She opened her eyes, it had been a dream after all. She opened her eyes, the intense sunlight hurt her eyes. She woke up quickly, she was absolutely naked outside. Scrambling to her feet she looked around. The landscape was featureless, flat sand all around, no direction, no trees, no features just sand. And it was hot sand, her feet were burning. Her limbs felt loose jelly like, as if they had been totally relaxed. Had she dreamed the night before, it didn’t feel like a dream, this didn’t feel like a dream. She started walking, trotting desperately just to cool her feet. After ten minutes she was sobbing.
He watched her from the distance keeping the sunlight between himself & her, he had been slowly gaining on her for an hour or so. There was no hurry, there was nowhere she could go. Finally he galloped towards her, she saw him & tried to run, he rode past her & slapped her to the ground. He turned round the prone girl on horseback for a few seconds then jumped down, seizing a fistful of her hair. She tried to struggle free, hitting out at his breastplate, quite futilely. He slapped her, that calmed her, or quietened her. He opened her mouth and looked at the inevitable tattoo.
Strange but not so strange, the gateways were sometimes wildly erratic, she was a thousand miles astray. The slavers mark was from across the sea & north.
She seemed to have gained her composure somewhat, babbling questions at him in her native tongue.
He slapped her again.
“Shut up slave” he told her she didn’t understand, but the force of his slap spoke volumes.
He drank from his canteen, then filled a bowl for his horse, and then his pack mule. He looked at her she was terribly dehydrated, he gave her the bowl last. She looked up gratefully.
She seemed to be indicating her nakedness, he looked at her pale skin, perhaps it would be a shame to ruin that complexion. Fishing around in one of his packs he found the only item of women’s clothing he was carrying. He tossed the scarlet silk burka to her. He had taken it from a girl two nights earlier, it was still quite stained & smelly from her rape. The girl had been collared & sold, he kept the burka intending to use the silk to clean his leathers & armour. Karen put the burka on, it was tight & close fitting, only open at the eyes, the silk clinging to her curves quite prettily. Designed really for wearing over a house pantaloon set, not nudity She squirmed in discomfort, the garment was quite smelly, & still intimately soiled, quite suitable, if a tad modest for one such her, he thought.
He had no chains or collar for her, he took a portion of leather cord & bound her ankles together, then her wrists behind her in the burka. He decided for no particular reason not to gag her. She was slung on top of the mule, at least she was seated, not strung across.
He remounted, took a long swig from his canteen & spurred his horse into movement. She followed behind him on the mule, he was whistling.
Not a dream
She opened her eyes, it had been a dream after all. She opened her eyes, the intense sunlight hurt her eyes. She woke up quickly, she was absolutely naked outside. Scrambling to her feet she looked around. The landscape was featureless, flat sand all around, no direction, no trees, no features just sand. And it was hot sand, her feet were burning. Her limbs felt loose jelly like, as if they had been totally relaxed. Had she dreamed the night before, it didn’t feel like a dream, this didn’t feel like a dream. She started walking, trotting desperately just to cool her feet. After ten minutes she was sobbing.
He watched her from the distance keeping the sunlight between himself & her, he had been slowly gaining on her for an hour or so. There was no hurry, there was nowhere she could go. Finally he galloped towards her, she saw him & tried to run, he rode past her & slapped her to the ground. He turned round the prone girl on horseback for a few seconds then jumped down, seizing a fistful of her hair. She tried to struggle free, hitting out at his breastplate, quite futilely. He slapped her, that calmed her, or quietened her. He opened her mouth and looked at the inevitable tattoo.
Strange but not so strange, the gateways were sometimes wildly erratic, she was a thousand miles astray. The slavers mark was from across the sea & north.
She seemed to have gained her composure somewhat, babbling questions at him in her native tongue.
He slapped her again.
“Shut up kajira” he told her she didn’t understand, but the force of his slap spoke volumes.
He drank from his canteen, then filled a bowl for his horse, and then his pack mule. He looked at her she was terribly dehydrated, he gave her the bowl last. She looked up gratefully.
She seemed to be indicating her nakedness, he looked at her pale skin, perhaps it would be a shame to ruin that complexion. Fishing around in one of his packs he found the only item of women’s clothing he was carrying. He tossed the scarlet silk burka to her. He had taken it from a girl two nights earlier, it was still quite stained & smelly from her rape. The girl had been collared & sold, he kept the burka intending to use the silk to clean his leathers & armour. Karen put the burka on, it was tight & close fitting, only open at the eyes, the silk clinging to her curves quite prettily. She squirmed in discomfort, the garment was quite smelly, & still intimately soiled, excellent he thought.
He had no chains or collar for her, he took a portion of leather cord & bound her ankles together, then her wrists behind her in the burka. He decided for no particular reason not to gag her. She was slung on top of the mule, at least she was seated, not strung across.
He remounted, took a long swig from his canteen & spurred his horse into movement. She followed behind him on the mule, he was whistling.
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