From: an438434@anon.penet.fi (Umbra)
Date: Thu, 18 Jan 1996 22:37:34 UTC
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.femdom
Subject: Repost of HORSEWOMEN # 7/a&b
NOTE: this story is for adults only.  As will be evident,

   all characters and settings and all action are entirely fictitious. 
===========================================

   THE HORSEWOMEN a Love Story by Jeanne de Stein

   7.  NIKI

   Niki had got an idea into her head.  It was a very persistent and
fascinating one, and she was constantly pestering both her mother Lykomaki
and Hikati about it.  She wanted to make her passage to womanhood already
the next spring, when the horde came to the holy place.  She was a big girl
now, did they not understand that?

   She had indeed changed since that day nearly a year ago, when Fallou
first had met her and when she had made him serve her in Atossa's tent. 
She had grown.  Her body had become somewhat less childish, she was
actually looking as if she would grow breasts---though she had certainly
not done so yet.  Her manner was steadier too, with a longer attention
span, but she still gave proof of that engagingly spontaneous cruelty that
had always characterized her.  But she would still be quite immature in
five or six months time.  Normally, she would have to wait for one more
year, or even two.

   But clearly the spectacle of Ginesse's initiation, and of the unheard-of
ordeal that she had passed, and of the unusual spectacle afforded first by
the flagellation of Fallou and then by that of Atossa, had fired her
imagination.  Ariti was also heard to suggest that Niki was man-crazy and
that the prospect of more access to the males, and that of even having a
slave of her own, was her real motivation.  Perhaps she actually longed to
taste the whip herself!  The more cruel a woman was, the less averse she
was, usually, to the thought of experiencing sexual pain.  Several of the
sisters protested: the idea was abhorrent to them.  Sex pain was for males
exclusively.  But some, Hikati and Atossa among them, agreed.  Atossa
called Sarissa as a witness.  She did find rough treatment stimulating, did
she not---if given by her, Atossa?  Sarissa sat like carved out of wood
until she at last laughed and admitted it.  After that scene at the
Passage-place, she had often had fantasies about being whipped by Atossa or
even by Ariti; or, as she expressed it, the Dark Ladies had sent her the
thought.  (Ariti seemed pleasantly surprised and beamed a smile at her.)
Then, two or three other women came out and agreed with her.  And Atossa
herself said, as to herself, that the memory of what Ariti had done to her
made her horny.  She pointed out that some males too were stimulated by
pain, Fallou for instance, or Ippou---did they remember him coming when he
was pierced by the forge?  Those males were perhaps the most dangerous,
those that had to be watched most carefully!  They might be woman whippers
in disguise!  The other women relieved their embarrassment by laughing, and
those that sat next to Fallou---they were Timesse and Silini---pinched him
playfully and accused him of being a dirty old male.  He should be hung by
his thumbs and caned for it, said Timesse.  But Silini whispered in his ear
that she might be open to suggestions, if only to find out what she should
punish him for.

   The older women, however, were still turning a deaf ear to Niki's
pleading.  Then one day, when the grass was already yellowing between the
spring and the small rains, a rider came to the camp.

   She was female, but not a Sister.  She bore no tattoos, but her
face---the rest of her was wrapped in a black hooded cloak---looked stiff
and unnatural, like a mask, and she seemed to have neither eyelashes nor
eyebrows.  Fallou caught a glimpse of her, and felt a cold shiver running
down his spine.  There was buruk, spirit power, in her.  That power takes
little notice of humans and their wishes, for it is really not of their
world.  Even witches have but little of it.  The dogs, which had barked at
the strange horse as they always did, scurried away whining, with their
tails between their legs.

   Great deference was shown.  The stranger was offered salt and meat, but
only Hikati, Ariti, Atossa and some of the older women dared approach her.
Even Silini kept her distance.  The visitor was invited to Hikati's tent,
and some of the women of the camp were brought to her, first of them the
two women that had given birth in the past year, and their daughters. 
Ginesse and Silini were also called to the tent, and then Niki and
Lykomaki. These two stayed long in the tent, and when they returned, they
both looked dazed.  Word spread that the strange woman had told Hikati and
Lykomaki to grant the girl's request for an early Passage.

   She seemed to have found some desirable quality in her, for she had
intimated that some day, she would take her to a place the women called
Tarrati and from where women of buruk like she were supposed to come.  It
seemed to be a terrible place.  Still, the women spoke as if Niki would be
greatly honoured if she were to be admitted to it.

   Then the two new slaves were ordered before the stranger's face.  She
sat by the fire, in the place of honour opposite the tent door, her face
shining ghostly white in the gloom.  Her cloak surrounded her with a
greater darkness, but a foot and an ankle revealed that she wore boots of
the same kind as the horsewomen's.  She spoke the language of the plains,
but with an odd accent.  Fallou and Ippou were curtly told to kneel before
her; they did not dare move a finger while she tested their rings and irons
with her gloved hands, tugging and twisting.  Neither of them felt the
least stimulated by the procedure.  Fallou felt a cold draft of horror
across his back even when the strange lady inspected and handled his
branded member.  Then she laughed and smiled a stiff smile.  This was the
right way to treat males.  Did their owners keep them under strict
discipline?  Atossa told her that she kept a stern regime, and that Fallou
seemed to accept this; his will was completely bent to her wishes.  Aryana
too was breaking in her man-steed in an appropriate manner.  The strange
woman nodded, indicating satisfaction.  Then the two slaves were ordered
out to the cooking-pits to fetch food, the best that the Sisterhood could
offer.  The leading sisters ate with their guest, who then requested the
use of Hikati's tent for the rest of the night, and of Ippou to serve her.
Hikati moved over to Ariti.  Ippou obeyed orders, white of face and
trembling.  Aryana seemed to doubt that she would have him back alive, but
Timesse reassured her.  Whatever else the black women did, they did not eat
males.

   Fallou tried to make Atossa tell him what she knew of the terrible
visitor.  She was not unwilling to speak.  The black women were said by
some to be incarnations of spirits, Dark Ladies that had briefly taken on
human substance in order to meet living women and males face to face, and
body to body.  But Atossa thought that they were women of flesh and blood,
born and mortal like other females.  Their power came from Tarrati: there
buruk resided in other beings, and they had put the horsewomen into this
world and they wished to know how they fared.  Thus, they sent these
emissaries out in the plains to visit the Sisterhoods.  Did they wish the
horsewomen well?  Atossa said that she thought so, though they never
intervened directly in their affairs.  Where was Tarrati?  Atossa would not
tell, or perhaps she did not know.  Were these superior beings gods, or
goddesses?  Atossa was certain that they were female, but what else they
were, she did not know.  She would not even give them a proper name.

   They were sometimes called the Deathless Ones, but that was an
averting-name only.  Their real name no one must speak, even if she knew
it. But she doubted that even Hikati did that.  All the while, Sarissa
listened in silence.  She and Atossa did not make love, neither did they
use Fallou sexually that night, although his branded member had healed
well.

   In the morning, Ippou returned to the living, pale and silent.  Aryana
threw herself at him, obviously relieved to have him back.  She bombarded
him with questions, but he could not tell her what had been done to him, or
what he had been made to do.  The visitor had breakfast alone with Hikati.
Then she rode away, without much in the way of a farewell or of
well-wishing.  The women stared long after her, and the forenoon in the
camp was unusually quiet.  But Niki went about with an expression of half
bliss, half fear: her ambition would be satisfied, and not only the glory
but also the horror would be hers to experience.

   Now when Niki was slated for passage within a few month's time, it was
difficult to deny her male service.  She let it be known that she wanted
Ippou, but he was still having nightmares and nearly daily attacks of
uncontrollable terror, with much shivering and weeping, and Aryana,
unexpectedly protective---but who says a woman cannot be both cruel and
nurturing, especially a horsewoman?---did not want to have him upset again
and managed to make her decision stick.  She was probably right; a session
with Niki would have been a trial.  So the choice fell on Fallou instead.
It was not Niki herself however but her mother who came to Atossa's tent,
sat down and asserted her daughter's privilege.  It was certainly a
privilege shared by every woman of the Sisterhood, and one impossible to
deny her.  Atossa nodded gravely.  Did she want him at once, and with the
ring?  But the time was not right yet; the subject of these negotiations
was not told why.  He would have to wait a few days.  And he waited,
wondering all the time what would happen to him.

   Meanwhile, the grasslands were slowly turning ochre again, between the
spring and the summer rains, and the game was on the move.  The women too
were moving camp; the spectacle that had become so familiar, the commotion
and the excitement, repeated itself.  When the carts had been loaded,
Atossa summoned her slave.

   He stood in front of her while she attached the ball-rope to him.  This
time, the rawhide strap had a small lengthwise slit at the end.  First,
Atossa threaded this end through the small ring that dangled from Fallou's
ball-iron, then the other end of the lariat went through the slit and the
whole length of the rope was pulled through.  Atossa gave the lariat a
couple of brisk jerks, and he felt the tug of the iron ring.  He now
expected to have his elbows tied, but to his amazement, they were left
free. Atossa mounted her horse, and off they went.

   During the march, it slowly dawned upon him that he was about as
helpless as he had been with his arms immobilized.  The way in which Atossa
had attached the lariat meant that there was no knot that he might untie.
To free himself, he would have to jerk the rope away from her.  Such a tug
of war, with an armed savage woman with a horse to help her, he could not
win.  So he was happy to find that he was again an animal on a leash, with
no possibility of flight to trouble his mind.  At the same time, it was a
great relief to have one's arms free.

   And so they marched along, Atossa leading and Sarissa riding guard---or
keeping company.  Again and again, she came up by him, leant over and
stroked his cheek.  Being led across the plains by his sex, this
reenactment of his capture, had become a familiar ritual that reinforced
the bond between him and the two women, the bond that the rawhide rope now
symbolized.

   One evening, Sarissa whiled away the time before the sleep by cutting
two straps out of a piece of rawhide.  They were a little more than one and
a half hand long and one finger across, except near the ends, where they
were nicely tapered.  With the point of her knife, Sarissa cut a slit
lengthwise at the broad end and tied the tapered end into a knot.  And then
she ordered Fallou to her side, and she pulled each strap through one of
his nipple-rings and fastened them in the same fashion as the ball-rope. 
Now he had two convenient handles attached to his nipples.  Atossa's merry
laughter pealed out across the campsite and attracted curious horsewomen.
They too laughed and came forward in order to tease the slave by tugging
playfully at the tabs.

   This, they agreed, was less cruel than the chain that dangled between
Ippou's nipples, but more practical.  And by the Nether Gods, the man had
an erection!  Did he want more nipple- pulling?  Fallou, who until then had
stood demurely in front of them with downcast eyes, raised them and said,
yes, the more the better, within limits of course.  This piece of cheek
brought down even more mirth.  Atossa, still laughing, ordered him to raise
his arms above his shoulders and gave him three not too hard lashes across
his buttocks with her riding-whip.  A male should be submissive and
respectful in front of ladies.  He took it without flinching, and the
giggling of his admirers was interspersed with sounds of appreciation. 
Fallou suspected that they envied his mistress.  Serves them right, he
thought.  Serves them right for not being Atossa.  Continued with 7/b

   (Continuation of part 7)

   The land grew greener during the next day's march.  Near the evening,
they came to a pleasant little meadow near a brook that still had some live
water, and Hikati decided that they should pitch their tents and stay here
for a while.  Rings of blackened stones marked the place as a campsite, but
there was no pole in its centre.  This night, Fallou was bedded down
comfortably with his owners, but none of them made any move to use him. 
This might have boded evil, but they were after all busy making love to
each other.  He would have to be patient for a while.  Was it not enough to
be near them--for a while, at least?

   Early the next morning, he heard the sound of Ariti's hammer.  She
worked all day, but he did not go near her place.  Indeed, he gave little
thought to the matter.  For he had nearly forgotten Niki's claim to his
body, and he was startled to remember it suddenly when Lykomaki appeared as
her own daughter's emissary to fetch him.  And she wanted to borrow the
ring too, of course.  Atossa put him on his leash and handed him over to
Lykomaki, but not until she had hugged him and told him to be good and make
her proud.  And off they marched.

   He was led to Lykomaki's tent.  Inside it, a nasty surprise awaited him.
It was a log, just like the one upon which he had been tied when he got his
ball-ring and was branded, and to which he had been chained the whole next
day.  No, not quite.  For it was graced by what was undoubtedly the fruit
of Ariti's labour, an iron bracket, bent in a right angle.  One end of it
had been hammered into the wood.  The other, horizontal part pointed along
the log.  While Niki jumped up and down with childish glee, Lykomaki
brought out her whip and told him, first to sit on the log, one leg on each
side, facing the bracket, and then to lie down on his back.  The whip was
of course perfectly unnecessary.  He knew that he would have to obey, or
risk Atossa's wrath and punishment.  There was a rustling sound, and
sunlight fell briefly into the dusk of the tent.  Ariti had arrived.  She
came forward to pat his cheek and exhort him to be his usual brave self,
then she stepped back to watch the show.

   Lykomaki spoke again.  Now he must move down, impaling himself on the
bracket.  She cracked her whip in a threatening fashion.  He would have to
perform.  Fallou was stiff with horror but remembered that the iron rod
ended in a merciful little ball.  Good old Ariti.  Bracing himself with his
hands, he inched down until he felt the cold metal touch his anus.  The
ball seemed huge, but he told himself that this was just his imagination.
It was no larger than the horn-member, and the rod itself was much thinner.
He hutched and managed to get the thing inside his body.  It hurt.  A
sudden cramp contracted his sphincter, and he felt himself blanch. 
Lykomaki clicked her tongue encouragingly, Ariti cackled in her corner and
Niki screamed enthusiastically at him, telling him very explicitly to
continue.

   He tried to get a grip on himself and get done with it.  The sooner, the
better.  Inching himself down the log like a worm on a twig, he felt the
accursed rod enter him gradually.  The cramps returned but subsided, giving
way to another feeling that was similar to the one he had experienced when
Atossa rammed the raping-tool into him, but still different.  For then he
had been completely passive, and the horn-member had moved.  Now the rod
was completely immobile, and he was moving on it like bait on a hook.  The
new feeling, terrifying and still not entirely unpleasant, rose and
engulfed his lower body, but not enough to make him forget the searing pain
from his anus.  And the metal remained cold, cold and unyielding.

   Finally, a new sensation came from the ball.  His exertions brought him
no further.  Both Lykomaki and Ariti bent over him to ascertain the fact.
Yes, it had touched the bottom of his hole.  Lykomaki was pleased enough to
actually smile at him.  Even Niki was silent; but she was breathing
heavily, and her eyes shone.

   And then Ariti produced a clamp, made out of a heavy strip of iron, and
fitted it across his throat.  It was wide enough to accommodate his
ordinary collar, but clearly not large enough to let him escape.  And with
two large nails, she hammered it down on the log and he was unable to free
himself from the iron rod that impaled him.  Even though his arms and legs
were free, he would never be able to extricate himself.  He would stay
impaled as long as Niki and Lykomaki pleased.  And glancing down, he found
that he had a half-erection.

   His limbs did not remain free, however.  Lykomaki grasped his wrists and
pulled his arms up over his head unceremoniously; Ariti was there again,
tying them to a clincher he had not noticed.  His ankles were tied too, so
that his legs were on both sides of the log.  He would not have been more
helpless if his very flesh had been nailed to the wood.  How long would he
have to remain in this condition?  Until the women had lost interest in
playing games with him, no doubt.  And he did not know what games they
intended to play---except that he presumed that Niki would use him
sexually. But if he knew Niki and her mother right (or Ariti, for that
matter) that would come as the last act of a long and creative series of
games.  It was reassuring that Ariti was present, however.  Ariti was a
steady and sober old girl and would not let him come to real harm.

   Niki was beside herself with delight.  When Ariti stepped back, the girl
came up to him and stood by the log, looking down on her captive with a
light in her eyes that he had already learned to recognize and fear.  Her
chest heaved and her mouth was half open.  She decided however not to waste
time and effort on mere words.  Instead, she grasped Fallou's nipple straps
and pulled.  She pulled until his aureoles were just the tops of inch-high
cones of skin and flesh, and only the fear of encouraging the child unduly
kept him from groaning.  Niki released the pull, and then she pulled again,
and again, each time a little harder, until Lykomaki actually spoke out and
Niki let go and stood panting by the log, thinking of her next move. 
Decent of the old hag.  But they should not of course want to damage a
slave who was after all somebody else's property.  For the moment, Fallou
had completely forgotten that Lykomaki had been decent to him in her rough
way and given him pleasure more than once.

   Niki now turned her attention to the prisoner's sex.  His legs were so
far apart that she could seat herself on the log between them while
attending to him.  Fallou tried to concentrate on what the girl was doing,
and not to think of what she might do.  But at first, the little she-devil
was surprisingly gentle.  She seemed more intent on exploring his anatomy
than torturing it.  A word of guidance or two came from Ariti (good old
Ariti).  It was soon obvious that Niki actually wanted to give him a
hard-on.  She could of course immediately see what worked and what did not.
Holding his balls in one hand and massaging his rod with the other, she had
soon produced a perfectly satisfactory erection.  Now, there was no point
to hiding one's reaction.  He allowed himself to breathe heavily and to
make little sounds of satisfaction.  And Niki took her eyes from her work
and quite unexpectedly, she gave Fallou a brilliant smile which seemed
completely devoid of any overtones of cruelty.  But he knew better.  Surely
he knew better.  Had he not seen her in action before?  He allowed himself
a short moment of curiosity about his ability to derive sexual stimulation
out of fear and helplessness, and even pain.  That erection had come very
rapidly.  But that was perhaps just as well: it pleased his tormentors and
it might just conceivably shorten his suffering and bring him pleasure,
even.

   Now, Niki was satisfied with her handiwork.  She stepped back and bent
down momentarily; when she straightened again, she had a many-tailed
scourge in her hand.  She asked Ariti to help keep the slave going, and
Ariti came and squatted down by his side, reaching out to caress his
member. Decent old girl; he wished that he had been alone with her---it
would have been pleasant, even hooked and nailed to a tree trunk like this.
No---especially like this.  But Niki stood straddling him, facing him, and
she raised her right arm, and she started to whip his chest systematically
with the scourge.  The pleasure Ariti was giving him mixed with pain now,
more and more of it.  Niki struck out, alternatively forehanded and
backhanded, hitting him right and left, and she did not spare his nipples.
He grimaced.  Soon he could not contain himself any more, and panted, and
gasped, until his gasps began to sound like screams.  He had better scream,
he knew that.  When horsewomen were in the mood that Niki was in just now,
then they loved to see signs of terror, and to hear the sounds of pain. 
Giving them what they wanted was---or might at least be---a way of pleasing
them and of bringing relief nearer.  But all the time, he kept feeling
horny, and this was really amazing.

   And then Niki wanted his sex, and Ariti let go of it, and Niki backed
off a step or two to make room for herself.  Fallou's worst fears were
coming true.  Niki began whipping his belly, and the rod that was lying
exposed and helpless on it, and his ball bag and the insides of his thighs,
and he thought, praise be the Upper and the Nether Gods that she is using
such a light scourge, that stings and burns but does not bruise.  But it
did sting; and the utter absurd cruelty of it made him break down
completely and he screamed, not because it was proper or expedient but
because he had to, and he screamed louder and more desperately than he had
done since he had been hung and whipped on that night, on the Passage-place
on the hill of the fires.  And Niki had worked herself into an ecstasy, and
she was yelling obscene abuse at him at the top of her voice.  You
man-worm! You dog, you dog-shit, you worthless offal, you silly breastless
prick-bearer, you male!  And then she told him what she would really like
to do to him: whip every last patch of his skin, cut him to pieces slowly,
crush his stones with Ariti's tongs, cut his member to pieces ...  and then
nail his living remains to the log.  Finally, it was Ariti who put an end
to the performance.  Niki stood, flushed, her tongue hanging out, and
looked at her victim for a moment.  Then she threw the scourge away, knelt
and began ministering to him, taking his now flaccid penis between her
palms and making soothing sounds, as if she actually felt compassion. 
Fallou gasped and hiccupped, trying to regain this breath.  At last he got
a grip on himself and reassessed the situation.  If Niki really meant what
she had said, then she must be insane (or, as his people expressed it, the
Nightly Ones must have taken her reason away from her).  But she had only
been giving free reins to her fantasies, of course.  At least he hoped so.
More than ever, he was grateful that he was not left alone with this
child-devil.

   Strangely enough, his virility returned to him.  How could this vicious
little brat, quite immature as yet, have this effect on him?  Or was it the
situation---did he actually derive pleasure from it?  He tried to forget
his burning skin and enjoy the treatment.  It did not continue for long,
however.  Niki darted away to a dark corner of the tent, and when she
returned after a moment, she was holding the sex-ring.

   So she was ready for the grand finale, at last.  She pushed the ring in
place, very roughly and after quite a bit of experimenting.  He grimaced
and she saw it and wrenched his member savagely and taunted him: that did
hurt, did it not?  Served him right, feeling pain where males got all their
pleasure!  That was not true, thought Fallou.  He got pleasure from his
nipples and his ass-hole too, even now.  And there was that other pleasure,
that came not from outside but from inside, and which he felt whenever
Atossa handled him, or even when he just thought of Atossa.  She had often
done this to him, chastising his member before using it, and before she
gave him the other, physical pleasure, and relief.  And so he thought of
her.  Whatever was done to him, it was because Atossa wanted it to happen.
Whatever he suffered, he suffered it for her.  When Niki was giving him
pain, then Atossa was guiding her hand---Atossa was the ultimate, the real
pain-giver and pleasure-dispenser.  And his thought, when Niki gave the
ring a last tug, was that he loved Atossa.

   Now Niki was massaging him again.  Again, he responded, and his member
was hard as a stick, and every movement of Niki's hands hurt.  And Niki
spread her legs wide, standing across the log and the man on it, and
without releasing her grip, she started ramming herself down on his member,
impaling herself on it.

   She was extremely tight.  The pain of the ring increased, but mostly
because she was pulling the skin of his penis violently downward, for she
had scarcely got even the gland inside her yet.  He whimpered, and soon he
screamed.  Still, she was clearly hurting herself nearly as badly as she
was hurting him.  Gasping and contorting her face, she thrust and thrust
and thrust, savagely, in a rage of cruelty to him and to herself.  Her
mouth was ajar and hoarse rasping sounds came from it, audible only in the
intervals between the slave's screams.  Her eyes bulged.  Fallou saw this
only dimly, for he was tightly enclosed in the shell that pain and terror
had created around him, but she seemed to be having a fit.

   And then Niki stayed herself.  She straddled him, still grasping his sex
but with scarcely two inches of it inside her, and she seemed completely
oblivious of her surroundings, even of the male that she had impaled
herself on.  And then she howled with despair and pulled herself loose,
clutching her crotch with both hands, and rushed away and Fallou could hear
her wailing from the sleeping-place in the darkest part of the tent.  He
realized that she had failed.  She had thought it all up, she had staged
the show, she had intended to take out all her pent-up resentment and
cruelty on him and crown it by raping him---and she had failed.  The
wailing was that of a lost soul.

   Lykomaki moved over to her daughter and tried to comfort her.  But Ariti
came up to the log and stood, looking down at him.  A ghost of a smile
seemed to hover around her.  She bent down and patted his cheek.  Had it
been bad?  Was he in great pain?  She did not leave him but remained where
she was, gazing at him.  The sparse light from the door fell across her
from the side, sculpting her shoulders, breasts and belly into a female
landscape that managed to arouse him again, in spite of the pain and the
horrors that he had experienced.  She spoke gently to him.  A little bit of
sex would be nice now, would it not?  Perhaps she should mount and use him.
That hook would presumably feel lovely inside him when Ariti was riding him
at a brisk trot!  She stood with her hands on her broad hips, her breasts
thrust out and her feet apart, and she was fearsome and still lovely, and
he said, yes please, do.  On the other hand, she continued, it might do him
good to remain where he was, nailed to the log, until the morning.  A good
night's rest and all that.

   But Niki's sobbing and hiccuping continued, and Lykomaki spoke to Ariti,
who went over to her, and they whispered together for a while.  Then Ariti
returned to Fallou and looked at him thoughtfully.  She leant over him, and
another whispered conversation was held.  Fallou nodded consent and assured
Ariti of his good will and his obedience; Ariti freed his arms and feet,
then she fetched a crowbar and pried his neck loose.  Moving like an
inchworm, Fallou slowly disengaged from the hook.  He paused when only the
ball remained inside him.  Then a last movement and a grimace of pain, and
he was free.

   Ariti steadied him when he got to his feet.  He staggered over to Niki,
fell to his knees in front of her and offered his services.  She looked at
him with large, red-rimmed eyes but was silent; Ariti however ordered him
curtly to get on with it.  He came down beside her, he spoke softly to her.
She should not despair.  She would grow up a great and fearsome horsewoman,
a master of men, and men would fear her and delight in serving her.  He too
would serve her willingly, if it pleased her.  He kissed her nearest nipple
and tickled the other.  She would go to Tarrati and become a sorceress, and
she would learn how to rule and use males; and surely she would be given
males to use, young boys at first, but in a couple of years she would ride
grown men with ease.  She squirmed and drew a deep breath and he kissed the
other nipple, sucking it cautiously.  He would lie on the log again when
she returned, and she could do as she pleased with him, if Atossa permitted
it.  He returned to the first nipple and probed her crotch; she spread her
legs willingly and he slid a finger down her slit.  She moved her hips in
response.  His finger entered between her labia, and they were wet; he took
her nipple between his lips and sucked again, a little harder.  She
groaned. His finger played around her vagina.  She whimpered a little, but
when he desisted, she told him in a thick voice to continue.

   He raised himself on an elbow, looking down at her.  He saw a child that
had hurt herself---no, who had been hurt by the demon inside her---and he
had no time to put a name to his own feeling at that moment.  Instead, he
rested himself between her legs and put his face to her sex.  He kissed
her. He used his tongue between her labia, he entered gingerly into her
vagina.  He made her raise her knees a bit, and sliding his arms up under
her thighs, he reached her nipples and grasped them.  Now he went seriously
to work, serving her as he used to serve his regular mistresses, and she
began moving her hips rhythmically while her hands found his hair and
grasped it and pulled.  He was relieved  †'