Females of Vulvar Page 7

  She entered her bedchamber. I cautiously entered behind her. She stopped and turned to face me.

  “Kneel, pretty slave,” she said, pointing to the floor.

  I dropped to my knees. Taking a leather thong from a drawer, she walked behind me. She grabbed my wrists and pulled them roughly behind my back and then bound them together with the strip of leather. Then she walked around to stand before me.

  “You look so pretty in your collar, slave,” she said with an insolent smirk. Then to my amazement, in one fluid motion, she pulled the shift off over her head, casually exposing to me her nakedness as if I was nothing more than a domestic pet animal. Her beauty so overwhelmed me, it took my breath away.

  Laughing, she turned away and climbed carelessly onto the bed. Lying down on her back with her legs straight, she reached back and fluffed the pillows behind her head. Then she pulled her legs to her until they were slightly bent before spreading her thighs wide, baring her perfectly shaven sex. Provocatively, she touched the manicured tip of one long finger to her mouth and then, with agonizing slowness, trailed the same fingertip down her body until it rested on her exposed sex.

  “Come, pretty slave,” she purred. “Pleasure your mistress as they do it on Earth. Pleasure me with your mouth and tongue.”

  Gulping, I shakily got to my feet. I felt my manhood filling and straining against the tube. Somehow I stumbled to the bed and awkwardly climbed onto it.

  Chapter 8

  An Unexpected Offer

  In the morning, I woke on the bed in my quarters at the sound of the first bell marking the first hour after a troubled night of sleep.

  On Vulvar, I’d never seen a clock or watch, though there is a system of time and for marking its passage. The custom is to refer to each of the 32 hours in the day by number.

  The first hour begins at dawn. A bell is struck once to mark the first hour, the beginning of the day. In all, there are seven bells, and they strike the bells at times throughout the day the Vulvarians consider important. Bell towers are located strategically about the city so that the citizens might hear the bell strikes wherever they might be.

  The third hour, or three bells, marked by three strikes, is the traditional beginning of the workday. This is the hour when businesses, markets, and government offices open and when the school day begins for children.

  Rather than marking an hour, two bells, announced with two bell strikes, alerts everyone in the city there is one-half hour until three bells so everyone can get to their respective places, work, or school by the beginning of the third hour.

  Four bells, at the seventh hour, is the time of the traditional midday meal break. They follow it with five bells to mark the end of the seventh hour and the meal break. Six bells announce the twelfth hour, the customary end of the workday. Seven bells, which comes at dusk, marks the end of the daylight period. It is the final bell each day. For whatever reason, Vulvarians care little about marking the passage of the hours of darkness.

  It seemed I had well pleased my mistress the previous evening, given she had kept me in her bedchamber for what had seemed more than an hour before dismissing me to return to my quarters to sleep. Her incessant moans, shrieks of pleasure, and the way her hips had bucked again and again were further evidence of the delight she took in the ways of Earth. The entire episode had seemed surreal. Not only had I never dreamed my mistress would allow me to touch her exquisite body, but I had also assumed, given the low esteem in which they held males on Vulvar, that all the females must surely be lesbians.

  As I thought back to what had transpired, I felt ambivalent about the encounter. There had been no relief of the desire that had burned within me. Also, the frustration had been fused with the excruciating pain of my swollen manhood trapped within the tube. She had tortured me with her beauty, tormenting and tantalizing me, with the cruelty made all the keener knowing she had only used me for her pleasure.

  In the darkness, I touched my mouth, swollen from how enthusiastically she had ground herself against my lips and mouth. Throwing off the blanket, I got out of bed. My mistress expected me in the kitchen for my breakfast of gruel before the second bell, and then I would begin my chores for the day.

  Apprehensively, I entered the kitchen, where I found my mistress preparing breakfast. As she required, I knelt on the floor until she acknowledged me.

  “Good morning, my slave,” she said. “Take your seat at the table.”

  Standing up, I walked to the small table where I ate my meals and sat down. To my surprise, she set before me a plate of fried Chalactan eggs, a thick slice of roasted meat from the hind of the Besalisk, not unlike cured ham on Earth, and slices of toasted brown bread. It was a veritable feast compared to my usual morning fare. Was today a Vulvarian holiday I wasn’t aware of, or was this my reward for pleasuring her, I wondered?

  I was even more astonished when she placed a second plate on the table and sat down across from me to eat. She had always taken her meals separately from me. I ate, finding the food delicious.

  “You pleased me well last evening, my slave,” my mistress said with a mischievous grin. “You may expect me to use you often.”

  I wasn’t certain whether she expected a reply, but burning with curiosity, I found the boldness to speak.

  “May I speak?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “How is it,” I said, “that it was permissible for me to pleasure you in that way when your laws and codes forbid copulation between females and males?”

  “Did you dislike it, slave?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “I delighted in worshiping you, mistress.”

  “Well said, my slave,” she laughed. “Indeed, you worshipped me with enthusiasm.”

  “Concern about the harsh penalties for a male who violates the laws of your world prompted my question, mistress,” I said.

  “You need not worry,” she said. “In the code, copulation refers only to the penetration of the female with the male appendage. Otherwise, I am free to use my property for my pleasure as I see fit.”

  “I had presumed, given the customs of your world, that here females must only desire pleasure from other females,” I said.

  “You are curious for a slave,” my mistress chided. “Curiosity is not always becoming.”

  I said nothing.

  “Some Vulvarian females feel sexual attraction to other females. Some become partners, and yes, delight in pleasuring each other. But, as you know, I have no partner. Our code prohibits such for those of the Kohtuhree of Priestesses. The code does not permit us to take partners or lie with other females. That is the will of the Goddess-Queens.”

  “I see,” I said.

  Neither of us spoke for a while. But after finishing my food, I had more questions.

  “May I speak,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “May I know the name of my mistress?”

  “Why do you wish to know it, curious slave? You may not use it. In fact, I would severely punish you for doing so.”

  I was silent.

  “Melriel,” she said, not looking at me. “My name is Melriel. The name of your mistress is Melriel. Take care that you do not utter my name. For you, I have only the name mistress.”

  “Yes, mistress,” I said.

  “May I speak?”

  “Yes, what is it now, curious slave?” she said.

  “Does the code of your kohtuhree permit you to self-pleasure?”

  “You may not speak,” she said irritably.

  After a moment, she continued. “There will be no chores for you today, slave. I have business at the Hall of Priestesses. You shall accompany me there. Go wash and dress in a clean tunic.”

  “Yes, mistress,” I said, getting up from the table.

  ◆◆◆

  While washing, I marveled at not only the sumptuous meal Melriel had served me but how she had dined with me and had treated me kindly during breakfast. It delighted me to receive a break from t
he mind-numbing daily chores and pleased me she required me to accompany her to the Hall of Priestesses.

  I’d already learned the means of support for priestesses, for lack of a better term, was a canonical tax imposed on the free citizens of the other kohtuhrees. Melriel did not report for work each day to earn her living. This was the first time since I became her slave she needed to go to the Hall of Priestesses on business. Usually, she spent her days in the library studying from her religious tomes.

  I had little knowledge of exactly what being a member of the priestess class meant for Melriel as far as specific duties and responsibilities. I knew only that the Kohtuhree of Priestesses primarily served as the clergy on Vulvar, presiding over the religious sacrifices when the Vulvarians worshipped and prayed to their Goddess-Queens. They also presided over religious ceremonies and festivals. But that was the extent of my knowledge.

  Oddly enough, Amanuensis, my tutor, had given me little religious instruction, other than to encourage my respect for the Goddess-Queens. He insisted that the province of religious matters on Vulvar was exclusively that of the priestesses who jealously guarded it. They allowed members of other kohtuhrees little participation in their sacrifices and ceremonies. In an unguarded moment, Amanuensis once admitted he believed the primary function of the Kohtuhree of Priestesses is to keep the lower kohtuhrees contented with their lot compared to that of the higher kohtuhrees to maintain good societal order.

  Once washed and dressed, I returned to the first level to await further instructions from Melriel, my mistress. There I found her waiting at the foot of the stairs leading to the upper floor with the delicate chain leash in hand. I knelt, and she attached the leash to my collar.

  “Slave, today you are to meet the Chief Priestess of Thiva, my superior,” Melriel said. “You will be on your best behavior and will not speak beyond answering questions she directs to you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “It is quite unusual for the Chief Priestess to summon a mere slave for an audience. She gave me no explanation for it. My advice is to guard your words carefully, that things may go well with you.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  With the clear warning given, Melriel bade me come, and we left the house for the streetcar stop. Despite her unusually kind demeanor at breakfast, I had suspected by the end of the meal that Melriel was somewhat troubled about something. She seemed even more anxious as we boarded a coach at the stop.

  Evidently, something about the meeting and her lack of knowledge about why I’d been summoned worried her. By the time the streetcar deposited us at the stop near the Hall of Priestesses, I too was feeling somewhat anxious.

  ◆◆◆

  The office of the Chief Priestess was on the third level of the hall, a large, impressive structure constructed entirely of white marble, both the exterior and the interior. It put me in mind of a temple. Even the stairways we had climbed to the third level were of the same material.

  A thick carpet of gold covered the floors of the hall, and the walls held colorful tapestries depicting religious scenes. An attractive woman wearing the same long white, gold-trimmed tunic Melriel wore rose from behind a large wooden desk when we stepped into the antechamber outside the office of the Chief Priestess. Like my mistress, she too was bald. She greeted Melriel warmly by name, and then immediately escorted us in to see Melriel’s superior.

  The Chief Priestess rose from a chair beside a long wooden table as we entered the room. I felt a tug on the leash chain and realized Melriel intended that I kneel. I did so, and Melriel dropped hold of the leash. She advanced close to the Chief Priestess. After genuflecting, she reached out for the hand her superior offered and touched her lips to the stone of a large gold ring worn on a finger of the woman’s hand. Once Melriel stood up, the Chief Priestess clasped her upper arms, pulled her close, and they exchanged kisses on opposite cheeks.

  “Please, sit, Melriel,” the older woman said, waving her hand toward the long table.

  Instinctively, I glanced toward the table and saw another woman wearing a white red-trimmed tunic already seated there. To my astonishment, I recognized it was my mother. The Chief Priestess arrested my attention when she spoke, and I realized she was standing before me.

  “I am Gaylia, Chief Priestess of Thiva,” the woman said. “You may rise Tobias Hart. Please take a seat at the table beside your mistress.”

  I stood up, surprised that the woman had addressed me by name. It was the first time I’d heard my name spoken since becoming a slave. As I sat down, my mother spoke.

  “Hail, Tobias Hart,” she said with a warm smile.

  “Hail, mother,” I said in reply.

  Gaylia walked to the head of the table and sat down on the chair she had occupied when Melriel and I had arrived.

  “How do you find our world, Tobias Hart?”

  “I find it interesting, Your Excellency,” I said. “It’s quite different from my home planet.”

  Not knowing the protocol for addressing her respectfully, I’d chosen to fall back on my own religious traditions. “Your Excellency” seemed a better choice than “Most Reverend Mother.”

  Gaylia seemed amused, whether with me or at my spur-of-the-moment attempt at offering a respectful religious honorific I wasn’t certain.

  “Have you been well treated in your new household, Tobias Hart?”

  Recalling the warning I’d received earlier from Melriel, I immediately said, “Yes, Your Excellency. Quite well, thank you.”

  Gaylia gave me a knowing smile. I sensed she knew I had been less than candid. She didn’t call me on it, however. Undoubtedly, she understood I was in no position, given my owner’s presence, to speak freely.

  “Good,” she said after a time. “I understand you were educated and trained as an archaeologist on Earth.”

  “That’s correct, Your Excellency.” Since no one had yet corrected me, I stuck with the honorific.

  Gaylia nodded sagely. Since she too was bald, the third such woman I’d seen, I thought it safe to assume it was a requirement that all priestesses shaved their heads. I could not estimate her age, but clearly, she was the eldest Vulvarian woman I’d met. She was tall like all Vulvarian females, but she appeared somewhat emaciated. There was a hollowness in the cheeks and the fine lines and wrinkles on her face that indicated advanced aging.

  Gaylia continued speaking. “The Goddess-Queens require someone with your skills and experience.”

  “They require an archaeologist?” I said in surprise.

  “Precisely. Someone competent to investigate historic sites, who understands how to interpret links to the past, and with the experience and knowledge needed to find and preserve important cultural relics.”

  “Are there no Vulvarian archaeologists the Goddess-Queens can call on for whatever the task they have in mind?” I said. Not that I wasn’t intrigued that the Goddess-Queens, whoever or whatever they were, seemed to need my help with something. But it seemed very odd they would entrust what was evidently something they deemed an important assignment to a mere slave on their world, or more to the point, a mere man.

  “No. It isn’t a discipline we’ve needed on Vulvar. Until now, at least.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “It’s clear you have mastered fluency in our language. I understand you’ve received education in our history and legends, social structures and customs, and so forth, since your arrival on Vulvar.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  “That too is part of the reason the Goddess-Queens commanded I summon you to this council.”

  “I’m flattered that the Goddess-Queens feel I’m competent to do whatever it is they have in mind, Your Excellency,” I said. “But, I must point out that my archaeological education and experience is of Earth. Given the difference in the civilizations, I’m uncertain I’m qualified for an archaeological expedition on this world.”

  “Tobias Hart, the Goddess-Queens are all-wise and all-knowi
ng. If they have deemed you qualified for the undertaking, then you are qualified.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  “As you know, a great war occurred on this planet some six-hundred Vulvarian years ago. It virtually wiped out the males of our species and severely damaged the planet. As I expect you are also aware, that is when females became ascendant and came to power. Frankly, the last six-hundred years is all the history anyone on this world cares about. When men ruled this planet, there was constant social upheaval and war, until men came close to utterly destroying our world. I’m certain you understand how we might see there is nothing from over six hundred years in the past we view as worthy of investigation or preservation. We need not learn about preserving injustice and waging war as neither has any place on this world any longer.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency, I understand,” I said.

  I had agreed with her to be cordial. As an archaeologist, I saw the perspective she described as beyond short-sighted, believing there was always value in the study of civilizations past. Yet, I wasn’t a Vulvarian. It didn’t seem to be my place to disagree with her point.

  “It is for that reason we have no archaeologists, no one competent to take on an assignment requiring the ability to navigate the ancient past.”

  “I see,” I said. “How far back are we speaking about, Your Excellency?”

  “Around one thousand years before the ascendancy of females.”

  “So, about 1,600 Vulvarian years ago,” I said.

  “Yes,” the Chief Priestess agreed. “Given your circumstances, Tobias Hart, I’m sure you must wonder why it seems the Goddess-Queens are requesting your help. It must have occurred to you we might simply order you to take on the task or any other, and you would be obliged to do it. Correct?”