Chapter 8

Lunch went smoothly. He ate alone with a few boarding party members stopping to talk briefly about the morning's drill. Some complained that it was too basic, some that it was too advanced and others to offer advice on what was really needed. He accepted all advice and criticism with the same bland thoughtfulness. This wasn't any different than running a drill at the academy, which he had helped with for the past two seasons and actually ran for the last one. A venting student was a happy student they used to say; it's when they're quiet that something's wrong and you have to worry.

Lunch finished, he wandered up on deck to observe the changing of the watch and the precise rituals they went through. Just like changing the guard, he thought. The more he watched the sailors and this ship, the more he recognized the similarities between them and any land-based fighting force. The medium was different and a few of the methods, maybe, but still very similar. After all there were differences between desert and mountain warfare but they're still basically similar; why not war on the land and sea? It was an area not extensively covered at the academy so he was learning on his own here.

He had about an hour before the next drill session so he decided it might be a good idea to run through a modified version of the T'chi. He needed something to limber him up, get the muscles that had been abused this morning moving again. He didn't want to be tight and unable to move if he had to do another demonstration for the afternoon group.

Besides, it would give him time to think about future exercises and drill, and maybe not think about the wonderful massage Sosho had given him before lunch, and also not about how wonderful her breasts felt next to his cheek or her soft but firm bottom as she sat on his lap. Ye Gods! Not only did he have how many unknown numbers of people trying to kill him but now he had two beautiful nymphs that were going to drive his poor hormone-saturated body absolutely crazy! At least dealing with the homicidally inclined he didn't have to worry about hurting someone he loved!

The afternoon went smoother than he had expected. Word from the morning's session must have spread for there were no takers when he offered a one-on-one or even two-on-one demonstration.

The biggest problem was there were far too many in the afternoon that were -- there was no better way to put it -- unsuitable for the position. Some were physically unfit: too fat, too small, or too weak. Others were mentally unfit: unable to work with a partner, unwilling to take or follow orders. Others still just didn't want to work very hard and were just not going to fit in the squad scheme. It was obvious the replacements used to fill in for those lost in the Pinya boarding were the sludge in the bottom of the barrel.

He wasn't quite sure what to do about it though. It was somewhat amusing, in a sick sort of way, that part of this problem was self-induced. After all, if he hadn't killed so many there wouldn't be so many replacements. If he got a chance to talk with the Captain maybe he would have a solution. After all it was his crew.

By the time six bells sounded he was totally exhausted and ready to lie down and pass out. He was so tired he wasn't even hungry, which -- considering the amount of energy he had expended -- was saying something. Struggling to move, he followed the squads over to the side where they were rinsing themselves off with cool seawater. The rinse was so refreshing that the anticipated itch of it drying on his skin didn't bother him at all. He did wonder if there was such a thing as soap on this ship. The crew didn't seem to worry about its use much; in fact most didn't worry about washing at all.

Rinsing out his vest as best he could, he wrung it out and carried it down to the berthing compartment. He noticed the hum and muttering of everyday life didn't come to a complete halt when he walked through, an indication, he hoped, that the crew was becoming used to his presence. Walking around the chain locker bulkhead into the short passage leading to their area, he abruptly ran into a cloth curtain strung across the passageway. Fumbling at the cloth he was finally able to push it aside and enter the space. Both women were sitting on the bunk, Sosho doing needlework as was her practice these days and Nesho sifting through a basket of herbs. Sosho looked, grinned, jumped up and stepped over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a huge hug. Wrapping a free arm around her, he squeezed her affectionately.

"Well, someone seems to be glad to see you!" Nesho observed from her seat. She was smiling up at them but there was something else in her face that bothered Dent. Jealousy? For the life of him he couldn't think of why there would be but he knew if it was there -- and not just his imagination -- then it could be bad.

"Well aren't you?" he said to her. Dropping his vest, he held out his other arm inviting her to join them. That something seemed to flicker and was just as suddenly gone as she stood up and moved into his embrace.

"Of course I'm glad to see you," she said laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes for a moment. Sighing, she lifted her head and looked him over. "How are you? Sosho said you had been banged around pretty well this morning. How was this afternoon?"

"Not quite as bad," he replied, pushing them gently away from him. "You better back off. Not only am I still wet but probably stinky as well."

Leaning forward, Sosho made a big show of sniffing his neck and chest.

"Hmm," she mumbled, "I have to admit I've smelled worse, but I've also smelled a lot better." She ducked and giggled when he took a playful swipe at her.

"At least you try to clean up," commented Nesho. "I'm beginning to believe that body odor is just another weapon they use around here."

"Maybe it is," Dent laughed, "but I could sure use a little soap if there is any to be found on board."

"I'll look in the closet they call Sick Bay," Nesho said, her arm still around him refusing to be pushed away. "Festou and I were down there most of the day. What a mess! It seems there really isn't anyone assigned to it; everyone goes in and helps themselves. Nothing is labeled! Nothing put away! It's a wonder there isn't massive disease on this ship by now. I have made a list of various herbs and simples that should be stocked the next time we enter port. If you would mention it to the Captain the next time you see him... ?"

"Sure," he chuckled, "although he's just as likely to throw it back at me as take it. Doesn't seem to be all that concerned with the immediate health of his crew, but that may be an act. You write down what you think they need and I'll tell him its combat stores. Maybe that will help"

"Good," she said sighing. "I've already had a number come to me with this complaint or that. Most I would be able to help if there were decent supplies available." She stopped and looked thoughtful for a ;moment. "You know there seems to be a fair number of decent folk in this crew, and that's not something I would have believed even yesterday. Why I only had four offers for some comfort work today, none from those looking for medication. I don't know if that means we're becoming a little more accepted or if I'm just too old for them to want anything to do with me."

"Must be the former," he said giving her a squeeze, "because I know it can't be the latter. You're the most beautiful woman on board this ship..." Sosho harrumphed and poked him in the side, "... over eighteen seasons," he corrected quickly noting her sniffed reply possibly meant she was placated. "It scares me to death when either one of you are out of my sight. Don't be fooled. There are some very rough characters around here. They may not be real pirates but I think even the good sailors aren't to be fully trusted. They live in their own little world here and a woman's function is pretty specific as far as they're concerned. I'm surprised we haven't had more trouble, but I glad we haven't."

"We haven't," Sosho blurted, "because you 'scare the dribbles outa them.' That's what one of the men in the compartment said today. They think you're some kind of poisonous snake: one wrong move and you'll kill them without thinking. How does it feel, being the mad dog on a chain with everybody hoping the chain is strong enough?"

"Hmm," Dent thought for a moment then sighed. "Well if that's what keeps them away then I need to make sure they keep thinking that. Let me know if anyone bothers you. Anyone. I don't know how long before we hit port, and I'm not really sure what will happen when we do, but until we can get you off this ship we all have to be extremely careful."

"Some of the sailors were talking as if they expected to be in port in about a week," Sosho said. Dent looked at her oddly. "Well," she said blushing, "they talk while I'm doing their mending and I listen. Anyway from what they say we could be in Harv'el in three days but it will take a week because we're staying with the Pinya." Then she looked at Dent with real fear in her eyes.

"Dent?" she said her voice trembling. "They keep asking why we," she pointed to Nesho then herself, "don't have marks. The said all slaves have tattoos and we have to get ours when we reach Jeevel. Am I going to have to get a tattoo? The said they put them on your face! Oh gods! I don't think I could live with that!" She started crying.

"I don't know," he drew her in tightly to himself while she buried her face in his neck. "I just don't know; everything is so different here."

Slavery in Salas had been a matter more for the justice system than a matter of private property. Criminals, those not violent enough to be put to death immediately, could have their property and life forfeited to the Putramee, that is they became property of the Putram, but pure slavery as an institution didn't exist.

There were bondsman and indentured servitude. A poor family might sell a young son or daughter to a wealthy household but the resulting servitude had strict limits on the types of service as well as the time. Many former indentured servants when their time was served became prosperous citizens in their own right and it wasn't unknown for a pretty servant to end up as wife to her former master. The matter of servitude was in many respects a matter of civil contract law rather than ownership. There was never any consideration of permanently disfiguring the servant as a symbol of their status as property.

Still talking, hoping to calm the frightened girl with his voice, he continued, "Captain Val mentioned something else, a salidin? It sounded like some kind of necklace. [He actually said collar, but necklace sounded better.] He said that slaves had to have either one of those or a tattoo. I don't know what it is but whatever it is it can't be worse than a tattoo. Don't worry, little bit, we'll work it out. Nesho, have you ever heard of a salidin?"

"It sounds familiar," she said with a puzzled look, "it sounds like the old tongue. Something like el salidina protectocores, which means 'the ties that protect'. But what would that have to do with collars and slaves?" She had heard what was said and didn't mince words: a collar was a collar.

"I don't know," Dent admitted. "Maybe I can ask the pilot, Seth. He seemed friendly enough. It's probably common enough knowledge around here, maybe even Festou would know. Anyway it is nothing we can do anything about right now." Lifting his arms from around their shoulders he stretched them over his head groaning as he did. "Ye gods! It's been a long time since I've felt this tired. I feel like a piece of meat that someone has been tenderizing all day. If you don't mind I think I'll just lie down for a few minutes before eve meal. I'm so tired I'm not even hungry." Kicking his boots off he lay face down on the bunk not even wondering where the other two were going to sit.

"Here, let me rub your shoulders," said Sosho.

"Never you mind that," said Nesho pushing the young woman out of her way towards the foot of the bunk. "I'll do that; there must be some mending you need to finish."

"I have as much mending as you have potions to mix. Besides," she said snippily, "he said I did a very good job earlier today."

"I'm sure you did an adequate job," Nesho said frostily, "but since you are not even an apprentice healer, I think I know what is best."

Struggling to get up on his side, Dent muttered, "Please stop! I can't believe the two of you are arguing over who can rub my shoulders!" Turning, he bumped a bruise on his knee that had been bothering him since morning. "Ouch!" he said grimacing.

"What's wrong with your leg?" they both said in unison sounding more like scolding wives than aunt or cousin. Looking at each other for a second they both started to giggle and then turned back to their patient.

"Let's get his trousers off," said Nesho. Over his feeble attempts to remain clothed, the two women deftly flipped him over, untied his trouser lacing and pulled them over and off his legs.

"Ah, that must hurt," Sosho said as she eyed the yellowish bruise that went from the outside of his knee around to his calf.

"Yes, I'm sure it does," Nesho agreed oblivious to the fact that the object of their scrutiny was blushing very red and wishing he could crawl under anything that was handy, nothing of which seemed to be available at that particular time.

"Hmm, I don't have any analgesic ointment made up yet. Dear," she said to Sosho pointing to a basket with a few dried leaves hanging out, "take those bischut leaves and soak them in the pan for a few minutes. Then with a rag rub them over the bruise. It won't help much, but it's better than nothing. Then if you like you can rub his legs down. I'm sure they're as sore as the rest of him." Dent felt like a horse the vet and horsemaster were discussing. It was apparent that he had little, no, take that back, he had nothing to add to the discussion.

He tried to protest as Nesho flipped him back over but his pathetic snarling was soon drowned out by groans of pleasure as her strong fingers started working on his sore neck and shoulders. Soon there was nothing but muffled 'oooohs' and 'aaaahs' emanating from the general direction of his head with his face pressed down into the mattress.

He felt like he was floating as those magic fingers soothed and relaxed each tightly-clenched muscle. He didn't know how much time had passed but he felt something soothing pressed to the bruise on his knee. Sometime later another pair of hands joined the first working on his stiff and sore legs. As he started to dreamily drift off to sleep he felt hands start to push him over on his back. Lying there like a lead weight he was trying to think if he should expend the energy to help those wonderful hands turn him over when he suddenly became aware of a big reason why he shouldn't, a very big reason!

It wasn't my fault! he thought to himself. I had no control! The fact was that the massage had felt so wonderful, so soothing, that he could now feel that he had one of the hardest erections that he had ever felt! Sure, sure, with two beautiful women rubbing all over your body, the noble reaction was certainly to be expected, but ye gods! Not in front of both of them! Together! Now! Pressing himself down into the mattress as hard as he could, which didn't help bring his problem down in the least little bit, he muttered something about staying where he was.

"No you don't," Nesho said. "Turn over now so we can get your front." When he resisted she poked him under the arm causing him to gasp and start to pull his legs and arms in just a little. It was enough. When he moved, two sets of hands grabbed him firmly and rolled him over too quickly for him to react.

There was a moment of silence.

"Oh," said Sosho.

"My," finished Nesho.

"Oh, my" gasped Sosho again.

"It would appear someone is feeling much better," grinned Nesho.

"I-I-I, uh, I'm, oh, ah..." Dent couldn't get his mouth to utter anything coherent. His cock was pushed up and out of his small clothes by about two inches, the fat purple head close to his belly button while the thick turgid shaft tried to lift upright only being restrained by the tightness of his shorts. His face a flaming red, he tried to cover himself with his hands.

Knowing that levity wasn't appropriate in this situation Nesho smiled at him and brushed the hair back from his brow where a lock had fallen.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Dent," she said softly. "It is natural, you know. It happens and we really shouldn't make fun of you."

"May I see it?" Sosho's hand was stopped halfway toward the large mushroom head, her eyes big and round as saucers. "I-I've never seen one like this before." She looked up at Dent imploringly, "May I see it? Please?"

Not trusting his voice yet Dent nodded his head yes.

Slowly, as if it was a snake that might strike at any second, Sosho reached out and gently started to pull his small clothes down. She couldn't quite get them to move smoothly and started to tug them with a little more force.

"Here, let me help," said Nesho softly. She reached over and grasped the cloth on both side of his hips and pulled them down half way to his knees. Released from its confinement, his turgid member sprang up off his stomach to a forty-five degree angle, standing there and pulsing with the beat of his heart.

As if entranced by the serpent in front of her, Sosho reached out to touch his cock, at the last second stopping and glancing at him with her silent question. Again he nodded his head slightly and her attentions returned to his erect phallus. Using one finger she lightly traced the outline of the head, down over the flared glans and down the underside to just above where the scrotum started. He groaned as he felt her light touch. Thinking she was hurting him, Sosho quickly pulled her finger back.

"You're not hurting him, darling," Nesho reassured her. "In fact you're giving him pleasure, isn't she, baby?"

Dent, eyes closed could only nod.

"Here, really feel how magnificent he is," Nesho whispered as she took her daughter's hand and gently wrapped the fingers around the shaft so that she was holding him like a club. Sosho couldn't believe how large it was, the combination of warm velvet skin over an iron hard rod. Nesho's hand, still wrapped around Sosho's, started moving both of theirs slowly up and down his shaft.

Sosho was fascinated by this new toy in her hand. She was drawn to it like a moth to a candle. It felt so, so, right! She should be touching it! Feeling it! And, and, something else as well. She was no child for all that she was untouched by man. She knew where this was supposed to go and how it was supposed to work, but the idea of this massive thing stuck into her little hole... It wouldn't fit! Couldn't fit! Impossible! Nobody could take that! But nonetheless she knew that was where it was supposed to go. She could feel the wetness between her legs, first just as moisture more than as actual wetness, then beads of moisture actually soaked into her own undergarments.

She bent over until the head was merely inches away from her face. She could see the fine network of blue veins just beneath the skin, the small hole at the very tip that oozed a slimy clear liquid with each stroke of her hand. As she continued her manual ministrations, Dent's groans became deeper and less controlled. She could hear Nesho softly talking to her, guiding her with words as she took her hand away leaving the girl's hand alone on the huge pulsing cock.

"Keep stroking baby, firmly but not too hard," her mother whispered. "Feel him beneath your hand, how good he feels, how strong. Stroke him gently baby, watch his face: you'll see when he's about to cum. See his face, almost there, almost..." Suddenly Dent's lips pulled back in a grimace mimicking pain and Sosho felt the balls resting next to her hand begin to contract.

Moving quickly like a pouncing cat Nesho pushed Sosho aside, grabbed Dent's cock and sucked the bulbous end into her mouth. Stunned, Sosho could only watch as her mother, hand again wrapped around hers, quickly slid both of their hands up and down his rod pumping whatever it was she could feel rising up inside the shaft into her mouth.

Whatever had been coming out must have stopped, Sosho surmised, as Dent's body suddenly relaxed and Nesho slowed their hands until they finally stopped. The head of his cock left her mouth with a loud smack as Nesho lifted her face away from him. Sosho could only stare at her mother as she leaned back; the look on her face was that of a cat who just finished off a huge saucer of cream. Nesho looked up at her and smiled as she swallowed whatever was in her mouth. Then she winked and turned back to the man lying on the bunk gasping for breath. "Did that feel good?" she murmured as she released her hand from around Sosho's and moved it up over his stomach muscles and caressed his chest. He was barely able to nod, his eyes only half open. "Did your women please you, oh master?"

Sosho looked for any hint of teasing or sarcasm in that phrase but was surprised to find none, just heartfelt warmth and love. Reaching down Nesho gently pulled up his small clothes until Sosho was forced to release his quickly deflating penis. She hadn't even remembered to let go, she was so stunned by what had happened. Releasing his manhood -- reluctantly, she was again forced to admit -- she helped pull up his shorts.

Looking over at her Nesho said, "Do you want to rest with him? He needs the rest and I think it would be best if one of us stayed with him."

Sosho's head was spinning. She couldn't decide if she wanted to lie down with him of if the thought scared her speechless. When she didn't respond immediately Nesho looked back at the bunk and said, "Well, maybe all of us could squeeze on there for a little while, anyway. Here, let me lie down and you crawl in behind him." With no wasted motion Nesho lay down next to Dent pulling his arm over her so they lay face to face with his head pillowed on her arm. At Nesho's gesture she crawled in behind pressing up against his back, her arm around him hugging him tightly to her.

Dent's body felt like a blast furnace next to Sosho. Heat radiate from him, flashing through her dress and shift burning every inch of skin she had pressed up against him. Far from uncomfortable it was intoxicating and she strove to press as much against him as she could, practically molding her body to his. She could feel Nesho's arm next to hers also pulling him in tightly. By lifting her head slightly she could just barely see the two of them lying nose to nose, his arm flung around her waist. Sosho felt a little stab of jealousy wishing she were the one in his arms feeling his breath gently caress her face. But then again there was relief that it wasn't her.