{Joanna} The Code Of Tawr ( 4/10 MF caution)

Standard Disclaimer: Over 18s Only. This is part four of a serialized story. If you haven't yet
read the earlier parts, I strongly suggest you go back and
start there. As this is a serial I don't want to give too much away in
the story codes. What I am prepared to say is that the story
will be (almost) entirely MF, and that there will be n/c,
rape, and what are to me, macabre themes developed. Do not
read if such things squick you. However, no pedo; no incest. On the other hand, if this kind of stuff turns you on:
enjoy! Joanna
The Code Of Tawr
by Joanna ()Copyright 1999
All rights reserved
February 1999 Perhaps you may yet find me: I am so close; just the other
side of the Portal... Part Four
Last night I dreamt a terrible dream. It was the dream of madness, of suspicion and envy. It was
so vivid, so intense that I could not shake it from my head.
All through today it has been with me, upon my shoulder,
casting a heavy cloud over every thought. In this dream I was in my bedroom. Paul was sitting in bed,
our bed, and from what I could see of him, he was naked. I
was about to speak, to ask him why he was there. It was, for
certain, now my bed until I chose to invite him back. But he was laughing at me; he was rocking from side to side
in noisy hilarity, he was pointing and ridiculing. "Why are you laughing? Please don't do that! Don't laugh!" I
pleaded, feeling so insecure. "But you are so funny," he smirked. "Take a look at
yourself." I looked down at my body, and I suddenly realized that I was
naked, totally naked. How had that happened? What spirit had
stolen my clothes? I was horror-stricken. But what tipped me
over the edge was that my body had transformed. I didn't
recognize what I saw, for my lovely breasts were no longer
the ripe breasts of a grown woman, they were the flat
breasts of a child. "What has happened?" I screamed. "What have you done to me?" "Nothing," he mocked. "What has been done, you have done to
yourself." I understood his words, but they held no meaning. Before I
could ask him to explain, my mind was diverted. "Do you like what I'm wearing?" Someone had spoken from the
bottom of my bed. I looked and saw Rebecca standing there,
looking so glamorous and she was talking to Paul. Oh, she
must think me ridiculous, my breasts are so small, I cried
in my dream. "Do you like what I am wearing," she had asked running her
hands over her short fitted dress. She showed no sign of
shame or embarrassment as her hands caressed her bust and
then her crotch. "Mmm, that's sexy. Look at her. Don't you think she's sexy?"
Paul asked, pulling back the cover and showing me his
erection. Rebecca accepted his compliment, turning and bending,
shaking her bum. "It would really turn me on if you were to
come over here," she cooed. "And take off this dress. It
would be so exciting if you did." I cried in anguish, but no sound ed my lips. Somewhere
in my throat the sound had got stuck and no one cared. Again she spoke to Paul. "Would you take off my dress if I
asked very nicely?" she gurgled, pressing together her
breasts and making her cleavage grow. He didn't wait for her
to ask nicely, he went to her, his cock waving obscenely in
her worship. She lifted her arms and held them out wide, her body
becoming the shape of a cross. She waited playfully for him
to act. "Naughty", she gently reproached when he did, grasping his
arms. "You must tell me first what you would like to do." He swallowed heavily. "I would like to undo your dress," he
whispered. "But I have nothing beneath," she purred, letting go of his
hands. "Are you a rogue, sir?" "I am a rogue," he confirmed, all fingers and thumbs as he
began to undo. The buttons parted to expose the barest of
breast. I wanted to strike him, needed to hit him, to let loose my
hatred. How could I watch as he groped this strumpet? But
cuffs appeared to bind my arms; I was chained to the wall. I
struggled and strained, but could not get free. My exertions were ignored, not even noticed. For him I had
ceased to exist. He remained so focused on undoing her
dress. "I am bad, aren't I?" Rebecca asked suggestively; he had got
to where her panties should rightly have been. "Do you think
me very indecent?" "Yes," I wanted to scream, but Paul's reply was the merest
of mumbles. He was mesmerized, staring at her snatch as he
had never once stared at mine. "What can she have that I
don't," I thought. Rebecca stared me through, as Paul slipped her dress from
her shoulders. She wriggled free of it in the manner of a
practiced stripper. And somehow she knew my thoughts and her
rebuke was stern. "Look at my breasts," she said. "How
large; how firm. How can you hope to keep a man happy with
tits such as yours." She rubbed spittle on her nipples, making them hard. Surely
I could hide my breasts, they were such a disgrace, but my
arms were chained and I could not conceal them. She looked
at them with such contempt that my misery was complete. I watched her kneel on the bed, my bed, presenting her bum
to Paul. He didn't hesitate; he entered her from behind, she
gasped as he pushed himself inside. "That's so nice," he
said to her. "You're so tight, so much firmer than Joanna." Rebecca gave me that look, that supercilious snub. "Why
would he want you," she said. "Your body is flabby and
repulsive. I am the one he wants, the one he fucks." I couldn't move: the chains held me fast. Even as I closed
my eyes, I saw them, rollicking in front of me on my bed.
They moaned and sighed, Rebecca's tits hanging from her
chest, shimmying and shaking, reminding me of what I hadn't
got. "I'm coming, I'm coming," Paul cried. "I can feel you," she sighed. "I can feel your spunk
spurting inside." His orgasm went on and on. It just would
not end. On and on his face remained fixed at that instant
of ultimate nirvana. "You see," Rebecca was saying. "You see how it is with a
real woman. He wants me. Look how he craves my body. He
wants me, not you. This is how it should be." Paul's climax just kept coming and coming. "This is how it
should be," her voice was repeating. "With a real woman;
with a real woman." "This is how it should be." I had woken with a start. My body was covered in a thin
coating of perspiration that felt cold and sticky. My
breathing was heavy and labored. Suddenly without warning I
was weeping for real. I began and I could not stop.
Eventually, finally, thankfully, those tears lulled me to
sleep. The next morning, bleary eyed from much crying I got up and
went downstairs. In the kitchen I saw something on the table
that I did not recognize. Paul had already gone to work, but
he had left there a wonderful bouquet of flowers. There was
a card attached. I sniffed loudly as I opened it for my nose
was wet. "Happy Valentine, Dearest Joanna" it read. "To the wonderful
girl who lights up my day." **************************************************** The Code Of Tawr Chapter Two The Journey Home
She could not go back. It was the one thing of which she was
absolutely certain. Whatever else her future held, there was
no way she could return to Tawr and to Lahf Tawreos. She sat, naked upon the ground, numbed, violated, bleeding,
dirty. Most of all she was dirty. Her face was stained with
dirt mingled with fresh tears. Her body was sticky with a
mixture of dust, sweat and bodily fluids. Her hair was
matted and full of grit. But the dirt felt white and pure
compared with the stink of her sin. Around her the men were beginning to recover. A couple of
them watched, a little furtively, more than a little
voyeuristically, their lust diminished by their recent
activity but with a curiosity still very much alive. In her trauma, she huddled up into a ball trying to conceal
her nakedness. Where now? Her friends would be her friends
no longer. They would condemn, wag fingers. She could not go
back. That life was finished, she told herself. She could
never go back. They would burn her as a fornicatrix. She
clung to that central thought; nothing else mattered. In her
shock and depression every other thought seemed to have been
dulled, to be insignificant. It was as though she had been
anaesthetized. Values that seemed so important only hours
before now seemed irrelevant, unimportant. The ropes still bound her wrists, though they hung free, the
other ends having been cut. "Here are your clothes, Miss Joanna." A naked man had
approached and was holding out that bag containing her
things. His limp cock faced her. She looked higher and saw
that it was Simmons, his expression one of boyish concern
and sympathy. "Thank you," she mumbled, grabbing hold of the bag;
clutching it tightly. "Is there somewhere I can wash?" she asked. "I must wash off
this dirt." "I don't think there's anywhere here," he said so very
apologetically. "But when we get to the valley, you'll be
able to wash in the river. I could do with a good soak
myself." She began to weep gently. "Don't cry," Miss Joanna" he
implored, so wanting to be helpful, yet not beginning to
know how. "I'm sorry. I didn't know he was going to do this.
I did my best, but I have to listen to what he says. He's my
Captain. You do see that, don't you?" The sobs continued to rack her tightly crouched frame.
Simmons tried again. "As my Captain he can make things very
nasty for me." "Whereas now things are very nasty for me," she retorted
bitterly through her distress. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I didn't mean..." "Just shut it!" she cried, feeling a need to lash out at
something. "Your good intentions didn't amount to much did
they? Somehow they didn't hold you from rape. Don't forget
that! You did to me what every one of them did! So don't
bull shit me with your mock regrets and hypocrisy. You're
every bit as bad as they are. So don't expect me to salve
your conscience for you." Her voice cracked at the last and
she dropped her head, vainly trying to conceal her
wretchedness. "Just...just, get lost." Simmons stoically endured the outburst, only the slightest
inflections of his countenance suggesting that the words had
breached his defenses. "I will get back to my duties," he
murmured, and then he left. By now everyone was getting dressed and it seemed that a
move was soon to be made. She overheard someone saying that
they were going to walk off the mountain, then try to pick
up some horses in the valley. They should be back in Lahf
Tawreos by tomorrow evening, the voice reckoned. She slipped behind a rock to give herself some privacy to
dress. Still crying quietly, tears blurring her vision and
mucus hanging from the end of her nose, she quickly pulled
the clothes out of the bag and slipped them back on. Doing so highlighted the physical state she was in. The back
of her body, her thighs, buttocks and back were scratched
and grazed from being rubbed upon the bare earth. The
clothes irritated her abrasions. Her arms, sore from being
held awkwardly by the ropes, protested as she reached to
fasten her bra and as she bent to place her feet into her
jeans. She felt unclean. It wasn't right to be dressing such a
dirty body. She yearned to be able to bathe. How soothing
that would be! They would soon be looking for her. Although she hadn't
heard much noise or commotion on the other side of the rocky
outcrop, by now they must almost be ready. If she was going
to get away, now was the time, whilst they were still
preoccupied. She surreptitiously moved along to the other end of the
outcrop. From here she hoped to slip by the area where they
were congregated, and from there to the far side of the
mountain. "Going somewhere?" someone called from above her. She looked
up. A guard was positioned there. She recognized him from
Lahf Tawreos. It was Mark Andrews. She ed him as a
boy of ten or eleven. He had developed this enormous crush
on her which had been so sweet. He would save little gifts
for her visits and walk her to the town gate when she left.
It would seem his interests had moved on. He had been
watching her: watching her dress; watching her attempt to
escape. "You're not leaving us, are you?" he added. Her answer came from instinct. She did not think it. "I'm so
dirty. I need to find somewhere to wash." "You'll be able to wash when we wash," this young man said,
descending from his vantage point upon the outcrop.
"There'll be plenty of time for that. Come on. Everyone's
waiting." Bradley was issuing orders as they rounded the rock and were
back in the clearing. He had been speaking of her, Joanna
discerned that much. However, he lowered his voice as she
arrived and she couldn't make sense of what he had said. "OK," he said more loudly. "If everyone's ready, let's
move." As several Guards began to leave, Bradley gestured to
Joanna that she should go next. When she did so, Bradley
followed immediately after with the rest of the soldiers
forming a rearguard. They trekked back down the long Joanna had so lately
climbed, stringing out into a long line. How long ago that
ascent now seemed. So much had changed. She took her water
bottle from her provision bag and took a long swig. The air
had cooled, but she still felt hot and sticky and anguished
and guilty. "Where are we going?" Joanna asked nervously over her
shoulder. "I don't want to go back. Can't you let me go? I'm
no use to you now." Bradley laughed gleefully. "No, we can't let you go. The
best bit is still to come. You have to face your masters
back in Lahf Tawreos, and, that, as I'm sure you knew
already, is our destination." She just couldn't comprehend what was driving him. "And
you're really going to take me there just so that you can
see me burned?" "Don't blame me," he protested. "I'm just the humble
policeman doing his duty. It's others who made the rules and
others yet who volunteered to keep them." "You aren't just doing this as a duty," she disputed.
"You've made it your duty. Come on, damn you! The least I
deserve is to know why." "Deserve? You deserve nothing. You betrayed Tawr. How
conveniently you forget." "Yes, I betrayed Tawr. But that's between him and me. Why
are you so determined to burn me for it?" He grimaced wryly. "I won't burn you. It's the code that
will do that. How many times do I have to say? It's the code
that condemns you. Tawr, your friend, whom you served so
faithfully all these years: he condemns you. I follow
orders." "Which you enjoy doing?" she persisted. "I enjoy what I am currently doing," he agreed. "I'm also
sure that I'll enjoy seeing how you face all that awaits you
in Lahf Tawreos. Will that do? Have I said what you expected
to hear?" She was shocked. Could he really be that inhuman? Could he
really mean what he had just said? "There is evil in you!"
she said accusingly. "How can you say that you will enjoy
someone else's destruction? Why didn't I see this before?" "Perhaps you weren't looking?" he suggested. "I don't recall
you ever took me very seriously. Perhaps your mind was so
focused on the code and the endless petty rules that you
never really looked at anything inside me, evil or
otherwise." She blinked back her tears. "Perhaps on that we can agree,"
she said. By the time they reached the valley, the sun was low on the
horizon. Its softer rays painted a warm welcoming landscape
in which a small river gurgled as it rushed along the valley
floor. On either side weeping trees swayed gently in the
early evening breeze and long stalks of coarse grass -
littered with the bright red splash of poppies - carpeted
the space between. They waded through the grass to the riverbank leaving a
trail of crushed reeds in their wake. As they got close it
was obvious that the water below them was several feet deep
and fast flowing, so they continued on a little way to where
the river widened and where the water was more shallow and
still. "You wanted to bathe," Bradley said to Joanna. "We'll stop
here awhile." He strolled to where the ground gently sloped down to the
water's edge and dropped his provision bag to the ground,
then sat near to it upon the dry grass. The other soldiers
took his lead and sat forming lazy groups. "Please stay within sight," Bradley ordered. "I wouldn't
want you to get lost, would I?" She looked around. "But I wanted to bathe, properly," she
protested. "And?" came the reply. "I'm La cepern. I can't do that with everyone watching," she
said irritably. "You can't? When we were all so friendly earlier?" She was tired of the continual games. "Fine," she said
resolutely. "If you're going to insist on being awkward,
it's not a problem." She untied her boots and pulled them from her feet. She then
moved unsteadily towards the river. "I do hope you're not planning in trying to bathe in your
clothes," Bradley called across to her with a grin. "You
can't bathe properly like that." Joanna ignored him totally and Paul continued to grin. He
watched and relaxed as she entered the water and paddled to
where it was a little deeper. She then crouched and rubbed
herself through her clothes. She tried her best but she
couldn't get clean. The water was cold and soon she was
shivering within it. She plunged her head beneath the
surface, pulling and rubbing her hair, scouring her face
with her hands. "It doesn't work," Paul called out to her from the bank.
"Keeping your clothes to spoil our fun. Your blouse has
become wet and transparent; it makes you real sexy. I can't
wait till you come out." Ignoring him, she moved away from the meander, to where the
current was faster. She had to get away; she had to get
clean. She checked that she had walked far enough that they
could no longer see her and then began again to scrub. Beneath the water she unfastened her jeans so that the water
could make better . Her pussy lips were puffy and
sore from their assault, but she was merciless as she
scrubbed. She pulled her jeans a little lower, her knickers
too. Her hands were beginning to chafe; her lower lips were
already abraded; yet despite the copious quantity of water
about her she could not remove the stench of their sweat or
the dirt of their embrace. These clung fast to her like the
crudest of oil upon a stricken seabird. She was numbed with cold. The water was icy, flowing as it
did straight off the mountain. Joanna's fingers were white
and her skin wrinkled from the water. Yet still she moved
deeper, where the water would be more cleansing. She had
unfastened the buttons of her blouse. Her breasts: her poor
mauled tormented breasts. How would they she ever remove the
excrement that plastered them? She burnished and sanded
without effect. She was crying, her body shaking with cold
and grief. Not gently as before, but an impersonal
uncontrolled wailing. Drifting, she was drifting in the
water. It was around her, about her. It felt so good. It
took away the pain. Drifting away. Bubbles; she saw bubbles
in the water, air that she had breathed. There was no pain.
The water would make her clean. Drifting. There was someone behind her. She was not aware. He lifted
her with strong arms from the torrent she had coveted. He
carried her from the water, her blouse was open, her bra
pulled loose from her breasts. These were white from the
cold; her pale brown nipples turgid yet wrinkled at their
base by the water. Her heavy, clinging knickers and jeans
were gathered at her knees, restraining her legs as he
carried her away from the river and deposited her upon the
ground alongside. Others came running up as he gazed down upon her nakedness,
that nakedness he had sought so long and had possessed so
recently. "Bradley, what happened?" someone was saying. "She was in the water, then I didn't see her anymore,"
someone else added. "Is she breathing?" another voice asked. "My God. Those tits! Her cunt!" a fourth exclaimed. Paul put his ear to her naked breast. He wasn't sure what he
could hear. He pinched closed her nose and breathed into her
mouth. He did it again. The others fell silent, mesmerized by the drama and the
sight of bare pussy. Paul pumped her chest to keep her blood
circulating then filled her lungs once more with his stale
air. She spluttered and spit and gasped. Bradley lifted her
to a sitting position and held her as she coughed and
wheezed and shivered. "Help me get these things off of her," he said, suddenly.
"She's frozen." While someone ran and grabbed a blanket from
his provision bag, the others enthusiastically helped to
pull off her sodden clothes, Paul continued to hold her
naked body to himself. He rubbed: gently where she was cut
and bruised, more roughly where she was not, trying to
insert warmth into her. The blanket arrived. He wrapped it round her then held her
close again. One of the soldiers - who was it? - Brewer,
said: "You know what the Nazis did during the second world
war. They conducted experiments freezing people then seeing
how best to warm them up. You know what they found? The best
way to warm a cold person up is to screw them. Better than
anything but a hot drink and we haven't got one of them.
What do you think? Should we try it?" Bradley snapped. "For God's sake, Brewer. Shut up. If your
mind's still on screwing I'll sort that out for you. For the
moment can you just cut me some slack." "There's a priory just up ahead. We could take her there for
the night," Andrews suggested. Bradley nodded. "Good idea. She'll have to walk like this,
though, like it or not. Her clothes are wet through." They took the blanket from off her and replaced it with
another dryer blanket. Soon, Joanna became more focused.
"What happened?" she murmured, still breathing heavily. Bradley replied angrily. "I don't know," he snapped. "What
did happen? I know that you nearly killed yourself as the
result. If you try anything that stupid again, I'll take
great pleasure in inflicting great damage upon you. Do you
understand?" "I didn't know you cared," she observed dryly. "Of course I care" he retorted with even more anger. "Do you
think I've gone to all this trouble to see you escape
justice?" * Knee Priory was a small convalescent commune. There were a
few permanent residents, older of the Menials, as
they were known, who looked after the house and its grounds.
The purpose of the home, though, was as to provide spiritual
sanctuary to anybody from any of the Chosen Orders in need
of spiritual assistance. Joanna herself had almost been sent here when, as a young
adolescent, she had begun to balk at a future laid out for
her by others. At the time, however, she had been fortunate
in having a wise tutor who had seen it all many times before
and knew how to reform her. Stumbling upon Knee Priory at an end of such a sorrowful day
was, Joanna felt, the answer to her prayer. They knocked at
the door and an elderly priestess opened it. She looked at
Joanna, and, whatever she thought privately, said nothing
about her state: her hair still wet and clinging to her
head; her shivering flesh wrapped in blankets; her clothing,
all her clothing, clearly visible in Bradley's hand. She was whisked inside and placed before a warm fire. There
she was given a hot drink and time to unwind. Next she was
shown to the bathroom where a hot bath had been run, clean
clothing and a towel provided. And there was soap, plenty of
soap. She could sit and scrub and wash and soak. Yet still
the indelible foul odor of their fluids clung to her. Later, she sat quietly in the corner of a large dimly lit
living area. A small fire crackled in the grate, for,
although it was high summer the night sky was clear and the
temperature had plummeted. Burning candles gave the room a
comforting warm hue and flickered in the drafts. On the other side of the room, two Guards were talking
quietly. They had remained close by all evening, keeping a
discreet watch, Joanna guessed. For they were not relaxed.
Their body language was awkward; it had a discipline, an
awareness of what was about them that told her they were on
duty. They were to ensure that she did not magically
disappear. The Chief Priestess of the Priory entered and sat beside
Joanna. At first she had remarked about the river and how
lucky Joanna had been that the Guards were so close. Then
her questions had become more incisive. "I couldn't help noticing," she said. "You see, the blanket
you had around you was rather revealing. I couldn't help
noticing that you have a number of bruises. Did that happen
in the river?" Joanna could not answer. She could not lie to the Chief
Priestess, yet she could not tell the truth either. "There were also several cuts and grazes. I noticed them on
your legs. Was that also the river?" Joanna looked to her suddenly. "Chief Priestess," she said.
"Do you think there is somewhere private where we can talk?" "Of course, child," the older lady said, seemingly
unsurprised by the request. She found them a quiet room and
sat Joanna down. "Now what's this about?" the Chief
Priestess asked. "Tell me what's wrong." So she told her: told her everything including her own folly
in taking the message as a favor for her father. "And now you think that because of this you will die," the
Chief Priestess asked her when she had finished. "I know it," Joanna said, beginning to weep again. "They
have only that one thing on their mind. They are determined
to see me burn. He said he is looking forward to it. You
have no idea what this is doing to me." "I can imagine." "You've got to get me out of here. Even now they're out
there somewhere. They follow me everywhere. If I can get out
without them knowing I could build a new life somewhere. But
I need your help. I can't get away without your assistance.
Please, I just can't go back to Lahf Tawreos now!" "And if you leave, don't you think they will follow if they
are as determined as you say? Where will you go that they
will not be able to track you and bring you back? And
haven't you forgotten something else that's extremely
important? If you left, how would you face Tawr? What about
your oath? Your place in the Order of Deity? Can you so
easily forget all that you are?" Joanna was silent for several moments. A clock ticked loudly
in the background counting away the seconds. "So you think I
should go back to be burned alive?" Joanna sobbed fearfully. "Certainly I think you should go back. I also think you will
go back. And as soon as you have cleared your confused
thoughts I think you will see why you must go back. Tawr is
first and foremost in the life of any one of us within the
orders. But you are La cepern, the Order of Deity. A La
cepern running from Tawr is a contradiction, is it not?" "Yes," agreed Joanna wiping the tears. "It is. But I don't
mean to run from Tawr: only from such a terrible judgement.
Am I very wicked?" "Wicked? No. Not unnaturally you may be a little scared. But
I think you will find that you have no need of fear. In an
impure world, such things must happen." "How can that be?" Joanna protested. "The code is explicit.
I was raped. For a La cepern, sex is a capital offense!" "Of course that is true," the Chief Priestess said. "That is
what the letter of the law states, but what is its spirit?" "Spirit? What do you mean?" "You're correct that according to the letter of the code
there is no latitude; the elders of Tawr have no option but
to sentence you to burn before the Gates of Tawr. But every
law has a spirit as well as a letter. What did the creators
of the law intend? Sadly, these things do happen, more often
than any of us would care to think. Of course, most of us
never hear about all the terrible things that occur, we have
no reason to hear. You have told me that you did not desire
sex with these men; they forced themselves upon you. As long
as the elders discern sincere regret, there will be no
punishment. In fact, I suggest their anger will be towards
those that violated what belongs to Tawr." "You think so?" "I know it to be so. As Chief Priestess I have been around a
long time and I have seen these things before. More often
than I would like. And did you ever hear of a La cepern
being burned, or lashed or maltreated in any way before the
Portal?" "No. I'm sure that it never has happened." "Exactly." "But I thought that was because every La cepern was...you
know." "Pure? I wish that were the case. Many a girl has received
her gown when by rights she had no right. That is the wisdom
of Tawr and his elders." The Chief Priestess paused, before beginning again more
hesitantly. "The soldiers. Do you, will you be safe when you leave with
them in the morning." Joanna shook her head. "I don't know. They have raped me
once. Having crossed that psychological barrier, any of them
might do so again. I can't trust them, I know. As we
descended from the mountain several of them ignored me. I
think seeing me makes them feel guilty. But that will ,
and when it does I think they'll become aggressive. On the
other hand, Paul, for much of the time was perfectly normal.
He acts as if nothing untoward ever happened. I don't know
what he is thinking or planning. However, at the river he
showed great restraint, I owe him my life. You see, I clutch
at straws." "You have no need to fear," the priestess repeated with a
smile. "I am not without influence myself. I am able to make
enough of a threat that these spring chickens will not
threaten you again." "The guards, of course. But Bradley? The usual threats do
not always work." "Then I won't use the usual threats. Do not worry," the
Chief Priestess assured her. "You will be safe." "Thank you," Joanna said. But there was a lack of
conviction, a distance to her manner that the priestess
noticed at the last. "You will be safe." Joanna smiled wanly. "Yes, Chief Priestess." "There is something else," the other said perceptively.
"Tell me what else is bothering you?" Joanna blinked back a tear, looking away. "Tell me. You know you have nothing to fear from me." "I am concerned," Joanna said finally. She stopped. "I am concerned," she began again. "That, well, What if
there's a baby?" "There won't be a baby," the priestess said gently. "You can't know that," Joanna said with agitation. "How can
you know that?" "I know it," said the priestess simply. Then, "You are La
cepern. Child, as La cepern you cannot have children. I
don't just mean you're not permitted children. Of course,
you know that. I mean you cannot bear children. It will have
been handled when you were a baby." Joanna was appalled. "Why did no one ever tell me?" "They told you many times. Your life is dedicated to Tawr.
No man. No family. Why should this be a surprise to you?" "Yes, I knew what you tell me. But I didn't know that...
that they had mutilated me! Why would they do that? Don't
they trust us?" "It is not a matter of trust. Look what happened to you
today? Did that involve a breech of trust?" "No," Joanna conceded. "It's just a sensible precaution to prevent embarrassment to
Tawr." "You are sure?" "Relax. You will come to no grief, child. that all
the elders are searching for is sorrow and regret. "Thank you, Chief Priestess" As she left she almost permitted herself to smile, thus had
her spirits soared. Feet away from the door were the two
young soldiers detailed to watch over her. They were
feigning an interest in a hefty tome one had lifted from a
library shelf. "You don't have to worry about me now," she
thought. "Worry about yourselves. I'm going home." By the following morning the guards had been out into the
neighborhood and had managed to acquire horses on which they
might complete the journey. As Joanna greeted the filly she
was to ride her spirits remained buoyant, and this did not
go unnoticed by Paul. "Good morning," he said. "There is obviously no need to ask
whether you slept well." "I slept very well, thank you," she replied. "Do you have a
problem with that." "Not at all." "Then let's go home. I'm ready if you are."
****************************************************
"Did you like my valentine present?" Paul looked at me blankly. "I noticed that you read the beginning of Chapter Two." I
said casually. He had the grace to blush. "How did you know?" "You made a mistake. There is a history list on the
documents tab of the Windows start menu. It gave you away.
As soon as I saw, I knew you had been on the computer
looking for files." "OK, so I it it. But you also made a mistake," he
replied. "Oh?" "Joanna's provision bag or whatever it was. It turned up in
chapter two, but it didn't exist in chapter one. There was
no mention of the soldiers searching it." "Maybe not," I mused. "Maybe I just didn't feel it
important. Weren't you more concerned about getting me out
of my clothes." "And all those lusty men seeing you," he agreed. "Paul!" I protested, but I didn't mean it. I covered over by
adding. "So you like the idea of men lusting for me?" He was looking at me hungrily. "I like the idea of you
having to show yourself. Can you put that into the next
part?" "I haven't said there will be a next part." "I bought you some flowers." "For which I thanked you.." "You could thank me more fully." "That's bribery." He nodded. "That's bribery."
The Code Of Tawr
End Of Part Four
Part Five ....Coming Soon! --
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' `--------------+
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