a nearly "valueless" male slave, beside the provocative Kathi, a blondish wench somewhat shorter than my wife, but with a figure that probably went something like 38-25-38, her jutting breasts and ripe curvy rear end making her the "sex princess" among slave girls here on the estate. Kathi's own attire a brief leather halter and a short leather skirt. She was barefooted like most slave girls, her feet a bit dirty. I felt the warmth of the noon-day sun on my shoulders, a "sun" no different than the one that I had known back in my own era some six centuries ago. Birds sang sweetly in the trees, an occasion- al buzzing fly no different than those I'd known before. There are, however, insects that are utterly different from any I've ever seen in my own time. Spiders bigger than a man's hand, ants some half a foot long "reminding" one of the Lorr, who once ruled Mankind before the Priestesses of Lys the year before took power! It was early May in the year 2567 A.D., or 520 A.W. as time is now measured, the old standard for measuring time now of interest only to those of the caste of Scribes, which includes historians. "And if I `win'?" Carol smiled, standing there. I knew of her skills. I knew next to nothing of Tirana's except as to what Lorraine had written of the woman. I knew she had once been the "Warlady of Sarn" a long time ago. Lorraine had appointed her Warlady of Trelandar to watch over "things" while she was gone. Apparently "Keri" was the "replacement" for Sanda Talen, now the Prime Minister of Trelandar, and Lorraine's former major domo. I later learned that Keri was Lady Tirana's own granddaughter. The anti-aging serums of this era do tend to "confuse" one at times! "You won't," Tirana smiled back, taking the "guard" position as Carol nodded in reply, taking a better grip of her own weapon. Lady Tirana's intention being to "show off" a bit with us, I sup- posed. She is an excellent swordswoman, and takes pride in her skill. Kathi whispering to me some "comment" about how "good" her mistress was and how "easy" she'd "beat" my wife. I made no comment back, feeling it "wise" under the circumstances to keep my mouth shut. Kathi being a "snitch" and "tattle-tale" I soon learned, who none of the other slaves here "trusted" or "liked". Kathi greatly loved "getting something on you" and then black- mailing you into "pleasuring" her there behind the slave shed. I might mention too that she wasn't too careful about her hygiene, apparently feeling that douching once a day was often enough even if she had sexual intercourse several times as she usually did. She didn't sleep of course with the other slave girls or I'm sure that the other girls would have taught her "better manners" fast! She probably wouldn't have looked so "attractive" too afterwards! Tirana's attack was swift, her foil almost a blur. Carol "meeting it" skillfully, my brownette instantly returning the at- tack, her own skill with the foil amazing even me! As Carol's attack continued, Tirana giving "way" before it, I could hear the amazed muttering and comments among those watching! One of the men at arms beside me now muttering to another that he hadn't seen a woman "fight" like that since "`The Warlady' went south"! The reference being obviously to Queen Lorraine, the "Warlady"!!! "`Good', Dularnian slut!" Tirana laughed, Carol once again driving in on the "attack", forcing Lady Tirana back! The clash of weapons bringing even more of the curious, among them several more slave girls, most of them in short brief clinging dresses. The female slave is not generally kept bare breasted except when men so wish it, especially not when their nakedness might be "of- fensive" to a high born noble free woman such as Lady Tirana. I should also note here that as a rule slave girls are forbidden to "shave" or wear "clips", this being "reserved" for "free women". It is however noteworthy that in my wife's own novels they did. Carol in the last year or so of our marriage sometimes "dressing" so around the house just to "tease" me a bit with her sexuality! My wife being well "aware" that a naked woman is less "sexy" than a woman with just a "little bit" of something concealing her sex. "And if I win?" Carol once again repeated, standing there. "We will `discuss' that if you do," Tirana challenged back, suddenly driving in at Carol, my wife for a second "yielding" be- fore the "Warlady" of Trelandar. Carol then meeting her, holding her much to everyone's amazement, including my own, I must admit! I watched a swift interplay that the eye could hardly "follow", then much to my amazement, and perhaps Tirana's, Carol "touched"! "You are truly `of the Warrioresses'," Tirana smiled, giving my wife a bow, Carol nodding, perhaps not knowing what to do now! I saw fleecy white clouds drifting against the azure of the sky, listened to the chirp of birds in the nearby trees, and saw a be- loved brownette now standing there naked but for a strip of cloth about her hips, a fencing foil held there in her hand. I knew then I had indeed "found" what I had once "sought" in "another"! "Yes, I am `of the Warrioresses'," Carol spoke, looking at me as I now knelt there beside Lady Tirana's personal slave girl. She seemed "different" than before. More like "another" I had once known. One whom I had once almost "worshiped" years ago. "And I would be `first girl'," Carol then said, regarding Tirana. A big burly looking brunette now looking at Tirana, nodding "no"! "The slave girls pick their own `first girl'," Tirana said. "She is `first girl'?" Carol said, regarding the brunette. "She is," Tirana answered, giving my wife a "smile" then. "Looks as strong as an ox," Carol smiled back at Tirana. "Weapons are not allowed," Tirana commented then to Carol. "You won't be so `pretty' when I'm done with you!" the bru- nette growled like some animal, stripping off her dress at Keri's barked order. Carol stripping off the strip of cloth that had girded her own hips. My wife was both strong and "supple". I did not think it would be much of a "match". Carol struck hard, twice, using her karate skills and it was all "over" almost be- fore anyone could realize what had happened! The woman lying there in the dirt, well stunned from Carol's sudden karate blows! "Your Queen picked well," Lady Tirana smiled, Carol picking up the strip of cloth she had worn, fastening it again about her- self there at the left hip. Such is done so that it may be easi- ly removed by a man facing the woman. Several of the guardsmen leering at Carol, then looking at Lady Tirana. I could tell that they were sexually "excited" by Carol! That they wanted her "hot and sweaty" moaning there beneath them! I saw a trace of terror in Carol's eyes as she understood their muttered comments... I don't think she had understood just how "attractive" she was now! "She will be allowed to `choose' who she `pleasures'," Lady Tirana spoke, the men muttering among themselves at this "news"! Explaining that Carol would "pick" one man a day to "pleasure" and that Carol would be the "one" to make the "decision". "How- ever," Tirana added, "She will `sleep' with the slave girls." "And," Tirana smiled at Keri, "She will be `securely chained'."* * Carol quickly got the "reputation" of being "poor in bed"! As my wife explained to me later on, she had no wish to become "another" like Kathi, feeling that one "Kathi" was enough! (R.S.) I chopped at a clump of weeds, ripping them out of the dirt, the sun hot on my back, the sweat of my labors wet on my brow. I was now a slave, a nearly "worthless male slave" laboring on the estate of Queen Lorraine of Trelandar. I wondered what Carol was doing? An ant scurried across the ground at my feet to meet the deadly downswing of my hoe. The insect, some half a foot in length, being cut in half by the tool. I thought again of Carol. Felt "resentment" that she was not out here in the fields working under a hot sun weeding between the corn stalks sprouting up now. I was naked but for a bit of cloth tied about me with some cord. Just enough to avoid offending some free woman should she see me. More just a crude "jockstrap" than anything else I can think of. I was careful to move about, thus keeping from getting a sunburn, Keri having warned me about such a bit earlier there in the day. "Work, slaves!" the overseer snapped, snapping her whip as she rode by on her unicorn. I felt it sting my back, the woman's dark eyes for an instant burning hot into mine as she reined in her prancing unicorn. She was a "lez", I had heard from one of the others. The sort of a "bitch" that is often used to oversee male slaves. I thought fondly of how it would feel to have my hands around her throat, to watch her die. I thought about what one man could "do" in this era with a modern rifle. She wheeled her unicorn and galloped off, not knowing the "thoughts" I enter- tained in my mind. A sword in its sheath at her hip. A dagger on the other. Her black hair was cut short like many fighting women wear it. Her name was "Cassie". I had no idea of what her last name was. She wore a sort of halter and shorts of a soft tanned leather. I suspected from the darkness of her skin that she was of "mixed race". Lars Debolt, once a Dularnian raider's bosun, had "said" that she sometimes made men "pleasure" her with their mouths as she stood before them. It sounded like the sort of a "thing" a woman like her might "do". I recalled a feminist I'd once met back in the Twentieth Century. Like most of her "ilk", she was a "lez". She had made a number of rather "nasty" comments to my wife about her novels. Carol's "switchblade", suddenly pressed against her throat, had made her "think twice"! I wiped the sweat from my brow and bent again to my labors. I thought of Lorraine. She was a "bitch". Just another "ex- ploiter" like all the rest of the "Lords" and "Ladies" of Imperi- al California. In my heart I pledged my sword to Queen Maris. I was no longer a man of the Twentieth Century. My "country" laid to the north, the island men once had called "Vancouver", but now called "Dularn". "God's Land" as the first settlers had named it. The Queen of Dularn had "friends" she knew nothing about, I thought. I recalled what Lorraine had written. Maris Marn was her name. She was blonde, beautiful. Well worth "fighting" for. "I am a Dularnian," I said to the slave next to me. He nod- ded, shrugged, bent to his labors. Lorraine Richards, Queen of Trelandar, Warlady of California, had just gained herself two new deadly enemies. I wondered where the North Star was right now? "Work!" the overseer snapped, riding up to me. Raising her whip. I regarded her as she sat there on her unicorn. Judged the "time" it would take to kill her. To take her mount. I thought back to my basic training as a Marine. Recalled my D.I. I decided this was not the "time" to act. I smiled up at her. "I am a Dularnian Warrior," I said to her. She nodded. "You are a `MAN'," she answered, riding off then. "I am `with you'," my companion spoke softly. "`Freedom is far away'," I smiled back. "It is `close'," he answered in reply. "I do not understand," I said, puzzled now. "There are `men', and there are `slaves'," he said. "You speak `truths' seldom `understood'," I said to him. Knowing of "what" he spoke. "Truths" that had once been "denied" by those of the past. I recalled the novels of John Norman. Of "others" who had spoken out against the "concept" of "political correctness". The men of the 20th Century had permitted their "manhood" to be taken away from them. Those of the 26th had not. "THE WARLADY OF DULARN" 2567 A.D.! By Jerome Bigge Chapter Eight "I am `curious'," Lady Tirana said, a number of the guards- men now gathered around as we stood in the yard before the manor, a cool breeze off the ocean working against the heat of the sun. A couple of slave girls in brief shifts, standing about watching. The female slave is not generally "overworked" as a rule, I note. With them were a couple of hard looking women dressed in leather, swords there at their hips, slave whips coiled at their belts. Women hired as "overseers" here on the estate. The major domo, a woman by the name of "Keri", clad in a blouse and leather skirt, a sword at her hip, now joining us. She was tall, quite slender, dark haired, and very "attractive", I noted to myself just then, wondering why such a woman was not "neck chained". Tirana toss- ing Carol a fencing foil, taking the other for herself. My wife naked but for a strip of cloth about her hips, her "provocative- ness" well displayed. Carol is the sort of a woman that to "see" is to "want". I knelt naked, a nearly "valueless" male slave, beside the provocative Kathi, a blondish wench somewhat shorter than my wife, but with a figure that probably went something like 38-25-38, her jutting breasts and ripe curvy rear end making her the "sex princess" among slave girls here on the estate. Kathi's own attire a brief leather halter and a short leather skirt. She was barefooted like most slave girls, her feet a bit dirty. I felt the warmth of the noon-day sun on my shoulders, a "sun" no different than the one that I had known back in my own era some six centuries ago. Birds sang sweetly in the trees, an occasion- al buzzing fly no different than those I'd known before. There are, however, insects that are utterly different from any I've ever seen in my own time. Spiders bigger than a man's hand, ants some half a foot long "reminding" one of the Lorr, who once ruled Mankind before the Priestesses of Lys the year before took power! It was early May in the year 2567 A.D., or 520 A.W. as time is now measured, the old standard for measuring time now of interest only to those of the caste of Scribes, which includes historians. "And if I `win'?" Carol smiled, standing there. I knew of her skills. I knew next to nothing of Tirana's except as to what Lorraine had written of the woman. I knew she had once been the "Warlady of Sarn" a long time ago. Lorraine had appointed her Warlady of Trelandar to watch over "things" while she was gone. Apparently "Keri" was the "replacement" for Sanda Talen, now the Prime Minister of Trelandar, and Lorraine's former major domo. I later learned that Keri was Lady Tirana's own granddaughter. The anti-aging serums of this era do tend to "confuse" one at times! "You won't," Tirana smiled back, taking the "guard" position as Carol nodded in reply, taking a better grip of her own weapon. Lady Tirana's intention being to "show off" a bit with us, I sup- posed. She is an excellent swordswoman, and takes pride in her skill. Kathi whispering to me some "comment" about how "good" her mistress was and how "easy" she'd "beat" my wife. I made no comment back, feeling it "wise" under the circumstances to keep my mouth shut. Kathi being a "snitch" and "tattle-tale" I soon learned, who none of the other slaves here "trusted" or "liked". Kathi greatly loved "getting something on you" and then black- mailing you into "pleasuring" her there behind the slave shed. I might mention too that she wasn't too careful about her hygiene, apparently feeling that douching once a day was often enough even if she had sexual intercourse several times as she usually did. She didn't sleep of course with the other slave girls or I'm sure that the other girls would have taught her "better manners" fast! She probably wouldn't have looked so "attractive" too afterwards! Tirana's attack was swift, her foil almost a blur. Carol "meeting it" skillfully, my brownette instantly returning the at- tack, her own skill with the foil amazing even me! As Carol's attack continued, Tirana giving "way" before it, I could hear the amazed muttering and comments among those watching! One of the men at arms beside me now muttering to another that he hadn't seen a woman "fight" like that since "`The Warlady' went south"! The reference being obviously to Queen Lorraine, the "Warlady"!!! "`Good', Dularnian slut!" Tirana laughed, Carol once again driving in on the "attack", forcing Lady Tirana back! The clash of weapons bringing even more of the curious, among them several more slave girls, most of them in short brief clinging dresses. The female slave is not generally kept bare breasted except when men so wish it, especially not when their nakedness might be "of- fensive" to a high born noble free woman such as Lady Tirana. I should also note here that as a rule slave girls are forbidden to "shave" or wear "clips", this being "reserved" for "free women". It is however noteworthy that in my wife's own novels they did. Carol in the last year or so of our marriage sometimes "dressing" so around the house just to "tease" me a bit with her sexuality! My wife being well "aware" that a naked woman is less "sexy" than a woman with just a "little bit" of something concealing her sex. "And if I win?" Carol once again repeated, standing there. "We will `discuss' that if you do," Tirana challenged back, suddenly driving in at Carol, my wife for a second "yielding" be- fore the "Warlady" of Trelandar. Carol then meeting her, holding her much to everyone's amazement, including my own, I must admit! I watched a swift interplay that the eye could hardly "follow", then much to my amazement, and perhaps Tirana's, Carol "touched"! "You are truly `of the Warrioresses'," Tirana smiled, giving my wife a bow, Carol nodding, perhaps not knowing what to do now! I saw fleecy white clouds drifting against the azure of the sky, listened to the chirp of birds in the nearby trees, and saw a be- loved brownette now standing there naked but for a strip of cloth about her hips, a fencing foil held there in her hand. I knew then I had indeed "found" what I had once "sought" in "another"! "Yes, I am `of the Warrioresses'," Carol spoke, looking at me as I now knelt there beside Lady Tirana's personal slave girl. She seemed "different" than before. More like "another" I had once known. One whom I had once almost "worshiped" years ago. "And I would be `first girl'," Carol then said, regarding Tirana. A big burly looking brunette now looking at Tirana, nodding "no"! "The slave girls pick their own `first girl'," Tirana said. "She is `first girl'?" Carol said, regarding the brunette. "She is," Tirana answered, giving my wife a "smile" then. "Looks as strong as an ox," Carol smiled back at Tirana. "Weapons are not allowed," Tirana commented then to Carol. "You won't be so `pretty' when I'm done with you!" the bru- nette growled like some animal, stripping off her dress at Keri's barked order. Carol stripping off the strip of cloth that had girded her own hips. My wife was both strong and "supple". I did not think it would be much of a "match". Carol struck hard, twice, using her karate skills and it was all "over" almost be- fore anyone could realize what had happened! The woman lying there in the dirt, well stunned from Carol's sudden karate blows! "Your Queen picked well," Lady Tirana smiled, Carol picking up the strip of cloth she had worn, fastening it again about her- self there at the left hip. Such is done so that it may be easi- ly removed by a man facing the woman. Several of the guardsmen leering at Carol, then looking at Lady Tirana. I could tell that they were sexually "excited" by Carol! That they wanted her "hot and sweaty" moaning there beneath them! I saw a trace of terror in Carol's eyes as she understood their muttered comments... I don't think she had understood just how "attractive" she was now! "She will be allowed to `choose' who she `pleasures'," Lady Tirana spoke, the men muttering among themselves at this "news"! Explaining that Carol would "pick" one man a day to "pleasure" and that Carol would be the "one" to make the "decision". "How- ever," Tirana added, "She will `sleep' with the slave girls." "And," Tirana smiled at Keri, "She will be `securely chained'."* * Carol quickly got the "reputation" of being "poor in bed"! As my wife explained to me later on, she had no wish to become "another" like Kathi, feeling that one "Kathi" was enough! (R.S.) I chopped at a clump of weeds, ripping them out of the dirt, the sun hot on my back, the sweat of my labors wet on my brow. I was now a slave, a nearly "worthless male slave" laboring on the estate of Queen Lorraine of Trelandar. I wondered what Carol was doing? An ant scurried across the ground at my feet to meet the deadly downswing of my hoe. The insect, some half a foot in length, being cut in half by the tool. I thought again of Carol. Felt "resentment" that she was not out here in the fields working under a hot sun weeding between the corn stalks sprouting up now. I was naked but for a bit of cloth tied about me with some cord. Just enough to avoid offending some free woman should she see me. More just a crude "jockstrap" than anything else I can think of. I was careful to move about, thus keeping from getting a sunburn, Keri having warned me about such a bit earlier there in the day. "Work, slaves!" the overseer snapped, snapping her whip as she rode by on her unicorn. I felt it sting my back, the woman's dark eyes for an instant burning hot into mine as she reined in her prancing unicorn. She was a "lez", I had heard from one of the others. The sort of a "bitch" that is often used to oversee male slaves. I thought fondly of how it would feel to have my hands around her throat, to watch her die. I thought about what one man could "do" in this era with a modern rifle. She wheeled her unicorn and galloped off, not knowing the "thoughts" I enter- tained in my mind. A sword in its sheath at her hip. A dagger on the other. Her black hair was cut short like many fighting women wear it. Her name was "Cassie". I had no idea of what her last name was. She wore a sort of halter and shorts of a soft tanned leather. I suspected from the darkness of her skin that she was of "mixed race". Lars Debolt, once a Dularnian raider's bosun, had "said" that she sometimes made men "pleasure" her with their mouths as she stood before them. It sounded like the sort of a "thing" a woman like her might "do". I recalled a feminist I'd once met back in the Twentieth Century. Like most of her "ilk", she was a "lez". She had made a number of rather "nasty" comments to my wife about her novels. Carol's "switchblade", suddenly pressed against her throat, had made her "think twice"! I wiped the sweat from my brow and bent again to my labors. I thought of Lorraine. She was a "bitch". Just another "ex- ploiter" like all the rest of the "Lords" and "Ladies" of Imperi- al California. In my heart I pledged my sword to Queen Maris. I was no longer a man of the Twentieth Century. My "country" laid to the north, the island men once had called "Vancouver", but now called "Dularn". "God's Land" as the first settlers had named it. The Queen of Dularn had "friends" she knew nothing about, I thought. I recalled what Lorraine had written. Maris Marn was her name. She was blonde, beautiful. Well worth "fighting" for. "I am a Dularnian," I said to the slave next to me. He nod- ded, shrugged, bent to his labors. Lorraine Richards, Queen of Trelandar, Warlady of California, had just gained herself two new deadly enemies. I wondered where the North Star was right now? "Work!" the overseer snapped, riding up to me. Raising her whip. I regarded her as she sat there on her unicorn. Judged the "time" it would take to kill her. To take her mount. I thought back to my basic training as a Marine. Recalled my D.I. I decided this was not the "time" to act. I smiled up at her. "I am a Dularnian Warrior," I said to her. She nodded. "You are a `MAN'," she answered, riding off then. "I am `with you'," my companion spoke softly. "`Freedom is far away'," I smiled back. "It is `close'," he answered in reply. "I do not understand," I said, puzzled now. "There are `men', and there are `slaves'," he said. "You speak `truths' seldom `understood'," I said to him. Knowing of "what" he spoke. "Truths" that had once been "denied" by those of the past. I recalled the novels of John Norman. Of "others" who had spoken out against the "concept" of "political correctness". The men of the 20th Century had permitted their "manhood" to be taken away from them. Those of the 26th had not. |
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