Sigmar's Girl

�It was nice doing business with you again,� Reslin said. He stood in the doorway and gave parting as Sigmar and his men lead Jaffa towards their horses.

It appeared that the young lad, Hoit, was taking his advice and not returning to Habil Anek. Sigmar, however, had to return for the rest of his men; and the rest of his precious cargo.

Chasing Hoit all the way to Pavilyn had been a significant delay, taking a little more than eight hours. The return trip would take another six, or more. By the time he got his men together and had the caravan prepared to move again, a total of around seventeen hours would have passed since he had arrived at Habil Anek to find Hoit.

The gains Sigmar had managed through his maneuvers with the girl would not be worth it if he lost his sailing window and had to reroute his planned voyage. More than anything, it had been Sigmar disliked for letting others get away with anything, most especially when it would end up costing him money, that had prompted him to go after the boy. The success of a man who loaned money was necessarily built on his reputation of not letting the little fish get away. If he�d had to, Sigmar would have hired a bounty hunter, just to prevent that from happening. Even if he did lose his sailing window, the way things had turned out was much better than the prospect of that expenditure.

Under the best conditions, it would take almost a full three-fourths of a Feilomian day to cross the Blans Haban plains, and reach the city of Ingsvel at the foot of the Narmesh Mountains.

And with the roads turned to a brown slush, the normal amount of time wouldn�t be nearly long enough. Thus, each delay, no matter how short, grated on Sigmar�s nerves�because it made a far longer delay that much more probable.

The first leg up the Narmesh Mountains was by far the most crucial. Once the caravan was past Billibet�s clearing the road moved away from the dangerous cliffs and widened just a bit, making travel at night relatively safe. But only a great fool would begin that first leg without more than enough daylight to account for incidental delays as well as the traveling time. If a wagon went over the edge, a merchant could loose as much down the side of the mountain as he would by missing his sailing window. And arriving too late would mean waiting through the whole night�more than nine emdays, if Stenz was right about the days being longer.

The other option was to swing wide to the east, missing the mountains all together. But the time he made up by not going through the mountains themselves would likely be lost with the far greater traveling distance�and with rain having turned everything into mud, the higher paths in the mountains might actually make better time, despite the incline.

Ingsvel itself was another plus in favor of taking the mountain route, the city at the foot of the Narmesh Mountains was a large sprawling metropolis by Feilomian standards. In fact, it was almost as large as Milnucent. If they had to stop for a full night, it would make a better place to do it than most.

His men would undoubtedly be in dire need of rest by then; and when they woke there would be plenty of taverns, gambling halls and slave houses to keep them amused during the long dark hours. Sigmar would also have the chance to do a little business of his own. Because of the rains, he had canceled going to one of the towns he had originally intended to visit. That, and the merchandise he had expected to receive from Hoit, had left him with too much unfilled space. He could easily take on several extra bodies to help fill his ship.

Still, except for the extra playtime delay, which Sigmar couldn�t deny had been a lot of fun, the visit to Reslin had turned out to be about what Sigmar had expected. Reslin LeMeswitch, was the fourth son of a powerful Meshwijian noble, with ties to the emperor himself. But because Reslin wasn�t his father�s heir, and wasn�t well favored, he�d had few attractive prospects back on Meswitch, at least when compared to his older brothers. But also because Reslin was the son of a powerful noble, he�d had just enough political ties to get him assigned as Pavilyn�s magistrate. The position�s pay was relatively meager fare for a man like Reslin, who was used to living as he had under his father�s roof. However, the position was one that offered a resourceful and unscrupulous man a great many ways to make money on the side. Like the transaction that had just been tendered, many of these ways were not strictly legal but, most magistrates took advantage of at least some of those opportunities to supplement their income.

Sigmar was lucky that Hoit had fled to Pavilyn, where Reslin was the magistrate. Having used the man before his risks had been as low as they could possibly be; but even going to an unknown, the risks were relatively small. Unless there were obvious implications of duplicitous guilt, which Sigmar was always very careful to avoid, the penalty for such crimes generally amounted to little more than a stiff fine.

Sigmar had been assessed such petty fines before and still made money on an acquisition.

Here she was, on her belly, dangling over the saddle of a slaver�s horse. Once again, the same wad of cloth had been shoved into her mouth and held in place with a belt. Another belt held her knees together, while her elbows were pinned together behind her with a third. They�d put her blue dress back on her as well, but it was torn and pushed up so far that it didn�t even cover her ass. She wondered why they�d even bothered to put it back on her for, if anything, it made her feel even more naked than without it.

She didn�t really care. Everything felt unreal and far away; and her body ached more deeply than it had in her entire life. Sex shouldn�t hurt like this�it never had hurt like this. It wasn�t just the discomfort of overused parts; this was a muscle ache that penetrated deep, as if the muscles themselves had been partially torn from her bones. And perhaps they had. She�d struggled so hard she felt exhausted now, and didn�t have any energy left to fight. She just lay on her belly, dangling helplessly over the slaver�s saddle horn,[1] the man�s large hand resting high on her bare leg, and the cool evening air licking at her exposed backside. Mud splashed up in her face as the horses galloped quickly along the highroad,[2] but she didn�t even have the energy to feel embarrassed any more. Each new stride made the small lump of the saddle�s horn dig a little deeper into her sore belly as she rocked back and forth, but that was actually a lot better than some of the horse�s slower gaits had been. One gait had made her bounce so hard that she�d hardly been able to take a breath.

It seemed like only a couple of ten-days[3] ago that she had been sipping on a glass of phydmilk,[4] and looking over the balcony at the expansive Gardens behind her father�s house�the noises from the party drifting softly through the closed doors. She remembered the frilly, pink dress she�d been wearing, and the familiar weight of heavy jewelry about her neck and wrists. She even remembered what type of vitriol[5] she had used to flavor her drink. She remembered so many wonderful things about that evening, and the most wonderful of all had always been meeting Hoit.

Now, she thought that chance meeting might be the single worst moment in her entire life!

She had left her father and given up her fine home, because she loved him so much that she wanted to be with him regardless of the consequences. And as if to prove everyone who had ever warned her about him right, this was what that bit of foolishness: she was about to lose everything.

Everything had happened so fast that Jaffa didn�t have time to think or act. If she had, she might have thought to tell Sigmar that her father would be willing to pay a great deal of money for her return. She was certain her father would be willing to make it worth his time.

But she hadn�t been given time to react at all. The men had moved too suddenly�and their attack had been coordinated too well. This obviously wasn�t the first time they�d used that trick, but it still irritated her that she had sat there so calmly, so sure of herself, and fallen for it. She should have gotten up and moved away from the table. She should have told the bartender what they had been trying to do, and promised him payment from her father�s purse if he would find her a trustworthy man to see her safely home.

Home to her father�s house! Not that tiny hovel she�d been living in for Hoit�s sake.

By the time she started making a fuss, it was already too late. They�d covered her mouth so she couldn�t cry for help and the bartender hadn�t thought to question the integrity of his customers. When they�d taken her to forge the papers, they�d made sure that she couldn�t speak there as well, not that the magistrate would have listened to her even if she had been able to speak. He was a vile man; she could still feel his touch�as if his hands were maggots crawling across her flesh. His touch seemed to have buried into her muscles and poisoned her body.

By the isles! She never would have anticipated that they could shut her up so quickly with that wad of cloth, or that two little belts could render her so completely helpless. Not that another woman would have faired any better, fighting against the strength of three strong men, but it had been intensely humiliating to think of the way the first man held her so easily in his arms, as if she were a baby that was kicking and screaming to get down, one hand over her mouth and the other around her waist, pressing her body against his. After that there had been nothing she could do to get away. She couldn�t spit out that wad of cloth in her mouth fast enough to say anything before he shoved it back in.

She had moaned and thrashed about as the man shoved her towards the exit, but it was either hobble along as best she could or fall flat on her face.

Glancing wildly around the room, she had tried desperately to catch someone�s eye.

No one seemed to care that she had been illegally trussed up like a pig. A few mildly curious looks was all she got, but even those people carefully avoided contact with her eyes. They had obviously been embarrassed by the unwomanly way that she was acting. But aside from their mild discomfort over the ruckus she made, nobody cared. Why should they? To them, she was just another unfortunate girl who had learned that she was to become a slave. Jaffa had never been privy to such a scene from a spectator�s point-of-view, but she had heard about such things from her friends when she was growing up. She�d always felt sympathy for such girls, but knowing she would never have to experience such a thing made it easy to brush it aside. The possibility of slavery was just one of the things most females had to deal with. It was the way the world worked, like the fact that cats caught and ate mice. You didn�t feel sorry for the mice, or before you knew it your house would be over run with the vermin. Not that Jaffa thought of herself as vermin, but it was the same thing for women. There was something in the range of ten girls born for every boy, and Feilom wasn�t a rich isle, particularly in the winter months when much of the food its inhabitants ate had to be imported. Some families had no choice but to sell their female children to keep themselves alive. Jaffa had always felt herself to be very fortunate, having been born in a season when crops could still be grown on the whole isle; and even more for having been born to a wealthy and loving father.

She�d never even considered that she might find herself being sold through illegal means.

For a brief moment hope had soared in Jaffa heart, as she saw the bartender approaching, and she dared to hope that everything might still be alright. He was responsible for the illegal activity that went on in his tavern, so surely he would demand to see Jaffa�s papers. He would tell them to remove her gag so he could hear her side of the story. She would tell him everything; and if he wouldn�t listen, she would shout it out to the entire room!

When the bartender asked what was going on. He�d smiled calmly and said, �Sorry about the disturbance.� Then he�d scowled and looked over at Hoit as if he had done something incredibly stupid. �It�s never a good idea to let them know when you intend to sell them to the Zylomian isles for breeding.�

The bartender�s eyebrows rose a little in understanding, and Jaffa had known it was over. He had what he wanted, which was an excuse to ignore the scene as much as possible.

She screamed into her gag, trying harder than ever to spit it out, now that she saw what might be her last chance slipping away. But all she could manage was something that sounded like: �Nham non mwash mamiming!� She�d bucked wildly, trying to break free�trying anything to make the bartender understand�but the strong arm held her fast.

�She�s a wild one,� Sigmar had said apologetically. �I bound her up fast so we wouldn�t cause any more trouble than we had to.�

The bartender nodded appreciatively, indicating that he thought Sigmar had done the right thing then he�d looked at Jaffa and shook his head sadly. �From what I�ve heard of them folks I can�t really say I blame her being upset.� Next the bartender looked at Hoit, and this time he was scowling a bit. �You about ready to pay your bar tab?�

�Oh,� Sigmar said. �That�s my fault, I guess.� He swept his head in an expansive nod that included both Jaffa and Hoit. �These two are both my responsibility now, so I guess the tab is mine as well.� He reached into his pockets and pulled out a frometh of gold. �This ought to be enough to cover things,� he said placing it carefully into the bartender�s hand.

The bartenders smile indicated that it was clearly more than enough. He nodded gratefully and quickly backed away, as if he thought Sigmar might suddenly ask for change if he stuck around too long.

The sound of horse hooves was so loud that even Faldern�s piercing whistle wasn�t loud enough to get Sigmar�s attention. He tried again, and when his lord finally looked back, he nodded to the side of the road and began to slow down.

�Her face looks like a cooked lobster. And she�s become uncharacteristically docile, � Faldern said, he slapped her extremely hard on the ass and it was barely enough to produce more than a moan. �I thought we�d better get her upright, unless you want her brain damaged when it comes time to sell.�

�Untie her legs,� Faldern instructed Heatil, who had already dismounted and come to see what he could do to help. Once her legs were free, the two men helped the girl down. She was a little woozy on her legs, but she could still stand on her own.

�Might as well take that dress off her,� Sigmar said. �It�s probably ruined anyway.�

Faldern nodded and cut the dress off her body with his knife. �I�m going to lift you up,� he told the girl, �and I want you to lift your leg up over the saddle. Do you understand?�

�Good,� Faldern said, but when he lifted her up she kept her legs together instead of helping and he had to put her back down.

Faldern shook his head angrily. �She knows what she�s doing!� He didn�t like being made a fool of, especially not by some plucky new female slave. �Come on,� he said. �I�ll pick her up, you guide her leg over the saddle.�

She was still refusing to cooperate, pretending to be too out of it. But together the two men finally got her up on the saddle. Faldern mounted behind her, and soon everyone was off at a gallop again. Faldern didn�t think the whole stop had taken more than five minutes at the most, but he was angry. The girl was still acting a little woozy, but he sensed that she was more alert than she pretended. Her arms were still bound behind her back at the elbows, and this forced her back to arch, forcing her pert little nipples to stick out in a most appealing way. Her head flopped back against him. He let it rest on his shoulder, using that same arm to cradle her, while his hand clamped firmly over her breast. The way her forearms poked out from behind her back reminded him of a plucked chicken, but her shortened arms rested comfortably on his legs, without jabbing him as the horse moved. It was bound to increase the pressure that was working to cut off her circulation, but so far her arms had retained good color, and he didn�t intend to release them until there was no other choice.

After a while the girl seemed to recover, and he decided that maybe she hadn�t been acting after all, but he wasn�t completely mollified. She began to lean forward�as if touching him offended her. Faldern smiled and slid forward a little in the saddle, pressing against her again. A few minutes later, she slid forward again too. There wasn�t much more saddle to go before she�d practically be sitting on the horn. The idea made him smile with amusement and he reached around, pressing his hand down between her legs to feel how close she was already.

He leaned forward so that his mouth was close to her ear and said, �You�re hogging the saddle, girl.� Then with a sudden movement, he picked her up and scotched forward just a bit. She moaned a wordless protest as her crotch landed on the hump. He felt between her legs again, and smiled with satisfaction. The horn�s small protruding knob was pressing firmly right against where her clit should be. It wouldn�t be very long before the movement of the horse�s gait began to make her very uncomfortable. �That�s much better,� he said, grabbing a handful of her breast and squeezing forcefully as he pulled her back against his chest.

When they were still several minutes from Habil Anek, Sigmar pulled off the side of the road and told Faldern to carefully check the girls gag and bindings. He didn�t want her to come undone at the wrong moment and draw undue attention to herself. Then, he had Faldern wrap her up in his horse�s blanket, covering her face and most of her body before draping her over his saddle once again.

The full darkness of Feilom�s night was almost upon them, and it would cover their approach from anyone who didn�t come close, but Sigmar wasn�t willing to take any chances.

The three men rode the rest of the way into town and headed straight for the stables. A few of the men were still there, taking a turn watching the equipment, but most were elsewhere. Inside the tavern most likely, although a few had probably found a young girl to bed somewhere in private, and other�s might be trying to get more sleep again before it was time to travel again.

�I�ll secure her in one of the wagons,� Sigmar said, walking towards his new slave and pulling her down from Falder�s horse. �Why don�t the two of you go round up the rest of the men? I want to get back on the road before we claim that much deserved sleep.�

Faldern nodded, but even he seemed weary; and Heatil looked as tired as Sigmar felt. He was a good man who had been with Sigmar a long time, so he know what was a stake. There was still a chance, if they didn�t have any unforeseen problems and made good time traveling through the night and the following day�that the caravan could still make it to Ingsvel in time to head up the mountains. Since Heatil�s pay was based on a percentage of Sigmar�s profits, he would gladly do what was needed before finally claiming the bed in a moving wagon as his immediate prize.

Sigmar almost envied the men who had stayed behind. The three of them had been up for more than fifteen hours since arriving at Habil Anek, and he at least had been up for several hours before that. That was far longer than he liked, and the opportunity to rest in a real bed for a while would have been welcome, but there wasn�t time. Even if there had been, Sigmar wouldn�t have chosen to stay any longer in Habil Anek than he had to. The chances of someone seeing and recognizing his newest slave were just too great. Her papers were all in order, and it would be nearly impossible to prove that they had been obtained illegally. But if her father was really as powerful a man as she said, then he was probably friends with the town�s magistrate; if nothing else he would be able to delay Sigmar�s departure long enough to create serious problems.

Briefly, Sigmar had considered going to the girl�s father and offering to resell her at the same price he expected to get at the market. There was a good chance he could actually get more for her this way, but he quickly decided that it wasn�t worth the chance. If the father had enough influence to force a delay, Sigmar would have no choice but to give in to his demands or face a devastating financial loss when he missed his sailing window. Her father hadn�t gotten to where he was by being stupid. It would be entirely possible that a clever man could force Sigmar to give the girl back for no more than the pitiful amount Hoit had paid for her, and it had surprised him how little that amount actually was. According to her papers, it was probably less than Sigmar could have gotten for Hoit himself.

No, it was definitely best, all around, to get out of town as quickly as he could and trust his luck at the slave market.

For the time being, he would keep the girl carefully bound, gagged and tucked away in the depths of his own personal wagon.

With each bump, Jaffa could feel herself getting further and further away from any chance of being rescued. But bound and gagged, as she was, there was nothing she could do about it.

When she closed her eyes she saw herself living with her father the way she had been only half a dozen ten-days[6] ago, and it pained her to think that she might never see him again. It angered her to realize that she had given up her life with him for someone like Hoit! What had he ever given her but this heartache and betrayal; living in a tiny little hut like a pauper�all the clothes she had kept stuffed into one tiny little chest beside the bed because she didn�t what to make Hoit feel bad�while in her father�s house she still had seven all chests, each of them with several drawers, all stuffed with beautiful clothes and jewelry. Jaffa told herself constantly that she didn�t miss them, or the score of housemaids and cooks and other servants who used to do every unpleasant chore so that she didn�t have to. She had thought that living with Hoit was worth those sacrifices�because she thought he loved her as much as she loved him.

Why couldn�t she have ignored Hoit�s charming ways when they met? The life she had given up was the stuff of most girls� dreams, and although she had often wished for something else�something more�she found herself missing it very much just now.

She missed the long talks with her father the most. But she also missed his extravagant parties, the cool, polished, marble pillars and tile in the entry foyer, and the plush carpets that wound up the main stairs to her private room, which was almost as large as the whole hut she had lived in with Hoit. She even missed the kinds of mindless activities that had so often bored her back then: the kinds of activities that were deemed suitable for a woman of her class, like writing poetry or sharpening her skills on the musical instruments her father was always purchasing for her in hopes that she would find one that she enjoyed more than she had all the others. She had never become good enough with any of them to feel comfortable performing in public, and she probably never would. Her fingers, while graceful in other chores, refused to do her bidding with the effortlessness that might have come with more practice. But she couldn�t stand to spend more than a few hours practicing before other things called her away�like reading the books in her father�s library. When she could convince them, she would play soldier with her father�s younger wives and other daughters�especially those who weren�t favored and functioned as servants. Most of the time, however, Jaffa found herself alone, and she would wander off to explore the expanse of woods on the northern half of her father�s estate. There she could make up endless stories about her grand adventures as a tracker or a hunter. Sometimes, in her fantasies, she would come across a man who was hurt or being attacked by a wild and dangerous creature and she would save him�gallantly giving her own life to spare his�and with her dying breath the man would hold her in his arms and swear that even in death his love for her would not die.

Such foolish fantasy! And yet, Jaffa would give almost anything to be back wandering in those woods again, instead of lying here on the floor of a slaver�s wagon�with the monotonous hours plodded by like days! And the occasional bumps jarred her repeatedly from more pleasant memories and dreams.

There was nothing to look at inside the wagon, and nothing to do, but rock with the ceaseless motion and think about how unfair it was that she was here.

When she wasn�t thinking about her father, she was playing the tavern scene over and over in her mind�she had no idea how many times now. Each time things turned out just a little bit differently: she noticed the man behind her a little earlier and turned just in time to knee him in the balls as he lunged at her; or she realized what was going on a little sooner and excused herself to go to the bathroom, sneaking away and returning to the safety of her father�s house. Yet when the jarring of the wagon shook her awake again she was always still here, in Sigmar�s wagon. Screaming and struggling was no good either. She had screamed herself hoarse when she had realized they were back in Habil Anek, hoping that someone might recognize her and relay the news of what had happened to her father. As far as she could tell, no one had even noticed. All her struggling did was leave her exhausted, her muscles sore and her skin tender where the leather belts had chaffed against her skin.

Before they even left Habil Anek, Sigmar, returned the belts that had been used to bind her to the men who had provided them and replaced them with sturdier bonds. Her arms were confined behind her back with simple but secure rope work; while her legs were held together with thick swath of elastic material that buckled around her knees. Another leather belt went around her waist, with another wide strip of leather that went between her legs. She didn�t understand why the uncomfortable plugs had been inserted into her vagina and rectum before the crotch strap was buckled in the back, just out of reach of her fingers�that is, not until she�d been riding in the wagon for several hours. By then each movement of the wagon created an unpleasant pressure on her bladder. If not for the plugs and the belt that held them in place, she might have made quite a mess on the floor of the wagon. As it was, she had not been able to relieve herself, even though her discomfort was such that despite the embarrassment it would have caused her, she had tried.

Sigmar hadn�t removed the wad of cloth that served as a gag, but he had wrapped her face with another length of a long stretchy cloth that all by itself would have been enough to prevent her from spitting the gag out when no one was looking. Then, just to be extra certain, he�d pulled a thick and fairly tight fitting leather hood over her head as well. She suspected the hood alone would have done a fair job of stifle her noises. Together with the other material it made making a sound that was audible from more than a few feet away impossible, as well as helping to hold the length of stretchy cloth in place. The final touch was a wide collar which held the rest firmly in place around her neck.

Visually, the mask probably didn�t make that much difference. She wouldn�t have been able to see much inside the wagon, anyway. Not in the gloom of Feilom�s deep night. But the material around her face was oppressive, and made her feel even more helpless than before. In her dark world, there was very little, other than the growing urges of her own body, to indicate how long it had been since they�d left Habil Anek. Her mind drifted in and out of awareness and she knew she slept, but had no real way of knowing how often or for how long.

Occasionally, she would wake to the sounds of someone climbing into the wagon, and feel them lying down beside her.

She had struggled and moaned, trying to get his attention, as she had at every other possible chance. At first, he had apparently interpreted her noise as expressing the need to relieve herself, so he released the elastic knee-strap and the leather one that ran between her legs, then helped her over to the drop-hole[7] behind the driver�s seat and pulled out the plugs. She�d pissed all over his hand, but he�d simply taken a small rag from a pile of rags and wiped his hands off without comment. When she was finished he�d wiped her clean using the same rag and then dropped it own the drop hole, before replacing all the plugs and straps.

She was glad to be relieved, but she continued to struggle, hoping that he would remove her gag as well. Instead he ignored her, much the way he had before, and when she didn�t quiet down after a short while he slapped her hard on the ass. �It�s not time to eat yet,� he said in a severe tone of voice. �Now settle down or I�ll keep slapping until you do.�

Finally, after her ass was very red and sore, she gave up her efforts and allowed him to lie down beside her in peace.

His closeness had made her tense and uncertain, as her mind raced with an explosion of possibilities. She could feel his body pressing against hers as he breathed. For a while he draped his arm over her waist, and she felt herself responding when she thought he might be interested in something other than sleep. A real woman was always supposed to be ready for sex, but her thoughts and feelings were strangely ambiguous. Sigmar was an attractive man, and under other circumstances such intimacy with him would have been quite pleasant, but now it was tinged with her anger and fear. Eventually the fact that he made no further overtures and the monotony of the rocking wagon had lulled her into a restless sleep. She woke again as someone else was climbing into the wagon. She heard Sigmar telling the man to feed her.

He tackled the first problem by removing the leather belt from around her knees and for a few brief moments he had taken off her hood.

The moment her mouth was free, she almost screamed the words: �You have to go to my father. He�ll pay you whatever you ask! I know he will.� She was hoarse, and her mouth and throat were too sore to produce a great deal of volume, but it was enough for Sigmar to hear, and that was all she wanted.

�Shut her up!� He told the man savagely. When the guard had clamped his hand over her mouth, Sigmar went on. �I have absolutely no intention of wasting my time running to your father! Do you understand?�

�Please,� she said when the guard removed his hand to let her speak. �You must��

�Last chance if you want to eat,� Sigmar said. �Otherwise the gag goes back on and stays on until I think you�ve learned your lesson. And I wouldn�t make a fuss again until your bladder is full, because if you make a fuss too often I�ll ignore you all the time, and undo you on my schedule instead of yours.�

She hadn�t been allowed to say another word while the guard placed bits of dried meat and traveling biscuits into her mouth, washing them down with a cool sip of water from a water bladder. When she was done eating, Sigmar told the man to replace her gag. �She wasn�t a very good girl,� he said, �She doesn�t deserve any more rewards just yet.�

Once her gag had been replaced, the man poked and prodded her for a few minutes, pressing his fingers into belly almost as if he were fluffing a pillow. She hadn�t needed to piss before eating, but now she could feel the urge beginning to grow and the weight of his head as he propped it against her stomach was uncomfortable. He smacked his lips tiredly, snuggled his face into Jaffa�s breasts and within moments he was fast asleep, snoring and drooling on her like a baby that was being burped.

Under other conditions it might not have been such an unpleasant feeling, having a warm body resting so close against her. Since each man who entered the wagon had to remove his boots and those who entered for any extended period of time often removed their dirty clothing as well, placing the items in a special holding box, the floor of the wagon actually remained surprisingly clean, despite the knee deep mud outside. Still, this man was damp and sticky and his body smelled like an unwashed animal. She woke some time later and found another man beside. She could tell it was a different man by his smell and the feel of his clothes. After that, it was a steady stream of men. Occasionally one of them would remove her gag and feed her but she couldn�t tell how often, her stomach wasn�t used to the rich but meager traveling rations and her belly always felt empty.

Sometimes when they came Sigmar would tell them to release her arms and legs. Her circulation never really bothered her that much, despite the relatively long periods of being bound, but she was glad for each moment of release, stretching and squirming like a dog that had just been let out of her cage. A few of the men liked to squeeze and suck on her breasts or her ass, or poke her belly. If she moaned loud enough they figured she was full and would release her bindings so that she could use the drop hole. Then, before rebinding her they would sometimes dig their fingers savagely between her legs, as if simply to prove they had the right to possess her. Most, however, barely touched her, preferring simply to lay down on the floor and sleep.

Sigmar touched her less than most of the others when he was awake, but he was the only one she could always recognize when he lay down beside her to sleep. Perhaps it was because he generally didn�t have to leave the wagon so his clothes were cleaner than the other men, or perhaps the material was simply finer, but Sigmar�s clothes were pleasantly soft against her skin; and he had a very distinct smell. It wasn�t exactly that he smelled good, but there was something about his scent that was strangely appealing. Beneath his silky clothes, the touch of his skin was almost electric. Sometimes she would wake while he slept, a pleasant tremor of energy coursing from his finger where it rested ever so gently along her hips or the small of her back, making her intensely aware of every inch of her naked flesh. The strange flow of energy was intensely pleasurable�maddeningly so, in fact, since there was little she could do to remove his hand or scratch the sexually pungent itch it created.

She was never sure if any of the other men even returned for a second time. But the constant flow of other bodies (and the building urges within her own) were the only things that gave her any indication of how much time was passing. From time to time Jaffa was feed and her plugs removed so that she could make use of the drop-hole at the head of the wagon. Usually this was when Sigmar needed to go himself�which was generally right before or right after he ate. The rest of the time, her moaning tended to fall on deaf ears and the bodies blurred one into the other. Even the number of times Sigmar had lain beside her was becoming somewhat fuzzy. Was it four, or was it five times? And how long did he sleep each time? Had she slept while he had come and gone? She wandered in and out of consciousness so much that she couldn�t be sure if she slept at all or if she did, for how long.

All she knew for certain was that she was getting further and further from her father and her home.

Stenz heard the alert a few moments before he saw any change in the motion of the wagons in front of him.

�Damned,� he swore softly under his breath as the driver pulled on the horse�s reigns and stepped firmly on the wheel brake. This was the second broken wheel during this trip. Sloshing through the deep mud was just too much strain, even on Feilom�s sturdy wooden spokes.

He looked up the line, trying to find Sigmar�s wagon. But they were little more than a string of white dots, each the small pool of light cast by a lantern. More lanterns were springing to life. Soon there would be dozens and dozens of them, providing enough light to see the whole area.

Sigmar would almost certainly want to see him, once the process of putting on the new wheel was underway. Stenz wondered if the wagon held slaves or some other kind of merchandise. Getting the slaves in and out of their paddy wagons would be much faster than unloading and reloading merchandise, even with a dozen or so men to help.

Stenz whistled loudly. He caught the attention of a mounted guard who was passing by, already carrying a lantern himself�and he waved the man over. �Take me to Sigmar,� Stenz said, climbing onto the back of the horse�s saddle as it drew near.

The guard nodded and slapped the reigns of his horse, moving slowly but surely down the line towards Sigmar�s wagon.

The wagon was lit by a lantern that swung from its lantern pole, but Sigmar had already gotten out before Stenz arrived. Stenz didn�t mind. He was always content to wait where he could keep his feet dry. As always, Sigmar would know where to find him when he wanted his navigator�s input. He motioned the guard closer, then used his arms to raise his lower body off the horse�s saddle and jumped lightly to the sturdy foot rail along the side of the wagon. The maneuver was one that he had mastered a long time ago, but it still made him a little nervous. It was certainly better than getting knee deep in the mud, though.

This time, as every time in the past, he managed to land without breaking his leg.

Stenz watched the guard ride off as he finished climbing up into the wagon and plopped himself down on Sigmar�s comfortable, padded seat. With the night, the air had grown cooler, but the humidity had risen, as well, making it feel more uncomfortable if not exactly hotter. Just that jump from the back of a horse had caused a light sweat to break out on his face.

He looked down the line and sighed. It still wasn�t possible to tell if the broken wheel was on a slave�s wagon or not. Either way it would take quite some time for Sigmar to set the necessary events in motion. Faldern could have handled it all, of course, but Sigmar wasn�t the kind of merchant to leave everything to his underlings. As pressed as they were for time, Stenz wouldn�t be surprised if Sigmar was already down in the mud, right along with the rest.

Not having to dirty his hands with such trivial things was one of the many privileges of being Sigmar�s navigator. Even Sigmar wouldn�t ask him to help with such things if Stenz didn�t volunteer first. Stenz wasn�t the kind of man to wait for others to do the work either, and if it hadn�t been for the mud, he might have gone along with everyone else, just to see just what was going on. However, he knew his own abilities to be certain that if he did go, he would only be in the way.

Much better, then, for everyone, to stay here, where it was high and dry. Besides, Sigmar�s wagon was always well stocked, and Stenz was beginning to feel a bit hungry.

It was only when he turned around to look for food that Stenz noticed the nude body lying quietly on the floor. Her face was covered by a hood, but the naked body that was visible held a great deal of promise. Few men had Sigmar�s talent for knowing bloodlines, but Stenz had become proficient enough at the art to be reasonably certain this girl was of Clestion blood, even without seeing her face. Perhaps not a full blood�but there was something distinctive about the curve along the back of her legs and the way it dipped just a bit before it meet with her ass.

Stenz leaned forward. �You must be the new girl I�ve heard so much about,� he said. �Are you hungry?� He forced his fingers under the leather strap between her legs, feeling for the plugs that he suspected were there. �Or maybe you need to use the drop hole. I hear your bladder can get pretty uncomfortable when you�re all plugged up like that.�

She nodded, almost as if she were a bit uncertain, and Stenz suddenly realized that under the hood she was also wearing a gag. He set to work on the collar that secured the hood to her head, and when he pulled the hood away from her face she was just as beautiful as he had expected. All of Sigmar�s purchases where exceptionally beautiful. The man didn�t deal for mutts unless he had to, and he almost never had to. Part of that was Stenz�s doing. It was his job, not only to calculate when and where the isles would be at certain times, but also to carefully plan out the schedules for each isle. It was a responsibility that Stenz took very seriously; studying the almanacs and travelogs with a dedication that few navigators achieved. He enjoyed his job for he found the variety of the isles endlessly fascinating.

�Who are you?� The girl asked in a hoarse voice, when he finally removed her gag.

Stenz raised his eyebrows. �Now that�s a strange thing to say! I would have expected something more like, �Is there anything to eat or drink?� or �Can you undo my legs, now, so I can take a shit?� or �Can you free my arms for a while?�� He chuckled. �Or maybe even something like, �if you do I�ll suck your fucking cock!��

The girl shook her head distractedly. �I need you to do me a favor!� she said. �It�s very important.�

�My name is Jaffa oi�Hoit. My papers were purchased illegally. My father, Balon, has right of repurchase and it wasn�t offered to him. I need you to go back to Habil Anek and tell him what�s happened so that he...�

Stenz�s laughter was boisterous. �When you ask for a favor,� he said, �you go all out, don�t you?�

�And don�t think he would be the only one! But not the kind of reward I�d want, I suspect.�

�Please,� Jaffa said. �You must believe me. My father is very wealthy and he loves me very much. He would be willing to give you a great deal for your efforts.�

�It wouldn�t matter if he could give me the whole isle of Feilom,� Stenz said. �I�m Sigmar�s navigator. I can�t leave�certainly not without being noticed. And I have my duty: not just to Sigmar but to my order. I gave my oath, and I�m bound by legal documents as well as by my honor. Even if I wanted to help you�and I�m not saying that I do�but even if I did, I couldn�t simply leave. The wheel will be fixed in a few minutes, and Sigmar will want to consult with me again. My absence would be noticed very quickly if I wasn�t here to speak with him.�

Stenz took a deep breath and stalled out. What else was there to say? He had a certain amount of sympathy for the girl. It was impossible to work for Sigmar as long as he had and not know how things were commonly done. She was probably telling the truth about her sale being technically illegal, although he also knew it was unlikely to be something she could prove outside of her own small town, which she was unlikely to ever see again. Even in her own town, proving it would probably take time, and so would the long return to her father�s house. Perhaps if she had come to him while they were still at Habil Anek, he might have been willing to consider doing something, however small, but certainly not now.

She probably didn�t even realize what she was asking. He would be risking his status as a navigator, risking everything that he had worked for his whole life. He wouldn�t be willing to do that, no matter how pretty she was�or how pitifully she asked.

�Here,� Stenz said, leaning forward to work at the buckle of the collar that held her mask in place. �Eat something. It will make you feel better.�

�No,� he said. �I won�t tell. But I can�t do anything to help you either.�

It took Stenz a moment to focus his attention back on the girl and realize that she was talking to him.

�Well,� Stenz shrugged. �I�m sure we�d have plenty of time. Changing a wheel is a time consuming job, even with lots of men helping.�

�Untie me, then.� She struggled feebly to sit up. �I can�t do much for you like this!�

Because of the suddenness of the offer, Stenz suspected there might be an ulterior motive, but they were a very long way from her home: it was dark and she was without food or clothing. What would she gain by running? Even if she did try, he would be ready. He couldn�t see them well enough to be sure in the dim light, but her limbs were probably in need of being released anyway. Perhaps that, he told himself, was really what had prompted her offer.

He removed the bindings on her legs first, and as he�d expected she needed to relieve herself. While she sat on the drop-hole, he worked on her arms. Those proved to be a little more difficult because, with her sitting where she was, either his body or hers was at least partially blocking the light. When she was done, he gave her a moment to her wipe herself clean.

She scooted willingly across the wagon; and as soon as he was situated comfortably against some cushions, she eagerly began to fumble with his pants, trying to pull them down. The ravenous look on her face and the fervent way she tugged at his clothes surprised him�she licked her lips with what he felt sure was unfeigned excitement. As his cock sprang free, she looked up at him and smiled with the innocent pleasure of a child who had just unwrapped a gift and discovered that it is exactly what they�ve been wanting. She pulled his pants down around his ankles and spread his legs wide, almost as if he was a woman squatting to take a piss or one about to give birth�but he didn�t care when he felt her tongue gliding gently up the length of his shaft. Her fingers teased lightly against the inside of his thighs; then his balls, making his dick jump with an eagerness to match her own. Looking up at him, she moaned with apparent pleasure. Her lips pressed against the head of his dick, spreading only reluctantly to suck him in; taking his length easily and deeply, yet somehow maintaining a rhythmic pressure that seemed to ripple up and down his whole length.

She�s amazing; Stenz thought as he closed his eyes and gave in to the feelings.

Slowly, yet inexorably she created a pressure, first to draw him in and then to force him back out. She was very, very good. Each girl�s technique was a little different, but this was incredible. And he quickly decided that it was exactly what he liked.

Stenz wasn�t really a big man, but he was large enough to have made more than a few new slaves choke when they first tried to satisfy his whole length. If her father was really as wealthy as she said, then maybe he had provided sexual tutoring as part of her formal education. But Stenz was still surprised that she understood so quickly exactly what it was that he wanted. A few playfully experimental strokes and it seemed she had known just what to do.

It was probably just a coincidence, but if not, it would be a rare gift�worthy of one of the best girls at an upscale pleasure house. Such a skill, if it really was that, would greatly enhance her value when it was time to sell her. Stenz would have to mention this to Sigmar. But for now he was satisfied just to lie back and let her work on him.

She was surprisingly enthusiastic, and despite the distinctly cool feel of her skin only a few moments before, sweat was already dripping from her face. Stenz could feel his own skin beginning to perspire in the muggy night air as slowly but steadily, she worked her mouth up and down, taking him so deep in her throat that at the bottom of each stroke her lips brushed gently against his pubic hair. Each firm stroke brought new little waves of pleasure. Her pace never hesitated. The steady rhythm was quickly bringing him towards a climax.

When he was still a few good strokes away, she suddenly stopped�and he couldn�t help opening his mouth and groaning with frustration, despite the smile on his face.

She was holding him deep in her throat; slowly pushing him deeper still. It was too slow to bring him the rest of the way off, but the constant feel of her throat surrounding him was enough to keep him hard and tingly with arousal.

Now he felt her teeth pressing against his pubic bone; she held him there, deep in her throat, letting the little surges of sexual tension slowly die down. Only when the threat of climax was completely past did she start on him again, moving her head just a little slower this time, but no less insistently. He could feel her warm fingers tugging gently at his balls, just the way he liked. She might have been nothing more than a mouth and finger. Stenz felt no contact anywhere else between them�just his own pleasurable throbbing deep inside her tight little mouth.

The trick of stopping just before climax had fooled his body into thinking it was spent. Yet the feelings were still heightened. Even now, her pace never faltered as his passion continued to grow. It was taking a little longer to reach the point of climax this second time�but the feelings were even more intense, and as he grew close they rocked his whole body with joyful tremors, each one bringing him one step closer to exploding.

He tried to use his hands to keep her head moving, but she simply wrapped her arms around his hips to hold herself in place, all the way in, as she had before. She stayed like that until he finally gave in, and released her head.

This time, as she began to work on him yet again, her movements were faster still. He moaned with an achy pleasure as his tension kept on rising. And then it was as if he could feel his semen moving from his balls, shooting up towards his crotch and then traveling the length of his shaft. And she pressed her face against his belly, drinking it all down, as spurt after joyous spurt of ecstasy seemed to course right through him.

�Stenz felt himself beginning to drift off into sleep and shook his head, forced his eyes open. Post-coital bliss had left his body feeling very heavy. It would be wonderful to give into that feeling and, at the very least, take a nap for an hour or two. But he was responsible for watching the girl, since he was the one who had released her. He couldn�t afford to fall asleep.

He was sure that he hadn�t actually fallen asleep, but somehow she had managed to slip out of the wagon in those few moments of inattention, without him noticing her moving.

Suddenly he was very alert. He jumped up, grabbed the lantern and looked around outside the wagon. The night had grown as dark as it would probably get, but there was still enough light to see the general outline of things like bushes and water puddles. He stilled his breath, listening for the tell-tale sound of her trying to run through the mud. She couldn�t have gotten very far. In fact, he was finding it hard to believe that she could have gotten down from the wagon at all, without him noticing something: the sound of her moving, or the wagon shifting position as her weight left the footrest. Something should have given her away.

This whole thing, despite the skill and enthusiasm he had thought to be genuine, had all been a part of her plan. And even being suspicious of her hadn�t been enough. What would such a clever girl do during a planned escape? Where would she go?

The land to the right sloped downward. Running that way would make her significantly easier to see. To the left, the land rose sharply, but it was relatively rocky which might leave her more exposed. Even there though, the rain had turned the ground into a virtual swamp. If she was running he would be able to hear her: thrashing through the weeds or splashing in the large puddles. The fact that he didn�t hear her meant that she had gotten out, taken but a few quick steps into the deep grass, then crouched down, hoping that he would run the opposite direction.

That meant she was still very close, perhaps moving so slowly and gracefully that she made no sound.

Stenz looked to the crowd that had gathered around the broken down wagon. They were little more than a sprinkling of lights in a sea of darkness, and they were far enough away that their sounds didn�t compete very much for those near to him. If he called out or ran towards them to attract their attention, she could use that sound as a cover to move further away. Besides, Stenz didn�t want to openly admit his embarrassing mistake. With any luck, he could find her without anyone being the wiser.

Yet even now, she was probably, very slowly, putting distance between them. She had already proven that she could move silently.

Surely, she would expect him to anticipate a run up the hill, where she wouldn�t be so visible. But if she were so very clever, she might try to second guess him and go down instead.

Making his choice, he jumped down from the wagon and splash wildly through a puddle as he bounded a few quick steps down the hill. Just as quickly he stopped and listened, hoping to catch the sound of her moving, trying to use his sounds to mask hers. He heard nothing, so he walked back, closer to the wagon, and made several quick passes on that side as he held the lantern high. Every so often he stopped abruptly to listen carefully, before moving on, back and forth along one side, and then back and forth along the other. But it was no good. The girl was gone. He would have to own up to his mistake, and the sooner he did so the shorter the distance she would have been able to travel.

He gave a loud whistle, trying to get someone�s attention, but after several tries it was obvious that they were too far away to hear him with all the commotion going on in their area. He would have to go all the way over to attract their attention and that would give the girl even more time to slip away.

Stenz was dreading what was about to come, but there wasn�t really any choice. He wasn�t eager to hear what Sigmar would have to say, but there was no way to keep it from him. Soon everyone would know, and he would be the laughing stock of the whole caravan. A massive search party would be mounted, and it would slow the caravan down even further. If they didn�t find the girl within a reasonable length of time, a few of the men who were native to Feilom would be dispatched to continue the search�all the way back to her home in Habil Anek, if they had to. Stenz would no doubt loose his bonus for this journey, and possibly even the next; and he would loose the respect of all of Sigmar�s permanent men. But more than that, he would loose Sigmar�s respect, which, despite what he sometimes thought of the man, was none-the-less rather important to him.

No, that wasn�t quite true, Stenz thought as he wiped sweat from his brow, and started walking towards the grouping of lights. He hadn�t trusted her at all. But instead of trusting his instinct he�d assured himself that even if she did try something, he would be able to catch her at it. Only he hadn�t been able to. Even now, he couldn�t quite understand how she had managed to get away. She couldn�t have gotten very far in the time it had taken him to hold up the lantern and look around. Her skin was a delightfully dark, honey-brown. That would help her blend in with the night, but her sweat would give her body an almost glossy sheen, which should have cast a telling reflection from his lantern. But there was too much water; reflections glittered everywhere across the ground. He distinctly remembered thinking how smooth and slick her skin had felt during the exertions of her sexual performance. She couldn�t have continued to move, either, or he would have heard her, which meant that she had to be extremely close and yet for some reason he hadn�t been able to find her.

That was what was so very frustrating. Even now, as he was walking to get help, she still had to be very, very close.

He hadn�t really been expecting much, but there she was, carefully pulling herself out of the mud beneath the wagon. Even now she moved stealthily, but he had already seen her. He began running back towards the wagon, never taking his eyes off of her. Despite the relief that flooded through him he was amazed at the cleverness of her plan. She had obviously hidden under the wagon, probably rolling around in the mud to make her more difficult to see. Then she had simply waited. Perhaps she had even counted on the fact that eventually he would have to go seek help. That was patience as well as cleverness, and it was nothing but dumb luck that he�d turned around at just the right instant to see her. Another moment and she would have been able to slip away unnoticed. That didn�t matter now though. All that mattered was that he had seen her and he would be able to clean her up and get her back into the wagon before anyone was the wiser.

She looked up, saw him baring down on her and cursed, quickly darting up the hill. A few more strides and he was on her, wrapping his arms around her legs and dragging her to the ground. They landed in a small pool of water that soaked Stenz instantly, but he didn�t really care. She had been caught, and she was down. Sitting up, he reached for her ankle, to pull her closer, but she thrashed wildly. He couldn�t get a grip on her muddy skin. She rolled over too, and kicked dangerously at his face. It surprised him, but he managed to block the first kick, and her heel bounced off his shoulder with little more harm than perhaps a bruise. He lunged at her then, and wrapped her up once again, his weight forcing her face down into the ground as he limbed on top of her back. The water was deep enough in this spot that it forced her face to submerge. She came up sputtering but still struggling, so he shoved her face under again, holding it down until she stopped struggling before he let her lift back up.

She coughed and sputtered a little more, but she nodded. She wouldn�t struggle any more.

�Good,� he said helping her to her feet, none too gently and pushing her ahead of him back to the wagon. When they reached it he warned her not to run, then he climbed inside the wagon just long enough to grab the rope and leather that had bound her earlier, then he climbed back down. �Now lean forward, and don�t struggle,� he said. �Or I promise, I�ll do some things you won�t like!�

She nodded again, breathing heavily. All the fight seemed to have drained out of her. She had tried her best, and she had failed. Now she docilely let him bend her over and even moved her arms behind her back to make it easier for him to bind them.

�Come on,� Stenz said, a little less harshly now that she was safely fettered once again. �I want to get you washed off and back in the wagon before Sigmar returns.�

They stopped at a large puddle on the low side, and Stenz quickly used the cool water to wash as much of the mud as he could from both of them. Her hair was dirty but dark enough to cover up most of the evidence, still he did the best he could�giving up only when he noticed that the cluster of lantern lights had broken up. He urged her back up the hill. They were not exactly clean, but in the dim light, he hoped it wouldn�t be too obvious.

Unfortunately, Sigmar came striding out of the darkness before he could get her back inside the wagon. Apparently he had left the group before the other broke up. �What�s going on,� he said looking at the girl suspiciously.

�I was feeding her and�� Stenz shrugged indicating all the other possible activities that might be easier to perform with her hands free, �And she says she needs to take a piss!� Now, Stenz let all the real anger and frustration that he was feeling creep into his voice. �So like a dummy I thought it might be nice to let her get some circulation back in her limbs by walking around, so I take her out into the weeds instead of having her do it inside the wagon where we�d be smelling it the whole time, till we left. And then the dumb bitch goes and falls down!� He glared at her warningly. �I almost think she did it on purpose.�

�Well, you might have plenty of time for a bath, once we�ve reached Ingsvel. I�m beginning to suspect we might not make it in time to head up the mountain before nightfall. We�re loosing our window of safety with each delay.�

�We�ll keep pushing and see what kind of time we make,� Sigmar said. �Even if we don�t make it in time, at least we�ll have hot baths and a bed to sleep in.� He turned his attention to Jaffa, then. �I think I�ll take the girl and put her in one of the slave wagons. Why don�t you stay here, and ride in my wagon for a while, so we can talk?�

She took a step, then quickly turned around and mouthed the words, �Thank you!�

He wasn�t quite sure why she had thanked him. Perhaps she didn�t realize just how much trouble he would have been in himself, if Sigmar had come back while she was still loose. Stenz didn�t think that Sigmar was such a fool that he didn�t suspect how she had tried to escape, but since she had been recovered he wouldn�t make an issue of it. The girl would have been in trouble too, and perhaps she sense that intuitively. She seemed to have a knack for sensing other people�s moods.

One of Sigmar�s hands held a lantern. The other he kept on Jaffa�s shoulder as they walked, turning her in the right direction whenever she began to veer off course a bit. There was really nothing sexual about the way he was touching her, and yet she felt very conscious of it in that way.

�You could make a lot of money off me,� Jaffa said after they�d walked in silence for a short ways.

�Your father may be wealthy by the standards of Habil Anek, perhaps even by the standards of Feilom, but I suspect that you have no idea just how much men on the inner isles are willing to pay for a woman like you.�

�It wouldn�t be that hard to send someone with an offer. You could do that much at least, couldn�t you?�

�He turned me down,� she admitted. �But he�s your navigator, he can�t just leave you. You have other guards, though; you could send one of them�someone you wouldn�t miss as much.�

�Stenz is a smart man,� Sigmar said. �I suggest that you emulate him and forget all about your father. It wont serve you well to dwell on the past.�

�Perhaps I misspoke,� Sigmar said sharply. �I wasn�t suggesting, I was telling you: I don�t expect you to ever speak of your father again. Not to me and not to anyone else. Do I make myself clear?�

Sigmar grabbed her sharply at the back of the neck, squeezing until she couldn�t help crying out with a small yelp of pain. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. �I�m only going to tell you this once, so I suggest that you listen. If I ever hear you talking about your father or your past life�or if I ever hear of anyone else mentioning that you�ve been talking about such things�I will have you whipped until your back is a mass of blood. Do you understand?�

She reached up and rubbed her neck as they walked the rest of the way to the slave wagon; but she didn�t try to talk to him again. Not about anything. Except for brief commands when he told her what to do, he was more than happy to return the favor. He had her stop beside the first slave wagon they came to, and unlocked a chest that was built into the side of the wagon, between the wheels. He rummaged around and pulled out a very loose-fitting, metal collar, which he secured around her neck with a heavy lock. It was far too small to slip over her head while it was locked, but something a little smaller might have been more comfortable. When that was secured, Sigmar pulled out a pair of manacles, connected by a short length of chain and leaned down to snap them on around her ankles.

�Come on,� he said, guiding her around to the other side where there was a door.

Jaffa looked inside as Sigmar unlocked the door and opened it. The heavy odor of too many sweating bodies wafted towards her, as the light of his lantern cast gloomy shadows over the bodies of several women lying on the floor. Other women were seated around the walls as well. Several of those closest to the door turned towards faces towards the opening and breathed deeply of the fresh, late evening air.

�Go on,� Sigmar said, holding his lantern a little higher. �Climb on up.�

The length of chain between the manacles was just long enough to allow Jaffa to take one step up onto the footrest and then another up into the wagon. Thick padding covered the floor and made it somewhat difficult to step between the prone women, many of whom were apparently sleeping, and Jaffa felt guilty about dragging the cold chains of her manacles over their bodies. It was the only way to get to an empty seat along the wall, however. A long bench completely circled the inner wall. It covered every inch of wall space, except where the door was. Jaffa found a spot and sat down, slightly surprised but glad that the seat of the bench was padded as well as the floor. She leaned back, and for an instant the slight incline of the walls made her feel like she was falling backwards, then she felt the slick leather padding on the wall.

The lantern disappeared, plunging them into total darkness. And for a moment Jaffa wondered if Sigmar had left without closing the door; then she heard him rummaging in the side box again. Another moment later he reappeared in the doorway and tossed a large bladder of water inside. The girl�s on the floor fought for it eagerly. The one who finally came way with it popped it opened and began to drink greedily.

�That�s enough, Thadalina,� said a woman who was sitting on the opposite side of the wagon from Jaffa. �Pass it around now or you won�t get a turn next time.�

Thadalina reluctantly complied as Sigmar tossed a small box of rations to the woman who had just spoken. Jaffa looked closer, trying to see who she was, since she obviously held some kind of authority. But before Jaffa could single out which one of the women had spoken, Sigmar closed the door, cutting off all the light from his lantern and plunging them all into total darkness.

�Everyone who takes a drink calls out their name,� the same woman said. �Then I�ll pass you a meat-cake.�

The process went on, as one girl handed the bladder to the next. The names seemed to never end and Jaffa began to block them out. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the padded bench; and a moment later the wagon lurched forward.

They were moving again. Moving further away from her home and there was nothing she could do about it.

Jaffa opened her eyes and glared in her direction, but she didn�t say anything. Accidents were bound to happen in such a confined space, so she was willing to let it pass.

�Drink some water,� the woman with authority said. �Everyone takes at least a few sips of water; and everyone eats. Else I have to report you. Can�t have you arriving at the slave auction all weak and scurvy looking.�

�So save it up for later,� the woman said. �Trust me. You�ll be hungry at least once before this journey is done. Now, state your name and take your drink.�

�So what�s your name?� Jaffa said angrily. Even though it was true that she�d just eaten, Jaffa wasn�t to full to eat, she just didn�t like being told what to do�especially not by another woman.

�My name is Shelana; I�m the head woman in this wagon. Now, are you going to tell me your name and take the drink?�

�My, my,� said the girl who�d jabbed Jaffa in the side. �Jaffa obey lawn![8] My, aren�t we the little princess?.�

Shelana sighed heavily, as if she was being forced to do something she didn�t like.

�But don�t let any of the guards hear you calling yourself that or Sigmar is likely to skin the both of us alive. And I for one do not want to be skinned alive�so, if I hear you saying your name that way again, I�m going to have to tell Sigmar myself. You�re Jaffa oi� Sigmar, now and until he decides to sell you. You�d better get used to that, because the sooner you do, the sooner things will start to go easy for you; and for those of us who have to be around you.�

Jaffa didn�t bothered answering, but she passed the water bladder on and another girl called out her own name.

Shelana�s words grated on her nerves, making all the irritations and indignities that she�d been suffering since sunset seem that much more unbearable. Occasionally she heard more soft talking: pointlessly inane small talk: about the terrible weather, or a girl�s sadness over missing an upcoming festival or knowing that now she�d never belong to the man she�d been hoping would purchase her papers. Others spoke softly about what was ahead: speculating about who would eventually buy them and what their new life would be like.

A few of the voices seemed to be directed at her, asking for her story; offering to tell their own�but Jaffa ignored them, closing her eyes and leaning back. A few moments later the wagon began to move again.

For a time, the ceaseless sound of the rain rapping on the roof seemed to mix with the rocking and shaking in the dim light of the slaver�s paddy wagon, as if they might be cause and effect. Jaffa drifted near sleep, not really awake but still aware of the movement of the wagons; the thick humid air and the head of the girl next to her leaning on her shoulder. Jaffa�s own head was resting without embarrassment on top the other girl�s head as well.

Jaffa eyes flew open as the wagon Sudden hit another pothole and the dreamlike illusion was shatter by a spine tingling jar. The thick, metal collar around her neck had come down on her collarbone again, with another painful thump that even the weight of the girl�s head couldn�t dampen. She reached up to rub the tender area just in time to keep a new bump from bringing the collar down once again on the same spot. If anything, this bump was even more jarring than the first, and there were grunts and moans of discomfort from several of the other women. The one who�d been resting her head on Jaffa�s shoulder was rubbing her temple sleepily then she smacked her lips and slumped against Jaffa again. Jaffa let her arm drop. Her muscles were sore from trying to hold the metal collar still for so long before she finally learned how to keep it still by leaning against someone. That trick didn�t work for the really big bumps, of course, but it helped. Jaffa�s collarbones were still very tender.

And she was beginning to realize that it wasn�t the only part of her body that ached. The muscles in her legs, back and neck were all quite stiff; yet, if she stretched out a leg she was likely to hit someone in the face. Not to mention that her ass was practically numb form sitting still for so long. The bump had moved her just enough to make it start tingling uncomfortably. She shifted her weight, moving her body in a way that formed a little circle on the bench seat. It was difficult to do without disturbing the other girl too much, and it wasn�t working as well as it had the other times. Working her muscles just made the aching worse and she suspected that no amount of fidgeting or rubbing her cheeks would help this time.

There was no way to say just how long she�d been riding in the dark, but it was long enough for a gnawing hunger to have come and passed a couple times. That meant it had been quite a few hours, although she doubted that it was anywhere near as long as it felt.

Jaffa had put it off for as long as she could. She knew she wouldn�t like the uncomfortable press of cloth and flesh against her naked body. The women sprawled against one another like snakes in a pit�kicking and elbowing one another as they rolled around; and resting their heads against any body part that seemed capable of serving as a pillow. Nor did she look forward to having someone else crawl across her body, dragging their own cool chains as they moved to the center. Each woman who left the bench went to the middle, pushing the others towards the edges of the wagon as they lay down. When a woman had been lying on the floor long enough that she reached the edge, she had to get up and sit for awhile. That way, everyone got a turn on the floor.

Pushing the other girl away from her Jaffa slide off the seat, carefully feeling her way across the press of damp cloth and clammy, sweating bodies. She didn�t go all the way to the center; she didn�t plan to lay down that long. Just long enough so that sitting was no longer a pain in the ass.

Jaffa didn�t even remember closing her eyes, but she woke to a flood of light and the feel of the women around her jostling for position. For a moment, she thought the morning might have come already. Then she smelled sweet, fresh air and felt the cool breeze drying the sweat on her skin.

Someone must be in the doorway, but that didn�t� make sense�the wagon was still moving.

A guard was standing in the doorway, one foot on the padded floor and the other on the foot rest. He was hanging a lantern on a hook just inside the door, and its light made the night beyond seem even darker than it normally would.

Now that her eyes were beginning to adjust, Jaffa realized the lantern wasn�t charged very well. The GlowStone[9] inside cast only a dull amber pool of light, and they were beginning to flicker occasionally. They needed to go back into a nice hot fire for a few hours, but Jaffa couldn�t imagine how they could keep a fire going inside a moving wagon, which, of course, explained why the GlowStone was so dull. Jaffa was reasonably certain the caravan hadn�t stopped since the wheel had broken, and although she couldn�t guess exactly how long that had been, she knew it had been a long time because of the growing urges of her own body.

She looked around�hoping to discover that this wagon had a drop-hole, like Sigmar�s wagon had�and notice that one of the other women seemed to be busy using it. It obviously embarrass her that the guard had opened the door right when she was relieving herself. When she saw Jaffa looking at her she looked away, her face deepening to such a deep shade of red that it was obvious even in the dim light of the lantern. Jaffa looked away, giving the other woman what little privacy there was to be had in such a crowded wagon. Not that she�d been able to see much anyway, Jaffa doubted the lantern�s stones would last long enough to see Deelia made it halfway round again, and she wondered if that would be long enough to see the sunrise. She had ridden in Sigmar�s wagon for quite a while, and the changing bodies that lay down beside her gave her an easier way to judge the passage of time than riding in the darkness of this padded wagon, but she still had only the vaguest notion of how far the night was gone. She wondered idly how much further they had to go; and what would happen when they finally got to wherever it was they were going. The single night, since she�d left Pavilyn�s tavern, already seemed like half a dozen ten-days, and she didn�t know if she could stand much more riding in this wagon.

The guard in the doorway turned and caught something from another guard who was obviously riding his horse alongside the wagon. The two men worked as a team, passing in several fresh bladders of water and taking back the empty ones; then passing in a box full of travel cakes and handing it to the woman who had to be Shelana, the headwoman inside this wagon. The last thing the guard passed back to his teammate was the lantern. He leaned way out so that he could shut the door, and Jaffa heard the sound of a latch clicking shut as the wagon was plunged back into darkness.

Another small bump made Jaffa roll slightly to her left, waking her, as the head of the girl to her right slumped over onto her shoulders. Jaffa looked around at the other women who were sitting on the bench. She could even see the occasional arm, leg or body of the girls who were lying in the middle, but she usually couldn�t make out which limb went with which body.

Jaffa felt the damp press of flesh against her thigh as the girl beside her shifted her weight on the seat, trying to get a little more comfortable. A girl on the other side of the wagon used the sleeve of her ruined dress to wipe at her face�and Jaffa realized that it was a good bit lighter inside the wagon than it had been the last time she�d awoke. Glancing up, she noticed that diffused light was indeed leaking in through some vent holes near the wagon�s ceiling.

A whole night had passed�each hour spent moving steadily further and further away from Habil Anek, her home. More than 250 hours of traveling. Although she hadn�t been able to see the isle�s passing, she knew that Deelia had made her rounds more than six and a half times. And during all that time the caravan hadn�t stopped once. It just kept moving�constantly traveling away from her home.

Something else was different as well though, and it took Jaffa a few moments to realize what. It didn�t seem possible, but the rain had finally stopped. Perhaps the wet season was finally over, although so much water had fallen that the next rains might fall again before the land had time to try out.

It had rained so much that Jaffa finally asked her father if he thought such an unusually long wet season was a sign that winter was finally approaching. She remembered the way he�d rubbed his chin, amused by her question, yet thoughtful. One of the things she loved so much about him was the way he always took her questions and suggestions seriously. This time he�d shaken his head and said, �I suspect it�s a bit early to be seeing any signs of real winter.�

When she was still very young, her father had given a grand party to mark the equinox; and she still remembered the occasion with a sense of reverent awe. She had seen her father going into the forest and followed him to a small grove where he had knelt in supplication before a small stone alter. He had remained kneeling for a very long time and Jaffa hadn�t moved. Only when he rose and began the return trip to the house had he noticed her. �This is a great and auspicious day,� he father had explained to her as they made the return trip, �one of only two days during the whole year when the length of the day and the night are exactly the same. Neither of us will live to see another, although you might live to see the winter solstice.�

�I hope not,� he�d said, squeezing her hand reassuring. �Seeing the seasons change once is more than enough for any man.�

�Because of the bloodshed?� According to the ancient sayings there was always strife and bloodshed during the migrations.

Her father had given her a sharp, curious look. �You read too much,� he said, but there was no real reproach in his voice and he had that proud if somewhat amused little smile on his face. �I was thinking more of the cold and the dark. My father used to tell me how the air was so cold during his childhood that people sometimes died from it, even when they were wearing heavy coats. Their bodies became hard as rock and cold to the touch�just like meat that�s packed in a crate of ColdStones.[10] You didn�t go outside much, on the colder days; and even on warmer days he wore thick layers of clothing and a thick fur coat. And still it was enough to make his bones ache.�

�You mean snow,� her father said. �I�ve never seen it either, but I don�t think I have any desire to. I remember the unbearable heat of my youth, and as hot as it was, my father said the cold was even worse in the opposite direction. It was the cold that prompted my father to move us from the far north to the far south. It was only later, when I claimed my independence and went out on my own, that I moved closer to the equator and made my home in Habil Anek.�

Her father smiled kindly. �And perhaps you�ll do it, when the time comes. Just remember, like you said, the migrations can lead to bad times. Everyone scrambling to claim a new home for themselves. That�s why the size and strength of our family is so important, especially come late fall. Remember that Jaffa. Do whatever you have to, to keep our family strong.�

�The sharp bouncing of the wagon made Jaffa�s collar rattle uncomfortably against bone once again, and she opened her eyes, the images of her father lost once again.

Perhaps this was her punishment for not heeding her father�s words. For turning to Hoit, against his better advice; thinking about herself instead of keeping the good of her family uppermost in her mind.

It was getting warmer than it had been during the night and the humidity was still just as bad in the small space of the wagon. So many warm bodies were pressed close that Jaffa felt stifled. She turned around and stood up on the bench pressing her nose close to the small air vents, but the fresh air just made her more aware of the stench of concentrated female sweat; and although they had the drop-hole and the pile of small, soft rags for cleaning themselves afterwards, the inside of the wagon smelled faintly of excrement as well. General foulness permeated the whole wagon with a stale rankness that she still noticed, even though she had long since gotten used to it.

Jaffa felt the shoulder of the girl beside her, pressing against the side of her leg.

She sat back down and looked around at the expressionless faces of the women around her and wondered if she looked as dead and lifeless. It angered her to think that she might. Like her, these other women were all moving into an unknown future, but unlike her, most of them came from poor families. They had been sold into slavery by honest means, and their sacrifice would benefit their families. In some cases, they might even be moving towards something better than what they were leaving behind. But Jaffa couldn�t imagine anything better than living with her loving father; and her sacrifice benefited only that scoundrel Hoit, who had betrayed her and her father.

In fact, she had nothing in common with these other women, except that they all now belonged to the same man; and riding in the same wagon, they were force to use the same drop-hole and smell the same air.

Another trickle of sweat ran down Jaffa�s side. Her body was slick with little rivulets. Sweat seemed to spill from her body like blood from a wound, sapping her strength and making her feel dirty. She couldn�t isolate her memories of the last time a pair of guards had opened the door to pass out food and water from all the others, but she knew it had been long enough that her mouth was dry and her tongue felt sticky against the roof of her mouth.

She could no longer even remember how the cool breeze felt when they opened the door and let in the gust of refreshing air.

Finally, Jaffa couldn�t bare it any more. Standing up, she tilted her face towards the air vents again, hoping to catch a bit of a breeze, the way she had before. She was rewarded with a small puff of significantly less warm air. Her face was too damp with perspiration for it to do much good, but it proved to her that the stifling heat was largely inside the wagon�caused by stifling humidity and too many bodies in such a small space. If only the wagon could somehow be opened up, it would be so much better.

The wagon dipped violently, tossing Jaffa into the lap of another dark-haired women beside her. She could feel the woman�s hot flesh beneath her clothes and her hands pressed into Jaffa�s stomach and breasts as she pushed her violently away.

�Why don�t you sit down before you end up killing someone,� she said with an angry glare.

�I�m sorry,� Jaffa said, reaching out for the wall to steady herself. With the other woman�s help, she managed to right herself, and sink back down into her place along the bench. �I just wanted to feel a breeze on my face. It�s so hot in here; I can�t stand it any more.�

�We all want to feel a breeze,� the dark-haired woman responded coldly. �There isn�t any. Moving around will only make you hotter; and since you happen to be sitting next to me, I�m the one who has to feel your slimy body pressing against me when you loose your balance.�

It was Shelana. All Jaffa could see was the dim outline of her body, sitting on the bench along the opposite wall, but she had gotten to know the other woman�s voice quite well; always barking orders and taunting the other women into doing what she told them. Jaffa didn�t like her much, and she didn�t like the slightly condescending tone in her voice when she said the words poor girl�as if to imply that Jaffa lacked the intelligence, or perhaps the breeding, to act properly.

Jaffa also remembered the name Razina. The girl who had first spoken to Jaffa when she came into the wagon had called herself Razina. It had to be the same girl, although Jaffa hadn�t recognized her voice.

�I just wanted a little air,� Jaffa said defensively. �They won�t profit from us if we�re all dead before we get where they�re going.�

�If they want us to die, we�ll die,� Shelana said. �But I wouldn�t worry your pretty head about it. We�re valuable property; and you can trust that they�ve had plenty of experience keeping their property alive.�

�Can�t you just shut up about it,� Razina said. �If they wanted to put down the sides of the wagon they would. Obviously, they don�t!�

For a moment there was dead silence, then Shelana broke it. �The sides go part of the way down,� she admitted. �There�s a place to store the roof and the side panels under the floor boards. But it takes a significant amount of time to take them down. Obviously they think it�s more important to keep moving and save time than to let them down.�

�Maybe they just don�t realize how hot it is in here,� Jaffa said, standing up again. This time she turned around and began banging on the wall of the wagon. �Hey!� she screamed. �It�s fucking hot in here! Open this damn thing up!�

Her fists obviously weren�t making much noise against the padded walls; but then another girl followed her example and started banging on the wall and screaming too. Jaffa looked over at her and smiled as they cried out at the top of their voices.

�Cut it out,� Razina said grabbing Jaffa�s arm and trying to pull her back down onto the seat.

Jaffa shrugged her off. �I�ll quite when I�ve gotten someone�s attention,� she said, before turning her attention back to pounding on the wall.

�You really must stop now!� Shelana said. �You�re going to make trouble for us all.�

The other girl had stopped screaming, but she had obviously been persuaded to stop by those around her. Jaffa would not be so easily controlled, despite the other girls who had chimed in, urging her to stop.

Jaffa was about to climb up on the bench, so her mouth would be closer to the vents, when suddenly, Razina punched her in the soft part of her stomach just below the ribs. There was suddenly utter silence as Jaffa dropped to her knees on the floor of the wagon, gasping desperately for air. Vaguely she was aware that Razina was leaning over her, placing a hand on her shoulders. She heard a voice whispering menacingly in her ear, but the words never registered. She was aware of only one thing: Razina�s face was very close to her head, directly above her in fact.

She pushed herself up, putting the full strength of her legs into leaping upwards, turning her head into a missile that smashed into Razina�s mouth. There was a surprisingly loud thunk and Razina fell back against the padded wall with a startled gasp of pain.

Jaffa could feel a dull ache throbbing on the top of her own head, but the need for drawing air into her lungs was more pressing. She collapsed back to the floor and drew in a long tortured breath�like a death rattle hiss; the second breath was only a little easier. By the third breath the rattle had nearly left her throat and she was starting to become aware of her surroundings again.

She saw that Razina was sitting on the bench, a hand to her face as if testing for the blood which was running freely down her chin.

�Are you sure?� Shelana asked worriedly. She moved towards Razina as if to have a look.

�You broke my damn tooth,� Razina repeated more loudly; a look of pure hate in her eyes. �You�ve ruined me. You frigid little bitch!�

Razina lunged towards her then, and as Jaffa raised her arms to deflect the first blows, she had the distinct feeling that she might be fighting for her life. Razina�s fist caught her against the side of the head, making her ears ring. Then they were both tumbling over backwards, onto other bodies. Razina was pummeling her with a reckless abandon that fortunately prevented her from aiming well enough to do much real damage. Most of the blows caught Jaffa on the arms or the bony parts of her head.

Slowly, Jaffa became aware that some of the other girls were screaming and they were pulling Razina away form her. They weren�t entirely success; but it slowed the other girl�s blows enough that Jaffa could reach up to grab her wrists. They were pulling Razina away from her now, and she used this temporary leverage to rock forward, tipping Razina over as she did. As the girl fell, Jaffa pounced on top of her. She tried to get in a few blows of her own, but the other girls were on her too quickly

And then the doors of the wagon swung open. Strong arms grabbed her, pulling her towards the door. Razina was being held down by the other girls, but she kicked out and caught Jaffa�s eye with her heel.

Jaffa struggled to get back at Razina, and for a moment she almost broke free, but then the guard jerked on her metal collar so hard that she almost choked. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pinning her arms to her side as he dragged her from the wagon. Jaffa felt the cooler air on her face and a moment later her feet were sinking into mud that was ankle deep. The guard was sill holding her needlessly tight, his grip on her arm so tight that in made her muscles ache.

Razina was being pulled from the wagon as well; and the guard that was holding her was scowling fiercely and holding her tight enough to make her wince, too. It was only then that Jaffa began to realize how much trouble the two of them might actually be in.

He was sick of the caravan�s Sluggish pace. Going was slow and rather bumpy at times, even though the road to Ingsvel�through the gentle rolling foot hills of Blanz Haban�was one of the better maintained roadways on all of Feilom. It was not built on slabs of stone, like the high roads were, but its technology was the next best thing. Instead of slabs of stone, it was built on a substrate of large broken rock, with a layer of smaller stones on top of that. Normally the dirt and clay served to hold the smaller and larger stones together, like mortar. Even in the wet season, the layer of slush that formed was not very deep, and the ruts that formed as the dirt dried was the bigger of the two problems. But there were many places where the seemingly endless rain had softened the earth more than the stones could support. The passage of the wheels turned the mud like a giant paddle moving through a caldron of slush, stirring up the rocks, loosening them so that they no longer provided level support for the wheels. Sinkholes began to form and deep ruts that were hidden beneath the mud�s surface. Each passage of a wheel bit a little deeper, turning up the supporting stones so that driving over them was like crossing over the rocks in a stream. Only the rocks in a stream had been worn smooth by the years. The mud smothered the clattering sound of the wheels, but their passage through the mud caused an unpleasant sucking sound; and even with the extra animals that Sigmar had added, the teams strained to drag their loads out of the deeper mud holes. At such times and the wood creaked so loudly that Sigmar feared another wheel would break at any moment.

Even the dangerous path up the south side of the Narmesh Mountains was bound to be preferable to this. Still, many of the smaller roads on Feilom would have been impassable all together, the mud so deep the wheels would have sunk to the axle. It made the markets in the small towns even more lucrative for the smaller merchants who were willing to bring goods in on horseback or by mule. And Sigmar suspected that such merchants were drawing most, if not all the attention from the bandits who preyed upon merchant caravans. Even in the dry season, most groups of bandits were too small and disorganized to try attacking a group of soldiers the size of Sigmar�s accompaniment, especially when the caravan was heading north instead of south.

Bandits weren�t likely to have a navigator in their group, so they might not know exactly when the next sailing window started and ended, but they were smart enough to know that a caravan moving north was likely to be mostly women. A small raiding party might try to sneak into their camp at night to steal one or two women, but only if they were running desperately low. Bandits rarely kept more women than it took to tend their needs. More than that was just extra mouths to feed.

In a place like Feilom, few buyers were willing to pay the kind of money for a woman that a slave merchant could. Most women simply weren�t in high enough demand, and those that were required a special class of buy�not the kind of man that bandits were likely to associate with.

Even if the economics of the situation were different, the laws were strict and would have been difficult to get around. For one thing, when a merchant purchased a group of female slaves, their individual titles were destroyed; their names and descriptions, (including any birthmarks, identifying tattoos, branding marks, etcetera,) were placed on a group title paper, which was notarized by a magistrate. This made it much more difficult for a bandit who might try to illegally sell such a woman on the open market.

Only a licensed slave merchant was permitted to have a group-title for his women. Since the process of changing a title from a group back to that of individuals required the services of a magistrate, most buyers were meticulous about checking a slave�s papers before they paid for her, and they wouldn�t touch a woman who was part of a group title without checking the merchant�s license. Legally, a man who was found with a woman who did not have proper papers could be heavily fined, at the magistrate�s discretion. Whatever the amount, it was usually more than the man could pay and so the man was sold as a servant or slave to make up the difference.

The magistrates who were not corrupt followed the same laws, but without perverting them to their own gains quite so much. In the end, it boiled down to that fact that few people, aside from a licensed merchant, were willing to buy a woman from a group title, except under the supervision of a magistrate, or at the auctions where there was always a magistrate handy to notarize the transaction immediately.

Even if a man found a woman wandering free, without any papers at all, it was wise to make a sign for her, such as a piece of torn cloth with the word runaway or stray tied around her arm or neck. Until her new papers were drawn up, she had to wear the cloth�else the man risked the fine when he brought her in. Most magistrates were notoriously corrupt, and so most men would not be stupid enough to present such a woman to a magistrate without a witness or two being present. If the man was fined and sold, the woman was without papers or owner, and as such she was annexed by the local government. If she were attractive that usually meant she wound up in the magistrate�s hand, to use until he tired of her. Then he would resell her as he saw fit.

No, on a place like Feilom a farmer�s cart, burdened down with its fruits and vegetables, was more likely to be ambushed than a slaver�s caravan. What he was mainly using the large contingent of soldiers for was to pull him out of the mud or to help lift the wagon when a wheel needed to be changed.

So the last thing he needed now was to hear the alarm rising from one of his guards, and see the caravan coming to another halt. Sigmar climbed into the front seat beside the guard who was currently driving.

�What is it, Faldern,� Sigmar called to his first mate, who was riding his horse not far away.

Faldern didn�t answer; he was already speeding away in the direction of the guards who had called the alarm. After exchanging brief words with one of the other guards, who had already converged on the site, Faldern hurried back. �My lord, it appears there�s been a fight between two slaves.�

�Bind those involved and bring them to me. For now, I�ll deal with them here, in the back of my wagon. Meanwhile, let�s get this train moving again as quickly as we can.

�Yes, my lord,� Faldern said, reigning his horse around and galloping of to fetch the girls. �Let�s get these wagons moving,� he bellowed; and his orders were relayed down the line.

The caravan was starting to move again even before the guards on horseback approached, and for a very brief moment Jaffa couldn�t help wonder if they were going to be left behind. It was a foolish hope, of course, quickly dashed as two guards on horseback rode towards her and Razina and the two guards who were holding them.

�Leave them to us and get back in your wagons,� one of the guards on horseback said.

The guard who had dismissed the other two swung his leg over his saddle; and as he was falling to the ground he rapped Jaffa on the top of the head with his knuckles.

�Owh!� she said, scowling as she reached up to rub the sore spot. �What was that for?�

�Just trying to teach you better manners,� the guard said, eyeing her with a quick but lewd appraisal. �A good slave does not express her feelings through her actions. It�s the same thing as sassing your betters, and it won�t be tolerated. Not by me, ayway.�

�It�s not possible to sass my betters in this company,� Jaffa muttered, a little more loudly than she meant to.

�Oh? A feisty one, eh? You�d be right fun to turn around, I think. Too bad there�s no time for it at the moment, but I expect you�ll get yours soon enough, if you don�t use better judgment you�re around Sigmar.� He moved towards Jaffa, grabbing her by the arm and turning her around so that she was facing away from him. �Then again,� he continued, �it�s still a long way to auction. Maybe I�ll get my chance after all.� He pulled her other arm back and held her wrists together with one hand.

Somehow, the guard managed to let go of her wrists at almost the same time that he wrapped a length of rope around her elbows, tugging at her arms with just enough force to make her elbows come together. He quickly looped the rope around her elbows several more times tying it off in such a way that her arms were completely immobilized without any undue pinching or binding. For a brief moment, as the guard spun Jaffa around, she could see that Razina was being tied in a similar manner; then the guard leaned closer, blocking her view. �Word of advice,� he said, grabbing a handful of her long, dark hair and pulling her head back, none to gently. He kissed her lips savagely; then whispered in her ear. �Mouthy broads like you tend to bring out the malicious side in men, if you take my meaning.�

�But I didn�t do anything,� Jaffa said in frustration. �I was just defending myself.�

�You�re wasting your breath,� said the same guard, reaching up to cup her breast. �And if you�ve got any sense you won�t go spouting that crap to Sigmar either.� He found her nipple and gave it a vicious pull, twisting it between his fingers until the pressure of pulling forced the flesh to pop free.

Jaffa caught her breath, but other than the initial gasp of pain she managed to stifle her protests.

�I hope we understand one another,� the guard said, �because that was the friendliest warning you�re ever likely to get.�

He spun Jaffa back around and pushed her towards his horse. When she was standing very close to the saddle, he grabbed her around the waist from behind, his fingers digging into the flesh under her ribcage as he lifted her effortlessly and tossed her over the horn of his saddle. It poked into her solar plexus as she came down, knocking the wind out of her and taking away what little fight was left. The next thing she knew, the guard had mounted behind her and the motion of the horse as they galloped off after the caravan caused the saddle horn to dig painfully into her bell.

Gasping desperately for breath, Jaffa wondered how long she would have to ride like this. Her belly was still a little tenderer than it should have been from the last time she�d been forced to ride like this. After a few moments she felt the guard�s legs slipping under her chest and legs, giving her body just enough support to take some of the weight off her belly. Before long they were riding along beside one of the wagons. Jaffa turned her head enough to see that Sigmar was pushing aside some flaps and tying them back. Then he was leaning out, reaching for Jaffa�s leg. If she�d been able she might have pulled back, but slung across the horse the way she was there wasn�t much she could do. Sigmar�s strong hand took hold of the ropes that bound her elbows together and lifted. For a moment she thought she was about to die as her body rose into the air, suspended between the horse and the wagon as the ground rush by beneath her. She could feel the guard�s hands on her lower body, passing her along much the way a piece of lumber might be raised to the roof at a construction site. Only when she was mostly inside did the guard let go so that her legs scraped across the lower edge of the doorframe as Sigmar dragged her body the rest of the way inside the wagon.

�She�s the one damaged the other girl,� the guard shouted to Sigmar. �Chipped her tooth. Theamor is bringing the other along now.�

Sigmar nodded; then looked down at Jaffa who was lying sprawled on the wagon floor. �I should have known you�d be trouble,� he said, scowling down at her.

�It wasn�t my fault,� Jaffa began. �She attacked me for no reason. I was only defending myself.�

Sigmar shrugged and knelt down beside her. �You�re not in a normal court of law, here,� he said, rolling her carefully onto her stomach on the floor. �You�re in my court, where I make the rules; and chief among them is that no one�and I do mean no one�damages what�s mine. Not without my permission, that is! And when someone breaks one of my rules, I make their punishment a matter of public display, an object lesson to the others. Unfortunately, we�ve no time to delay, so any public aspect of your punishment will have to wait for latter.�

Jaffa�s metal collar dug into her neck as she turned her head to the side to avoid breathing the thin layer of dust on the floor. �But I didn�t do anything,� she complained.

Sigmar placed his knee in the center of her back, his weight pressing against her spine as he leaned forward to speak in her ear. �Don�t you mean, �but I didn�t do anything, master?��

Jaffa could hardly breathe, but Sigmar just snorted, as if her discomfort amused him. �You still seem to think fairness plays a role in your life, but you�re wrong. Think of chance as your new god because from now on your fate will be dictated entirely by the whims of each new master�however cruel and unkind they may be. If you�re wise, you�ll learn to cultivate their pleasure�the way you used to seek your own, because their pleasure is the only chance you have for your own. Hope then that chance smiles more kindly on you when it selects your next owner. For I assure you, I am not an easy master to live with when I�m displeased. Now lie there and be quiet while I pull the other girl aboard and maybe, just maybe, I�ll go a little easier on you when I decide on your punishment.�

The air was warm and uncomfortably full of moisture. Sweat trickled down the side of her face so heavily that even if her hands hadn�t been tied behind her back wiping at her face would have done little good. Her body was covered with sweat; and Razina, who was lying naked beside her, was covered with sweat too. A thick leather belt held the two of them pressed together at the waist and each time the wagon rocked it jarred their bloated bladders together. All but the smallest bumps were uncomfortable, and the largest bumps were downright painful. The rest of their bodies slapped against each other as well, keeping time with the rocking of the wagon. Jaffa could feel the press of their breasts: warm and slick, her nipples sliding across slick skin. When either of them moved, she could hear that peculiar sticking sound their skin made as it pulled away from the dusty, but smooth, wood flooring; she could feel new parts of her body pressing wetly against Razina and the inanimate objects that crowded tightly around them. Bound as they were, face to face, it was impossible not to press against one another.

Neither girl would have willingly touched the other, even if it hadn�t been so hot and muggy. That was part of their punishment, Jaffa knew: being forced to lie face to face; packed so tightly that they didn�t have any room for moving away from one another. Their heads had been tied back using a crotch rope, to prevent them from head butting one another, and their mouths had been gagged with large balls of rubber. Jaffa�s ball had a rather unpleasant and bitter taste that made her wish she didn�t have to swallow her own spit.

Despite their inability to speak, Razina had at first insisted on moving, trying to find some way to hurt Jaffa. But with their heads tied back, they were to close to do any real damage, and the minor pains they managed to inflict on one another only worked up an unbearable sweat. They quickly wearied of the pointless game, particularly when their bladders began to fill.

There was little enough they could do to cause serious discomfort to each other, for both their arms were securely tied behind their backs, at elbow and wrists; and their legs had been bent back and cinched tight with leather straps around ankle and thigh. Their hair had been tied in topknots, connected to lengths of rope which ran down their backs and between their legs before wrapping twice around their waists and being tied off. That rope increased the pressure on their bladders and precluded any attempts to move their heads. Underneath the crotch rope, each girl wore a leather chastity belt which kept the seepage plugs securely in their orifices. The final humiliation was the large leather belt around both their waists. With it in place, they could not turn over or escape from one another.

As the day wore on, the rocking motion of the wagon had another effect as well: as Jaffa�s body moved with the constant motion, it forced the leather strap of the chastity belt to rub back and forth ever so slightly, tugging gently but insistently at her clit and labia. At first it was just a mild state of arousal; but the stimulation was too mild to provide any real sexual relief, and the longer it went on and the more sensitive she became, the more embarrassing it was to be forced to feel such things while bound against Razina. When the pressure in her bladder was just starting to build it only intensified the pleasure�still not quite enough to provide any real relief, but enough that she found it hard to control her moans of pleasure. Now, however, the pressure on her bladder was her primary concern; and each time the wagon hit an unusually large bump or pothole, it jarred a painful moan from her nose.

Faldern didn�t actually see the man tumble from his horse, but he saw the horse standing, without a rider, while the man was pulling himself out of the mud.

Rittal blushed, obviously intensely embarrassed. He was one of Sigmar�s own men, used to sleeping in a saddle. �I fell asleep and I guess the horse must have stumbled,� he said. �I didn�t have time to catch myself.�

�Maybe three hours ago! I�m not tired; it�s just that the horse stumbled.�

Faldern nodded. Three hours wasn�t long at all, if you could get good sleep when you lay down; and perhaps he really had fallen because the horse stumbled�but Faldern could see the weariness in Rittal�s body. It was written plainly on his face. And the animals were just as tired. The feed bags allowed them to eat while they traveled, but they didn�t have a chance to rest. They had to be at least as tired as the men. They were stumbling regularly, and soon one of them would break its leg or a man would fall on his head and break his neck instead of simply wounding his pride.

�Why don�t you climb into the wagon,� Faldern said, nodding towards the closest one.

Rittal shrugged and shook his head. �I�m fine,� he said. �Besides, it�s full, Cleetus just went in a few moments ago and he�s been up longer than I have.�

Faldern nodded and reined his horse to the side, moving towards Sigmar�s wagon.

�Sigmar?� he called as he approached. �We must stop soon! The men are falling out of their saddles with exhaustions, and the animals aren�t in much better shape.�

Faldern nodded in return. He knew they had to push as hard as they possibly could if they were to reach Ingsvel with enough light to risk going up before night fell. �We�ve already pushed a lot further than we should.�

Although the road to Ingsvel wasn�t under-paved with stone slabs, there were numerous places to stop along the way. They were still a few hundred hours away from the Narmesh Mountains, but already the flat plains were dotted here and there by small, rocky hills. Instead of being perfectly straight, the road ran from one hill to the next so that there was always a reasonably high and dry place to make camp within the next few miles.

The hill Faldern found was an unusually high and rocky, and it didn�t have one of those paved drives leading up to it as some of the camping grounds did. It meant that the wagons and horses would have to stay near the road below. Many would sleep in the wagons, but some of the guards, those who had been sleeping in the wagons when they arrived, would have to do a bit of rock climbing to pitch their tents. At least the ground would be relatively dry, despite the rain.

Even if there had been a path, Sigmar wasn�t sure he would have trusted it, after all the roads they were having so much trouble with were normally in pretty good condition too. The last thing he needed was to pull off the road and get a wagon stuck. It was hard enough to pull the wagons out of the pit-holes that formed in the road proper. And in the end it wouldn�t really matter that much. As long as the wagon�s wheels weren�t sloshing through the mud and bouncing over the stones underneath, the men in the wagons would finally be able to get what they needed: a few hours of restful sleep, and assuming they could get a fire going, some of the men might want to eat a warm meal.

As usual, Faldern was efficiently organizing the guards and the slave women into small groups, each busily performing one of the many tasks necessary for making camp; and Sigmar decided that he would use this time to begin the discipline of the two girls who had gotten into a fight. He left his driver alone then and climbed into the back of the wagon. He�d tied the girls up earlier, and they were asleep. He studied them for a few moments, wondering what he should do to them. They both had attractive faces, like all of Sigmar�s slaves, but now, only one of them would fetch a decent price from the auction blocks. Even though very few children who were born on the inner isles were female, and thus they were a far more valuable commodity there than they were here on the outer isles, it was still a woman�s beauty and breeding that determined the full measure of her worth. Pedigreed women had been bred for looks for such a long time that the distinctions between what was plain and what was beautiful had become subtle. It didn�t take much to drop a female slave�s value considerably. The blackened eye would undoubtedly mend, perhaps even in time for the girl�s sale, but the other one was not so lucky. The broken tooth had ruined the other girl forever. Sigmar had learned to estimate the value of unknown quantities, for the slaves normally dealt with were untrained and untested, and therefore of significantly less value than others who had proven themselves with skills, grace and obedience. A chipped tooth, however, was enough to make the value of even a trained slave plummet. A thrifty merchant might still find her worthy of a little coin, especially if he were more concerned about improving his family�s lineage than what he had to look at in his bed. Or she might find placement as a minor servant in a wealthy house, or attract the attentions of a pleasure merchant who pandered to the interests of the poor instead of the rich. There were still many who would undoubtedly be willing to buy her, but her chances of attracting a higher class of fieflord, islesthe kind who would pay dearly for just the right kind of woman, had dropped to almost nothing. Even if one happened to be traveling the outer isles, and was willing to purchase her with the intention of taking her to a tooth doctor on the inner isles, where the tooth could be repaired. Knowing her market value, he would only be willing to pay a small fraction of what she would have been worth. In any case, the loss might even be enough to cancel out the gains he had made by trading up from Hoit to the new girl. What was her name, Jaffa?

It was a depressing thought that angered him greatly after all the resources that he had expended to get her�especially the one that was proving to be the most precious: time. Sigmar was the kind of man whose anger either cooled very slowly, or grew with time. This, he felt certain, would be an instance of the latter.

When the wagon came to a full stop, Sigmar went to the back of the wagon to check on the coloration of the girls� limbs; and loosened the straps on their legs. He'd been careful not to make these straps too tight, so there was only a little discoloration�and apparently not a great deal of tingling sensation, since releasing their legs wasn�t enough to awaken either of them. He raised his hand in the air and brought it down hard against Jaffa�s leg. She jerked her head forward which tugged viciously at the rope between her legs causing it to tighten around her obviously swollen belly. The movement wrung another of those pretty gasps from her lips and caused her hips to writhe as she clamped down on the muscles around her bladder. The look of pain on her face made Sigmar smile. He rather enjoyed meting out punishment, particularly when it was so richly deserved.

�So,� he said, letting his hand wander across the girl�s breasts, pinching one of her nipples hard enough to make her wince again. �My little trouble-maker finally awakes. And so does her victimized accomplice.�

Jaffa couldn�t move her head much, but she somehow managed to seem haughty as she glared up at him from the corner of her eyes. She was obviously anticipating that he would pinch her other nipple and he didn�t disappoint her, this time even harder. She still refused to cry out; which was Sigmar�s favorite response when he punished a slave. It made those few cries he did manage so much more enjoyable. This one would undoubtedly prove stubborn, but eventually she would learn. Perhaps not entirely under Sigmar�s tutelage, for despite taking pleasure in it, he normally let others handle that end of the trade. His talent was for finding the raw gems, not cutting and polishing them before they were resold.

She was still staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and it made her seem more frightened than the expression of disgusted she was obviously trying for. Such haughtiness was entirely unsuited on the face of a slave, and was likely to lessen her market value if she showed it during her exhibition. Her father�s wealth and indulgence had obvious taught her to expect certain things; when she didn�t get them her displeasure and even anger showed plainly on her face. For Sigmar, that was a rather appealing quality, which was why he didn�t have the temperament to break a slave properly. He had a tendency to encourage such behavior, rather than breaking it; but unfortunately, most buyers preferred women who seemed truly submissive and obedient by nature.

�I suspect you�ll need extensive training to get rid of that little flaw,� Sigmar muttered, before speaking a little louder. �Perhaps I should start with a little pre-training indoctrination. You�ve already cost me enough, no reason to let your bad manners cost me even more.

He reached down and removed her gag first; then he did the same thing for the girl with the broken tooth. �Tell me, broken-tooth,� he jabbed his finger into the side of her belly, causing her to wince at the added discomfort to her bladder. �Why were the two of you fighting? I would think you�ve been with me long enough to know better.�

�She started screaming for the sides to be put down, because she was hot. When I tried to stop her she attacked me.�

�That�s a lie,� Jaffa said, struggling to turn her head a little so she could see a little better. �She hit me first, right in the stomach!�

Sigmar brought the flat of his palm down with a loud slap against her belly, causing her to jump and setting off the chain reaction of pain again as the girls jerked back and forth against one another. �I�ve yet to ask you a question, slave.�

Again, Sigmar slapped her belly; then he slapped her much harder on the ass, first one cheek, then the other, and then back to the same spot on the first cheek. �A slave speaks only when spoken to,� he said, as he pressed his finger against her belly. �Do you understand?� When there was no response he leaned forward so he could look her squarely in the eye and gave her nipple a savage twist. �I asked if you understood, slave.�

He pushed his hand against her belly and jiggled it up and down for several seconds�and the girl�s moans were a beautiful sound. Then he smacked her hard on the ass several times in quick succession. ��Yes, master, I understand� would be the appropriate response, slave.� He pinched her nipple again and held it until she answered as he had suggested.

�Better,� he said, releasing her nipple. He grinned mischievously. �Now, you can give me your version. Why did you attack her?�

Jaffa managed to relax again, relieving the pressure a little on the rope around her belly.

He slapped her belly again, since that was obviously what caused her the most pain�but not too hard. He didn�t want to rupture her bladder and kill her.

�All right, I�m sorry,� Jaffa said, �I didn�t mean to contradict you.�

�I was just trying to get someone�s attention. It was so hot inside the wagon I thought I might faint from the heat. We were all hot; I wasn�t the only one calling out. But she hit me in the stomach and I doubled over. I didn�t mean to break her tooth. It was an instinctual response. I rose up while her head was in the way. I got a knot on my head too, and that's not something I'd do to myself on purpose.�

�Very well,� Sigmar said. �I think I have a pretty good idea what happened; and I hold you both responsible, so you will both be punished for damaging my property �quite severely in this case, since I fear that not even an Amorian healer will be able to heal the damage you�ve caused. I could, of course, find a tooth doctor[11] on one of the inner isles. The problem is that to get her there, I would have to let her take the spot which would otherwise be taken by another slave. So, I can loose money transporting her a great distance, to where I can pay a lot of money to have her fixed, just so that I can have the pleasure of selling what will still be an inferior product. Or I can cut my losses and sell her for next to nothing at the slave auction. Neither option pleases me; and no explanation you could possibly give will excuse you from paying the consequences for this loss.�

He loosened the thick leather strap that held the girls together at the waist. Then he released the necessary bindings to allow each of them use the drop-hole in turn. When they were done, he did not replace the plugs or the leather crotch belt. Instead, he threaded the rope between their legs, pulling it even tighter as he tied it back to the topknots in their hair. Then he pushed them towards the door, pleased by the awkward way the crotch-tie forced them to walk. With their arms bound and their heads pulled so far back they were unable to look down, so each step was made blind. Almost any movement was enough to cause them discomfort, but the descent from the wagon was particularly difficult.

Before stepping down himself, Sigmar rummaged through his binding supplies and found two short lengths of rope. When he did step down, he sank almost halfway to his knees in the mud. The girls tried to keep their eyes on him as he came closer and began tying the shorter lengths of rope to their crotch ropes. When he was done he had two little leashes with which he could guide the girls up the hill. The mud sucked at their bare feet, just as it did at his boots, and without their arms to help keep their balance walking was a precarious task. Sigmar set a brisk pace, hoping that one of them might fall and when they didn�t keep up he tugged viciously at the lead ropes, which in turn increased the pressure on the rope between their legs.

Once they were climbing the hill it was easier in a way. There wasn�t any mud, or even the occasional water puddle, to slow them down; but with their heads pulled so far back, the slope created its own difficulties. If they bent foreword, it helped their balance and they could see a little better, but the rope dug more sharply into their tender flesh. If they tried to remain straight up and down, to ease the tension on the rope, they couldn't see as well and were at greater risk of loosing their footing and tumbling back down the hill. Fortunately, for them, the girls made the climb without anything more serious than a few minor slips, which caused soft grunts of discomfort.

The clearing at the top of the hill was smaller than most such clearings, but there was a pit for a fire and stones had been stacked together to protect kindling from the rain. Several large logs had been carried to the top of the hill and placed around the fire pit to serve as benches.

Sigmar sat Razina down at one end of a log and tied her knees and ankles tightly together, then he led Jaffa to the opposite side of the log and told her to sit down. With the topknot holding her head back, she had to lean over to get her bearings before sitting, bug when she did she began to shake her head vehemently; clearly indicating that she had no intention of sitting. It wasn�t until he looked down at the log himself that Sigmar understood why.

At this end of the log, right where he had directed her to sit, a long stump protruded from the center of the log. Someone had carefully rounded the end of the stump, sanding the nub to remove any sharp edges and polished the end result until the wood had a glassy smooth finish. The stump itself was almost a limb, extending out perhaps as much as twelve to fourteen inches. It was little more than an inch in diameter near the top but widened quickly near the base to nearly four inches. The log had obviously been carefully chosen and placed, to serve as a punishment stool.

Reaching out, Sigmar took one of Jaffa�s nipples between his fingers, twisting savagely. �You will sit down,� he said sternly. �And since you thought you could refuse, you will sit so the stump is sticking up inside you. Now, do you want to do it yourself, or do you require some assistance.� Jaffa�s eyes widened with a mix of fear and anger. With her mouth gagged she couldn�t really answer, but he had anticipated that and took her continued inaction as answer enough. �Very well,� he said grabbing her by the shoulder and shoving her back towards the log so that she had no choice but to trip or step over the log so that she was straddling it.

He stepped over the log as well, so that he was standing directly behind her, and pushed down on her shoulders, thinking to guide her down onto the stump, but was still resisting.

�You are earning yourself an even greater punishment,� Sigmar said, leaning forward to hit the back of her knee with his hand. Her legs buckled, but she managed to catch herself without bruising herself on the stump. Still, her legs were bent now, and she could no longer offer much resistance as he pushed her down. She didn�t sit on the stump but then Sigmar hadn�t really expected her to. He had gotten what he wanted, which was for the girl to sit down as he had originally instructed, and that was enough for now. Let her think of this as a victory if she wanted to, she would learn differently soon enough.

She was close enough to the stump that it pressed firmly against her navel as he pulled her head forward to whisper in her ear. �If you know what�s good for you, you won�t try to get up while I�m gone.�

Unlike the girl with the broken tooth, he didn�t plan on tying Jaffa�s legs together. Instead, he returned with a small pouch containing, among other things, four leather cuffs. After releasing the ropes that held her wrists together, but not the one at her elbow, he placed one of the cuffs on each of her wrists and ankles. Since her elbows were still securely bound, when he attached a chain from the cuffs on her ankles to the cuffs on her wrists, using a set of four small locks, it forced her arms into something of an X shape behind her back. Even without the crotch rope, which was still attached to the topknot in her hair, the arrangement would have forced her to arch her back when her feet and knees were touching the ground.

He called over Smidrich, one of his permanent position guards, and as the man was coming over Sigmar pulled a jar of lubricant from his pouch of supplies and liberally greased stump.

Each of the men grabbed one of her legs and together they picked her up; this spread her legs apart, as the weight of her body forced her ankles uncomfortably high along the sides of her hips.

Sigmar considered for a moment. The length of the severed limb, while smooth enough, might still rupture her insides or at the very least cause severe irritation that could create health complications. He had a small HealStone,[12] of course, and an Amorian healer who knew how to use it, but there were certain kinds of physical damage that he avoided inflicting on his girls whenever possible: serious internal wounds were generally one of them, for they were very difficult, especially since Sigmar�s healer was not all that greatly skilled.

�The front,� Sigmar said with a laugh. �Someone might want to make use of her once they�ve rested a bit. I expect the rear might be a little easier to get to.�

After Sigmar had adjusted the girl�s crotch ropes, so that they went around the outside of her lips instead of through the middle of them, the two men very carefully and very slowly lowered her onto the stump.

The girl clamped her legs instinctively around the log as her own weight forced the slippery and solid piece of wood deeper inside. She came to rest with her knees barely touching the ground.

�That�s a clever stump,� Smidrich noted when she was in place and they had a chance to critique their work. �But she�ll probably need a healer to look at the inside of her thighs if she stays there for long.�

Sigmar had to agree, but such superficial wounds would be easy enough to heal, even for someone who wasn�t a healer.

�Now all she needs,� Smidrich said, �is a pair of weights on those fat little nipples of hers.�

�That�s an excellent idea,� Sigmar admitted, rather pleased by the way the girl�s pained eyes widened in fearful anticipation. �Why don�t you take care of that, along with anything else you can think of that might make her a little more uncomfortable?�

�It would be my pleasure,� Smidrich said, as Sigmar turned to go find Faldern.

Razina sat on her end of the log, watching the rest of the caravan busy themselves with the various activities necessary for setting up a camp. A few guards escorted a small group of the women back down to the lowlands where they could collect wood for making a fire. Her wagon was in charge of preparing a meal, which was one of Razina�s favorite chores. Shelana was busy directing the rest of the women as they brought out the supplies of food and the things they would need to prepare it and cook it. Other guards were removing the saddles and harnesses from the horses. Later, the women slaves would be required to brush out the animal�s fur coats, but first the animals would be watered and fed, and a makeshift corral erected using rope strung between several trees. Meanwhile, tents were being put up, and sleeping rolls laid out, and some of the guards who weren�t on the first watch had already crawled into their sacks and fallen asleep.

If you counted sleeping, everyone seemed to have a job, except for Razina and Jaffa, of course. All they could do was sit at their opposite ends of the log, but at least Razina could pass the time by watching the bustle of activity around her. Jaffa was facing away from center of camp, where there was nothing to see�and thus nothing to distract her from her unpleasant predicament. Even from where she was sitting, Razina could hear the other woman�s occasional moans of discomfort. The sound was pleasantly amusing. It seemed apparent that Jaffa just couldn�t seem to get comfortable. Perhaps her ass still stung from the hard spanks she�d received, and the weights that Smidrich had had attached to her nipples with lengths of thin string were obviously quite heavy.

Despite her pleasure in the other woman�s discomfort, Razina wasn�t entirely certain that her predicament wasn�t the worse of the two: the rough-barked log was low enough that it was impossible to sit normally, so Razina�s long, bound legs stretched out in front of her almost parallel to the ground. With her arms tied behind her back at the elbows and wrists and the crotch-rope pulling her head back, she felt as if she were about to topple over backwards unless she forced herself to lean forward which in turn increased the pressure on the rope between her legs. The log was narrow enough that it wasn�t easy to get much leverage by using her hands, yet it was too high to let her lean back enough to rest her hands on the ground without flopping backwards into a precarious position that she might not be able to get back out of. When she did lean back, even with her long, delicate fingers fully extended, she still couldn�t feel the ground. Leaning back enough to relieve the pressure of the rope between her legs worked her stomach muscles a lot more than she was used to, especially with the rope constricting her waist so tightly. After a few moments�when her stomach muscles were becoming tired and sore�she tucked her legs to one side, arching her back to relieve the pressure a little, but then she felt lopsided and because she was barefoot the rocks and twigs on the ground dug uncomfortably into the tops of her feet. More importantly, the way the rope dug into her waist made it even more difficult to use the muscles in her side; she was only capable of holding this position for a relatively short time before the muscles began to grow weak or threatened to cramp. Shifting positions forced the crotch-rope to saw back and forth between her legs, while the log�s bark scraped against her ass, but at least she hadn�t been impaled on anything.

Jaffa, on the other hand, was straddling the log so the rough bark had to be chafing the inside of her thighs, and unlike Razina, she couldn�t use her hands for support at all. The only thing that helped her keep her balance was the pressure she applied on the log with her thighs, the touch of her knees on the ground and the limb that threatened to sink deeper inside her whenever she relaxed her legs a little more.

When the food was done cooking the guards who were still up filled their plates and found places to sit while they ate. When they were finished they crawled off to bed and the slave women were allowed to eat a little. The other guards who were already sleeping would eat their share when they woke.

Jaffa hadn�t thought that Sigmar intended her to remain impaled on the log during the whole sleep period, but it seemed like hours since the last guards had finished eating and wandered off to their places for sleeping, and still no one had come to free her or offer her anything to eat. She tried looking over her shoulder, hoping to catch someone�s eyes, but it was more work than it was worth since no one paid her efforts the slightest attention.

Now, even most of the women had been herded back into their wagons. Only the guards who were taking the first watch were still up and around, along with one or two of the more trusted, older women who were tending to the pots of food on the fire, stirring occasionally to make sure they didn�t burn for those who would eat later when they woke.

Quite some time ago, Jaffa had sunk down as far on the stump as her body could go. Her thigh muscles had begun to ache from the constant tension she�d been under while the wood was slowly sliding deeper and deeper inside her, but knowing that it couldn�t go any deeper had finally allowed her to relax a little. The hard shaft was still an uncomfortably constant violation, but the earlier discomfort had subsided. Now, the weights on her nipples were the greater pain, and even they had become somewhat numb, as long as she didn�t move. Any new movement, however, seemed to wake them up again. It wasn�t as easy to stay still as it sounded. The weight of her body pressing down on the rough bark tended to make her rear-end fall asleep, and there were mosquitoes and other biting insects that set her skin to itching. There wasn�t anything she could do to stop the itching, but her body seemed to have a bit of difficult realizing that fact and occasionally she would flinch despite her best efforts not to move.

Perhaps the worst problem, however, at least earlier in the evening when there was so much activity going on, was the fact that she was facing away from the center of the camp, and away from the caravans. She�d been able to hear the bustle of activity behind her, but she hadn�t been able to see what was going on and so there was nothing to distract her from her own discomforts.

Sometimes her mind drifted off into semi-consciousness and she experienced dream-like images, often of being bound much the way she was, so that her dreams provided little respite. Her position, and the discomfort it caused, prevented her from getting any real rest, and she didn�t really need rest anyway for she had been sleeping on and off while she rode on the floor of the wagon. The sluggishness she felt was from too much sleep�

�Jaffa was roused from her drowsy state by the sound of footsteps approaching. She tried to turn her head to see who it was, but it seemed that they were intentionally approaching from the most oblique angle possible. As far as she could turn, she still could not see them and she could only hold that position for a few moments before she gave up the effort. Someone was definitely approaching, but they were taking their time, almost as if they knew just how nerve wracking it would be and that was exactly the reaction they were trying to achieve. She could sense that it was a man and that he was stepping over the log behind her, straddling it between his legs as he sat down. He slide closer to her, the front of his legs pressing against the back of hers as his hands brushed against her hips and ran lightly up her sides. His touch made her shiver, and she wasn�t quite sure if it was in anticipation of what might happen, or dread. But she was surprised when he released the rope to her topknot, allowing her to finally move her neck around freely again. She still couldn�t straighten her back out completely, with her elbows bound and her wrists connected to her ankles, but it allowed her to stretch out sore muscles.

She wasn�t as surprised when he began to remove her gag, although it was at least as big a relief. When it was off she swallowed a few times and worked her mouth around to loosen up the strained jaw muscles.

Jaffa recognized Stenz�s voice and felt a strange sense of relief. She didn�t know him well enough to take his good nature for granted, but she liked and trusted him considerably more than she did any of the other men traveling with the caravan. She didn�t think he would do anything to which she would object too much. He had already removed her gag and asked if she wanted to eat, and both actions were welcome�although she was surprised to realize that she wasn�t all that hungry after all. She could probably stand to eat and drink a little, but she wasn�t certain how her belly would react to food while she was impaled on such a large prod. She wasn�t eager to deal with the pain of an overfull bladder again, not unless she absolutely had to.

�It�s the least I can do to say I�m sorry,� he said as one of his hands rose up to gently cup a breast.

�Why should you be sorry?� She asked, suddenly wary that he might be apologizing in advance for something he intended to do very soon.

�I probably should have told Sigmar about your attempted escape.� The hand that wasn�t occupied with her breast began to press lightly and rhythmically against the front of her pubic mound. It wasn�t unpleasant, although it made her more aware of the stump inside her than she had been at any other time since if first slipped inside her. �If he had punished you properly for that smaller transgression, perhaps you wouldn�t have gotten yourself into this fix. I�m afraid you�re in for a very long and unpleasant remainder of the journey.�

She could feel Stenz�s shrug. �Just what you think I mean? Sigmar isn�t a forgiving man.�

�The sooner you learn that it doesn�t matter what you think you did or didn�t do�only what your master thinks you did, the happier you�ll be.�

�Perhaps happy is too strong a word, but certainly less miserable, I think. You need to learn to provide your master with what he wants, and in exchange he will be more likely to provide you with a little of what you want. Stop fighting your destiny, and realize that it doesn�t matter how Sigmar got a hold of you, or why you got into a fight and damaged one of his girls. The only thing that matters is that you did, and what you choose to do about it now.�

�You can start,� Stenz said, beginning to nibble at the sensitive spot behind her ear, �by telling Sigmar how sorry you are for what you�ve done the very next chance you get. Prostrate yourself before him and beg for his forgiveness. You�ll still be punished, but not nearly as severely. Much of the reason he�s punishing you, is because you haven�t learned yet how to act like a slave. You still think you are your father�s daughter, and you�re not. Surely you�ve been around slaves? You know how they�re expected to act, so act that way. Your position in life has changed, and if you wish to ever see it change again for the better, you�re the one who�s going to have to make it possible for that to happen.�

Stenz slide forward a bit, until Jaffa could feel his erection pressing against her back.

The wooden stump had made her decidedly sore, but she thought it would be worth his savaging her down there if he could take her off the stump for a while. �I�m not going to be able to do you any good if I can�t get off this stool I�m sitting on.�

Stenz shook his head. �I�m not foolish enough to try that one again,� he said. �Besides, Sigmar used locks and I don�t have the key. I could take these weights off your breasts for a while and I might be able to get your juices flowing so that perhaps your stool won�t seem quite so uncomfortable, at least for a little while.�

He moved around, until he was in front of her; then he leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth. When it was wet, he gripped the nipple with his teeth, so that the string that held the weight was behind them; then he pulled and the string slipped of with little more than a quick but sharp stab of pain.

After repeating the process on her other nipple, he untied the knots so that later, when they were done, he could reattach the strings.

He kissed the flesh in the valley of her breasts then kissed her again a little lower. He kissed her belly button and she flinched because it tickled just a little. He kept kissing her, slowly working his way down until his lips were touching the dark hair that covered her pubic mound. He was holding his weight on his arms, and looked a little like some kind of large lizard as he nibbled with his lips and poked his tongue between the tangles of thick hair, stroking wetly between her folds. She couldn�t believe how sensitive she was down there, but his gentle touch was the perfect way to slowly awaken her passion. Before long she was no longer aware of the stump as something that violated, all she knew was the pleasure that was radiating from between her legs each time his tongue stroked her folds. She even moaned, and couldn�t help rocking her hips slightly against the tree stump to intensify the sensation. His talented tongue didn�t stop: the sensations continued to build until she exploded with a barely repressed cry of pleasure, her muscles straining against her bonds.

�That was nice,� Jaffa said when Stenz finally stopped. �You have an unusual way with your tongue.�

�Yes,� she said. �Thank you. It was very thoughtful; you can�t imagine how much I�ve needed that.�

�I�m glad,� he said kissing her nipple again. �But I must confess that I didn�t come here with purely innocent intentions. I came looking for a little release myself.� He nibbled gently on her nipple with his teeth then gave it another kiss.

�My jaw is feeling much better now.� She gave him a smile. �I�d be honored to service you as best I can.�

Stenz seemed pleased by her offer, but despite his boyish smile he rose a little so that he could whisper in her ear. �If you�d rather, I can use your friend.� He nodded towards Razina at the opposite end of the log and winked to let Jaffa know that he was aware of the irony of using the word friend.

�I said I couldn�t untie you. But she�s not wearing leather cuffs with locks on them, and besides, I didn�t intend to untie her. I was thinking of bending her over the log and savaging her from behind. The ropes will keep her legs together, nice and tight.�

Jaffa thought about his offer, for she understood that it was indeed an offer�a way of getting back at Razina for her part in all this; a way, however small, of seeking some revenge. But Jaffa had never been the kind of person to stay mad at someone, and she knew enough to realize what the broken tooth had cost Razina. Surely that was punishment enough; she couldn�t bring herself to inflict further petty torments. Besides, she liked Stenz; he was obviously a decent man and she wanted to do for him as a woman should, even if being tied might hamper her performance and make it less than entirely pleasant for her.

As Stenz undid his pants and came a little closer, Jaffa leaned forward and licked at the head of his cock. It tasted good, and despite the large wooden stump pressing against her insides she wanted to take him in her mouth and feel his throbbing flesh against her tongue. The way she was impaled and bout made it rather difficult to hold her position, however and after a while she sat back. �You�ll have to come a little closer,� she said.

�Why?� Stenz asked, with an overly innocent expression on his face. He swung his hips a little so that his cock swayed back and forth in front of her face. �I like watching you work for it; and your tongue feels good right on the end like that.�

She forced herself to lean forward again, nibbling and flicking her tongue. Stenz grinned down at her and backed away until he was just on the very edge of what she could force her self to reach without causing serious pain.

�Oh, you�re just a tease,� she complained. Perhaps it was because so many of her muscles were already sore, but she really was uncomfortably and it was wearing her out to work so hard for it. She wanted to impress him; to show him just how good she could really be, and if he wore her out playing this little game she wouldn�t be able to do that.

After a short while she sat back and looked at him with a serious expression. �This is kind of fun, Stenz, but I�m not going to be able to keep it up much longer. Why don�t you come a little closer and quite teasing me?�

With a smile, Stenz did as she asked, finally letting her take him into her mouth. Now when she leaned forward she was able to take him deep into her throat. Then she�d let him pull out and ticking his tip with her tongue again, since he liked it so much. Jaffa was pleased when she heard him moan and noticed his hips flexing as if they possessed a will of their own. Reaching for her head, he used his hands to guide himself deeper inside her, thrusting so hard and deep that his pubes pressed against her teeth. She loved the feel of his large member tickling the back of her throat, throbbing as if it were the breaths of some living thing. She was proud of her ability to infuse it with power and bring it to life; and equally pleased that she could make its owner purr.

Stenz had come to her because he was on the second watch, and he had stayed with her until the sleep period was over. Before going to wake the others, he let her and Razina drink their fill from a water bottle. Despite not wanting to have a full bladder again any time soon, Jaffa found that she was too thirsty not to drink as much as she could. He even offered them a little to eat from the cooking pot. With the hours of cooking, the vegetables had softened to a mushy pulp and the flavors had thoroughly mixed, just the way that Jaffa liked them. The stew was delicious and she licked it eagerly from his fingers as he scooped it from his own personal bowl. She wondered if Stenz had a thing about other people using his spoon�some men were a little squeamish about such things�or whether he simply enjoyed having her eat from his fingers. He teased her with the food, much the way he had with his cock earlier, making her reach for it with the tip of her tongue until she was literally, if playfully, begging.

She didn�t really mind, in fact, the game was kind of fun: she enjoyed his company and his fingers had a good taste even when the food was gone. More importantly, it kept him near her which kept the other men (those who might not have been so playfully gentle) away.

Jaffa thought it might be Stenz who lead her back to the caravan when camp broke, but instead Sigmar himself came to fetch her.

�Why don�t you bring the other one?� He asked Stenz as he nodded towards Razina. So Stenz released the ropes on Razina�s legs while Sigmar substituted an even larger dildo gag for the one Jaffa had worn the day before. Then he unlocked the cuffs that held her wrists and ankles together and retied the crotch rope tight enough to cause just a bit of discomfort even when she was just standing.

�Perhaps when we reach Ingsvel,�[13] Sigmar said. �I don�t want to take the time right now. I think she�ll survive without permanent damage.�

It was even more difficult going down the hill than it had been going up. Jaffa�s muscles were stiffer; the flesh between her sore from the almost constant rubbing during the sleep period, but it would have been more difficult even without those added inconveniences. Jaffa wasn�t lucky enough to make it all the way down the hill without falling. Still, she was lucky enough not to go tumbling; she merely slipped and fell on her butt with a painful burning of rope rubbing across already raw flesh. The biggest injury, however, was to her pride, as she heard Razina snickering behind her.

When they reached the wagon, it was still empty, and Sigmar surprised Jaffa by removing the crotch rope and replacing it with a very smooth, leather chastity belt. Its waistband was a wide piece of black leather that secured around her waist with another lock. A sizable plug was greased and stuffed into each of her lower orifices, then held in place by another very smooth leather strap that was also liberally greased before being pulled snuggly between her legs and locked into place. Her legs were folded, ankles against thighs, and bound loosely with wide strips of stretchable black cloth that matched the color of the chastity belt. Even with prolonged use, the leg straps wouldn�t cut off her circulation enough to cause any physical damage.

The other women began arriving just as Sigmar was finishing up. He slapped Jaffa smartly on the ass before stepping down and letting the other women climb in.

Jaffa rolled onto her side and watched as Sigmar shared a few words with Shelana. Only when all the others were in did she climb in behind them, and then Sigmar stuck his head in behind her, as if giving Shelana a last piece of advice that he�d forgotten earlier. �I realize these restraints place her,� he looked down and slapped Jaffa on the ass to indicate who he was talking about, �at the mercy of those who might wish to exact some measure of revenge, but part of her punishment is to spend the remainder of the trip bound, in one position or another. I leave it to you to make sure that no one takes undue advantage of this situation.�

Razina tilted her head up to catch a whiff of air. It seemed even hotter inside the wagon than it had the other day, despite the slight, cooling breeze. She could feel every jarring movement of the wagon through the scraps and welts on her ass.

It occurred to her once again, as it had many times during the long hours of the last encampment, that she was probably doomed to be a serving girl or some other lackey, beaten by her new master for every minor misstep�instead of possibly being some rich man�s pampered wife or concubine. That was the best she could hope for now. With her luck, she�d probably be sold to one of those pleasure merchants who sold their customers the right to cause pain and humiliation to their girls. There were all sorts of people in the world, and her chances of drawing the worst kind had been dramatically increased when her tooth broke. Any chance she may have had for a life of luxury was over. And it was entirely the fault of the girl on the floor. If she hadn�t been afraid of what Sigmar would do, she would have slammed the heel of her foot repeatedly into the damned girl�s face, until someone pulled her away. She looked down at the girl lying on the floor and imagined what that would be like: hearing the sound of her foot slamming into her nose, the damp feel of blood pouring over her foot.

At just that moment the wagon lurched, bounced over an unusually large rut in the road. Pain flared across Razina�s but it was the girl on the floor who winced and moaned very softly�so softly in fact that she wasn�t sure she had actually heard it. Razina raised a wondering eyebrow and began to watch the girl more closely. There was something peculiar about the way she�d moaned: it sounded more like arousal than pain.

The next time the wagon hit a rut the girl moaned again and this time Razina was sure, for she also noticed the way her hip moved, as if she were trying to grind her private parts against the leather strap of her chastity belt. It wasn�t until then that Razina realized that the girl was impaled by a dildo; she could just see the black shaft of it peaking out from the edge of the leather strap. Razina didn�t think she was actually enjoying it, but the wagon�s motions, with its constant jarring against her sex-parts, was beginning to inflame the girl sexually, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to ignore this fact, or to hide its influence on her body.

Smiling, Razina reached out with her foot, catching the leather of the girl�s chastity belt with her toes and giggling it back and forth. The girl gasped, and this time its sexual nature was unmistakable.

�I think she likes it,� said one of the other girl, sitting besides Razina. She reached out her toes and hooked the chastity belt on the other side, giving it a tug back the other way.

�Because I said so,� Shelana answered. �If you�d done what I told you to do yesterday none of this would have happened. It�s at least as much your fault as it is hers; and despite what you may think you�re not the only one who will have to pay for that. So for now you�ll do what I tell you simply because I tell you to. If you want some payback, you�ll at least have to wait until I fall asleep.�

Razina glared at Shelana, but she had enough sense not to say anything, and after a moment she shrugged and moved her foot as if giving in was really no big deal. For now she would let it go. There was still plenty of time left in the day, and Shelana had as much given her permission, as long as Razina did her dirty work when Shelana couldn�t be held fully accountable if anything unfortunate happened.

The straps between her legs had rubbed her raw. And yet, each time Razina pushed or pulled against her belt, she could feel the straps sliding, like a delightful sliver of pain, across her irritated and swollen clit, which was already so sensitive that she could hardly stand it. Part of her wished she wasn�t wearing a gag so she could beg Razina to stop, another part wish she would increase the pressure enough to finally let her cum. When the wagon hit the bigger ruts it felt like someone was pressing a white-hot iron between her legs, and yet there was something maddeningly and frighteningly erotic about the sensation.

She had tried rolling to the side, to escape Razina�s probing toes, but the wagon was quite small and she couldn�t move far enough away to escape her completely. When she moved too close to one of the other women, it tended to irritate them enough that they slapped Jaffa�s leg with the flat of their hand or pulled on her crotch-belt until she moved away again. Perhaps that had given Razina ideas as well, for she began slapping Jaffa on the leg or the ass from time to time. And a few of the other women apparently found this amusing enough that they joined in for a short while.

Jaffa couldn�t help jumping a little for the harder slaps, especially when they were directed at her inner thing or her belly. Every move made the smooth leather slide back and forth against her fiery flesh, and the constant movement had caused the original lubrication that had been applied to loose its effectiveness.

She�d given up a long time ago on any attempt at subtlety. Everyone in the wagon had to know exactly was happening to her, and none of them, with the possible exception of Shelana cared to prevent it. But for the longest time now Shelana had been asleep�or more likely, she was pretending to be asleep and watching everything from behind the heavy lids of her eyes.

There was nothing that Jaffa could do to stop the abuse. It went on and on. Her mind wandered a bit from time to time and somewhere along the line that dream-like delirium became real sleep.

Jaffa felt a hand on her arm, but she tried to ignore it. As long as she thought Jaffa was asleep Razina pretty much ignored her. After all, what was the point of tormenting someone who wasn�t awake to know what was being done to them?

The hand shook Jaffa again, and she heard Shelana�s voice. �Wake up, its time to eat and drink. Sigmar will be angry with me if you don�t keep your strength.�

It wasn�t until she realized that the gag was no longer in her mouth that Jaffa knew she had managed, somehow to sleep; and it angered her to be awakened to the discomforts of her body and the possibility of Razina�s renewed torments. Idly, she wondered how long she�d slept, but she didn�t think it had been very long. If anything, she felt worse than she had before the nap. Her muscles ached and her body felt so sluggish that she thought she might be able to fall back asleep if she didn�t move around too much before she had the chance to close her eyes again.

Someone threw the flask onto Jaffa�s chest, instead of handing it over gently. Shelana glared in their direction but didn�t bother to comment. Instead, she pulled the stopper and held it to Jaffa�s lips, squeezing gently. The water was warm but tinged with a pleasant sweetness, and she drank thirstily until Shelana took it away.

�Eat a little something too,� she said, pressing a travel biscuit to Jaffa�s lips.

She nibbled at the dried mix of bread, fruit and mean, but preferred the water, which she eagerly drank from again when it was offered. Finally Shelana decided that she�d had enough and returned to her seat, passing the water bottle on to someone else.

While the others ate and drank, Jaffa was bothered only by the normal rocking of the wagon, which, despite her hopes, was more than enough to keep her from falling back asleep. Her relative peace, however, didn�t last long before Razina began to tease her with her foot again, more subtly this time since Shelana was still awake. Jaffa moaned and looked to the lead woman for help, but she had leaned her head against the wall and was already pretending to be asleep again.

It had not rained really hard since before Sigmar agreed to stop the caravan for the short bivouac on the plains of Blanz Haban. Since then it had mostly drizzled or misted, and for a short but pleasant spell the sun had actually shone. Sigmar had dared to hope the skies had finally rained themselves dry, but a few hours out of Ingsvel, it had begun to rain yet again. By the time they reached the town it had turned into such a heavy downpour that the sky looked more like night than day.

Ingsvel was built on the peak of the largest foothill before the Narmesh mountains, giving it excellent drainage in all directions and making it easy to spot for many miles, despite being no more than a relatively small trading town. Of course, to Sigmar, even Milucent, Feilom�s largest city, was little more than a small trading town. Milucent survived because it was the seaport from which all trade on Feilom eventually came and went. Ingsvel survived because it was the last stop before the treacherous mountains on the path that was the shortest trade route between the Northern and Southern Plains. Caravans that didn�t reach the mountains in time to navigate the pass during daylight hours needed somewhere to stay while they waited for the long night to end. Like Milucent, it was a town of feast or famine, its population swelling or shrinking in a predictable cycle as transient dwellers came to trade goods with the larger caravans of the traveling merchants. There were farmers who came with produce as well, and entertainers who tried to time their itinerary so that they were in Milucent whenever there was a favorable sailing window, and in Ingsvel (or one of the other small towns along the main trade routes) the rest of the time.

Sigmar was cutting it close enough to his own sailing window that he didn�t think there would be many entertainers left in Ingsvel, but he was still surprised by the depth of the quiet that pervaded the town as his caravan entered it.

There was no reward for the first man to sight a down, as there was for sighting land when at sea, but doing so had still become a valued tradition among his men. It allowed Sigmar to send a rider ahead to make arrangements for quartering his men, slaves and beasts and to ensure that good food would be waiting, as well as entertainment. Perhaps none of his men had noticed the houses or the drives, for in the dreary darkness of the rain Sigmar had not seen them either. He had only realized where they were when he saw the first of the city�s mercantile tents lining the roadway.

More than anything else, Sigmar saw this lapse as a sign of his men�s exhaustion. The short bivouac, while enough to keep them going, had not been enough to raise their spirits; and they had been traveling for many hours since then. On Meswitch, those hours would have been counted as very nearly a full day, but here on Feilom time was virtually frozen, the days and seasons moving by at a perpetual crawl.

The caravan�s arrival was met with very little fanfare by the town�s people as well. Usually, those in the streets would call out a caravan�s arrival, and those merchants who didn�t have open stalls would come out of their doors to wave and shout greeting�but this time there were no waves or calls, and except for the occasional merchant peeking out from beneath the heavy flaps of his tent, the main road was alarmingly empty. Even as the tents of the outer limits gave way to the more permanent shops at the heart of the city, Sigmar saw that the shutters and outer doors were all closed and locked against the blowing wind and rain.

Without comment, Faldern sent a man ahead for what little good it would do with this short notice. As dark as it was, there was no need to ask whether or not they would stop. If nothing else, they would have to wait out the heavy rains.

The Ingsvel Tavern and Inn was not the oldest or most prestigious of Ingsvel�s three inns, but it was the only one with a stable large enough to house Sigmar�s entire caravan without outside help�assuming, of course, that no other caravans were currently in residence.

The inn itself was a rather tall and plain building, with bars on all the outer windows to prevent reluctant slaves from trying to escape. Behind the inn, the stables sprawled out, covering more than five times as much area as the inn proper. When several caravans were in town at the same time, families close to the inn provided extra rooms for a small fee. Other men preferred the less comfortable prospect of sleeping in the stables for free.

Faldern dismounted in the courtyard and disappeared inside the inn�s doors�while Sigmar and the others waited on their horses and in their wagons. A few moments later he reappeared with the runner who he�d sent ahead, the innkeeper, and the stable master. A couple of women stuck their heads out the door as well, but the innkeeper shooed them back inside, obviously urging them to get to work. There were rooms to rent, water to be brought up from the wells, wood to be brought in from the shed for fires to heat rooms and baths, and of course plenty of food to be prepared.

�Stay with the wagon till it�s in the stables,� Sigmar told his driving partner as he stepped down from the wagon. He met Stenz, his navigator, as he walked towards the front door of the inn. �Do you think this rain will let up anytime soon?� Stenz asked, shaking the rain from the carrying case he was holding. Inside were his travelogues, isle charts and all the other precious tools of his trade, which he used to plan Sigmar�s agenda while on land, and more importantly to plot their course while at sea.

�No,� Sigmar said in disgust, as he shook water from the fur of his Golden Badger goat. In the dim light the water beads seemed to glitter on its surface like bits of liquid gold. �But why don�t you make the calculation, just in case.�

Stenz could typical do land math in his head, using paper only to double check his figures when the calculations were critically important to the caravan�s safety, but as simple as it was to convert time, Stenz was having trouble. He kept loosing track of what he was doing and began to suspect that even if he could come up with a number that it might not be accurate. Indeed, he generally found it easier to plot voyages that involved rather complex orbitals.

He simply couldn�t get the sleep out of his mind and his eyes kept closing, as if of their own free will. If he needed sleep this bad then surely other men must need it too.

Sigmar came over as Stenz began clearing the table he�d been using, carefully packing away his thing.

�Then I think we�d better reconcile ourselves to spending the night,� Stenz said. �Even if it did stop raining now, the clouds wouldn�t be likely to clear up entirely, which means dim light at best; and with this rain the trail is certain to be in terrible shape. I�m so tired I�m not even sure my numbers are right, but the way I figure we�d be cutting it close even if it weren�t raining. The men need sleep. I suspect even you need sleep.�

Sigmar frowned, but he nodded. To his credit, he had always listened to his navigator, even during the early days of their pairing, when Stenz was fresh from the guild�s training center, he had carefully considered his advice. Over the years, as he come to realize that Stenz didn�t pad his numbers to provide a little extra cushion, the way some navigators did, Sigmar had came to respect his recommendations even more. It had been several years since Sigmar had ignored his advice.

�I�ve been pushing the men hard this trip,� Sigmar said. �And I suspect the pushing may not be done yet. We�ll stay the night here in Ingsvel, if you think its best; and tonight every man sleeps, at my expense, in a proper bed�even the locals. Pass the word to the men with the wagons and then find a good room for yourself. Looks to me like you can hardly keep your eyes open.�

Stenz laughed weakly. �Once I lay down I think I may just sleep the whole night.�[14]

�We all deserve it,� Sigmar said, as he moved off in the direction of the innkeeper.

�Let�s get these rigs broken down for permanent storage,� Faldern said, in his booming command voice. For a man who didn�t say much that wasn�t necessary, be could speak quite loudly when he wanted to. �Jastern, Mercalou why don�t you help Stenz round up the slaves and take them inside to a holding cell?�

For a moment Stenz thought of protesting. According to the guild�s by-laws, a navigator�s job was to navigate; they were not obligated to help with more mundane duties. Stenz, however, generally felt uncomfortably with not pitching in when his navigating chores were done; and both Sigmar and Faldern had become used to giving him commands, almost as if he were just another one of their men. It was not his nature to be lazy, however, and he knew that he wasn�t the only one who was tired. The sooner the work was done, the sooner they would all be able to sleep�so he put his thoughts of protest aside and went to the first slave wagon. �Everyone out,� he said as he opened the door.

The women inside came out in an orderly, single file. As the first one exited the wagon, Stenz attached one end of a manacle to her right hand. The other end of the manacle he attached to the right hand of the second woman out, then he attached one end of a second manacle to her left hand, and attached the free end of that manacle to the next woman out. In that way, each woman, except for the first and last, were attached to the woman in front of them and the woman behind them with a different manacle.

Jastern and Mercalou were performing the same operation on two other slave wagons. There were six slave wagons total, so each man had to process two wagons. Only when all the women were assembled would they be lead into the inn en masse. As they left went out the stable doors, Stenz rubbed his chin and frowned. He had the strangest feeling that he was forgetting something�but he couldn�t remember what.

Jaffa had been lying on the floor in the dark interior of the wagon, her back pressed against the wall near the door, when she heard the door open and felt a cool breeze on her face. A faint shaft of light fell on the center of the floor�where she had lain for much of the trip, but finally she had managed to squirm her way beneath the bench that Shelana was sitting on, out of Razina�s insistent reach at last.

It wasn�t until almost all the women were out that Jaffa realized that no one seemed to be paying any attention to her, lying out of the way as she was. Even Shelana, who had been one of the first women out the door, hadn�t said anything about her yet. Soon they would all be out of the wagon and the doors would close again, imprisoning her inside the hot interior. She�d heard some of the other women speculating about whether or not they would be staying at Ingsvel for the night or preceding up the treacherous mountain path in the dark. Jaffa wouldn�t have been inclined to give it much thought, but even Shelana had seemed relieved that they were being let out.

�It will be nice to sleep on a floor that isn�t moving,� one of the women said.

Another sighed in content agreement. �I�ll just be glad to get out of this sweatbox!�

�I�ll be glad to finally eat another decent meal, instead of that fortified water and traveling cakes.� The last voice had been Razina�s, and when Jaffa looked at her she was looking right back and smiling with a wicked expression of glee.

She knows that no one remembers I�m in here, Jaffa thought. She�s hoping they�ll lock me in here, in this sweat box.

Jaffa moaned as loud as she could, but her muffled sounds were all too easily trampled by the multitude of other excited voices; and she watched in growing fear and desperation as the last few women stepped down from the wagon. Razina made sure that she was the very last one out, and as she stepped down she very carefully closed the door behind her, making sure that the latch clicked home.

Jaffa fought down her panic as best she could. Surely someone else would notice that she wasn�t with her group�if not now, then when everyone woke after the first sleep of nightfall. She would be hot and miserable for a while, but she was in no real danger. Except that on Feilom, the night was plenty long enough for a person lying in a sweat box to die of thirst. What if the women were kept in their room the entire time and only brought back out when it was time to load them up again? Shelana had forgotten about her once, would she remember to look for her when she wasn�t so tired? What if their cell was too dark to see? What reason would she have to do a count? She would probably just assume that everyone was there.

The ideas had been swirling around in her head long enough that she was beginning to get groggy again, when she heard voices outside the wagon. She moaned, trying to get their attention, but her throat was dry enough already that making noises was difficult and they didn�t seem to hear her. Perhaps they were still too far away, or perhaps their voices had drowned her out. Whatever the reason, she could hear that they were coming closer and decided to wait.

The first voice she could hear clearly was apparently that of a guard. �Just come to check the wagons,� he said, apparently in response to a query by one of the girls. �Seems one of the head women may have left one of the slaves behind.�

Jaffa relaxed and decided to wait instead of calling out to them again. She heard the door opening on one of the other wagons. After a moment it closed again and another door opened.

�You wouldn�t have a light, would you? I can hardly see anything in this dim light.�

�You don�t really think someone�s going to be hiding inside one of them, do you?� The girl�s voice was full of obvious skepticism. �As hot as it is?�

Why give herself away? All she needed to do was to keep the door from closing again when they left, and then, with a little luck, she could crawl out of the wagon when the men were gone. She didn�t know how, but she was convinced that she could find some way of cutting the leather bindings to free herself. Then, she could find some warm clothing before slipping into the dark night and slowly making her way back home.

It had been a long time since she�d felt so optimistic. In her panic she had almost blown her chance and called out to the men; and even though she had not she, she barely had time to squirm back into her hiding place before the door began to open and she had to crane her neck to the side, angling her head up towards the bottom of the seat so that it wouldn�t be seen.

With the gag in place, she could do little to still her heavy breathing as the door to her wagon opened and the dim shaft of light fell across the padded floor. Her neck and side muscles throbbed, beginning to cramp with the strain of keeping her head out of sight; and her heart thumped against the side of her chest so hard she thought she might faint. Surely they would hear her breathing through her nose and pull her out from under the seat. She didn�t like to think what Sigmar might do to her when the guard told him she had been hiding.

But after what seemed like a very long time, the door did begin to, apparently still without them seeing her. She waited as long as she dared, to reduce the likelihood of being seen�but she didn�t want to wait so long that she allowed the door to completely close again either. So as quietly as she could, she let her head back down and inched up a little further so that the door banged into her head instead of closing.

It hurt more than she expected, but she had accomplished the first part of her plan.

Now everything depended on the men not noticing that the door was ajar, and being to sleepy to search all the wagons again when they didn�t find anyone. Then she would have to figure out a way to crawl out of the wagon. She�d have to find something sharp enough to cut herself free. She�d have to find clothes to wear; and finally she would have to slip out of town without being seen, preferably with a horse to ride and supplies to eat.

�Maybe one of the other guards already came and got her,� the girl suggested.

�Yeah,� the guard said, obviously relieved to have an excuse not to keep looking. �That must be it.�

�I�ll keep my eyes open,� the girl said, in what was obviously supposed to be her sexiest voice. �In case I see anything unusual.�

�Hey,� the guard said, and his voice was followed quickly by a soft slapping sound. Probably the guard slapping her hand away from his trousers, Jaffa thought. �I don�t feel like that right now. I�m tired and I�m dirty. I smell like a ruttin� pig.�

�Maybe I�ll see you around later,� the girl said. Jaffa heard the sound of footsteps, the stable door opening and closing. Then the girl muttered, �Maybe you won�t be such a limp dick once you�ve gotten some sleep, fucking little tease!�
After a few more moments the girl left as well.

Jaffa continued to wait for as long as she could stand. She didn�t want to ruin her plans and call attention to herself by making too much noise, but waiting was difficult. The weight of the door pressed oppressively against her head, and she was worried that her muscles might begin to cramp. So after a short while she began to inch her way forward. It was difficult at first, with her arms bound behind her back and her knees folded so her ankles were almost up against her thighs. Fortunately, the stretchy black material bound each leg separately, or she didn�t think she would be able to crawl across the floor at all. As it was, it was difficult to keep her head pressed against the open door, so it wouldn�t shut, and each time she arched her back or moved her legs, it dragged the leather across her over-sensitized clit.

Eventually she managed to work her way closer to the door, so that her shoulder held it open. The next step was likely to be the most difficult�and painful, if she landed on her head. Yet going down the stairs knees first didn�t seem possible. Not only would it be virtually impossible to get her self turned around without letting the door close, but if she handled things just right she might be able to use the edge of the doorway to help pull down the material binding her legs. A small piece of metal stuck out of the floor in front of the door just enough that if she was careful she thought she should be able to get it to catch on the stretchy material, and then the weight of her body, as she tumbled out of the doorway, should be enough to free her leg.

She just hoped the piece of metal didn�t have a sharp edge that could rip her skin to shreds. Even if it did, however, she was willing to take the chance.

Getting herself positioned was more difficult than she�d thought. The first difficult was to let her upper body slide out the door and down onto the steps without sliding down so far that she couldn�t use the piece of metal in the doorway to hook the stretchy fabric on her legs. Her sweat made her slippery, and if it hadn�t been for the footrest and the fact that she had breasts, she almost certainly would have slide right out of the wagon on the first try. Fortunately, despite the way her nipples scraped across the grating, she did have breasts, and after a few moments of gritting her teeth, she managed to work her body back a little. It wasn�t easy, because every time she picked up one of her legs it threatened to overbalance her and send her toppling out the door; and once she got her legs far enough back that balance was no longer a problem, her sweaty belly had a tendency to cling to the floor, especially where her belly was draped over the edge of the top step. The grating scraped against her stomach as well as her breast, and although it wasn�t as sharp as she had feared, it felt like it was scoring her flesh.

After a few seemingly endless moments of struggling, Jaffa had to take a rest, her sides heaving and her muscles aching and threatening to cramp. She had strong stomach muscles, but she�d never had to use them while wearing a belt that constricted her waist the way this chastity belt did. In addition, she had to worry about making too much noise, not to mention that there would only be one chance to get it right�so Jaffa took her time, working her way back slowly but steadily until she felt the piece of metal digging into her legs just in front of the elastic fabric.

Considering how she�d almost slid all the way onto the floor on her first try, she hadn�t expected this next part to be so difficult, but now her sweaty body seemed to grip the grating of the steps�and she couldn�t lift her leg, because if she did, then the piece of metal might not catch on the fabric when she began to slide. She couldn�t risk having all this effort be for nothing. So she was force to inch her way forward very slowly and methodically, each passing second increasing the likelihood that someone would come along and see her. After several minutes of struggling she began to realize that the very stretchiness of the fabric was holding her back. It was designed to be flexible enough not cut of the circulation, but strong enough that she couldn�t straighten her legs out, which also meant that it might actually be strong enough to support her weight.

It would be rather embarrassing and uncomfortable if all she accomplished was to end up hanging from the piece of metal. Still, whatever happened, she wasn�t willing not to try. Raising her leg a little, she tested the fabric to see whether it would slide off the piece of metal, and when it didn�t she arched her back as far as she could, lifting her left leg high while trying to keep her right leg reasonably low, and finally she began to slip forward.

Her head bumped none too gently against the floor, there was a ripping sound; and then she stopped moving, hung up just as she had feared.

She jerked and squirmed, but the partially torn fabric was strong enough to hold. She could feel the blood rushing to her head, and it made her think, none too pleasantly, about her time draped over the saddle of Sigmar�s horse. It wouldn�t take all that long for the blood to rush to her head and this time, if there wasn�t anyone to come along and turn her back upright, it might just be enough to kill her.

She put all her strength into straightening her leg and she heard the cloth threatening to tear, but it held. So close and yet still so far away! The fabric was still just a few inches from the end of her knee.

When she relaxed her muscles she could feel the fabric creeping ever so slightly over her skin�not enough to let her free, but perhaps�

Quickly, she tried to straighten her leg out again, working it back and forth as energetically as she could, and each time she did she felt the fabric creeping a little closer. She wore herself out and had to rest several times, but finally, the last time she straightened her leg the fabric sprang free, dropping her onto her back on the floor with a heavy thud that nearly took her breath away. She didn�t care. She had done it! She had gotten one of her legs free.

Rolling over, she used her free leg to work on the other leg, and after several minutes she had worked the other elastic binding down. There was a piece of cloth that ran from one side of the elastic tubing to the other, cutting between her upper and lower leg. That, she realized, was why she�d had so much trouble removing the first binding tube.

Instead of trying to take it off the same way, she rolled over, using her head and neck to lever herself up so that she was resting on her knee and her one free foot. Still bound, and nearly exhausted as she was, she couldn�t quite stand up on one leg without help, but by leaning against the wagon steps she could just barely manage it. Now it was just a matter of hopping around until she could find something sharp enough to finish what she�d started.

Lashinda lay on her padded bed of straw, fingering herself. She had barely gotten started, but already her mind was beginning to drift, as it so often did during these moments. Her hand knew exactly what to do without needing to think about it. She started with her index finger, rubbing it lightly in a small circle over her large clit, the size of which was undoubtedly her most striking feature. Men almost never failed to comment on it, some being fascinated by it and others finding it a distinct turn-off because they said it looked too much like a small penis for their tastes. A very small penis, perhaps; but unlike some women she had know, there could be no mistaking where her clit was. It certainly wasn�t shy about standing up and asking for attention. She was the archetypal female: always open and ready for sex. Not like men, whose bodies had to be constantly coaxed into an erection. Although she sometimes thought that if men didn�t have the fore skin surrounding the head of their glands�protecting it from constant stimulation by clothing and even the very act of walking�then perhaps they too would be in an almost constant state of arousal, like she�and indeed most women�were.

A man thinks about sex only when he wants it;
A woman thinks about sex all the time.

That didn�t sound quite right, but the saying went something like that. And it was certainly true in Lashinda�s case. She woke in the morning and went to sleep at night with her hand between her legs; and virtually every waking moment in between was a diligent search to find a man who she could convince to have sex with her or, barring that, a place where she could relieve her tensions by herself.

It had become so second nature to her that sometimes she would find herself daydreaming in public and then realize that she�d been rubbing herself. It didn�t even embarrass her any more.

Lashinda worked a second finger inside herself, using the heel of her palm to press firmly against her clit. She was about to slid a third finger in when she heard something that sounded like tools being knocked over by someone who was falling down drunk.

Getting up, she quickly pulled her tunic over her head then lit the small fire moss cup-lamp that she was allowed to use during the night and went to see what had caused the ruckus.

Fire moss didn�t create a very bright fire, more like a phosphorus glow, but it burned for a long time when it was sitting in a cup filled with parliolt�s special liquid wax.[15] Randishal, the innkeeper, didn�t like her to use the kerosene lanterns unless she needed it to do her work, so she held the cup up, squinting to see a little better. The open area inside the stable was just too big for the tiny cup-lamp to dispel more than a tiny circle around her.

She heard scraping sounds, like an animal scurrying across the floor, and thought about going to get Randi�she knew it wasn�t very womanly, but she didn�t like dealing with wild creatures. They were simply too unpredictable. Although she was too young to remember the actual event, Lashinda remembering a story her mother had told her once, before she�d been sold to the innkeeper about being attacked by a wolf. She still had the scars, and what she realized was mostly an irrational fear of animals.

Moving closer to the tool shed, Lashinda saw that the door was open and tools were lying on the floor. This didn�t really look like the activity of a wild animal, but she didn�t see anything else that might have caused it. She held up the cup-lamp, took a step closer, and peered into the interior of the shed: a box of tools had been overturned and lay scattered on the floor between various boxes and crates and a piles of clean and soiled rags.

Lashinda was already turning to leave when her mind registered something that didn�t look right. Turning back, she grabbed the handle of a garden hoe and held the cup-lamp up once again. Lying among the rags was what appeared to be a human leg. She turned the hoe over and poked at it, pushing the rags away until she found the rest of the body that belonged to the leg.

The girl glanced around as if trying to determine if Lashinda was alone, but said nothing.

�Oh,� Lashinda said, realizing that the girl was gagged. �Sit up a little, if you want. I�ll take that off for you.�

The girl arms were tied behind her back, so she had to struggle to sit up. Lashinda didn�t offer to help her, watching warily instead. After a while the girl managed to right herself, and turned around so Lashinda could remove her gag.

It was a ball gag, with leather straps that buckled in the back�easy enough to undo, if it hadn�t been for the girl�s thick, long hair.

�Thank you,� the girl said after she�d worked her mouth around for a few moments.

The girl swallowed so hard that Lashinda clearly heard her gulp. �I�m Hiding,� she said.

The girl swallowed nervously. �There are lots of things going on right now that aren�t supposed to be,� she said. �For instance, I�m not supposed to be part of this slave caravan.�
�Yeah? Are you trying to escape?�

�I�m trying to get back home to my father. He doesn�t know that I�ve been kidnapped. Sigmar made a deal with a magistrate, but it isn�t legal! My father has right of repurchase, and it wasn�t offered to him. If I can just make my way back home, I know he�ll make everything alright again.�

Lashinda wasn�t sure what to think about that. The girl didn�t talk the way most slaves did�more like one of those stuck up little petchnicks who thought they were so much better than everyone else. �I think I should tell someone you�re out here,� she decided.

�No, please!� The girl�s eyes went wide with fear. �Please. Don�t tell anyone I�m out here. Why should anyone need to know that you even saw me?�

�Your fieflord might give me some kind of reward for thwarting your escape attempt.�

�You want a reward? I�ll give you a reward! My father�s a very wealthy man and he loves me very much. I�m know that if I asked him to, he�d be willing to purchase your papers and make you my sister. We could live together in my father�s house, it�s nearly as big as this inn. And you would have fine clothes to wear and wonderful food to eat.�

�Yeah, right! Like I�d ever see any of that, even if what you say about your father is true. More likely he�d take me as his servant, and I�d end up having to clean that house.�

�Please, I swear to you that I would love you like a sister; and my father would treat you like an honored wife. Everything I have would be yours.�

�Doesn�t look to me like you have anything. And if I let you go, that�s probably less than what I�ll get. You�re in my stable: if my fieflord should decide that it was my responsibility you escaped, I�ll be lucky if all I get is a beating. What can you give me, right now, to make up for that?�

Lashinda imagined that she�d worn that look on her own face a few times�and she was surprised to realize how wonderful it was to hold that much power over someone else. She�d never felt anything quite like it, not even sex.

When Lashinda was very young she�d seen a woman being branded on the forehead, and her mother had told her that the woman had been caught with one of her master�s wives. The image had stuck with her ever since. �I should tell your fief lord that you�re into girls and see what he says about that.�

�Please, I just� I don�t have anything else to give you. I�ll do anything. It�s just that I heard you talking to that man who came looking for me and thought maybe you might want that, since he wasn�t� well, he was too tired, I guess. But if you don�t like that I�m sure we can find something in the wagon that I could used to help you out. I don�t have to use my mouth, just untie my arms. It�s a lot better than playing with your self, isn�t it?�

�Neither am I,� the girl said, trying to press her advantage. �But personally, I like it a lot better when a man licks me then when he sticks his dick in me. Don�t you?�

�It�s nice,� the girl said with an almost casual shrug. �And just because you let me do it for you doesn�t mean you prefer me to a man. After all, a mouth is a mouth. If you close your eyes you won�t even know the difference, will you?�

�I guess it might be alright,� Lashinda said. �But you�re going to have to satisfy me with your hands tied.�

Jaffa looked at the young girl in front of her and wished that she�d been able to think of something else to barter with. Every instinct rebelled against the idea of having sexual contact with another woman; most particularly this one, who looked about as rough and worn as any girl Jaffa had known. In the dim light, she couldn�t be sure if the dark splotches on her arms and legs were from bruises or dirt.

If her scent was any indication it was at least several days since she�d had her last bath.

�Well?� The girl set the cup lamp down on the floor and was leaning back against a small but sturdy table. �Come and get it, you frigid licker, if you really want it that bad.�
Jaffa floundered among the rags for a moment, struggling to turn herself over and get to her knees. �It would be a lot nicer for both of us, if you�d just untie my arms.�

�I�m comfortable here,� the girl said. �Now get over here and start licking before I change my mind.�

Jaffa waddled her way forward on her knees. It wouldn�t have been difficult, since both of her legs were free of the wide elastic binding cloth, except that earlier, when she�d been fumbling around in the dark, she�d knocked a small metal container off the table. Now the shed�s floor was littered with the small metal odds and ends it had contained. Moving across the floor was a delicate task, even with the increased light to guide her. If the flooring had been smooth, Jaffa would simply have slid her knees across the floor, scooting the small objects out of her way; but the wood was rough with splinters. She had to pick her knees up each time she moved forward, and then try to find a spot on the floor that wasn�t littered with debris.

�Hurry it up, juice licker.� The girl was already rubbing her fingers between her legs.

Jaffa stopped in front of her and leaned back on her heels. �Why don�t you lift your tunic a little?�

Jaffa swallowed a little nervously. She wasn�t very happy about the way this was going, but if she wanted to gain her freedom she didn�t seem to have any choice but follow through with her promise and hope for the best.

Since the girl refused to lift her own tunic, Jaffa was forced to use her own head. She tried lifting the tunic with her teeth, but with the steep angle of the girl�s body the hem wouldn�t stay up; so she had to angle her head down underneath the girl�s skirt, so that when she rose back up the cloth was draped over the top of her head.

This made it difficult to see anything and limited her range of motion, but she knew right where the girl�s folds were by the heady smell.

For a moment she wondered whether the girl would be shaved clean, or whether she�d have to fight her way through a forest of thick nappy hair. The way her luck was going, Jaffa would have bet on finding a hairy bush, but the girl surprised her. She wasn�t shaved clean�but the short stubble was soft enough that it was barely noticeable on her tongue as it flicked out timidly, like a snake tasting the air. She found the girl's protruding clit. It was unusually large, and had a bitter flavor, not entirely unpleasant, but Jaffa had licked her fingers after playing with herself, and her own juices were much sweeter, so the harshness of the girl�s essence was a little surprising�as was the shear size of it. Jaffa couldn�t be sure in the dark, but it felt like it was nearly half the length of her little finger.

Despite her extensive sexual training, Jaffa was oddly unsure of herself. This was not one of those areas her father had felt it necessary to tutor her in; and the girl�s cold manner and unpleasant smells didn�t help any.

�Come on, juice licker,� the girl said, placing her hand on the back of Jaffa�s head and rocking her hips forward to forced Jaffa�s face deep into her folds. �Suck on my clit. Get your nose into it. I know you can do better than that, if you think I�m letting you go. That�s it, use your tongue. Wiggle my clit around with a little authority.�

Jaffa was did her best, but apparently it wasn�t good enough, for the girl suddenly pushed her back so hard that she couldn�t keep her balance. As Jaffa toppled over backwards the girl flopped down on her chest, with a leg on either side of her neck. The fall wasn�t very far, but the girl�s weight still knocked some of the wind out of her; and sharp objects pressed into her shoulder blades, buttocks and arms. Most of her backside was held away from the sharp objects on the floor by the fact that her arms were tied behind her, forcing her back into an uncomfortable arch. The girl�s weight caused the rope around Jaffa�s arms to bite deeper, causing a strange thrumming in Jaffa�s arms where the blood flow was obviously being cut off. It was similar to (but different from) the pins and needles feeling she�d gotten on the few occasions when her limbs had gone to sleep and circulation had been restored. This was nothing as subtle, the vein had been collapsed by the weight bearing down on it, and she intuitively sensed that if she didn�t relieve the pressure very soon her arm might suffer serious and permanent damage.

In a panic, Jaffa began to buck. She pushed off the ground with her legs and arched her back, which threw the girl forward onto her face. �Oh yeah,� the girl cried out, as wet folds ground across Jaffa�s chin, mouth and nose. After a few rocking motions with her hip the girl pushed herself back onto Jaffa�s chest, cutting off the circulation and forcing Jaffa to buck again to relieve the discomfort.

The girl seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. She whooped with giddy sounding joy as she bounced back and forth between Jaffa�s chest and face, gyrating her hips and wildly flinging her arms about�as if Jaffa were a horse she was trying to break. Occasionally, as she was bouncing back and forth, she would whip around and slap Jaffa as hard as she could on the belly or on the legs, trying to keep the delightful ride going.

Jaffa tried to plead with her to stop, but she didn�t have time to form the words between the moments when her face was once again smothered. It wasn�t until her energy finally began to give out and Jaffa�s bucking lost the energy necessary to throw the girl forward onto her face, that she lost interest in her little game and slid forward so that her weight was resting over Jaffa�s mouth and nose. By that time Jaffa was breathing hard from her exertions, but when she felt the flesh sealing over her mouth and nose all she could do was try to move her head, searching for the tiniest crack where she could find air to breath. It took Jaffa quite a while to find the girl�s rhythm, but eventually she found it and began to work to increase her pleasure, while still taking every opportunity to breathe.

After what seemed to Jaffa like a very long time, the girl finally stopped rocking her hips and seemed satisfied to let Jaffa do the work; and despite her growing exhaustion, she redoubled her efforts, determined to make sure that the girl didn�t start her rocking (or worse yet bucking) again.

Sucking the girl�s clit into her mouth, she rolled the tender piece of flesh between her lip, nibbling at it gently with her teeth and flicking it with her tongue. �Oh yes, that�s it! Suck on it,� the girl cried out; and Jaffa did, tonguing her damp folds until her body went rigid and her breath came out in ragged little gasps. She trembled, holding that stiff pose for what seemed to Jaffa like a very long time; then she all but collapsed, crumpling to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

�That wasn�t so bad, now was it?� Jaffa asked, as she tried her best to cuddle up close to the girl. She was pleased at how little the anger she felt clouded her voice. Perhaps if she hadn�t been so blinded by her own apathy, the girl might have noticed the irony of Jaffa�s words for this had easily been one of the more unpleasant experiences of her life. There were far too many unpleasant experiences of late to say this was the worst, but it definitely would have been if you took away everything that had happened since Hoit sold her to Fihro Sigmar.

The girl just sighed deeply and smacked her lips as if she was the one who had reason to feel exhausted.

Jaffa barely managed not to blurt out the angry response that was bubbling up inside her, but she held her tongue long enough to give it some thought first. There was no point in alienating the girl with harsh words. After all, Jaffa was in no position to issue demands or make threats. She could only do her best to satisfy the girl�s demands, and then hope that her integrity as a woman would demand that she do the right thing. The real problem was that Jaffa wasn�t sure that that such a crass individual would have any integrity�or that she would interpret the �right thing to do� in the same way that Jaffa would.

�Why don�t you give me a few more moments to rest,� Jaffa said. �And this time, I�d appreciate it if you wouldn�t bounce on my chest like you did the first time. That really hurt.�

�Yeah, yeah,� she said, casually brushing the incident aside. �I already figured we�d try something different this time. So keep your earrings on, you little lady licking minx.�

�Guess it�s time to show you then.� The girl sat up beside Jaffa, pushing her onto her back again. Jaffa fought the urge to protest, forcing herself to lean back calmly and wait to see what would happen. This time, when the girl squatted down over her face, she was looking the other way, so she obviously wouldn�t be riding Jaffa like a wild horse this time In fact, positioned as she was with her knees spread wide to avoid Jaffa�s shoulders, it would be virtually impossible for her to clamp her legs around Jaffa�s head the way she had before; so she wouldn�t have to endure being nearly suffocated beneath the girl�s weight either.

Jaffa breathed a sigh of relief and began to lap at the girls folds. She intended to work her over so thoroughly that the girl wouldn�t have time to think up any clever ways to torture her.

When the girl leaned forward, Jaffa was a little surprised, but she thought maybe her plan was working so well that the girl had decided to give Jaffa a little pleasure in return. Instead, the girl wrapped her arms around Jaffa�s waist and blew a fat, wet raspberry into her belly button. Fortunately, Jaffa was not as ticklish as some people she knew, but she was too ticklish to sit still while someone had open access to all her most ticklish parts. Jaffa began her desperate bucking again, arching her back in an attempt to push the girls mouth away.

�You better hurry up and make me cum,� the girl said. �Cause we�ve still got hours before the others wake up, and I�m not stopping until they find us or you make me cum.�

It took a long time for Jaffa to realize that the girl was serious about continuing to tickle her�and longer still to overcome her body�s seemingly independent will to buck and squirm. It helped that her muscles were aching with exhaustion and overuse. As long as the first time seemed to last, this time seemed even longer, but all things considered, Jaffa thought the second ordeal wasn�t quite as bad. At least not once she managed to still her rebellious body. In a strange way, the tickling began to feel.

Jaffa tried to focus on the sharp objects pricking into her back, or the girl�s unpleasant smell. Anything to keep her from thinking about what the girl was doing with her fingers and tongue. It worked for a time, but the girl was working just as feverishly to make Jaffa squirm as she was working to make the girl squirm. And every time that Jaffa�s concentration was broken and she couldn�t keep from squirming any longer, it broke her rhythm and made it that much harder to get the girl off.

Finally, however, she meet with success; and the two of them lay next to each other, their heads pointing in opposite directions, to limp with exhaustion to think about doing anything else for a few moments.

Her skin still tingled where the girl�s hair brushed against her leg. The sensation wasn�t aggressive enough to be unpleasant, but it kept her mind firmly focused in the present. And after waiting a few more moments for the girl to recover, she began bumping against her with her leg. �Hey,� she said, �I think it�s time for you to let me go now!�

The girl looked at her with a smile that seemed genuine and shook her head. �I think it�s time to do that again,� she said.

�You can�t be serious. By my father�s rights, girl, I honestly don�t think I have the strength to go through that again.�

�No, please,� Jaffa begged as she tried desperately to get to her feet. The girl pushed her onto her back with a gentle shove and plopped down on her chest again, legs clamped securely around her head. �Please. There isn�t time to do that again,� Jaffa gasped, her voice sounding slightly strangled from the pressure on her throat. �Sigmar and the others will wake soon; they�ll come to check on things. I�ve got to put some distance between us, or they�ll find me. I�ll be on foot and they�ll be on horseback!�

�It doesn�t matter,� the girl said with a smug little grin. She leaned back, twisting her arms around behind her back until her palms were resting on the edge of Jaffa�s ribcage. She used her long sharp fingernails to dig painfully under Jaffa�s ribs grabbing a handful of flesh, as if it were a handlebar. �You were never going to go free anyway.�

That was about all she could manage. Between the pain from the girl tugging at her ribs and the dreaded realization that she meant exactly what Jaffa thought she meant, her mind seemed to be petrified.

�I never agreed to let you go, you frigid little minx.� The girl let go of her ribs and leaned forward again until her face was hovering over Jaffa�s, her eyes filled with loathing and disgust. �You wanted to lick me, so I let you. That�s all there was too it, you cumless, mutt mother[17].�

�You can�t be serious!� Jaffa said, too shocked to protest or even take offense at the unjustified expletives.

The girl shrugged. �Sorry. Guess I just don�t like little slimy faced, frigid, slit sloppers like you.�

�I�m not frigid,� Jaffa said hotly, �and you know I�m not a� slit slopper, any more than you are. And I swear by all the gods of the isles, I�ll tell them exactly what you�ve forced me to do! At this point, I don�t care. I don�t have anything left to loose.�

�Go ahead,� the girl said with a shrug. �Tell them all how you stuck you nose between my legs and licked my juices. It will just be your word against mine, and you�d obviously say just about anything if you thought it might increase your chances of going free.� She slid forward a little, inching her crotch closer to Jaffa�s chin. �Besides, by your own admission, I�m not the one who did the licking and I didn�t make you do anything you didn�t offer to do. Not that anyone will care, since when you strip away all the frilly lace what really happened is that I stopped you from escaping. I expect the fact you�re still here will be proof enough of that.�

The noise hadn�t been all that loud but he was a very light sleeper, especially without the constant rocking of the wagons. Even with the lull of the wagons, he slept far less than any of his men, which was why he normally relied so heavily on the advice of Faldern and Stenz when it came to making decisions about how far he could push his men.

This time, he didn�t need their advice to know that he�d been pushing too hard.

Sigmar wondered how long he�d been asleep. His eyes were still a little heavy, but his body felt rested, the way only sleeping in a soft, comfortable bed could. He needed to exercise his blade for a few hours, get the sluggish blood pumping through his veins. Riding for days in a wagon was strenuous, but it was not the kind of strenuous activity that you recovered from by resting. He needed to flex his muscles and stretch his limbs.

When the rest of his crew awoke he would have the opportunity to cross blades with Faldern and some of the other more capable swordsmen among his guards; but he was not willing to wake their slumber for his own selfish ends. For now, he would have to make due with a brisk walk, and a thorough inventory of the caravan�s supplies. And perhaps, somewhere in all of that, he would give one of his new slaves a vigorous fucking. Better yet, since they would be stuck in Ingsvel for the long Feilomian night, perhaps he would make his first order of business to find those troublemaking slaves and get started on their punishment.

He threw aside the covers, pulled on his clothes and made his way down the hall to the doors that had locks with tumblers on the outside instead of the inside. They were obvious, because of the small windows with bars on the door and the slot for passing through a food tray. Sigmar looked into the first such room that he came to and found it empty. The second and third rooms he came to were filled with sleeping women sprawled on the floor, but not the ones he was looking for. In the fourth room he checked, he recognized Shelana�s face among the others. The women in question had been her charges, so they should be in this room.

Removing one of his boots, he used it to prop the door open; then he entered the room and began to search for the slaves in earnest. The one with the broken tooth was easy enough to find but, in the dim light, he couldn�t seem to locate the other. After several minutes of fruitless searching he began to worry and decided to wake Shelana.

�What�s going on?� she asked, shaking her head and trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

�Of course they are,� Shelana said without thinking. Then her eyes widened a little with fearful uncertainty.

�You think so?�
Shelana looked around nervously, obviously trying to spot the girl, without success. �We came in together. She must be here.�

�Did you make sure that all the girls were accounted for when you came in or not?�

�I always do,� she said, looking down at the floor and obviously choosing her words very carefully. Sigmar could almost see the wheels in her brain spinning as she tried to decide whether it would be better to admit her oversight and accept the inevitable punishment, or tell a lie and risk the added punishment she would incur if she proved to be wrong. It didn�t take her long to make her choice. �I�m sorry, my lord. I was so tired, this time; I cannot be absolutely certain whether I checked or not.�

�Yes, my lord, Right away!� She kicked the girl nearest to her with her foot. �Everybody up!� she called.

�Not quite so loud,� Sigmar said. �Others are still sleeping. And when we find who we�re looking for, you and the rest of your charges can go back to sleeping too.�

�Thank you, my lord.� She moved to the next woman and shook her more gently with her foot.

It took only a few more moments to wake the rest, and confirm for certain that the one he wanted was not among them. Sigmar scowled at Shelana, pondering for the moment what he would do to her if it turned out that the girl really had escaped.

�Jaffa was sleeping on the floor near the wall. I mean, the last time I saw her, that is. It�s possible the seat might have hidden her from view when Shelana checked to��

Not a bad mind on this one, he thought, eyeing the girl more closely. �What�s your name, child?�

He gave her a gracious smile and said, �I�ll remember you kindly from now on.� Then he told the rest of the women they could go back to sleep, taking only Shelana and Resmelda with him to look for the misplaced girl.

Almost asleep, her mind drifting in a haze of exhaustion, Jaffa was lying on the padded floor of the slave wagon, right where the stable girl had left her, when the door opened behind her. For a moment she thought it might be the stable girl returning to torment her some more. She turned herself over, ready to kick out in self defense if the girl tried to grab her ankles, and backed away from the bright ball of light hanging in the doorway. Perhaps if she wedged herself under the seat, it would make it harder for�

�Her legs are free!� She recognized Sigmar�s voice, and realized that he wasn�t too happy about it, but she couldn�t think of anything she could say to change that. He reached down and picked up one of the elastic cloth bindings that had been around her legs, and now lay beside her on the floor. �You didn�t cut these off yourself, did you?� He asked, flinging the cloth binding at her. �Not if you were in here the whole time.�

Jaffa still couldn�t think of a suitable response. Despite her threats, she was too ashamed of what had happened to admit her encounter with the stable girl, especially when the little bitch was right: she had asked for what she got, even if what she got wasn�t quite what she�d asked for.

�Not one of my men,� Sigmar said. �They were all too tired, and they wouldn�t have destroyed the bindings like that. In fact, I can�t figure out why anyone else would either�but if it wasn�t someone else, what�d she use to do the cutting?�

�Maybe someone found her after she�d already cut the bindings off, and not knowing what else to do with her, they put her back in here for safe keeping.�

�Yes, of course.� Sigmar nodded with satisfaction. �Resmelda, you are a clever girl, aren�t you?� He looked at Jaffa more sharply. �Is that what happened, slave?�

She shook her head. �I don�t think so. Their voice was slurred; I think they might have been drunk.�

Sigmar was shaking his head. �Guess the only one that leaves is you; and once again you�ve apparently destroyed something that is mine. Seems you have this masochistic urge to keep digging yourself deeper and deeper into my debt. A debt that you have no means of repaying, except with your tears and your cries of pain.�

Jaffa scowled back at him, but she didn�t say anything. What could she say that wouldn�t make things worse? Ranting at the unfairness of it wouldn�t change anything. Sigmar knew she wasn�t supposed to be here. He�d had no more right buying her than Hoit had selling her�but that obviously didn�t matter to him; or to anyone else who could help her.

Jaffa could feel her face turning red; her whole body seemed to tingle with embarrassment. She thought about telling him to go sit on his own sword, but despite her surface certainty that he couldn�t do anything worse to her than what had already been done, she realized that he could keep doing what he�d been doing for a very long time, if he chose to. Common sense held her tongue.

�Come on,� Sigmar insisted. �Tell me what happened. I want to hear everything.�

�Do you need a little incentive?� He reached down, grabbed one of her nipples roughly and began to twist it.

�And? Come on,� he said, twisting her nipple again. �I know that�s not all of it�what else?�

�He fucked me in the ass and tickled me so I�d squirm around,� Jaffa said, her face turning red again. Despite the fact that her father�s sexual training had included several lessons on anal intercourse, being made to say it out loud like that was much more humiliating than she would have suspected. But admitting the real truth would have been even more embarrassing.

�A little,� she admitted, hoping that if he decided to use this knowledge against her later, he would do it himself. He moved his fingers lazily for a few moments more before turning to Shelana. �Take Resmelda to my room and wait with her there.� He began to climb up into the wagon. You can find your way in the dark, can�t you?�

�Good, then I�ll join you when I�ve secured this one and we�ll deal with your punishment then. Don�t worry, I�ll be lenient. We were all tired. In fact, you might not find what I have in mind to be all that unpleasant.� As he turned back towards Jaffa, she heard him mutter under his breath, �I know I won�t.�

Sigmar smiled down at her, and began to lightly pet her stomach, tracing little circles around her belly button, and he could feel her tummy shiver ever so slightly under his touch. Either she was telling the truth about not being all that ticklish or, more likely, he simply hadn�t found the right way to touch her yet. Different women had different buttons that set them off. Perhaps with enough time he�d find hers.

�I think you�ll find it in a shed over there,� Jaffa said, craning her head forward a little in what was probably as close to a nod in his direction as she could manage.

Closing the wagon door and locking her in, Sigmar walked in the direction she had indicated, until he found the shed she had obviously meant. Inside, he raised his lantern and looked around. The rough wooden floor was scattered with nails and screws. In one corner was an overturned can, which he assumed had probably held the metal debris on the floor at one time. The gag was lying under a makeshift little table with selves. Nothing on the shelves was still standing upright, as if they�d all been knocked over by someone�s violent struggles.

It was beginning to look more and more like the girl just might be telling the truth, the part of it she was willing to tell, at least. He hadn�t become as successful as he had by not being able to read other people, and he was quite certain that she was still hiding something. Idly, he wondered what it was. Not that it would make any difference when he decided what to do with her, for even if this hadn�t happened, he�d been planning to keep her busy for the rest of their trip together. But he enjoyed making her think she would suffer even more: suffer not only for her part, but also for the sins of the person who she claimed had taken her against her will. Perhaps it would help teach her that there was no longer such a thing as justice in her world.

He could make out what he felt reasonably certain were two sets of footprints. One was bare footed; the other booted�or perhaps simply wrapped. The outline of the second set of feet wasn�t very clean, but the size of the foot was obviously rather small. He placed his heel on the heel of the wrapped track, angling his toes to observe that the toes of the print barely came to the ball of his foot. Her attacker had very small feet, for a man. Given her history, Jaffa probably tried to barter with whoever it was, but she�d outsmarted herself because when they were done with her they had locked her right back in the wagon. Still, Sigmar had nothing else of particular interest to do while the long night passed�it might be fund to see if he couldn�t figure out who had duped his wayward slave girl. And when he did, he intended to make both of them suffer. In the meantime, he planned to modify the image Jaffa had given him during her confession to fulfill Shelana�s promised punishment. As he recalled, his headwoman was extremely ticklish.

Sigmar picked up the ball gag and wiped off the dirt. Carrying it back to the wagon, he returned it to the large storage box on the outside. Among other things, the storage boxes held a large supply of binding gear, and as he picked out several items Sigmar visualized what he planned to do first. He slipped a leather head harness into a large cloth sack. The harness was fitted with several straps that firmly encircled the head, while holding the mouth open with a large metal o-ring. Next he selected several lengths of rope; a leather chastity belt with a removable crotch strap; and several padded leather cuffs�two of which were specifically designed for suspension. Before returning to the wagon, he tied the sack securely to his belt.

As he led Jaffa into the inn, he played a hunch and leaned casually toward her, taking a deep whiff. Given the size of the footprint he�d found and the location of the offense, he�d begun to suspect that the culprit might be that wiry little stable girl he�d seen when they arrived. That might explain why Jaffa had been so reluctant to admit what had happened. He took another deep whiff just to be sure. It was subtle�competing as it did with the smell of Jaffa�s own sweat and the wet-dog smell of her damp hair�but just as he suspected, he could distinctly smell the fishy odor of female sex.

At least it�s stopped raining, Sigmar thought, as he opened the door to the tavern and led the slave girl inside. Only his boots and ankle wraps were wet from his little trek to the barn and back. He carefully removed the chair he�d used to prop open the door and relocked it behind him as he looked around. It was darker inside than it had been outside, where the late evening glow still hung in the sky now that the rain clouds had cleared away. The light was far too dim to risk going up the mountain, where overhanging trees would cast the treacherous path into deep shadows on one side while the other plunged away down a sheer cliff. As usual, Stenz had been right about that.

Still it was more than enough light to walk in the open, where the light reflecting off the wet ground and frequent puddles of water sparkled like lost gems sitting on the ground. Perhaps later he would take a short walk to just enjoy the night�s beauty.

For now, he was content to hold the slave girl�s arm as he took a few steps into the room and looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the lower levels of light. Even in the darkness, the Inn�s tavern had that eerie sort of silence that large open spaces tend to have when totally abandoned. Like a temple when the priests have all gone to bed, or a small clearing in a forest when the night is so deep that even the animals have ceased to stir. Despite the mud that clung to Sigmar�s boots, the sound of his heels seemed rather loud on the stone floor; and even the slapping sound of the girl�s bare feet seemed louder than normal in the unnatural hush of the dim room.

He noticed a lantern hanging on the wall and began looking around for something to light it with. The most obvious place would be by the main fire which, like most Feilomian taverns, was in the center of the room. As expected, there was a box of long matches beside the fireplace. He used one to light the lantern�s wick then stuck the unburned portion back into a box that held other reusable sticks with the chemical ends burned off. The lantern wick was low in the well and provided very little light until Sigmar rolled the wick a little higher. Then the lantern lit up an area about 10� around him. Beyond that everything had turned to pitch black, and for a moment he wondered if it wouldn�t have been better to search the room in the dimmer light.

He made his way towards a row of stone arches that separated the main part of the tavern from a smaller alcove which was obviously reserved for the wealthier customers. It was the only sensible place to find what he was looking for. Sure enough, each of the three small arches had several metal rings mortared into the stone work: two near the floor on either side of the arch, two about halfway up, at what was roughly Jaffa�s waist level, two higher still in the flat stonework just before the arch began to curve, and finally one at the apex of the arch.

�Stand here and don�t move,� Sigmar said as he pushed Jaffa under the middle arch. He untied the sack of binding supplies from his belt and took out two of the cuffs, which he attached to her ankles. He used two of the ropes from the sack to attach her ankle cuffs to the metal rings at the base of the arch, leaving them relatively loose for now. Next, he removed the ropes around her chest and arms then, after allowing her a few moments to get the blood flowing again, he placed the remaining suspension cuffs on her wrists and tied them to the highest pair of metal rings. After that he pulled the harness over her head, strapping the metal ring gag firmly into place as he tightened all the little straps. Then he turned to the leather chastity belt, buckling it around her waist, pulling the straps until it was just a little more than snug.

�Thang yuhw� Jaffa said, when he removed the leather strap that would normally have run between her legs. She was obviously relieved by her belief that she would not have anything between her legs, for a little while at least.

�You�re welcome,� Sigmar said as he centered the long rope that he�d removed from around her chest. Reaching down with the loop he�d made at the center, he rubbed the rope into her pink folds. �I expect you�re getting pretty sore down there, aren�t you?�

�Well, you don�t have to worry,� Sigmar said as he pushed the loop through a metal ring on the front of the chastity belt and began to thread the loose ends through. �I have no intention of denying my men access to your lovely orifices.�

Jaffa�s eyes widened in fear as he tugged on the rope, which was now firmly anchored to the front of her leather belt, and then began to pass the ends of the rope between her legs. �Nawh, hlease donh,� she groaned.

�Sorry,� Sigmar said, with a soft chuckle. �I can�t have all your weight hanging from your arms. It might pull them right off your body.�

Instead of threading the ropes between her cunt lips, however, he took them wide, one strand on either side. This would still be uncomfortable, while allowing the ropes to support much more of her weight (for a much longer period) without running the risk of doing the kind of damage that might require the services of a skilled healer to avoid leaving scars or perhaps even more serious damage. Pulling the strands deep into the crack of her ass, Sigmar threaded the ropes through another metal ring at the back of the belt before splitting the ends. Each end went to the waist level metal ring in the stone arch, then back to a metal ring on either side of Jaffa�s belt, then up to the highest pair of metal rings in the arch and finally down to the metal ring in her wrist cuffs. Sigmar brought a chair over from one of the tables to stand on while he pulled the ropes satisfyingly tight. When he was done Jaffa hips and upper body were pinned firmly in place by the web of ropes. Sigmar traced his fingers down the length of her arms; then back and forth over her armpit until Jaffa couldn�t stand it any more. The ropes held her so firmly, however, that her violent squirming had very little noticeable effect, most of which involved causing the ropes to pull even tighter on her belt and between her legs.

Sigmar was rather pleased with the effect�but he wasn�t quite finished. He took a short length of rope and tied it from the ring in the top of Jaffa�s head harness to the ring in the arch directly over her head, pulling it until he saw her neck begin to stretch just the tiniest bit, assuring him that it was indeed bearing some of her weight. The final touch was to take the play out of the ropes to Jaffa�s ankles.

She wined involuntarily as he pulled her legs wide and the belt tightened around her waist as the web securing her arms took up even more of her weight. The balls of her feet still touched the ground, providing a little support as well, but he knew that standing on the tips of her toes would quickly become very uncomfortable, even if she wasn�t supporting her full weight.

Sigmar smiled at his handy work as he stood up. �That should hold you,� he said, leaning in to press his hand between her legs. His hand found her slit which was compress between the ropes but damp enough to still allow easy access�and he vigorously worked his fingers in and out for several moments, until her breathing began to come in little gasps. �Yes, I think you�ll provide fine entertainment for my men during the long night.� He removed his fingers from inside her and slapped his cupped palm several times against her bulging mound. She gasped and jerked against the rigid ropes in such a fetching way that instead of leaving as he�d originally planned he kept slapping her like that for several minutes.

At last, he picked up his sack of binding supplies, hung the lantern back on the wall and snuffed it out, before heading back up the stairs to his room where Shelana and Resmelda were waiting for him.

He was a little surprised to discover that they were already undressed and waiting under the covers for him, but then why else would he have told them to wait in his room. He could smell their perfumed bodies as he approached and realized that they had taken the opportunity he had given them to wash and ready themselves. It made him a little self conscious of his own stench. The bed sheets he had slept in were undoubtedly already soiled, unless� had they changed them as well? Shelana, despite her recent lapse, was a clever and diligent girl�if not pretty enough to make him a great deal of money on the open market. That was why he had made her one of his trustees and kept her with him for so long instead of selling her. By now, she knew his moods and his tastes, and she would no doubt be eager to do everything she could to make him forget about the punishment he�d promised her.

Sigmar nodded and quickly went into the bath room, stripped off his clothes and stood above the drain tile. During the wet season the reservoir on the roof was filled with water and baths were free to all, as part of each room�s standard cost. There was ample water for all of his men, as well as his slaves to bath. Even near the end of the dry season, when water had to be pumped from the well and dumped in the overhead reservoir, water for bathing was relatively cheap, particularly when one had slaves he could order to run the treadmill that powered the pump. It felt good not to worry about such things, however, and so using the cup that was floating in the large basin, he liberally poured the cool water over his body before and after equally liberal scrubbings with the bar of soap; then he scrubbed his skin dry with one of the two towels the inn had supplied to his room. The other towel had obviously been shared by the women in his bed, for it was quite damp.

Before going to join them, Sigmar found his travel case and used a little cologne to scent his own body. Like any decent slave merchant, he�d gotten used to the smell of unwashed flesh, but he also prided himself on being a man of the world and he had no intention of being out classed by his own women.

He reemerged from the bathroom no more than ten minutes after entering it, and caught Resmelda sitting on the bed looking in wide-eyed wonder through the bag he�d dropped on the floor before going to bath. Sigmar wondered if her look signified fear or anticipation. He had picked her up from a traveling slave merchant who hired his girls out to those who couldn�t afford a more permanent arrangement, so it was likely that she had encountered men with all kinds of sexual interests. It was certainly possible that she had developed a taste for being bound, as some women did.

�Perhaps. I�m definitely going to use then on Shelana,� Sigmar said as he glanced over at his head woman for a moment before looking back. �You can help me bind her if you like, and then I�ll decide what I want to do with you.�

Resmelda looked up at him with a sly smile, bouncing up and down on the bed like a spoiled little boy who�d just been given a birthday present. It was infectious, and Sigmar couldn�t help smiling back at her. Suddenly he remembered why he�d been willing to pay so much for this girl. She would make him a tidy little profit on the open market, despite the unusually high price he�d ended up paying for her. Avoiding such high prices for his slaves was the reason he typically traveled so deep into the back roads of the isles he visited. A fief lord with a gaggle of young girls to feed wasn�t as likely to know just what they were worth to the right buyers. Still, the girl�s old master had been a very small merchant, and fortunately the idea of having a lot of money (although far less than the girl was actually worth) in his hands right away was much more attractive than the steady flow of money she could earn for him over the years.

�It�s time to stand before me and receive your punishment, Shelana,� he said as he walked to the bed and sat down beside the girl. He took one of the longer lengths of rope from the bag and began pulling it through his fingers to find the center. Every good tie he�d ever seen began with a doubled length of rope. In fact, the only time he used a single strand was when his supply of time or rope was severely limited; and neither was the case at the moment.

Shelana had climbed from beneath the covers; and now she stood naked before him, her body trembling ever so slightly with nervousness.

�Take this rope, Resmelda. Wrap it around her waist and tuck the loose ends through this loop I�ve formed at the center. As for you, Shelana, stick your hands out so I can tie your wrists together. Not quite so close together,� he said, wrapping his own rope around her wrists in several lazy loops. �I intend to create some space between your hands by wrapping these loose strands like so.� He began to demonstrate the technique, starting near one wrists and working his way towards the other as he tightly wound the rest of the rope around the loose strands. When he was done, it would create a very thick and stiff section about six inches long between her wrists.

�Pull the waist rope tight, and center it over her belly button,� he said, dividing his attention between his own efforts and what Resmelda was doing. �No, no. Not like that. Never pull the rope across the skin like that unless it�s a punishment: it can cause a serious rope burn, especially if you�re using course rope. Loosen the rope and slide it around to the side of her waist. Yes, like that. Now, when you pull back on it� yes, see how it pulls tight with a minimum of unnecessary rubbing? And you can prevent her skin from bunching in front like that by using your fingers to push it back a little while you pull the rope tight. Very good, that�s much, much better. I think you might have a natural talent for this, but try again and this time, make it just a little tighter!�

When she�d gotten the loop just right Sigmar was still a few loops and a knot from being finished with Shelana�s wrist tie, so he continued with his instructions. �Excellent. Now pull the ends of the rope back the other way and loop them a few more times around her waist. It�s a long rope and we need to us it up.� Sigmar finished his own tie while she worked, anchoring it with his favorite hitch, which was quickly released despite being entire secure. �Good,� he said, continuing to let Resmelda do the tying. �Now, without letting any slack back into the rope, thread the loose ends through the loop you made at her belly button. No, no. Here let me show you.� He took the ends of the rope, threading them through the proper loop. �Like this. See how that anchors the tie so it doesn�t look sloppy?� He tugged firmly on the rope to demonstrate. �You can give it even more stability by tucking it under the ropes and making a knot, of sorts, like this. That�s a little more than we need for our purposes, but then again, since we�ve plenty of rope, it doesn�t hurt. Okay, now reach between her legs and use your fingers to spread her open. That�s it. Now I�ll just pull the ends of the rope between her legs, like this.� He tugged on the ropes from behind, smiling as Shelana moaned as the ropes bit into her tender flesh. �If you want,� he said, loosening the ropes again and quickly tying several simple knots. �You can add little bumps like this. That way, if you�re careful with their placement, her struggles will place extra pressure right on her sensitive areas. This also prevents the ropes from binding around her sensitive flesh.� He repositioned the rope so that it trapped a tiny piece of her labia minor between them, and gave a gentle tug. �If you want to be particularly cruel, you can trap a bit on purpose�the clit itself probably being the most effective target. Consider those rope burns I mentioned earlier and you�ll understand why this can cause a great deal of pain, and should only be used in the most extreme circumstances�as when physical damage to the slave is not an issue.� He gave another gentle tug and smiled as Shelana winced in pain. �If I left the ropes like this, they would pinch and pull quite mercilessly every time she moved, but fortunately for her, this isn�t that serious a punishment so we can seat the ropes more comfortably, with just the knots to do the work.� He spread her open again and let the ropes sink more deeply between her folds.

When she did, he grabbed a hold of the stiff rope-bridge between her wrists and looped the ends of the crotch rope around them, pulled the strands tight enough that it forced her to arch her back a little, before tying them off with several stabilizing loops and knots.

Shelana laughed and tried to jerk away, as he leaned down and nibbled on the soft down under her arms. He held her easily, sucking more lustily the more she struggled.

�Stop, oh God, please stop!� She wailed apparently unable to keep her composure any longer.

�You�re going to have to do a lot better than that,� he said as he spun her around and pushed her forward onto the bed. She flopped onto her belly with a bounce that caused her arms to tug at the crotch rope between her legs. �You too,� he said, looking at Resmelda. �On the bed, and I want you to slap her on the ass until she manages to get to her knees.�

Sigmar chuckled again at how quickly Shelana managed to roll over and squirm her way to a kneeling position on the bed. Poor Resmelda didn�t even get a chance to land a single blow. He stacked up both of the room�s pillows and set them along the edge at the foot of the bed. �Now, Resmelda,� he said. �I want you to come over here and sit down on these pillows. That�s it, let your legs hang over the edge, and now lie back.� He leaned over her and slid her down, a little closer to the edge. If she�d tried to sit up now she would have toppled onto the floor, but with the pillows under her hips it held her at a fairly agreeable height to receive his throbbing member.

Resmelda lay breathlessly on the bed, her knees spread wide enough to keep her balanced without his help. �Now, Shelana, I want you to come forward and sit on Resmelda�s chest.�

Resmelda looked over at him as Shelana began to move closer. �And what�s her punishment,� she asked, with a plaintive look.

�Her punishment is to sit on you, while I have the pleasure of fucking you,� Sigmar said with a vicious smile. �And since you had the impertinence to ask, I�ve decide to use your ass instead of the orifice I had originally intended.� He, of course, had intended to use her ass all along, but he rather enjoyed the look his words brought to her face.

�You don�t think sitting on you sounds like a punishment for her? Well consider this, Shelana is extremely ticklish, as you have already observed, and I intend to tickle and tease her while I fuck you�and since I�ll be� shall we say distracted, I it may take a rather long time to finish the job.�

�Oh,� Resmelda said with sudden sympathy for Shelana�s plight, and just a hint of eager anticipation.

�Yes,� Sigmar said, watching Shelana as she reluctantly approached. �I will resist your efforts to escape, but not too fiercely. That will be your test. �As long as you stay on top of Resmelda I will continue to tickle you, and when I�m finished with her I will forgive you completely for your recent lapse in judgment. If on the other hand, you manage to remove yourself from on top of her, you will receive two hundred strokes of the whip during the course of the long night.�

�You can of course refuse without even trying, but if you do, your punishment will instead be five hundred strokes.� He smiled sympathetically when he saw her consternation. �Yes, I know I said this punishment might not be too unpleasant, but unfortunately for you I don�t think it would be anywhere near as much fun without a significant incentive to help keep you in place. I know it�s a bit frivolous, but I have a sudden urge to find out just how ticklish you really are.�

Footnotes:

[1] Saddle horn: The horn of a Feilomian saddle isn�t a large protruding knob the way it is on a typical Western style saddle. It is a much shallower knob than sits atop a larger overall hump. It�s still uncomfortable if you�re laying over the top of it, but it�s effectively designed for keeping such a body from falling off the horse.

[2] The highroad is a small, reinforced path that runs between the major cities on Feilom. It is very analogous to a highway, only it isn�t large enough for more than a single horse. This one-horse road is built up much higher than the surrounding land so that a rider can always make good time. Wagons, however, are still limited to the low roads, which during the wet season can become very muddy and slow traveling.

[3] A ten-day is ten Feilomian days, which are about 18 Earth-days long. Thus, a ten-day on Feilom consists of about 180 E-days or about the equivalent of 6 months.

[4] Phydmilk: This drink is an expensive delicacy that is imported from the Zylomian Archipelago. The drink is produced by a type giant of ant that keeps various kinds of humanoid females as aphids. A special type of worker-ant inject the females with a hormonal substance that makes them lactate. Another worker type collects the milk from the females and seals it up in storage bins that are not too dissimilar to the honeycombs of a bee. This can be collected and processed to make phydmilk.

[5] Vitriol is a concentrated, oily substance that is used for flavoring, particularly phydmilk. It comes from a magical, plant-like mineral, called Vitrium, that is most commonly found growing in the UnderCaves. Each type of Vitrium oozes a different kind of vitriol, which generally has a distinctive color and flavor. Vitriol is very strong, and people commonly indicate how strong a drink is by how many drops of vitriol were added. Like sugar with coffee, one and two drops are the most common numbers.

[6] Half a dozen ten-days: A ten-day on Feilom consists of about 180 E-days or about the equivalent of 6 months. Thus, half a dozen (or six) ten-days is a period equal to 1080 E-days, or very nearly three years.

[7] A drop-hole is essentially a port-o-let that is built into a wagon. It is a solid-construction stool with a cylindrical hole which is designed for passing excrement while the wagon is moving. In most cases, it is not enclosed by walls but open, and is generally positioned in the center of the wall (or partition) formed by the driver�s seat.

[8] The significant connector [oi�] is often pronounced more like [Oh] to make it easier to say with certain names. Thus, [oi�Balon] is pronounced to sound very much like [obey^.lon], only with an emphasis on the [ey] in [obey].

[9] Glow stones: are mined in the UnderCaves. They are a crystalline like mineral that can be charged (so that they glow) by placing them in sunlight. Heat from a fire also works, but not nearly as efficiently; and fire can also an damage the stone if used repeatedly.

[10] ColdStones: are a crystalline-like mineral that mined from very cold streams in the UnderCaves. In the cold water, they actually feel warm, but when exposed to sunlight or heat they become very cold to the touch. Like ice, the hotter their surrounding the faster they�re used up. They can be fully recharged only by returning them to the ice-streams in the UnderCaves.

[11] In other words, a dentists. Dentistry is common (although not inexpensive) on the inner isles; but it is not practiced on the outer isles. Which is why girls or young women are generally the only ones sold as slaves, although older women who were attractive may be used for breeding. Anyway, tooth care on the outer isles is generally handled by a magic plant which is used to clean the teeth more effectively than anything native on the inner isles. This is also an export for many outer isles, as it is a desired commodity on the inner isles.

[12] HealStone: is a crystalline-like mineral that is mined (or collected) in the UnderCaves. It has only one source, a large growing mass which is known as the SourceStone. The most powerful HealStones are cut directly from this softer mass and allowed to age in a dark, dry place until it takes on the appearance of a blue or green mineral. The quality of HealStones varies widely, however, and lower quality stones can be collected from the ground around the SourceStone, like fruit that has fallen from a tree.
Only certain Amorian races are capable of navigating the UnderCaves easily; and the Slarn-Amorians who live in the UnderCaves, worship the SourceStone and guard it from intruders. They offer blood sacrifices to the EarthMother at the mouth of the Black River, from which the SourceStone springs. Thus, it is rather dangerous and difficult to collect HealStones, and they are generally considered one of the most valuable of all magic that comes from the UnderCaves. They cannot be recharged, but they generally last for a very, very long time.

[13] Have healer look Jaffa over carefully when they get to Ingsvel. He can use a HealStone on her, to introduce the idea.

[14] Given the length of Feilomian nights, this is equivalent to saying ��I may just sleep for a month.�

[15] This is a local variation on a theme. Liquid wax candles, with fire moss wicks are common on Feilom and some of the other outer isles. They are not so common on the inner isles.

[16] A highly derogatory term, which is similar to calling her frigid or a pervert. It essentially means that men don�t turn her on, the way they do a normal woman who isn�t a pervert.

[17] A highly derogatory term, which is being improperly used in this case, since Jaffa is of pure breeding. Technically, it means any woman (off mixed breeding) who has given birth to (or slightly less technically who hasn�t been neutered and so is capable of giving birth to) a child. Like the word bastard, it has been expanded in common usage to refer to any woman who one wishes to insult.