Picture: Arguing with the Ubar of Brundisium

SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED ~ Or My Life as a Warrior part 2

By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni

SHE WHO MUST OBEY ~ Or My Life as a Warrior – PART 2
By Teal Razor

In last weeks offerings I felt compelled to reveal the sad story of my abduction and transport to Gor. I had to stop my writing because I was getting so worked up that I feared I might take up one of my Master’s blades, rush out into the lane near his house and challenge the first person I saw to a duel. This action, of course, could have merited me a stint in jail, at the least and impalement, at the worst.

I feel much calmer now and so I feel I can finish writing my twaddle. I left off with being skunk drunk in front of my Master. At his request I was trotting out my crazy story of my arrival on Gor. I was recounting the part of the story in which this Roman type legionnaire had tackled me, cut my clothes off with a dagger, bound my hands and ankles all in a time frame that would have earned first place trophy in a steer roping contest. I was still under the delusion that I was under a hallucinogen and that these “Rodeo Romans” were play acting this whole capture thing.

I decided to play along. I listened for their speech patterns. Their accents sounded like the accents I had heard in my high school Latin class back on earth. I tried to mouth some Latin phrases I recalled to see if they would play along and answer me. I said to them, “Veni, vidi, vici!” The three legionnaire’s turned to look at me from where they were sitting and seemed to swear. I was unable to determine if what I said came out as “I came, I saw, I conquered”, or whether my addled state may have produced a sound more like, “I came, I saw, I vomited”! In any case, they were not amused and one of these actors came and put a gag in my mouth. I felt that this was going too far. After all, I was only trying to communicate. Now they had put a stopper in the hole that was speaking to them. I decided to try grunting in an effort to gain entry into their discourse. That earned me a dragging to a nearby stream and a dunking up and down in it like a teabag.

All the camo paint washed off my face during the dunking and the guy that was dunking me, lifted me up to observe my face sans the green and brown face mask. He held me with one hand and pointed to my face with the other, shouting to the other “actors” something which made them laugh. Now I really did not mind the stripping, binding, and whipping but, being the butt of a joke was not my forte. I resolved to find a chance to humiliate the three of them. That chance never came for anything I could do to them came no where close to what they could do to me.

The “Roman” who was holding me abruptly dropped me and strode over to a pile of goods that was next to where he had been sitting. He rummaged around in it and pulled something shiny from the jumble. He walked back to me, put me on my belly, put his knee on my back to restrain me from wiggling and proceeded to put the shiny metal band around my neck. I at first was terrorized since I thought he was going to cut my throat. I heard what must have been a cylinder lock, close. The “Roman” picked me up and dragged me forward by the hair, to a calm pool where I observed my neck in the polished metal of the collar. It was then, unbeknownst to me at the time, I gained my first Master.

I was growing weary of this day and wished that I would be given some food and water. I was plopped down near the place where the “Roman” actors were sitting in the clearing of trees. The sun was going down. One of them built a fire, another was cleaning what looked like the hind quarters of a deer. The meat was thrust through with a spit and placed over the smoky fire. I sat in silence, observing what I could to hopefully make my escape or at least outsmart my captors. I wondered what intelligence I had to report back as a result of this encounter. I mean what would I tell the team leaders? I kept picturing scenarios in which I told my story. “Sir, permission to speak,” I would say. “Permission granted cadet,” would be the retort from my superior. “Sir, the Romans are at the gates”, or “Sir, beware of Greeks bearing gifts”, or “Sir, I came, I saw, I was totally blown away” were some of the ways I thought to report in.

While mulling this over, my mouth was watering as the delicious smell of the roasting meat was wafting in the evening air. At some point the meat was done and the three of them crouched down eating pieces that they tore off the spit. I was thoroughly pissed that they would be so rude and not offer me some. I tried by several methods to signal them. It was difficult to do as my hands were behind my back and my ankles were bound. With some difficulty I got on my knees and waved my upper torso around to indicate that I needed some attention. This action did merit me some attention since the one who put the gold collar around my neck, arose from his caveman feast and cuffed me down. He stood over me, still eating the meat he had cut from the roast. He laughed, took the gag out of my mouth and straddled me and tore off a small bit of meat and let it fall into the vicinity of my pie hole. I learned quickly that I merely had to open my mouth to receive these morsels that he was dropping. He chewed, then I chewed, then he threw another bit into my mouth aiming it like a basket ball player getting a free throw.

After a time he tired of this game and got up. He went back to the fire and retrieved a bota which he brought over and poured on my face. I opened my mouth to try to catch as much of the liquid, which tasted faintly like water, and swallowed it. After this game, he went back to his comrades and they finished feeding themselves. The sky had grown dark and the three role playing Romans mumbled to each other and fell asleep.

Through the tree trunks of the wooded area, I saw a moon starting to rise. I watched it as it made it’s way up and over the tree tops till it seemed above me. The strangest feeling came over me when I noticed that it was not just one moon but three. I realized that no one could fake this and that if I were under the influence of a hallucinogenic, it would have worn off many hours ago. My mind seemed to shut down at that point as I tried to use logic to determine what was happening. Mercifully, sleep intervened and I did not wake ’til the sun was up.

I felt the nudge of a man’s foot. I looked up and saw the same face who had put the gold collar on my neck. He looked down and said, “Tu kajira.” I looked at him numbly. He repeated, “Tu kajira!” Once again I screwed up my face to impart to him my ignorance of what he was saying. This did not go over too well. He took the whip from his belt and lashed me twice. Then he repeated his little made up phrase, “Tu kajira, again and again.” He whipped me a few more strokes during his litany ’til I fairly screamed out “Tu kajira”. He stopped, startled, and changed his rant to “La kajira”. Oh, he is teaching me a new made up word in this game and so I parroted back to him, “La kajira, La kajira, La kajira”, over and over.

I must have said the magic words since he stopped beating me and smiled. I was glad that was over. He walked back to the fire where the other two were breaking camp. As he walked back, he would turn around to glance at me. Each time I saw him do this, I looked at him and repeated, “La kajira!” When all the gear was on their backs the one who was teaching me the silly language, he had made up, came over and hooked a leash to my collar and proceeded to jerk me to my feet. We started our march to where I do not know.

I looked around the area we were walking in to see if I could recognize a physical landmark. This could have been another planet for all I knew because I failed to find a single familiar sight. We walked for about an hour through some tall grass and then in the distance we saw a small dust cloud arise. It came closer and closer. The Romans stood at attention and forced me to my knees. The cloud of dust turned out to be a line of highly decorated wagons drawn by monsters. There were also men walking by the wagons seemingly tending to the monsters drawing this caravan. The whole scene, shocking though it was to me, also pushed my thought into some incredible realizations. This was not a training exercise, I had not been catapulted back in time, I was not under the influence of powerful drugs. This was real. The scene out of an old “Cecil B. DeMille” movie was authentic. I had never seen animals like these drawing wagons. They looked like large lizards and I wondered what caliber ammunition should be used to kill them.

My Master has just signaled me to stop writing for today. I must go to the market to purchase his dinner. While I am there, I hope I can poke a cream cake at the baker’s.

To be continued…

From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 175

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