Barra's Slavery

"Sorcery or no, I'll not be gelded like a yearling."

"Is that what you fear?"

Barra stepped backwards, away from her, wishing he had something more tangible within his grasp, "I fear only the gods, but you have a glamour on me."

Niamh made herself relax. There was no point in terrifying the poor man. It never ceased to amaze her how vulnerable men were when it came to their organs. No wonder they needed the Goddess to nurture and protect them. She bent her head a little to one side and grinned at him. He really did look ridiculous, clutching the kirtle tightly around him as if the thin material could offer protection from the knife.

"If you are to draw down the God, do you think I would geld you first?"

Barra let out a long sigh and released his grip on the cloth. He did not fully understand the meaning of her words, but it seemed his manhood was safe for now.

"Then what do you want of me?"

Niamh picked up the clippers, "I will take the hair from your body, for that is truly the sign of a slave. Depending on how well you learn, you will either remain shaved or it will grow back. Sit on the stool. " She failed to mention how priests preparing to meet the God, also shaved themselves before a rite, to free themselves from the trappings of the world.

"Woman..." quickly Barra corrected himself, masking his gaff by pulling the kirtle smoothly over his head and bowing. "My Lady, I will sit and you may do as you will, but why do you do this?"

Naimh waited until he had seated himself and then began to cut away the matted lengths of hair and beard, throwing each filthy hank into the fire where they both watched it sizzle and melt.

"I do this because you seek freedom and I would give it to you, " she told him, "you don't yet understand what freedom is - to do that you must understand slavery."

"You play with words..." Barra grumbled. It unnerved him to see his own hair disappear so quickly into the fire, not even a smell of scorched hair remaining. Normally he kept it tied back in a queue with a leather thong, and his beard neatly trimmed, but with no access to either comb or clippers since his capture, his hair and beard had become quickly matted with blood and other unmentionables and infested with lice. Niamh washed it for him when he was ill, but he'd had no heart to try and tame it further since then.

"Aye, " Niamh took one of the roots and rubbed it all over the short hairs on his scalp and face, raising a white lather in the lamplight. "I will play with words, and your body and your mind and there is nothing you can do to stop me." She saw his fists and shoulders tense, his body trembling with suppressed emotion as he felt the flint knife scrape every part of his scalp with long, clean strokes.

As she moved to the other side of his scalp, Barra ventured to capture a sud on his finger, "What is this ....?"

"Soapwort."

He still didn't know whether she referred to the name of the root or that it produced such froth upon his head, but despite himself, Barra found himself relaxing under her touch.

"After all," he murmered to no-one in particular, "hair is hair - at least I won't have any lice to worry about for a moon or two.... well, not on my head!"

Once his head was bald, Niamh turned her attention to his face, cupping his chin in one hand and began to shave him. Her touch was deft and sure, her blade leaving no marks on his naked skin. When all was to her satisfaction, she rinsed his face and head by pouring the water in a warm trickle over his skin and drying it with a soft cloth.

"There, it is done now."

Barra smoothed a hand over his jaw appreciatively. "It's a long time since I felt that baby skin"

"Lie on the pallet"

Barra threw her a quizzical glance, but he knew better than to disobey now. The bear hide felt smooth and supple against his skin and it was all he could do not to squirm experimentally. He watched her, wonderingly as Niamh honed the knife again on her whetstone, but when she said, "Now keep still and no harm will come to you!" and began to damp his pubic hair with a cloth, he started up in alarm!

"I knew it!" he cried, "By Anu's teats! You mean to geld me!"

Niamh pushed him back onto the pallet, "I warned you, lie still!" and she carried on rubbing the soapwort root into his pubic hair. "Men...can't think of anything else except their sex! Keep still or I won't take responsibility for the knife's work!"

Barra held his breath, but as he felt the sensation of the soapwort being rubbed in, he relaxed a little. He could not remember anyone doing this to him before and he was gripped with curiosity now, rather than anger or fear, and the beginnings of definite arousal as Niamh began to shave him with deft and careful fingers. Would she comment on the state of his manhood, he wondered, would she see it as an insult or a compliment to her ministrations?

Thinking to cover his embarrassment with words, he blurted out, "Lady, you puzzle me beyond measure, but I must tell you, I shall not be sorry to bid farewell to some of those little travelling companions either."

Niamh made no response, merely throwing the short black curls into the fire and rinsing him once more with fresh, warm water, then patting him dry. Once she was finished, she went and fetched a jar of salve, anointing the newly-shaved skin. The salve seemed cold at first, but soon melted into his growing warmth.

"Turn onto your belly."

Barra grunted and complied, his aching muscles protesting at the movements. He wondered what she meant to do to him next, but he did not have long to wait as, starting at the base of his skull, her long fingers began to knead his aching muscles, drawing warm salve over the bruises and sprains, working her way across his shoulders, down his arms, down his back, over his buttocks and finally down his legs and feet. The tenseness in his body began to slacken as he felt the knots in his flesh unwind and release.

"I was sure that you would take my manhood - to work a spell" he muttered into the soft pelt.

"Turn over."

There was no escape, he turned, looking up at her as this time she started at his feet, kneading and massaging them; working the muscles of each leg, easing up his thighs..so close....so close..and it had been so long...

"You said a thing I did not understand..."

"What was that?"

"About the God? Calling the God?"

"You will understand, when the stones accept you and the God himself comes into you." She spoke almost offhandedly, concentrating on her massage as she launched her heavenly fingers against his neck, kneading under his chin, spreading the salve thickly where the bruises were most livid or the stiffness most apparent; working it into his skin with long strokes - down his chest, down his arms, even his fingers; noticing the calluses as she smoothed and pulled and vanquished all the pain.

"Is this sorcery?" Barra wondered out loud, "or is it worldly skill?"

"Call it what you will - when the end is reached..." was her enigmatic reply. She was busy feeling the ridges of his stomach muscles, testing the wholeness of the organs, underneath; although her examination was so subtle, he could not catch what she read of him. All he knew was that she was moving ever closer to his manhood, taking more salve and warming it in her hands.

He could feel his member, which had diminished to an extent, swelling and becoming more erect with each moment, He almost gasped as she took it in her left hand, cupping his balls with her right and rubbing behind them with her finger; her left hand stroking him upwards, then down, slick with the salve, the fingers of her right hand pressing downwards ever closer to his tiny hole. He wanted so much to touch her, to know what she was thinking, to make some contact with her arm or hand, but something made him hold back.

"Do not move, " she must have read his thoughts. "This is your gift. You have no choice but to offer it."

He lay there, watching her manipulate him - her hand stroking him faster now while her right hand kneaded his balls noting their hardness. He was unable to move and powerless in the waves of pleasure sweeping over him.

"Ride with it, Barra, " her voice was inside his head now, "do not hold back, for the Goddess calls you."

Suddenly he was seized by a spasm of pleasure starting deep down within him; a wave of ecstasy pulling through him as his body arched, his breath coming in harsh panting gasps. All the while, her hands never stopped caressing him, stroking his manhood; feeding his fire. His head snapped back, his eyes rolling to show nothing but white and he growled softly, deeply, back in his throat. His hands grasped for something to sustain him, fingers buried themselves deep in the pelt on the pallet as the moment arrived.

With a burst of exhaled air, he flexed his back and warm seed streamed from him. He was almost unaware of Niamh's soft hand holding his shuddering tool whilst her other hand was placed to catch his seed and guide it into a pool on his stomach.

As the flow subsided, his jerking ceased, and his breathing slowed. His fingers unclenched from the fur and he lay exhausted, sucking air into tortured lungs. He felt her plant a single kiss upon his forehead.

"Well done, slave, keep perfectly still."

He groaned in response, his body filled with such languor, he could not have moved if a whole army had suddenly attacked their dwelling. He closed his eyes, then forced them open to follow what she was doing. He watched her fetch a small basket filled with red soil and could not comprehend when she sprinkled the soil onto his skin, covering the pool of seed; her fingers kneading together the clay formed from the soil and his seed. She rolled it up and down his stomach, shaping it into the long, thin tapering form of the Goddess.

Niamh smiled at him, "See what you have created!"

"What will you do with that, now?"

"It will dry by the fire, then be placed on the altar. If it is meant, it will be stained and fired as a lasting tribute to the Lady." She placed the figure reverently on one of the hearth stones, then fetched water and offered him a drink, helping him to sit up. It was as much as he could do to lean against her warm body and sip from the bowl she held to his lips.

"Lady I have faced many foes. I have fought in the shield wall dawn to dusk against the Picts. I have been an inch from death a score of times, but I tell you this, I fear your power!"

"Then you have learnt something useful this day!"

"Bel! I am weak as a day-old pup!"

"Not every man is strong enough to offer seed to the Goddess."

Barra shivered, "Lady, I'm not sure that I am...."

Niamh drew more furs around him. "I am. Your first task will be to get the Chieftain's second son's wife with child." she smiled at the look of horror on his face. "but not tonight."

"Lady - I have no idea what you will for me - but in this we are agreed - not tonight!"

Niamh suddenly felt very tired. All she wanted to do was curl up on her pallet and sleep. She had worked so hard to make sure he was fit and cleansed to make his offering to the Goddess.

She touched his arm and gestured for him to get up. "Come, take the fur and place it at the foot of my pallet. Your bed will be there from now on. When we are here alone, you will be naked. You will understand why in good time." The words were out of her mouth before she realised the impracticability of them. They were the words spoken to every new acolyte dedicated to the Goddess and sworn to serve a High Priestess for a year and a day on the Hidden Isles. Barra was no boy, unsure of his own calling, he was a seasoned warrior - what was she doing? But the words, once spoken could not be unsaid.

Barra got his feet unsteadily, shaking his head and pulling the great fur from off the cot. "I've slept in worse places than that..." he muttered to himself, but she could tell he wondered about the need to be unclothed around her. He almost opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again.

"You may have furs to cover yourself, Barra- I am not unkind."

"Yes, Lady. Thank you Lady." His tone bordered on insolence and she was obliged to place her fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at her.

"One day, I hope, you will say thank you to me and mean it. I can be patient."

Despite his extreme weariness, a spark of his former defiance flashed for a moment in Barra's eyes as he stared into hers, but soon it dimmed and the moment passed as she released him.

"Lady?"

"What is it?"

"You'd make a good warrior. Warriors need patience too. The good ones do, anyhow."

Niamh finished banking up the fire and doused the overhead lamp, picking up a simple tallow lamp to light their way to her pallet. "I've had my share of fighting -in the Hidden Isles. You have to learn many skills in order to understand what you need to heal."

Barra stood still for a moment, a look of realisation on his face. "You killed that bear, didn't you?"

She nodded, putting the lamp down and unlacing her kirtle to show him the jagged white claw scars on her chest. "He did not go willingly to Bel when my spear sank into his heart."

Barra nodded. "Bears, they never know when it's their time - no patience, you see"

She smiled, pulling the kirtle over her head and climbing wearily in her shift between the furs on her pallet. Barra spread out the bear skin near the foot of her cot and lay down on it thoughtfully, curling up inside the other furs she had said he could have. The pale skin on his head and jaw gleamed whiter than his weather beaten face. The last thing he heard as he drifted off to sleep was the gentle murmur of her night blessing and tiny sizzles of wychlight flickering around the edges of the round house as wards were set to keep them safe.