Bigge, Jerome - Warlady 2 - 2565 - Book 2
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2565 A.D.!
A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN
By Jerome B. Bigge
Book Two
Chapter One
"Bring her up into the wind!" I snapped to the man at the Squala's wheel, watching the wooded
shoreline spin around as he spun the wheel, the sails flapping as men scurried to obey my nervous
commands. Lady Tirana smiling as she stood there at my side watching everything. "Drop the anchor!" I
cried to the men there at the forecastle, a sudden splash making me jump a bit as they followed my
orders. The peaceful tree shaded shoreline now enclosing us on three sides. The sun glittering off the
rippling waters of the cove, a slave girl standing there on the dock, blonde, beautiful, a gleaming collar
locked around her neck, watching us. A dark haired girl of perhaps five or so there at her side, clinging
to the woman's right hand. The blonde slave's white cotton shift leaving no doubt that she was indeed
truly a delight, her face and figure through the telescope even reminding me something of those of her
Imperial Royal Highness, Darlanis Marden of California! And that was dear little Mara standing there at
her side in a red cotton dress just as cute as could be! Ready to greet her new foster mother, Lorraine
Duval, a woman of the 20th Century. A woman of an era now mostly myth and legend!!
Turning, I watched the Seahawk dip her flag in salute before going on, saw Lara standing there
waving at me next to her hus- band. Her neck chain glittering in the bright sunlight. Marking her for all
to see as being "his woman". I like the 26th Century custom of "neck-chaining" women. It is very lovely
on a woman, and tends to accent her beauty and her womanhood. Leaving no doubt that she is indeed a
desirable female who some man found attractive enough to place a "claim" on. I suppose a 20th Cen-
tury feminist would object furiously to such a practice as being "degrading" to the woman, but as I am
myself now "neck-chained", I can assure you that I find it quite delightful, especially since it is also
securely riveted on so that I cannot remove it!
The night before I had made my good-byes to Sharon and the others. I felt it best to do it then. I was
entering a new life, a new world of my own. Sharon was now the Imperial Prin- cess. She would always
have a place in my heart, but she was no longer mine, but Darlanis'. I felt it best to make a clean break of
things. No last teary farewells with Darlanis standing there smirking to herself. I had told her to be a
"good girl" and do what Darlanis told her to. Telling her as I affectionately tousled her golden hair for
the last time that if she didn't be- have herself Darlanis would put her over her knee and give her another
spanking! Now Sarnian Lady waited further out to take off the dozen or so men that had sailed the
Squala to my estates, the ship now mine to do with as I saw fit. Darlanis having sug- gested that I
establish a coastal trade with the vessel, offering more rapid and safer transport as the three masted
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Squala had the speed to outrun almost anything! Pirates being a serious danger due to the practice of
both sides in this stupid war to commis- sion anyone with a ship as a privateer. A number of which
quick- ly turned to a life of piracy as they found it more "profitable"!
"By the command of her Imperial Majesty Darlanis Marden, I, the Lady Lorraine of Trelandar, do
take possession of these es- tates deeded to me by the decree of the Imperial Senate as of Au- gust 8th,
in the year 518 A.W." I lowered the decree, regarding the men and women gathered before me. Many
were gazing at me cu- riously. Lady Tirana at my side, clad in the black of the Warri- oress, a sword at
her hip. Her attractive features were now veiled as proper. My own tossed back so that they could see
me. We were both brunettes, tall, slim, dark eyed. Like "sisters". My extra clothing fitted her well, I
noticed thoughtfully then. I had given orders that the rest of the free women aboard the Squala be given
clothing and shelter until they could set out on their long journeys to their homes. Hopefully all of them
would make it back to their homes, although some planned to travel to Trella and take passage on ships
rather than now travel overland.
"You served Lady Lana well. I will ask no more for myself." I added, regarding them. The men and
women at arms who guarded my lands, the dozens of peasants who tilled it. The slaves, both male and
female now down on their knees before me. The sun shin- ing down upon us, the great manor towering
up behind them all. I felt the breeze on my cheek, warmed from the sun, heard the soft rustle of the
leaves in the surrounding trees that gave us shade. Thought how nice it would be to have a nice cool
bath. I had, however, another task to do first as I looked down at those soft dark eyes beside me, looked
into that cute little face of Mara's as she held the hand of the kneeling slave she called "Maris Marn".
The woman obviously a "pampered pet" allowed freedoms not usually allowed to slaves. Maris having
been allowed to shave her pubes, and wear nipple clips and a crotch strap just like a free woman! This
having been all told me by Mrs. Sanda Talen, my major domo, whose attitude was that "things had gone
`too far'"!* * Sanda and I had a good laugh recently when I reminded her of my first impressions here,
as Maris Marn has ended up as the Queen of Dularn after the sucide-death of Queen Tulis just recently!
"Mara," I said, squatting down, opening my arms to Mara, seeing the fear there in Maris' emerald
eyes as they looked into mine, Maris obviously well aware that her new "mistress" might not allow her
all the freedoms and privileges that Lana had done. She was also of the Warrioresses, which I didn't too
much care for, as such a woman can be quite dangerous if "provoked" enough!
"You not pretty as Mommy, but I like you anyway," Mara said to me in her little girl voice, coming
then into my open arms. I had lost my "golden girl" to Darlanis, but this one was "MINE"!
"Your mother was a beautiful and brave woman," I told Mara. She was dark haired like me, not a
natural blonde like Sharon or Maris Marn, whose light eyebrows left no doubt as to her "color".
"Would'you like me to show you 'everyting'?" Mara asked in her soft little voice. I found the idea
pleasing, telling Lady Tirana to watch Mara's beautiful slave girl, who had immediately attempted to
follow us like Mara was her own private possession!
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The former Daris estates covered quite a considerable area, Mara's hand warm in mine as we walked
together in the sun, my heart filled with love for the little dark haired girl now there at my side. Yvette
following us at a discrete distance, Lady Tirana close behind. I had gladly welcomed her help, her offer
of assistance in getting "settled in". Her husband had been bru- tally killed in the attack on her estate.
Her children now grown and gone to live lives of their own, she had no one left to wel- come her when
she returned back to her own estates but those still left who yet still faithfully served despite her absence.
"Do you like Maris Marn?" Mara asked me as the woman knelt there before us, the sun glinting off
her golden hair. She was from Dularn, from a place called Sana which is on the south-west- ern tip of
the island about sixty miles or so north of the capi- tal city of Arsana. Sana is a small village of perhaps
six or seven hundred souls who make their living cutting lumber and mak- ing various handicrafts to sell
to the people of places like Ar- sana. She was, I understood, the oldest daughter of the mayor of the
place and said to be very good with a sword, having been al- most a match for Lana herself, who had
allowed the woman privi- leges that are not normally given to slaves. Maris for example being allowed
to refuse the advances of free men and wear some- thing beneath her brief cotton shift, which was rather
unusual. Now that Lana was dead, my major domo was just "itching" to "lay the lash" on the beauty and
teach her what slavery was all about!
"She is very beautiful," I observed, Maris being the sort of a woman who could have been Darlanis'
own sister from her looks! She was not the sort of a woman I would have picked to be the constant
companion of a five year girl, I supposed, but no doubt Lana had her own reasons for having used Maris
as her daughter's "personal companion". The woman was, I noted, very "protective" of Mara, which may
have been why Lana made the choice she did.
"She is my own slave girl," Mara said, adding, "Mrs. Talen (the major domo) wanted to whip her
today, but I told her that I didn't want'ta to," Mara informed me with a trusting smile as if she was now
sharing some great secret with me! I watched an ant several inches long crawl along the ground and
thought of anoth- er, now far away on another world millions of miles from Earth.
"I am yours to command, mistress," the wench said to me, her knees demurely closed beneath the
hem of her brief cotton shift. I sensed the hostility, the suppressed anger in the Dularnian. I guessed her
at 5'8", perhaps a hundred and thirty five pounds. I noticed the muscles in her arms, her legs. She was a
Warrioress.
"Why does Mrs. Talen wish to punish you?" I asked her, standing there before her, Yvette and the
Lady Tirana looking on. We were standing out in the fields among the rows of vegetables. The sun was
hot, the sky nearly cloudless, a typical August day.
"Her husband put his hand underneath my dress and she says that I provoked him into doing it,"
Maris Marn breathed back in low tones. She was a "provocative" woman, one who might well be the
sort that would make any wife worry about her husband's own marital faithfulness, although I suspected
that there was more than that to the matter. Especially since Maris was very lovely.
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"Are you given to free men?" I asked, wishing Mara was some- where else just then. Maris nodded
in the negative. No doubt she would have been extremely "popular" among the warriors. Hot and
sweaty, arching helplessly beneath the body of a strong man!
"You have needs, desires?" I ventured, Lady Tirana having taken the hint to take Mara a few steps
away while I questioned the slave girl. Maris nodded, blushing a bit. She was Dularni- an. They are
more sexually repressed than those of California.
"What is the fate of a slave girl who refuses the touch of a free man?" I asked the golden haired
beauty kneeling before me. A fly buzzing around my face annoying me, making me swat at it. Maris'
eyes, much like those of Darlanis', glowed up into mine.
"She is punished," Maris answered softly. I wondered if Ma- ris had ever been "raped" out here in
these very same fields we were now in. She was lovely enough that any man might want to!
"In the 20th Century we would call that a 'Catch-22' situa- tion," I smiled, seeing her head suddenly
lift up at my words!
"That is a situation where there is no escape," Maris an- swered with a soft smile. I wondered where
she had learned that. How much she actually knew about the 20th Century. I recalled meeting others
who had known a considerable deal about my time.
"There will be no whipping of slave girls without my own au- thorization," I informed her, looking
down into those green eyes. I would speak with Mrs. Sanda Talen. And explain things to her.
"Why did your mother give you Maris?" I asked Mara as we sat later on there on her bed and talked.
Her room bringing back memories far in my own past. The setting was much like that of southern
France except for the differences in technology. Lace curtains on the windows, flowered wallpaper, the
sounds of na- ture, of the soft breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. Even the bed much like mine with
its brass posts. Only the slave chains there set in the floor speaking of the realities of 2565.
"Because she was too pretty for my dad," Mara smiled back. "And because she's real nice and good
and wouldn't ever hurt me." I wondered how much Mara understood of life. Lana had been the sort of a
mother who tried to "protect" her children from "life". Obviously Mara's father had bought Maris and
Lana had then later on taken the slave girl away from him and given her to Mara in- stead. The action
speaking volumes about things Lana never told! Obviously there had been serious troubles in their
marriage that Lana had never spoken of. I could understand why. She had been a proud woman. One not
given to seeking the sympathy of others.
"Wouldn't you like a girl more your own age to share things with?" I asked. There were sometimes
older children for sale. A girl of about fifteen or sixteen might be better for little Mara.
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"You don't like Maris, don't you?" Mara replied, looking up into my eyes. "She's too beautiful for
you," she added in her little girl voice, perhaps understanding more than I did just then. I don't say that
she actually talked that way, but I have translated her words into terms that will be easier for the read- er
to understand. Perhaps she "understood" what I did not then.
"I have nothing against her, but I think you'd be happier with a girl more your own age that you
could play with," I an- swered, trying to take her into my arms and knowing I was already losing this
"battle" even before it started. Good old Lorraine Duval making a "fool" out of herself once again, I
thought to my- self furiously! Her own tongue worse than any sword she's faced!
"I don't want another slave girl!" Mara cried, pulling away and throwing herself on the bed sobbing
bitterly to herself as my own eyes filled with tears at the thought of how I had hurt her! I certainly wasn't
doing very well as a "substitute mother" for little Mara. Maybe Lady Tirana could give me some hints
on what to do, I mused to myself, standing up, creeping silently from the room where little Mara sobbed
bitterly to herself on her own bed!
"What should I do?" I asked Lady Tirana as she sat there on the shaded cool porch that overlooked
the sunbaked fields of my estate. A slave girl kneeling beside her, ready to be commanded.
"Give it time," Lady Tirana smiled, sipping at her cool drink, her veil lifted to one side as she sat
there at her ease. The setting reminded me much of the pre-Civil War South of the Nineteenth Century.
The slaves working in the fields, the aris- tocrats sitting there sipping cool drinks and watching them
work.
"Lana shouldn't have given her a woman like that," I said, taking a glass from the slave girl, sitting
down, my sword in its metal scabbard jutting out in front of me. The blade a gift from Darlanis. The
drink I noticed being some sort of a mixed drink that I found delicious. Fruity, but yet tart, and mixed
with something like rum. Maris Marn was no fitting slave girl for a little girl like Mara. She needed a
younger girl, one perhaps just entering puberty. Not a Warrioress like Maris Marn, I ex- plained to Lady
Tirana as we sat there side by side and sipped our drinks, a pair of 26th Century aristocrats now at their
ease.
"Perhaps Lana had her reasons," Lady Tirana smiled back.
Next Chapter
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2565 A.D.!
A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN
By Jerome B. Bigge
Book Two
Chapter Two
"A slave girl has escaped!" Sanda Talen said as she awoke me early the next morning, an oil lamp
glowing in her hand, a robe hastily drawn about her tousled, disheveled self. I did not con- sider the
event of such "grave importance" that she should awaken me from a sound sleep to tell me the dire
news. Especially when it was also quite obvious that she had awakened Lady Tirana too, who came into
my room just them, her appearance that of a woman just woke up from a sound well deserved sleep. I
informed Sanda Talen of the fact that I was not very delighted with things, or with her for that matter!
Since I owned a couple dozen of the sluts, the loss of one of them wasn't anything overly serious in my
opinion! Poor Mrs. Talen nodding, her own appearance indicat- ing that she had done little but get out of
bed herself to inform me of the news. So far she hadn't been doing too well by me, and no doubt by now
she was somewhat concerned whether or not I would be letting her stay on here at the estate. Not being
in the mood just then to inform her of my opinions of the matter, I told her to "get the hell out" before I
took the flat of my sword to her curvy firm rump there beneath that robe! She was a good looking
woman, an attractive brunette, although no "competition" for a wench like Maris Marn, who looked
somewhat like another Darlanis!
"I'll have to remember to be sure that I am armed before I ever awake you from a sound sleep," Lady
Tirana laughed as Sanda quickly beat a hasty retreat. I would apologize to her later on, but right now I
was in no mood to be "trifled with" by anyone! I reflected upon the amazing fact that when someone
woke me out of a sound sleep here in this crazy era that it was usually some sort of "emergency" that I
always had to take care of personally!
"I do believe it was that wench of Mara's and I also believe she stole your boat," Lady Tirana
delighted in telling me then. The vessel in question being a small sailing craft rigged fore and aft around
twenty feet in length. It could be sailed by one person and with adequate supplies, could make fairly
long voyages if you were brave enough to entrust yourself to the sea in such a craft! Maris Marn, unlike
the other slave girls, being allowed to sleep unshackled there in Mara's room, and even in her bed if
Mara wished it so as she did whenever there was a thunderstorm. Apparently Mara aroused Maris' own
maternal instincts, which is why she behaved towards her much like some cat with one kitten!
"God Dammit!" I snarled in sudden fury, sitting up in bed, even Lady Tirana stepping back a pace,
concern showing on her at- tractive features. The covers falling away, revealing the fact I had slept in
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the nude but for my clips and a brief silken strap that concealed little. Reaching for the robe there beside
the bed as Lady Tirana then took her own leave of me to get dressed.
"I'm doing everything that I can to find out how she es- caped!" Sanda Talen pleaded, a quiver of
fear in her voice. Men and women running here and there like an anthill that has been disturbed by a
curious boy with a stick. The woman obviously terrified of me, as were those in the room with her. I had
for- gotten the awesome powers that a "LADY" possessed over those who served her. Here I was an
absolute dictator with powers of "life and death". Perhaps she feared that I would have her whipped! I
have heard of such things being done. No doubt she had cause for fear. Tara, when she was Queen of
Sarn before Darlanis, once had a slave girl executed for merely spilling some hot coffee on her!
"I think I know," I smiled, touching her shoulder. Letting her know that my "bark was worse than my
bite". "It's my fault for not knowing any better." I thought of Mara, of how she felt. The sun was just
coming up over the eastern horizon now, the air cool with promise of a lovely day to come. Maris would
have good sailing. The little yacht, while not fast, was of sturdy design.
"I'll see if we can round up some men who know something about ships," Lady Tirana interjected,
putting in an appearance. I told her that it would be useless. It would take days to out- fit a crew for the
Squala. I might be in possession of the fast- est ship in California, but I didn't have anyone who knew
how to sail her! It took half a dozen men to even haul the sails up a mast, and while the Squala was a
beautiful sailing ship, the fin- est ship that ever came down the ramp at a Dularnian shipyard, it still took
sailors to sail her! Not a bunch of "clod-hoppers" and "rough-necks" like all I had around the place!
Maris was an intelligent woman. She would not be easy to catch even if I had a ship available to go in
pursuit of her. And if I did catch her, what would I do with her? The penalty for escape is strict. Often
the girl is hamstrung, making her useless for much of any- thing but lying beneath a man or doing some
version of handiwork. And if I only gave Maris a good whipping, what would Mara think of me?
Perhaps it would be best if the wench drowned out at sea!
"It would make more sense to increase the security on the other girls before we have any more of
them trying to sail to Du- larn," I smiled back, feeling I was well rid of a potential prob- lem with Mara
and her puzzling feelings for the beautiful golden haired Dularnian. Doubtlessly Maris would be picked
up and kept if she didn't drown at sea. In any case she was gone and that was that. At least Sanda Talen
wouldn't have to worry about her husband putting his hand up underneath Maris' shift any more! I had
no doubt he had been just teasing the slave girl a little! He was of the Warriors, and they have a tradition
of such things! Little did I suspect then the true "realities" of this situation!
"I've already seen to that," Sanda answered, the gold of her neck chain gleaming against her well
tanned skin. She was dark haired, well built, and wore a sword, as do some free women if they are
physically able to use one effectively. Lana had thought highly of her. I suspected that I would soon do
the same too as soon as I had some breakfast and got my nerves settled!
"You have a son on the Dularnian front?" I asked Sanda as she shared breakfast with Lady Tirana
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and me there in the kitch- en, one of the slave girls serving us as needed. She nodded, her dark eyes
showing the concern that she felt. I thought of other wars, senseless futile wars fought in other eras. And
for what? Doubtlessly Raspa was right about us. We were nothing more than warlike barbarians who
loved nothing better than fighting wars!
"Darlanis has been promising us a victory for years, and we are still fighting," Sanda answered, the
tone of her voice tell- ing me much of how she felt about it. Darlanis might be ex- tremely popular with
the people of California, but this war was not doing either her or California any good! Mara quiet as she
ate, no doubt well aware of the conclusions I had reached as to how Maris Marn, even "favored" as she
had been, had managed to get together the necessary supplies for a voyage to distant Du- larn some two
thousand miles away! Obviously she had some help!
"What we need is someone to take command and do something `effective' about the matter," Lady
Tirana added, regarding me. I had little doubt who she was referring to. Darlanis had wanted me to do
the same thing. I had refused. After being "touched" by SHE, I could no longer bring myself to take
human life except in self-defense. The affair on the Squala, I had promised my- self, was going to be the
last time I would draw my sword except to practice the art of fencing or to defend those whom I loved!
"What we need," I replied, "Is someone to do something about these pirates that prowl the coasts of
both countries." That, I thought to myself, made far more sense than this senseless war! Piracy having
now become a serious problem thanks to the war be- tween the Empire and Dularn, it being all too easy
for a pirate to get a "privateering commission" from one side or the other!
"Well, Mara, it looks like I'm going to have to get you another slave girl after all," I said to my little
foster daugh- ter as we finished up our breakfast and the others took their leave of us. Finishing my
second cup of coffee, such being a true luxury that only the rich like myself could afford to drink, the
beans being imported from Talon, the land of the great birds.
"Yes, Lady Lorraine," Mara answered, looking down at her plate, the bacon and scrambled eggs
more played with than eaten. Yvette now at my side, licking my fingers as I fed her from my plate the
scraps and such that I had saved for her. It was per- haps "humiliating" for her to behave so, but she
enjoyed doing it, such was her affection and love for me. She would not make a good girl for Mara, as
Yvette was far too "female" to be able to control herself around men, the wench being a true "bred"
slave. Yvette wore a brief red shift, a gold collar to signify that she was not an ordinary common slave
girl, and simple sandals to pro- tect her tender feet from sharp stones and such stuff. She would laugh
and squeal delightedly in French when some man put his hand beneath her brief shift, which was quite
frequent, I had noticed! The day before she had come strolling back to me with leaves and dirt in her
hair, a "contented" look on her face, sweaty and damp from love-making, doubtlessly delighted that here
there were lots of strong lusty men to "appreciate" a sexual delight like Yvette!
"Are there any slave girls here you would like to have?" I ventured. Any of the women would be
delighted to become Mara's, although I had my reservations about most of them as being any- where
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near suitable for the task. Slavery tends to bring out in a woman her most innate feminine qualities, and
most of the slaves simply were not suitable for being the companion of a lit- tle girl unless I wanted
Mara to get a real quick "sex-education" in what happened to slave girls in the arms of my men at arms!
"No, Lady Lorraine," Mara answered, picking at her food. A slave girl peeking through the doors at
us, her tanned skin damp with sweat from her labors. She was naked but for a strip of red cloth around
her hips. The kitchen master enjoys the sight of a briefly clad curvy female body, especially if it is safely
locked in a slave girl's collar and must instantly obey his every wish!
"You let Maris `go', didn't you?" I suddenly said to her. "Gave her food, water, everything she would
need to get to Du- larn." Mara suddenly starting to cry, the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sobbed
out the story of how she had helped her be- loved slave girl escape. Even giving her some of her own
late mother's clothing so that she might better disguise herself as a free woman on the long dangerous
voyage back to her own country as well as removing her collar so she could appear as being free!
Mara went on to tell me as I took her into my arms how Maris refused to take her with her on the
voyage to Dularn, telling her that it was better that she stayed with me. Maris no doubt well aware that
while I might allow her to escape, had she taken Mara I would have turned out the full forces of the
Empire itself to get my little girl back! Yvette kneeling there at my side, her hand gently stroking the
girl's hair as I held her, the slave girl's dark eyes glowing up into my own. For a brief moment I thought
of giving Yvette to Mara despite everything, although I still hated to do it knowing the sort of a woman
that Yvette was!
"Would you like Yvette?" I asked Mara as I held her in my arms, my own eyes now wet with tears as
I held her to me. Yvette kneeling there beside me, looking up into my eyes, gently shaking her head in
the negative. I suspect she feared what I might do to her. Sometimes a slave girl is locked in a chastity
belt to better control her. Such would be "torment" for one like Yvette!
"She's nice, but I'd rather have another like Maris," Mara answered, looking up into my face. "Maybe
a bit younger though," Mara agreed, "More like Mrs. Talen's daughter." The girl in question being in her
early teens. "Maybe you could `buy' her."
"We'll get you a new girl," I promised, wondering how much Mara understood of the differences
between slaves and employees!
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2565 A.D.!
A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN
By Jerome B. Bigge
Book Two
Chapter Three
"It's pretty early to be doing that," I warned Lady Tirana as I watched her slave girl pouring her
another glassful of wine from the bottle there on the table. The morning was still cool, delightful,
although I knew it would be another hot August day after the Sun got a few hours chance to work on
things. My foot- steps on the heavy carpeting having been perhaps unnoticed. The woman sitting there
unveiled on the shaded open porch overlooking the fields and the surrounding forest with her own
personal slave girl kneeling there on a cushion beside her. I knew that her own estate had suffered
considerably from the Dularnian raiders when she had been captured a couple weeks before. Stripped
naked, she had been chained with her own slave girls there on the Squala be- fore her eventual rescue by
the fighting forces from the Seahawk!
Her home destroyed, her husband killed before her eyes, such might drive any woman to start
drinking in the morning! She was a friend, and I suffered for her, knowing how she felt. Most of her
slaves had been recovered, but there was nothing that could be done about her memories unless she
visited one of the Priest- esses of Lys and asked for the forgetfulness that only they could grant. She
needed something to keep her mind occupied. Some- thing to keep her from thinking about the past. The
buildings we could replace, but the lives that had been lost were gone forev- er. She was not a young
woman, and remarriage not that likely.
"It eases the `pain', Lady Lorraine," Tirana answered me. I found her name fascinating, although she
thought the same of mine too. Her last name was Greyson, although like most titled widows she now
referred to herself only by her own title of "Lady Tira- na". I did the same now, being "Lady Lorraine"
to all but my closest friends. Jack Duval having been dead for six centuries.
"But yet doesn't solve any problems," I answered, taking the glass from her hand and handing it to
the slave girl kneeling there beside her. The wench a dark haired beauty, nicely curved. Four of the slave
girls on the Squala had been her own girls. I had also given her one of the Dularnian "ship's girls",
keeping the other five for my own uses. Many Californians believing that a Dularnian woman, once
collared, makes love better than women of their own countries do. Whether or not there is anything to
this I don't know as the Dularnians claim the same for our own women!
"I suppose you're right, Lorraine," she smiled, getting up from the chair, smoothing down her dress,
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