When Dagon had been bathed, and a fresh length of clean linen cloth had been wrapped about his loins, he was taken to the encampment of the lady Zenaida. A leather-clad woman warrior took charge of him at the camp's perimeters as the slave merchant's assistants bid him farewell, but not before making a few snide remarks regarding his amatory future. The leather-clad warrior looked scornfully at the pair. Without a word, she motioned to Dagon to follow her, leading him to the largest tent set directly in the center of the camp. She pulled back the entry flap.

"Go in, barbarian. The High Procuress awaits you," she said.

He moved slowly through the entrance. Inside, the tent was luxuriously furnished, and the blue-garbed woman, now veiless, was seated upon a small dais. She was quite beautiful despite her girth. Her skin was the color of the white jasmine flower, and looked to be as soft as silk. She had an elegant nose, and a small rosebud of a mouth.

"Come in! Come in!" The plump hand motioned him forward, the black eyes sparkled. "Sit down opposite me. Are you hungry? Of course you are," she answered her own question before he might. "I doubt the fare in Master Ashur's slave pens is either tasty or even palatable."

Half a dozen young women were setting down platters and bowls from which tasty odors were emanating. The gold goblet near his hand was filled with a fruity red wine. His nostrils visibly twitched.

"First tell me your name, and then you may eat," the lady Zenaida said. "I'm sure you already know who I am. Ramaskhan is a city of gossips," she chuckled.

"I am Dagon, Prince of Aramas," he said without hesitation, and then reached for the goblet.

"And just how did you come to be in Ramaskhan's slave markets, Dagon, Prince of Aramas?" she asked him, reaching for the bread.

"I was betrayed by my twin brother, who desired to have our father's throne," Dagon said. He pulled a small chicken apart, and began to eat hungrily.

"You were the elder," Zenaida said.

Dagon nodded, swallowing. "By about a minute or two, lady. They say when I was born, Nogad's hand was fastened about my ankle as if he were trying to prevent me from coming into the world before he did."

"A formidable opponent," Zenaida observed. "Eat now, and then we will talk more," she told him.

He ate slowly, carefully, not allowing himself to be fully satisfied lest he make himself sick. It had been several months since he had had a decent meal. He finished the chicken, a loaf of bread, and then swallowed down a dozen oysters, liberally quaffing the red wine so that his cup was refilled twice. When a platter of fruit was offered to him, he took a peach, splitting it with his two thumbs, and eating it with a grin of delight even as the juice ran down his chin. Finally, licking his fingers clean of the peach juice, he looked directly at her. "Do you always feed your slaves so well, lady?"

"No one goes hungry in Kava," she said quietly. "It is not our way to mistreat people.We are not men. "

"But you need men," he remarked softly.

"They toil in the mines, in the fields, and in other capacities," she replied.

"Where will I labor?" he probed.

"You are intelligent," Zenaida answered, ignoring his innuendo. "I believe you when you tell me you are a king's son, for you have not the look or the bearing of a peasant. After I purchased you today, your ears were undoubtedly filled with all manner of salacious gossip, and some of it is true. Men are subservient in Kava, but why is that so different from other cities where women are subservient?"

"Men are superior to women," he said quickly. "We are stronger, bigger, wiser."

"Stronger and bigger in many cases I will allow, butwiser? No, Dagon. Men are not wiser than women, and women are the superior sex, because it is through them that the gods have chosen to reproduce our kind. Before you protest that your seed is necessary to that task, let me remind you that it is the only thing required. Your seed is useless without a woman to nurture the new life, to bring it to fruition, and to finally birth it. And when it is birthed, we nourish it with the milk from our breasts. Men have nothing with which to nourish a newborn. Without the fertile field of our bodies, your seed is worthless, Dagon. That is why women are superior."

"What do men do in this world? They start wars which kill innocents, and ruin both agriculture and commerce. And why? For more land? More wealth? To do what with? Bah! That is why Kava exists, and is ruled by women. We use men's strength, and we use their seed, both of which are positive things. Men, however, are but an auxiliary to women, and must be kept servile. That is our way. We do not cause, or go to war. We are wealthy beyond your wildest imagination because we spend our energies in making things grow by our toil. You will soon see." She smiled at him, and then took a long draught of her wine before continuing.

"In Kava we are governed by a queen. When our queen falls in love and mates, a new queen is chosen. Kalida, the queen who now rules us, has never fallen in love. She has ruled longer than any of our queens, and while she has offered to step aside so a new queen can be chosen, we cannot allow it, for it breaks with our custom. She must fall in love, and take her mate. Or she must remain queen."

"And you think I am that mate?" he said.

"Possibly," Zenaida told him. "Understand, the queen must love you, not just make love to you. Few Kavan women under the age of fifteen are virgins. We celebrate life, our bodies, and all that it entails. Kalida has an insatiable appetite for making love, but, sadly, no man has ever captured her heart. If you can do that, my handsome princeling, your fate will be golden. You will live in the Outer Palace of the Consorts, and nothing, even other women, will ever be denied to you."

"But my sons, if the gossips of Ramaskhan are to be believed, will be removed from their mother's home at the age of eight, and trained as warriors to be sent off at sixteen, and never seen again," he said.

"But is that not what men love to do best, Dagon? Fight. We simply teach our sons how to fight, and how to survive in a man's world. Kavan cohorts are extremely valuable, and greatly sought after. We turn your male vice into a commercial asset," she chuckled. Then she reached over, and patted his hand. "You will not be forbidden from seeing your sons. Their barracks are quite near the Outer Palace. You will probably see more of them there than when they live within the city proper. Besides, your life will not be that of a love slave. You will have other duties that will keep you quite busy, I promise. Certainly a young man trained to be a king has other talents than a large penis."

"Now, however, you will want a woman to satisfy those pent-up lusts of yours. How long has it been since you have had a woman?"

He flushed at the directness of her query. "Months," he admitted.

Zenaida smiled, showing a row of strong, even white teeth. It was not a smile of amusement, but rather one of understanding. "My poor princeling," she consoled him. Then she turned to the young women serving them. "Well, which one of you wants him tonight? Do not quarrel among yourselves, for you will all have your turn."

"We already decided amongst ourselves, great lady," a yellow-haired girl said, stepping forward. "We drew lots, and I have won him for this sleep time."

"They are so practical, eh, Dagon, but, as you can see, there has been no quarreling about the pleasure of your company. Would men be so pragmatic regarding a beautiful woman?" Zenaida chuckled. "I think not. There would be some sort of argument, and then the poor girl would end up having to entertain a dozen randy cocks. Her name is Dore, by the way. Go along now, and enjoy each other's company," the older woman said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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