"2565-58" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warlady 1 - 2565 Ad Book 2)2565 A.D.! A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN By Jerome B. Bigge Book Two Chapter Fifteen "And how are your slaves doing today?" I asked, the sun hot on my shoulders as we stood before his slave shed. The man re- garding me with a mixture of distaste and also considerable sur- prise, few "Ladies" ever dressing the way that I was now! Sanda having found a picture of a woman of the 21st Century dressed in the highest of fashions. I had copied the attire in Trella while waiting for my "battery" to be constructed. It was distinctive, and even more importantly, was also quite attractive even on me! The skirt was short, slit on both sides, and made of soft black leather. I wore a matching midriff baring half blouse of black silk cut deep to show off a teasing bit of my bosom. My legs were encased in 21st Century "strap-boots" made of soft black leather. That had taken a bit of doing, and some trial and error before the fit was right. The black leather straps criss- crossing my legs did do nice things for my legs. I also wore a leather harness with lots of silver trappings, my only concession to 26th Century fashions being my broad brimmed stylish hat and the black net veil that concealed the harshness of my features. "They're O.K.," he growled, regarding me. "I don't mistreat my animals." Slaves being legally domestic animals like unicorns and cows and pigs. He was a minor property owner that owed feal- ty to me as his "Lady". The relationship is similar to that found during the Middle Ages. I was doing slave inspection, hav- ing "fired" the government inspector for failure to do his job properly. It being obvious that he had been often "paid off" to "look the other way" when slaves had been obviously mistreated. The man had threatened to go to Darlanis. I told him to do so. "Then you wouldn't mind showing them to me, would you?" I smiled back from behind my veil. Lady Tirana standing back, holding a large umbrella against the rays of the sun. Most high caste women do not like getting suntanned, it being considered to be proof of one's high birth if your skin is "lily white"! I am rather well tanned most of the time, which makes some people look down at me as being not quite properly the Lady that I should be! I also do a number of things that Ladies aren't supposed to "do"! With me too were Carl Talen of the Warriors, Sanda's husband and three of his men. I had little desire to repeat the earlier terrifying experience of being shot at by some hidden crossbowman firing from the woods. The bolt having missed me by inches! I suspected now that Princess Tara of Baja had something to do with the matter, but had no way that I could ever prove such a charge! "A fine well-bred Lady like you doesn't want to look at a bunch of naked stinking slaves now, does she?" the man suggested, making me even more suspicious that he had been mistreating his slaves! My smile fortunately for his sake hidden by my veil! I could see the sweat there on his forehead, the look in his eyes. "You have a well and they can `pump' the water," I pointed out. "There is no reason why they should stink." That comment had been a mistake on his part. I've seen enough nude slaves it didn't bother me anymore, although the first time a male got an erection while I was inspecting him did make me blush just a bit! "Is this all your slaves?" I asked, checking the naked men and women. Some of the males sexually responding to my closeness which indicated that they were not allowed women very often. It is a foolish practice, as you get more work out of a male slave if he has a woman now and then than you do keeping him sexually deprived. At least that has been my own experience with my own! "Yes, my Lady," the man growled, regarding me. I had Deli- lah with me. She is a comfort to have around. Her senses are considerably keener than any human being's. One of his slave girls was a copper skinned wench who had been just recently whipped. Her back still crisscrossed by the livid welts left by the slave whip. She was naked, her dark eyes glowing into mine. "Where did you get this wench?" I asked her master. She was obviously an American Indian. They live across the mountains on the plains much like their distant forefathers once did, although they are racially mixed with whites and somewhat more perhaps re- semble the nomadic tribes found in northern Asia fifteen hundred years ago. The most well known group is the "Nevadas", who often stage raids upon Imperial settlements for women and other items they consider of value. For this reason the Empire, while "long", is very "narrow", being only a hundred miles or so deep! The Imperial Legions, while awesome, were almost "useless" against the sort of mounted raiders that the Nevadas were now... "She's a Nevada slut," the man answered. "Worthless too!" The woman had a nice figure, high firm breasts, and a neat trim triangle of pubic hair there at the junction of her thighs. Her nipples were unpierced, the practice of piercing the woman's nip- ples being practiced only by the "civilized" nations of the 26th Century. Her hair was very dark, and quite long. She was pret- ty, although her coloring was a dead "give-away" as to her race. "Stand," I said to the wench. She did so, her eyes never leaving mine. "Why were you beaten?" I asked her, curious. She merely nodded, her dark eyes filled with fear. Obviously she had been recently beaten. Severely whipped from the marks that went from the nape of her neck all the way down her back to almost her knees. Such a whipping in my eyes constitutes "abuse". There are other means of disciplining slaves both male and female than using the whip until the blood oozes from their beaten hides! I wondered how long she had been a slave. Why she had been whipped so severely. She did not have the ordinary "submissiveness" of the female slave either, but merely seemed terrified at what had been done to her. Why did she fear to answer my question? Why? "Come with me," I ordered the girl, who had no choice but to obey, although the terror in her dark eyes increased even further as she followed me trembling in terror. Delilah following at my side, giving the slave girl little attention. I did not think my fearsome companion was, however, the cause of her obvious terror! "I `am' the Lady Lorraine of Trelandar, High Lady of this area," I said to the girl, lifting aside my veil so that she was able to see my face. "I have the power, the authority to take you from your master if he has been abusing you in violation of the `humane treatment' laws." I wondered if she understood me. "You `good Lady'," she said in broken English. "I hear of you. You not like others. You friend. I tell truth. You pro- tect Sa-she-ra and me girl." She was obviously a mother of a girl, no doubt also enslaved, who I didn't know anything about! "Me girl just whipped by bad man pale-face." Her master being a "bad man", although I wouldn't have called him a "pale-face" as he was rather well tanned as many men of this era are. It being only now the high born women of California who consider it actu- ally culturally desirable to have milky white pale complexions. "I want to see her daughter," I snapped, the mother kneeling there at my side. My hand on Delilah's collar as she stood at my side. Lady Tirana had Samson with her. Carl Talen and his men were well armed. I had power, the legal authority necessary too. "The brat's a little savage," the man snapped back. "More like an animal than a human being." I noticed that his hand was bandaged. I hadn't really paid him too much attention before. I suspected that there were the marks of teeth beneath the bandage! The girl hung from one of the ceiling rafters by her wrists. Weights had been tied to her ankles to increase her torment. She was nude, her young body crisscrossed with the marks of the whip. She was, I thought to myself, perhaps eleven or twelve years old. I felt a red haze of fury go before my eyes as I saw the sight! "Why you dammed dirty filthy bastard!" Carl Talen snapped, seizing the man and shaking him much like a terrier with a rat as I stood on a chair and cut the girl free with my dagger, her eyes like those of some tormented animal as they looked into mine. I considered the delights of a duel to the death. HIS! I saw the eyes of Sa-she-ra meet mine. Saw the hate burning deep in them! "I am charging you with slave abuse," I said to the man in a cold level voice as Sa-she-ra cradled her daughter in her arms. "I am taking these two slaves and fining you thirty gold crowns." I felt like telling him that he was lucky I didn't run him through on the spot, but I suppose that would have been going a bit "far", even for me. The girl needed medical attention too. Gayle was a bit "old" for little Mara. I had no doubt that Mara would like Sa-she-ra's daughter. I saw nothing wrong in having a future "Lady of Trelandar" grow up with an "Indian". They were, after-all, "here" a long time before we "pale-faces" first came! "Our other sluts won't like being chained at night with one of `those'," Sanda Talen warned as she regarded Sa-she-ra and her daughter. I had done for the girl what I could. Enough so that she could ride with her mother clinging to her. I had doubled up with Lady Tirana. I didn't think Sanda would like what I had to say next. I had no intention of chaining either Sa-she-ra or her daughter with my other female slaves. Her man was dead, and it was a long ways back to where she came from. Not that she had any desire to return to her former home anymore. Mara needed a younger girl to be her "companion" than Gayle, who was after all sixteen to Mara's five. Not that I would change Gayle's status or anything, but it would be educational to Mara to have someone who was not of her own race, someone from another land, to play with. I thought that lovely young Ta-she-ra might just do! Her mother, once "educated" a bit, would make a good "inspector" for me. I wouldn't have to get out "in the hot sun" quite so much! "I don't chain my employees with my slave girls," I told Sanda Talen, enjoying the look of shocked surprise on her face! 2565 A.D.! A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN By Jerome B. Bigge Book Two Chapter Fifteen "And how are your slaves doing today?" I asked, the sun hot on my shoulders as we stood before his slave shed. The man re- garding me with a mixture of distaste and also considerable sur- prise, few "Ladies" ever dressing the way that I was now! Sanda having found a picture of a woman of the 21st Century dressed in the highest of fashions. I had copied the attire in Trella while waiting for my "battery" to be constructed. It was distinctive, and even more importantly, was also quite attractive even on me! The skirt was short, slit on both sides, and made of soft black leather. I wore a matching midriff baring half blouse of black silk cut deep to show off a teasing bit of my bosom. My legs were encased in 21st Century "strap-boots" made of soft black leather. That had taken a bit of doing, and some trial and error before the fit was right. The black leather straps criss- crossing my legs did do nice things for my legs. I also wore a leather harness with lots of silver trappings, my only concession to 26th Century fashions being my broad brimmed stylish hat and the black net veil that concealed the harshness of my features. "They're O.K.," he growled, regarding me. "I don't mistreat my animals." Slaves being legally domestic animals like unicorns and cows and pigs. He was a minor property owner that owed feal- ty to me as his "Lady". The relationship is similar to that found during the Middle Ages. I was doing slave inspection, hav- ing "fired" the government inspector for failure to do his job properly. It being obvious that he had been often "paid off" to "look the other way" when slaves had been obviously mistreated. The man had threatened to go to Darlanis. I told him to do so. "Then you wouldn't mind showing them to me, would you?" I smiled back from behind my veil. Lady Tirana standing back, holding a large umbrella against the rays of the sun. Most high caste women do not like getting suntanned, it being considered to be proof of one's high birth if your skin is "lily white"! I am rather well tanned most of the time, which makes some people look down at me as being not quite properly the Lady that I should be! I also do a number of things that Ladies aren't supposed to "do"! With me too were Carl Talen of the Warriors, Sanda's husband and three of his men. I had little desire to repeat the earlier terrifying experience of being shot at by some hidden crossbowman firing from the woods. The bolt having missed me by inches! I suspected now that Princess Tara of Baja had something to do with the matter, but had no way that I could ever prove such a charge! "A fine well-bred Lady like you doesn't want to look at a bunch of naked stinking slaves now, does she?" the man suggested, making me even more suspicious that he had been mistreating his slaves! My smile fortunately for his sake hidden by my veil! I could see the sweat there on his forehead, the look in his eyes. "You have a well and they can `pump' the water," I pointed out. "There is no reason why they should stink." That comment had been a mistake on his part. I've seen enough nude slaves it didn't bother me anymore, although the first time a male got an erection while I was inspecting him did make me blush just a bit! "Is this all your slaves?" I asked, checking the naked men and women. Some of the males sexually responding to my closeness which indicated that they were not allowed women very often. It is a foolish practice, as you get more work out of a male slave if he has a woman now and then than you do keeping him sexually deprived. At least that has been my own experience with my own! "Yes, my Lady," the man growled, regarding me. I had Deli- lah with me. She is a comfort to have around. Her senses are considerably keener than any human being's. One of his slave girls was a copper skinned wench who had been just recently whipped. Her back still crisscrossed by the livid welts left by the slave whip. She was naked, her dark eyes glowing into mine. "Where did you get this wench?" I asked her master. She was obviously an American Indian. They live across the mountains on the plains much like their distant forefathers once did, although they are racially mixed with whites and somewhat more perhaps re- semble the nomadic tribes found in northern Asia fifteen hundred years ago. The most well known group is the "Nevadas", who often stage raids upon Imperial settlements for women and other items they consider of value. For this reason the Empire, while "long", is very "narrow", being only a hundred miles or so deep! The Imperial Legions, while awesome, were almost "useless" against the sort of mounted raiders that the Nevadas were now... "She's a Nevada slut," the man answered. "Worthless too!" The woman had a nice figure, high firm breasts, and a neat trim triangle of pubic hair there at the junction of her thighs. Her nipples were unpierced, the practice of piercing the woman's nip- ples being practiced only by the "civilized" nations of the 26th Century. Her hair was very dark, and quite long. She was pret- ty, although her coloring was a dead "give-away" as to her race. "Stand," I said to the wench. She did so, her eyes never leaving mine. "Why were you beaten?" I asked her, curious. She merely nodded, her dark eyes filled with fear. Obviously she had been recently beaten. Severely whipped from the marks that went from the nape of her neck all the way down her back to almost her knees. Such a whipping in my eyes constitutes "abuse". There are other means of disciplining slaves both male and female than using the whip until the blood oozes from their beaten hides! I wondered how long she had been a slave. Why she had been whipped so severely. She did not have the ordinary "submissiveness" of the female slave either, but merely seemed terrified at what had been done to her. Why did she fear to answer my question? Why? "Come with me," I ordered the girl, who had no choice but to obey, although the terror in her dark eyes increased even further as she followed me trembling in terror. Delilah following at my side, giving the slave girl little attention. I did not think my fearsome companion was, however, the cause of her obvious terror! "I `am' the Lady Lorraine of Trelandar, High Lady of this area," I said to the girl, lifting aside my veil so that she was able to see my face. "I have the power, the authority to take you from your master if he has been abusing you in violation of the `humane treatment' laws." I wondered if she understood me. "You `good Lady'," she said in broken English. "I hear of you. You not like others. You friend. I tell truth. You pro- tect Sa-she-ra and me girl." She was obviously a mother of a girl, no doubt also enslaved, who I didn't know anything about! "Me girl just whipped by bad man pale-face." Her master being a "bad man", although I wouldn't have called him a "pale-face" as he was rather well tanned as many men of this era are. It being only now the high born women of California who consider it actu- ally culturally desirable to have milky white pale complexions. "I want to see her daughter," I snapped, the mother kneeling there at my side. My hand on Delilah's collar as she stood at my side. Lady Tirana had Samson with her. Carl Talen and his men were well armed. I had power, the legal authority necessary too. "The brat's a little savage," the man snapped back. "More like an animal than a human being." I noticed that his hand was bandaged. I hadn't really paid him too much attention before. I suspected that there were the marks of teeth beneath the bandage! The girl hung from one of the ceiling rafters by her wrists. Weights had been tied to her ankles to increase her torment. She was nude, her young body crisscrossed with the marks of the whip. She was, I thought to myself, perhaps eleven or twelve years old. I felt a red haze of fury go before my eyes as I saw the sight! "Why you dammed dirty filthy bastard!" Carl Talen snapped, seizing the man and shaking him much like a terrier with a rat as I stood on a chair and cut the girl free with my dagger, her eyes like those of some tormented animal as they looked into mine. I considered the delights of a duel to the death. HIS! I saw the eyes of Sa-she-ra meet mine. Saw the hate burning deep in them! "I am charging you with slave abuse," I said to the man in a cold level voice as Sa-she-ra cradled her daughter in her arms. "I am taking these two slaves and fining you thirty gold crowns." I felt like telling him that he was lucky I didn't run him through on the spot, but I suppose that would have been going a bit "far", even for me. The girl needed medical attention too. Gayle was a bit "old" for little Mara. I had no doubt that Mara would like Sa-she-ra's daughter. I saw nothing wrong in having a future "Lady of Trelandar" grow up with an "Indian". They were, after-all, "here" a long time before we "pale-faces" first came! "Our other sluts won't like being chained at night with one of `those'," Sanda Talen warned as she regarded Sa-she-ra and her daughter. I had done for the girl what I could. Enough so that she could ride with her mother clinging to her. I had doubled up with Lady Tirana. I didn't think Sanda would like what I had to say next. I had no intention of chaining either Sa-she-ra or her daughter with my other female slaves. Her man was dead, and it was a long ways back to where she came from. Not that she had any desire to return to her former home anymore. Mara needed a younger girl to be her "companion" than Gayle, who was after all sixteen to Mara's five. Not that I would change Gayle's status or anything, but it would be educational to Mara to have someone who was not of her own race, someone from another land, to play with. I thought that lovely young Ta-she-ra might just do! Her mother, once "educated" a bit, would make a good "inspector" for me. I wouldn't have to get out "in the hot sun" quite so much! "I don't chain my employees with my slave girls," I told Sanda Talen, enjoying the look of shocked surprise on her face! |
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