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  Dore took Dagon by the hand, pulling him up from the cushions and leading him off through a red silk curtain into a small sleeping space. The curtain fell with a soft sound, shielding them from the rest of the tent. He looked about. The space was empty but for a large mattress set upon a wooden dais.

  "On your knees, slave!" Dore commanded. "You must be taught that women are your betters." She pushed him gently, but firmly.

  His first instinct was outrage, but then, catching himself, he obeyed her. Escape meant gaining the trust of these women.

  Dore slid out of her simple gown, revealing her nakedness to him. "You will place your hands behind your head, slave. You will not be permitted to touch me with your hands unless I give you permission to do so. Do you understand me?"

  He nodded, saying softly as he did so, "Yes, mistress."

  "Oh, that is very good!" Dore told him, sounding quite pleased. "I shall reward you, slave. You may lick my slit, but you will not push between my nether lips until I allow it." She positioned herself so that her lover's mount was directly before him.

  His tongue slipped from between his lips, and with its very tip, he began to stroke the dark pink slash that ran down her plump lover's mount. Her lush body smelled of flowers, but her feminine musk was very exciting. He longed to touch her more intimately, but he did not.

  Dore reached down with her hands suddenly, and pulled her nether lips open, revealing her treasures to him. "Pleasure me, slave," she said softly, "but remember, you must keep your hands behind your head unless I tell you otherwise."

  His tongue immediately found her pleasure point, and he began to lick at it; softly at first, and then with vigor. She tasted like wild honey, and he watched, fascinated, as the sweetly tortured tip of her sex began to grow deep pink and swell with her rising excitement.

  She moaned with her enjoyment, and then shuddered violently with delight as she reached the apex of her satisfaction. Her hands fell away, and she sighed gustily. "That was quite wonderful," she told him, her voice still a little breathless. "I shall be certain to tell the others of how clever a tongue you have, slave. Stand up now, and I shall return the favor." He rose to his feet, and carefully she unwrapped the length of linen about his loins. Then she fell to her knees, catching his hand up and beginning to suck his finger while her other hand fondled him. "Ummmmm," she murmured. "Your skin is so soft for a man." The hand caressed his buttocks while she continued to suck each finger in turn.

  He stood quietly looking down at her. She was a pretty girl with nice big round breasts he would enjoy. "The gods!" He groaned aloud as she suddenly took him into her mouth. His fingers had obviously been but an appetizer to the main course. She pushed back his foreskin, and her tongue teased about the head of his cock, and then she began to suck him, drawing his length deep into her throat, pulling on him so strongly that he grew quickly hard. He was so swollen that he was amazed her seemingly dainty mouth could contain him. He groaned again, and, unable to help himself, loosed his juices down her throat. "Ahhhhhhhh!" Still, she suckled him forcefully, making certain she drew every drop he had to give. His legs almost buckled beneath him.

  Then, as quickly as she had begun her sweet torture, Dore rose to her feet, her little tongue swiping about her mouth. "There!" she said. "The edge is off your lust now, and we can enjoy ourselves. Do not, however, loose your juices in the future until you are given permission. You are now permitted to touch me. Come. Lie with me, Dagon." She pulled him toward the large sleeping mat.

  "You are experienced," he managed to say weakly as they lay down.

  "I should hope so," Dore said with a toss of her yellow head. "I am seventeen, and have had at least a dozen lovers since my first man. He was my mother's body servant, and I gave him to myself on my fourteenth birthday. We lay beneath a full summer's moon. When my mother found us, he was atop me plunging mightily. My mother was furious."

  "Because you stole her lover?" Dagon asked. His fingers began to worry at one of her nipples.

  "Oh, no! She had long ago discarded Brann as a lover. He was merely her servant. She was angry because he was atop me, and I knew better than to allow a man the dominant position. So did Brann. She whipped him herself, and gave him for common pleasures for a whole day." Dore giggled. "The women so exhausted him that he could hardly walk when his punishment time was completed." Dore giggled with the memory.

  "What are 'common pleasures?' " he asked her, curious, taking the nipple into his mouth to play with it.

  "Ohhh, that's nice," Dore said, purring. "When a slave is disobedient in Kava, his mistress may take him to the main square of the city where he is spread-eagled upon a platform, and any woman who wants to, may use him as she sees fit. The platform can be rotated, and so the man may be taken in the proper position, whipped upon his buttocks, or taken in an improper manner. Most women only punish their slaves for a few hours at the most, but even if I hadn't known better, Brann did, which is why my mother gave him to the city for a whole day. He was not a particularly good lover I have since learned. On your back now, slave! I want to sheath you."

  And before he might protest that he wasn't ready for her yet, Dore reached down, pushing a hand beneath his balls, and with a single finger found a spot so ultra sensitive that he gasped aloud. "The gods!" He watched with amazement as she pressed against his hidden flesh several times, and his cock was immediately aroused, thrusting itself skyward.

  Dore was immediately upon him, kissing the head of his penis, and then mounting him, sheathing him slowly, slowly, leaning back to balance herself upon her hands, her gray eyes closing."Ohhh, that is nice," she murmured. "I have never before entertained a cock so large."

  Reaching up, he grasped her two round breasts in his hands, and began to knead them as the girl atop him rode them both to the most incredible enjoyment he had ever known.

  Were all the women of Kava this lustful? he wondered the following morning when he was awakened. Four times she had aroused him, and mounted him, and given them satisfaction. The answer to his question was yes as he learned over the next few weeks. The women of Kava were uninhibited, and totally free of any sexual restraints. Zenaida's serving women used him almost every night.

  "You must be ready to service the queen, for after the size of your cock, your performance must be flawless. That will gain her attention, my princeling," the High Procuress told him. "Then you will teach her about love. You know love, don't you, Dagon?"

  He nodded. "I was in love with Aurea, the daughter of a neighboring king. We were to marry, and the two kingdoms would one day be joined, for Aurea was King Arlen's only heir. Now my brother will have her to wife, may the gods have mercy upon Aurea. She never liked Nogad, but he wanted her anyway because she was to be mine. Nogad always wanted what was mine."

  "Again the greed and ambition of men," Zenaida reminded him softly.

  There was no escape from his captivity, Dagon quickly learned. During the day, a slave collar was placed about his neck. He was attached both in front and behind by a length of chain to another male slave. His ankles were also shackled. He marched in step with his companions. The situation was impossible. At night he lay with the serving women, and one night after the girl with him had fallen into a deep sleep, he arose, intending to slip from the tent, for night was the only time he was unshackled. He could not go out the entry because it was guarded, but, creeping across the floor, he lifted the fabric of the tent only to discover that he was in a cage with iron bars. Desperately he moved quickly to the entry of the sleep space, and drew the curtain aside to be met with more bars. He was amazed that he had not heard a gate being closed on him, but he had to admit he had not. There was no help for it. He would simply have to escape from Kava itself. It was not impossible, just unusual.

  They traveled the main caravan route for a week, moving across the desert until one morning they turned north onto a smaller track toward the snowcapped mountains in the distance. After another week, they found themselves in the foothills
wending their way along seemingly nonexistent paths deeper and deeper into what appeared to be a total wilderness. The canyons grew narrower, the stone walls higher, leaving but a strip of bright blue sky above them. Yet each night they camped at perfectly suitable sites near running streams. It was obvious that this was a familiar passage for the Kavans.

  Once they had reached the foothills, each of the male slaves being transported was given a pair of sturdy leather sandals to protect their feet from the rough terrain. And to Dagon's amazement the men were not forbidden from communicating. He fell into the habit of speaking with the men behind and before him. Both knew of Kava prior to their enslavement, and were delighted to have been chosen by the High Procuress to become new members of the women's community.

  "She is a former queen herself, old Zenaida," one of the men, called Wit, said one day as they walked and spoke of the future.

  "How do you know that?" Dagon was surprised.

  "One of the women warriors told me," Wit said with a chuckle. "She favors me, and has made our trip quite pleasant. Tell me, why are you kept in the High Procuress's tent each night? Does she favor you, Dagon of Aramas?"

  Now it was Dagon's turn to laugh. "Nay," he answered, "but she means to give me as a gift to their current queen."

  "Ahhh," murmured the other companion, Ziv, "to have a cock twice the size of mortal men, and half again as big as a god's!"

  "Their women are wearing me out," Dagon complained. "I never knew such lustful creatures. Women should not be so forward. It is unnatural. They treat me like some toy with which they gratify their own desires and passions. I am nothing more to them than a plaything!"

  "I can't complain about such treatment," Wit said seriously. "It is every man's dream, my friend. A lustful woman upon whom one can pleasure himself, and yet have absolutely no responsibility to that woman. I shall be very content in Kava."

  The caravan climbed higher now, moving into the mountains. Soft, light wool cloaks were issued the slaves, for, despite the sun, the days were cooler, and the winds sharper.

  One evening Zenaida announced to Dagon that they were but three days from the city of Kava, but on the morrow they would enter into its kingdom.

  "Your mighty cock is well primed after all these weeks of travel," she told him. "My girls cannot say enough in praise of you, my princeling. Until we reach the city, you must rest that magnificent organ so the queen may know its full power the first time you couple with her. Tonight I shall tell you of Kalida."

  They sat opposite each other, a charcoal brazier between them heating the tent. They had eaten a fine repast of roasted gazelle, a freshly caught fish that had been grilled with steamed greens and served with a bowl of groats, and a large bunch of green grapes. He was warm, and the wine was mellowing him.

  "Is she beautiful?" he asked, curiously.

  Zenaida nodded. "The goddess has more than favored her, and in more ways than just her beauty. Kalida's grandmother was a queen of Kava. She is a very proud woman, and a very intelligent one as well. This has perhaps contributed to her inability to fall in love. I do not think she believes she can give herself to anyone who is not her equal. Many men have been brought to Kava, both noble and peasant alike, but never have I found a king's son, a future king, among my slaves. I believe the goddess has sent you to be Kalida's mate, Dagon."

  "And yet it was my great penis that attracted you first, lady," he teased her gently.

  Zenaida chuckled. "Aye," she agreed, "it was, but was that also not a ploy of the goddess to bring you to my attention?"

  He laughed with her. He liked this big kind woman who had more the qualities of a good mother, it seemed to him, than a queen or a dignitary. "Tell me what Kalida looks like," he said. "You say she is beautiful, and the goddess has favored her, but how beautiful?"

  "She is tall for a woman. Her head will come to your shoulder. She is slender, yet her form is most womanly. Her breasts are like high cones of snow topped with rosy tips like a pale sunrise just touching the mountain's peak. Her face is shaped like a heart, her forehead smooth, high and unmarked. Her eyes are oval in shape, and the green of an emerald. Her nose is slim, and in perfect proportion with her face. Her mouth is large for a woman, and very, very sensual. Her hair is the color of gilt, the palest gold touched with silver. You have never seen hair this color before, I promise you."

  "She sounds most fair," Dagon said softly.

  "If you are to win her, you must tread a very fine line, my princeling," Zenaida cautioned him. "She must be treated like a queen at all times, but you must also make her feel like a woman. None have accomplished this feat before you. Do so, and your fortune is made."

  "You are asking me to subvert my own nature to please your queen, Zenaida, and I do not know if I can," Dagon said honestly. "Your handmaids tell me each night as they mount me how inferior men are to women. Yet I believe the opposite. How am I to reconcile these two adverse reasonings then? And I must if I am to succeed in this endeavor."

  "It is not unknown, although it is not spoken of aloud, for a man to hold a dominant position within his lover's bedchamber," Zenaida said quietly. "Although I shall deny it if asked, my size makes it far more comfortable for my mate, Durantis, to ride between my generous thighs than for me to mount his slimmer frame. I should crush the poor darling," she chuckled. "Once, however, I was as slender as our queen. Age has increased my girth, but even in our youth, Durantis and I sported in a variety of positions," she concluded. "You will have to have forbearance, Dagon, my handsome princeling. You must attract Kalida first with your great sexual prowess, and then with your intelligence and wit."

  "How must I approach her?" he queried his mentor.

  "First with respect, for she is a queen, though you are her equal. Still, make not the error one poor fool made several years ago when he decided that the queen was just a sweet little girl in need of a strong man's dominance. He was given that very night for public pleasures, and then sent to dig in our diamond mines where he still resides, greatly chastened, I am informed, and considered a fool by his companions. Kalida may try your patience at first, and even seem arrogant, but she knows of no other way, having been Queen of Kava since she was just fourteen. Once she believes your esteem for her is genuine, you may safely begin your campaign to win her heart. Every woman has a heart, even Kalida, the Queen of Kava."

  "I shall try not to disappoint you, great lady," he told her. No. He would not disappoint her, for the only way he might escape Kava and return to Aramas would be to become the queen's mate. This would allow him to live in the Outer Palace of the Consorts, free of restraint. He had learned a great deal from Zenaida's handmaidens these past weeks. The consorts of the former queens were men who could be trusted. The women warriors who guarded Kava paid them little heed. He would indeed have to be patient, for it would take months to effect his plan of escape, but escape he would.

  And one day he would return to Aramas. Nogad might have taken Aurea for a wife, and sired sons upon her, but he would nonetheless slay his traitorous sibling, and his spawn. If Aurea objected, he would slay her, too. He could not marry a woman defiled by his twin. And if their father still lived, he would applaud his eldest son's actions. His father was a man of honor. If his father, however, had gone to the gods, he would simply destroy Nogad and all that was his, and take his rightful place upon the throne of Aramas.

  Halfway through the following day, the caravan stopped before the foot of a tall mountain whose top belched forth smoke. The High Procuress stood before a wall of flat, black rock at the mountain's base, and struck it three times with her staff of office, calling, "In the name of the goddess, Suneva, open to me!" With a rumble, an opening appeared in the rock, and the caravan passed through into a well-lit tunnel. Zenaida then turned, and, striking the earth with her staff, said, "In the name of the goddess, Suneva, close, and keep us safe!" The opening then disappeared even as it had earlier revealed itself.

  They moved through the passage for several h
ours. It was very silent but for the sound of feet, both animal and human. The area was comfortably wide enough to accommodate the caravan, and very well lit. The air was still, and a trifle musty. Dagon had noted the smoking top of the mountain as they entered beneath it, but he saw no evidence of volcanic activity as they moved along. They stopped to rest and eat after an hour or more. A woman warrior came and unchained Dagon, reconnecting Wit to Ziv.

  "The lady Zenaida wishes your company, barbarian," she said.

  Reaching the High Procuress, he bowed deferentially to her.

  She handed him a piece of flat bread to eat, and offered her flask of wine. "Walk by my side the rest of the way," she said.

  "I thank you for your kindness," he answered.

  "Nicely done," she remarked approvingly. "Polite, but not servile. I knew I might count upon your instincts, Dagon."

  "Why does the mountaintop smoke?" he asked her. "This is no volcano, great lady."

  "You are observant," she replied. "The top smokes because we make it smoke. People see it, and assume the mountain is dangerous. That, of course, suits our purposes as you will soon discover. It is so simple. The smoke comes from pitch burning in a kettle. The kettle sits atop a clay brazier so no flames from the fire can be seen." She held out a hand to him. Pulling her to her feet, he helped her into her cart, which was drawn by two sturdy white horses. "Another hour," Zenaida said, "and we shall exit this passage into the valley of Kava, my princeling. It will be another day and a half to the city from there."

  It was late afternoon when they came forth from the tunnel. Immediately the sound of trumpets was heard echoing back and forth throughout the great valley with its rim of green hills. Dagon looked about him, and saw the fortifications at the tunnel's mouth. Upon the barricade walls stood well-armed women warriors, and a half a dozen trumpeters who were sounding both a welcome and a message to the forts farther on, and closer to the city itself. He was impressed in spite of himself.