The afternoon moved into the early evening. The sun began to dip behind the hills. The air cooled and the creatures of the dusk came out; giant insects buzzing from the jungle surrounding the camp.
I looked down into the Blue Pit. A pair of Siberian girls were trying to stalk a small mayfly. It took off as they lunged for it; ancient did not mean primitive. They watched it as it flew above them and then disappeared. They looked down, their shoulders sagging.
"When is feeding time?" I asked the pit guards. It was the Shemite from before.
"They will not eat today," he replied. "Those that remain in the pits will receive but a single meal tomorrow when the sun is at noon. Those put to the cross will feed later, but more often than that, should they prove quick learners."
More wooden crosses had gone up in the crucifix area, and secondary ‘cross fields' had been set up beside each pit. The crosses were just large, thick, branches, rammed into the ground with a branch tied across as the cross beam. There were 30 such crosses in the cross field outside Blue Pit, alone.
"Soon it will be time to take the first of this crop and put them to the cross," continued the guard. "If your hands are idle and seek purpose, they would be welcomed alongside ours, at that labor."
"Yes, I'd like to help with that."
I returned 10 minutes later, with Haley by my side. Her hair fell loose down her shoulders, rope marks from her hogtying showed up on her tanned, slender, ankles. Her large breasts jiggled with each step to the delight of onlookers. Only her wrists were bound, and I had retied the leash around her throat.
She looked down at the pit, her eyes widening at the sight of several other Siberian females.
They too seem to recognize her.
"Ankana!" one got up and yelled.
A pit guard came running up to the edge, drawing his whip. The slave dropped to her knees and looked down, as did the other Siberians.
Ankana. So that had been her name.
"Such a lovely beast!" Said the Shemite guard. Another two standing behind him nodded, and one clapped his hands. "You have done well Brother to set your red cord around such an inviting throat."
Across the pit, four guards dragged and threw down a wooden ramp. It shook and creaked as they stomped down it. The girls in the pit stared at them.
"You," a guard pointed at a tall, pale, Beaker woman. She had long, dark hair that fell to the tip of her buttocks. I admired the perkiness and fullness of her breasts, the gentle slope, and the roundness of her behind. "Come here!"
Meekly, she walked over to the guard. He took her hand, stepped behind her, and twisted her arm behind her back. She cried out and tried to jerk free.
"Forward, slave!"
She stumbled as he pushed her towards the ramp. The other guards snapped their fingers and called out to various females, but none moved.
One guard pulled out a whip and cracked it in the air. He regarded the slaves who had been summoned.
They came forward.
"Come, Slave," I said to Haley, tugging on her leash. I lead her around the pit towards the crosses.
I got to the crosses, just as the guard with the Beaker girl did. A small box had been placed in front of it, and a larger one, behind it.
"Up," he let go of the girl's arm and pointed at the smaller box. She looked back at him, then at the smaller box, and stepped up onto it.
Behind the cross, he climbed the larger box, This put him a good 2 feet higher than she was. He bent and grabbed the girl's hand and pulled it up to the crossbeam. There were thick ropes already fastened there. She winced as he tied them tight around her wrist. Then, he pulled and bound her other wrist.
He dismounted and used ropes ties to bind her ankles to the cross. She remained standing, on tiptoe, on the box.
The guard kicked the box away.
The girl gasped as her weight was taken up by the ropes. She grimaced and tried to struggle, yanking at her wrist ties. Already, the extreme discomfort of the position was being felt. The guard turned and walked back towards the pit, nodding to me.
"What will happen to her?" I asked.
"She will come to greatly desire release from forced position. When she decides kneeling with chain at the throat is preferable, she will be rewarded with such new position and the life that comes with it."
"So-like a day?"
"A day. Perhaps two. None last on the cross longer than three."
He turned and left. The other guards had already finished crucifying their girls who were now struggling and groaning in their new positions. Then the men went back into the pit to get more.
I turned and regarded Haley. She stared at me, with large, blue, nervous eyes.
"Come, Slave."
I led my blonde to the cross beside the dark-haired Beaker girl. I untied Haley's wrists and removed her leash.
"Move the box, Slave," I pointed to the box, and then to the front of a bare cross.
She stared at me, unmoving.
I put my hand on my whip.
Immediately, she bent down, picked up the box, and placed it in front of the cross.
"Good Slave. Now that one," I pointed at the larger box. She moved that one into, place as well.
"Stand," I pointed to the smaller box.
I enjoyed the sight of her long, athletic legs as she stepped onto the box. The skin was smooth, supple, unblemished. She stared at me, the wind catching her long, golden hair.
I got on the larger box and tied her hands in place. Her skin was soft, smooth, cool. Then I tied her ankles to the cross and removed the box.
"Oh!" She cried at the sudden jerk as she hung against her ropes.
"I know your language," I said in one of the more common Siberian tongues. It was good to learn some of the languages of slaves. "And I am finally speaking it to you now, to make sure you understand exactly what is going to happen to you. Understand, Slave?"
"Yes." She replied in the same language. She raised an eyebrow and quickly looked me up and down: multi-culturalism didn't exist for hunter-gatherers. Hearing me speak Siberian would have seemed to her like watching an ape recite poetry.
"You will remain on this cross without food or water until you beg to be my slave. Do you know what ‘slave' means?"
"Yes!" she spat, baring her teeth. "You will wait till the mountains become dust!"
"Such piss and vinegar! I will take you down, either to watch you kiss my feet and put an iron collar around your pretty throat-or to give your corpse to the butchers, to be skinned and hung on a frame, for your friends to see. Whichever of those two happen, is your choice: to live as ‘Haley,' or die as ‘Arkana.' It is also the last choice you will ever have."
I turned and went down the ramp into the pit, to help the guards crucify the other females.
***
That night, I sat with my hunting claw brothers around our campfire.
The sky was pitch black; clouds had rolled in and blocked out the stars. The only light came from fires like ours, dotted around the camp, and from the torches mounted in the watchtowers.
A large, fresh-caught fish with bony plates over its head, was roasting over the fire. Tending to it was Fogrim's Bharaji girl. There was a love bite on the side of her throat and a bruise on her thigh. She wore a string necklace fitted with lizard teeth. Around one ankle was a tight, leather cuff with fur trim on both ends. Her hair had been pulled back tightly into a ponytail, that spilled out of a copper ring. She wore dark kohl around her eyes.
"This one is most pleasing to the eye," said Ettun, leering and taking a sip of wine. "She presents well, indeed, in slave wear."
"Thank the Master, Layla," said Fogrim. He sat on a box, a long, thin, cane at his side. I could make out the little red marks it had left on his slave's thighs and calves.
"You have already given her a name!" Ettun exchanged a look with Duzil and nodded. "You have been busy, Brother!"
"Thank you, Master," said the Bharaji, bowing her head towards Ettun.
Duzil clapped. Kneeling in the sand beside him were Ettun's Siberian, and his own Anatolian. Both girls had their wrists bound behind their backs, their ankles were unsecured. Both wore rope leashes; they fell between their breasts and lay in the sand between their thighs. Their eyes darted between us, and Layla. They regarded her most of all; Layla would not meet their eye.
"She does more than cook fish," said Fogrim.
"That much is certain," said Ettun, leaning forward. He regarded Fogrim, "may I?"
"Of course, Brother."
Ettun snapped his fingers at Layla.
"Come."
The petite, South Asian, female got up, stepped over to Ettun, and got back down on her knees. She looked down and put her palms down flat on the sand between her thighs.
Ettun took hold of her chain and raised her head. The two regarded each other. He turned her head to the side, studying her face, her neck.
"She is a fine animal," he did not shift his gaze. "I commend you, Brother."
"Kind words well received," said Fogrim. "Use her as you will."
Ettun let go of Layla and pulled down his pants. His penis was hard, erect.
"Serve, Slave." He ordered.
Layla crossed her wrists behind her back as if for binding, opened her full, well-shaped lips, and lowered her head. She took Ettun's penis gently into her mouth and began to rock her head back and forth.
Duzil and I cheered, and Fogrim grinned.
"You have had this meat for less than a day, and already it serves most willingly!" Duzil marveled.
"I am not soft," he replied. He regarded the pale, Siberian brunette and the bronze-skinned Anatolian kneeling beside Duzil. They quickly looked down. "By tomorrow night, these two will also be hot, obedient, sluts. See how they watch her? They disgusted, but envious."
Ettun replied with a sound of satisfaction and put his hand behind Layla's head.
"Where is your one?" Fogrim asked.
"Tied to a cross."
He nodded.
"To each his own way."
Ettun suddenly grabbed Layla's head with both hands and pressed it down over his penis. She kept her head still as he orgasmed. When he was done, he pulled his penis clear. Layla wiped her lips with the back of her wrist, swallowed audibly, and put her hands back down on the sand.
"She is splendid," Ettun shoved Layla out of his way with his foot. She fell on the sand and crawled back to kneel by Fogrim. He stroked her head and rested his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with wide eyes. He smiled down at her and nodded.
She smiled back and looked down.
"Slave, are you happy?" I asked. She stared at me confused, till I repeated in the question in High Bharaji.
"Yes, Master," she replied.
"Let me have her," said Duzil.
"Go," said Fogrim.
"I looked over at the Anatolian and the Siberian: they stared at Layla with looks of utter contempt and shock.
And yet, men born on raised on this world, knew that in a single day these two would perform as abjectly.
"What will you do," asked Duzil, stroking Layla's head as she lay down at his feet, "when this is done, and we go back?"
It took me a moment to realize that it was a general question for the entire claw.
"I will take all my earnings as coin," said Ettun. "I should get seven or eight gold for trading back this beauty. Then, I will sign up again."
Fogrim snorted.
"What? You mock me?"
"Yes," Said Fogrim. "What do you need so much gold for?"
"I want to buy my own boat," said Ettun. "One that can leave the riverways and go out, on to the sea! I would see this world we live in. Bed beautiful whores, and hunt strange creatures. I cannot do that on these two alone," he patted his legs.
"A young man's dream," Fogrim nodded. "I understand."
"You understand? What is your old man's dream? To farm and fuck?"
"Yes," Fogrim sipped his wine. "I will take my pay in flesh. That should get me another two, 5-coin girls. I already own seven slaves at my village. I will oversee all with the whip. I will have children. My bedchamber will be the slave pen."
I thought both were good dreams.
"And what of you, Duzil?" I asked.
"I will go on pilgrimage," he replied, Layla on his lap. "To the Great Temple of Set, in the Scar Lands. I need two, maybe three slaves to give to the priests. May Set look upon my humble gift and find it of value. What about you, Gerard? A man like you must own many slaves."
"Not one," I replied. "I am new to this world, you forget."
"You own no women?" Asked Fogrim.
"No. The Siberian on the cross will be the first one that I may call my own."
"You have coin, and you have skill," said Fogrim shaking his head. "One such as you should have bought and sold slaves by now, many times over. Why have you chosen not to?"
"I-I am still new to this world."
"Do you feel that you may be leaving it?" Asked Duzil. "None return by way of the landing beasts, Gerard of Stone. This is your home now. Find some nice girls, and cage them."
"Join me at sea!" said Ettun. "Become partner, and we will make great profit and spread terror!"
"Go into the wilderness and claim good land by fast flowing river," said Fogrim. "Work your slaves, and breed them. Give offerings to your gods, and grow old and untroubled by the rest of the world."
"Let him decide what he will do," said Duzil stroking Layla's breasts. She giggled and licked his neck. "We were born to this world and its ways. We do not understand his struggle."
"I do not struggle."
"I think you struggle with everything. You will find order in stillness. Most certain purpose will be yours. But it will come to you in your own time. Do not worry of such things, Gerard of Stone. Just know that you own a slave girl now, and that is a wonderful thing."
***
I awoke the next morning in my tent. I felt quite refreshed; the exertions the day before-followed by a fair bit of wine in the night-had made for a night of deep sleep. I felt about for the girl-then remembered there wasn't one. I wondered if tomorrow, I would wake up Haley by my side. That seemed most unlikely; but how is it that the Hyperboreans could make that happen?
I left the tent and went to see my slave.
It was about eight in the morning. Smoke rose from cooking fires; some tended by naked slave girls, red cords tied around their arms or ankles. I passed a blonde Siberian standing over a fire, stirring it with a stick. She wore a string armlets fitted with polished, river stones, and a slim chain with a copper bell around her throat. A man stepped out of the tent behind her. She immediately faced him on her knees, head down, bell tinkling. He stepped in front of her. She crossed her wrists behind her back, lowered her head to his feet, and kissed them. I found it a most beautiful sight.
I reached the crucifixes.
We had put up 30 slaves outside Blue Pit. All hung limp against the ropes now, heads down over their chests, the wind plucking at their hair. A brunette lifted up her head and regarded me; there were bags under her eyes. Beside her, another girl started to snore. A pit guard walked up to her, pot in one hand and a spoon in the other, and banged it three times in her face. The sleeping girl cried out and jerked awake.
"What's with the live music?" I asked. "Your side hustle?"
"A girl may not sleep on the cross," he replied.
I walked between the rows. A tall, Shang girl called out to me as I passed.
"Enslave me, Master!" She said in slowly in Common, like a foreign language student reciting words she'd just heard. "Enslave me, Master!"
Another pit guard ran up, a small clay pot in his hand.
"You are a good omen, Friend," he said. "She broke at the very sight of you." He dipped his finger into the pot, it came away dripping with thick, red paste. He painted a line on her thigh with it.
"What does the red line mean?" I asked.
"It means she has begged to be a slave. Once she has begged three times, then she will be ready."
"Do you have another pot?"
He handed me one.
***
I walked up and down the rows. Another Shang, a Bharaji, and two Anatolians begged me to enslave them. It's a strange feeling, hearing those words from a beautiful, naked, woman completely at your mercy. I marked their thighs in red; they earned second and third stripes.
There were a few without marks who gave me dark looks. These were mostly Siberians and Beakers. The Siberians were a tougher people, and the Beakers were from a richer, freer time. All the females here were from societies that kept them subservient, but it was clear these would take more work to crack.
"I was told no girls last beyond the third day. Why is that?" I asked a pit guard.
"At the end of the third day; if any yet prefer defiance and hunger, over the food and warmth that comes in the cage, then they are culled."
"Why not just keep them up a fourth day?"
"Most of these females crave to slaves. It is why the landing beasts picked them. A master who knows his women would take even a fighting hellcat from here, in the morning, and come noon she'll be licking his hands and begging for his cock. But, some of these females do not have the minds of slaves. They will never submit. These are the ones still on the cross, come the fourth morning."
"Then why not free them?"
"Aye, they should be freed."
"Then what's the problem?"
"The other slaves cannot see that. It makes them untrainable. The cross must bring slavery, or the cross must bring death. There can be no other path."
***
I came upon Haley.
"Enslave me, Master!" She cried out. She hung against her ropes, drained, her eyes red. There was already one red Mark on her thigh. "Enslave me, Master!"
It was a good feeling.
I pulled out a water skin and took a sip. Her eyes lit up when she saw it.
"Water! Please!"
"No," I said in Siberian and put away the waterskin. "Not while you are on the cross. You are coming along well, though. Maybe I will take you down today."
Her eyes became wide.
"Please, Master! Anything but this!"
"We shall see," I stroked her thigh, turned, and left.
"Enslave me, Master!" I heard her call out. "I need water! Master, please, enslave me!"
***
I got a strong scent of boiling meat coming from Gudea's enclosure. I remembered what Duzil told me the night before: the pits slaves, and those who submitted on the cross would be fed today.
I had no intention of feeding Haley human flesh.
I decided to would leave the camp and hunt for something appropriate to feed her. I remembered how adoringly Layla had looked up at Fogrim; I imagined Haley, looking up at me the same way and eating from my hand. It gave me an erection. Such a beautiful young woman, like an underwear model, stepping naked, out of a brochure, and kneeling at my feet-and she was my property!
It was an amazing world where such wonders were possible. I did not believe in the gods, because here, I was a god.
As I made my way to the edge of the camp, I saw a group of guards come riding in from the surrounding jungle. They wore leather and plate armor and carrying long spears, shields strapped over their backs. They did not look rested.
I called out to one as they rode by, but none stopped.
"They went looking for Treygor's monster," said one of the guards at the defensive palisades. "They did not find it."
"Will they try again this evening?"
The man shook his head.
"Much time was spent on search and naught found but scratches in the dirt. Treygor has lost favor this day. That was the last patrol to come in. Rindar will not be pleased."
With just a spear and a bag, I entered the Devonian wilds.
***
The ground was marshy beneath my feet at first, but that soon gave way to soft, loamy soil, then finally cracked mud baked by the sun. Low bushes and stubborn cycads pushed their way out of the ground or swarmed around boulders. I was soon out of line of sight with the camp, surrounded by nature. Even as alien as the Devonian was, I found it calming.
Now what to feed a slave?
I heard chittering coming from a decaying tree trunk. Yellow, translucent-shelled mites as large as my fist, scurried in and out over holes in the wood. I stepped up to the trunk; they did not scatter. I flicked one off the log with the blade of my spear and then stepped on it. It flailed about in the dirt, dying.
I heard a buzzing.
I turned; perched on a low branch and staring right at me, was a dragonfly the size of a dog. It looked this way and that, rubbing its forward limbs together, its mandibles moving.
It flew right at my face.
I ducked and swung my spear, but it had already passed. It turned and came back, bending its stinger forward.
I swung at it again, again it moved aside.
I recognize the type; it was one that hunted in packs. If I did not kill it soon, the sound of its wings would bring the others.
It attacked again.
I stooped, grabbed some sand, and flung it at the creature.
It jerked and darted back, disoriented. The next moment, my spear struck its chest and pinned it to a tree. It flailed angrily. I grabbed its wings and tore them off; they were like thick pieces of card. Then I pulled the spear out, and let it fall. As it died on the ground, I stabbed it three more times. Finally, it was still.
I got down on one knee and opened my bag. I grabbed the creature by its back and shoved it inside. The bottom of the bag turned dark, as it moistened. I closed the bag and set off back to camp: I had found good slave-feed. I made a mental note to come back this way, to harvest the mites, and add the site to my map.
***
I had strayed further than I had realized and I did not return to camp till the late morning.
It was buzzing with activity. As passed near its center, I came upon the ancient well again, this time worked by about twenty slaves. Nude girls stood beside it, lowering buckets and raising them back up, sloshing with water. Beside the well in teams of five were other slave girls, each girl tied at the waist to the girl next in line. They held out empty buckets to the water raisers, who filled them. Once all five girls in a team each carried two filled buckets, and overseer cracked his whip and pointed to one of the pits.
I noticed Layla, along with Ettun's and Duzil's slaves, carrying buckets in a team. They made their way to Blue Pit, poured the water in, and came back for more.
It was important that the girls in the pits drink; they had been allowed to go dehydrated for long enough, to weaken their resolve. Now, they needed to be kept alive until it was their turn to go on the cross.
None of the girls on the crosses were given water. They cried out and begged, lips chapped. Some girls just stared off into the distance, hanging limp against the ropes. I noticed most of the girls had three marks on their thighs.
I made my way Haley.
"Master!" She croaked. Her hair clung to her body, it gleamed with sweat under the noon sun. "Master! Please save me again! Save me from the sun! She broke down and began weeping.
I stood before her and studied her body. The sweat brought out her athletic lines, the slenderness of her arms and legs.
"Are you begging to be my slave?" I stroked her beautiful feet.
"Yes, Master!"
"Do you understand," I switched to Siberian, "that if I take you down now, I will do with you whatever I want? Use you. Beat you. Starve you. Sell you to another man. Do you want that, Haley? Do you want me to take you off the cross and let you live, but as a slave girl?"
"Yes, Master!" She strained against her bonds, grimacing. "Yes, Master, please! I will obey you. I will serve you in any way that you command. I am yours."
I untied my property and pulled her off the cross, carrying her in my arms.
"Thank you," she gasped, her eyes closing as she leaned her head against my chest.
"From this moment on, you may not ever speak your language again."
"Yes, Master," said my woman, in Common.
I carried her into my tent. Inside it was cool. I had thrown down more furs next to the sleeping area. The central tent pole was thick, sturdy, and rammed into the ground. Iron rings had been fastened along it. To one side was a large bag.
I laid her down in the furs. She pushed herself up on her hands, throwing her hair back and looking up at me.
"Thank you, Master. Please water?" She begged in broken Common.
I took hold of her by her hair, pulling upwards. She quickly got to her knees, back straight, hands on her thighs.
"Kneel," I said. "When I say that word," I switched into Siberian, "this is what you do."
"Yes, Master," she replied in Common.
"Good Slave."
Taking away her language was like taking away her name. I was erasing the Steppes Siberian Arkana. She would learn a new identity, as Haley, just another Hyperborean slave girl.
"Hands behind your back," I said in Common.
She obeyed, crossing her wrists.
"Good Slave," I let go of her hair.
I dipped into the bag and pulled out a pair of heavy, iron, cuffs.
I took her hand in mine; it was warm and soft. I pressed one of the iron cuffs around it and closed it shut. It clicked as it locked. Then, I cuffed her other wrist.
Next, out of the bag, I pulled a thick, heavy, iron collar with a 3-foot long iron chain. She turned her head and stared at it as I lifted it up. I opened its two halves in front of her face. She shook her head and looked up at me.
"Master?"
She was from the Neolithic: she had never seen iron before in her life, let alone a set of chains.
"Keep still, Slave," I felt a new thrill using the word.
I pressed the two halves of the collar against her throat, pulled her hair out of the way, and snapped it shut. It locked, loudly.
Her eyes became wide, and she tried to look down at the collar. I picked up the end of the chain and held it like a leash.
"You want water?"
"Yes, Master."
I pulled my water skin from my belt and removed the stopper. She followed the tip of the water bottle like a hawk, her body tensing.
I removed my shoes.
"Kiss my feet, Slave, and I will give you water."
She immediately bent over, lowering her head. I felt the softness of her full lips against my foot. She kissed it a second time then a third.
"Good Slave," I pulled on her chain and made her rise back up. "Here."
I put the water skin to her lips. She drank greedily, water spilling down her chin, her neck, and leaving tracks on her large, jiggling breasts.
I pulled it away suddenly; she spluttered, and water fell on her thighs. She looked up at me again.
"Do you want more?" I asked.
"Yes, Master!"
I pulled down my pants. She stared at my erect penis as if it was a poisonous snake.
"Kiss it. Right on the tip." I took hold of it.
After a moment, she leaned forward and kissed the tip.
"Again."
She gave me a quick, hard glance, but then obeyed.
I held out the water skin.
"Thank you, Master," she put her lips over it and drank. I let her have two gulps then yanked it away.
"Now lick my balls, Slave."
I pulled her chain taut and pressed her head into my crotch. She winced as my penis slid against her nose and her cheek, I felt my testicles against her chin. Her tongue snaked out and gave them a lick.
"Keep licking. You will keep licking until I say so."
Cuffed and collared, she licked my testicles over and over. I felt her nose digging against the shaft of my penis.
She did nothing creative, but that was fine. I was dominating her; training obedience, and changing what she felt was normal behavior.
I held her like that, licking my balls, for half an hour.
"Drink," I put one hand under her chin and raised her head up, while I pressed the water skin to her lips. She drank, her throat bobbing with big gulps. She looked from the water skin to me, that back down.
"Now, thank me," I told her how to say it in Common.
"Thank you, Master," she said carefully.
"Do you want some food?"
"Yes! Please, Master!"
I reached into my hunting bag and pulled out the crushed corpse of the giant dragonfly.
She stared at it, wrinkling her nose and moving away on her knees. I put my foot down on her leash chain, keeping her in place.
"Eat it," I ordered.
She looked up at me, eyes wide and mouth open. She shook her head.
"What?" I glared. "I said eat, slave!"
She stared at the dead, giant, insect. It was spilling yellow fluid onto the furs. She kept on staring at it.
"You will learn," I fastened the end of the chain to one of the rings on the central mast of the tent. "To eat when told.."
I broke a piece of the dragonfly's tail and grabbed her jaw.
"Open!"
"No!" She yelled, in Siberian.
I slapped her. She winced, head thrown to the side. I grabbed her collar and yanked her back to face me. She glared as I grabbed her jaw and squeezed.
She cried out in pain, her lips parting.
I jammed the tail into her mouth.
Her whole face wrinkled up like a raisin, and she tried to shake her head free. I held her in place by her collar.
She spat the tail out.
"Ai!" She cried out as I slapped her again.
"You will open your mouth, and you will eat," I growled, "or I will give you to ten men to be used tonight. Do you understand, Slave?"
She kept on glaring at me.
This was not how I had pictured this going.
"Open!" I picked up the insects tail again.
Red-faced, she opened her mouth.
I shoved the tail all the way into her mouth.
"Eat!" I clamped her mouth shut so she could not spit again. She moaned and tried to shake free.
I slapped her again, and she stopped struggling.
"Eat, Slave."
I stood like that, holding the slaves by her collar, as she started to chew.
After she had swallowed, I tore another piece and pushed it into her mouth.
"Do I have to keep forcing you?"
"No, Master," she said after she swallowed.
"Finish it," I released her collar and unfastened her chain from the central post.
She bent forward, closed her eyes tight, and ate the insect. I imagined getting a toddler to eat would have been 10 times easier. How did Fogrim think he could manage nine girls?
She looked up at me, finally finished. Behind her eyes, she looked wounded.
"Now say thank you."
She just looked away.
Something in me snapped.
"You ungrateful, arrogant bitch! I should feed you your own sister!"
Her blue eyes became wide, and she shrank back, one hand over her breasts.
Do not be soft, I heard Fogrims words in my head.
"Slaves obey," I yanked hard on her chain. She cried out and got to her feet, her chain swinging. "Or they are punished."
I bound her wrists and left the tent, Haley stumbling after me. I led her clear out of the camp, through the palisades to the riverbank. There was a large, Banyan-like tree standing over the bank, its branches spread out over the water. There were other slave girls here, naked and hanging from bound wrists, tied to the branches. Below in the water, were the shark-sized, slow swimming forms of armored fish. One of the branches over the water had broken; I could imagine what had happened to the slave girl who had been tied there.
"On your knees," I grabbed her shoulder and forced her down. The mud squelched under her knees.
"Cross your ankles for binding, Slave."
She obeyed. I tied her ankles together; now, she was bound hand and foot.
I pulled down my pants, aimed at her face, and urinated.
"Ah! Ah!"She tried to jerk away but grabbed her by her hair. She closed her eyes and mouth and tried to snort out urine out her nose. I made sure to go all over her hair, so it dripped down her neck, back, and down to her breasts, belly, and thighs.
"Did you not like that?"
She glared up at me.
I took hold of the rope that tied her ankles and attached a second, much longer rope to it. This I threw over a tree branch. I caught the other end and pulled.
"Oh!" Haley fell over in the mud, as her feet were yanked out from under her. I gave another tug, and they were lifted up in the air. Soon she was swinging back and forth, hanging from the tree branch. She as spat as urine dripped into her mouth. I removed the leash chain but left the collar. Then, I stepped into the river and rinsed the chain and my hands.
I went back into the camp.