The Code Of Tawr ( 5/10 MF  caution)


Tonight, Paul took me out for the first time since Rebecca.
He said he wanted to give me a proper Valantine's treat. I
think, though, the way things turned out, that the boot was
on the other foot.

I dug my slinky maroon dress out of the wardrobe. I hadn't
worn it since a close friend's wedding almost a year ago. As
we were about to leave Paul suddenly noticed my little
surprise, or rather, Sharon's surprise. "You've got to keep
them guessing," she had told me.

"You're not wearing a bra," Paul said.

"And I'm not wearing panties either," I agreed. "Is it very
obvious?"

"It is rather, yes," he replied. "I can see the outline of
your breasts and nipples. You can't go out like that."

"I can't?" I teased. "I thought you were the one that liked
the idea of my being seen by lusty men."

"But that was in the story. Not for real."

"So you'd rather I wore some underwear?"

"Yes. No. I mean, with respect, I'm not taking you to
MacDonalds. The Triticco is a posh restaurant."

I took hold of his hand. "Look, I'm not exactly going in the
nude. Everything that should be is covered. It's only my
shape that's a little revealing."

"A little! That's some understatement!"

"You're embarrassed!" I exclaimed. Tonight would be really
interesting.

When we were in the car, I took a cassette from my purse and
placed it in the player. The restaurant he had booked was on
the Surrey borders. It would take us about a half-hour to
get there. Time enough for some more fun.

"Keep your eyes on the road," I said switching the cassette
on. It was dark outside and although there was other traffic
on the road, it was moving and thus we were cocooned in the
car within our own little world. As the sound of my voice
came out of the speakers, I eased down the zip of his
trousers.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "I'm driving."

"I'm getting him out," I said, easing his flaccid cock out
of the zip. "Just watch the road and listen to the story."
As my recording of the next part of "The Code Of Tawr" began
on the tape, I concentrated on making him hard.


****************************************************

The Code Of Tawr

Chapter Two, Part Two


"Home," Joanna sighed. Lahf Tawreos stood before her, its
distant granite spires rising from behind the trees in a
familiar vista. The hamlet nestled at the base of a chalk
cliff on the other side of a flat plain. The sea had at one
time covered where they now stood, had pounded against the
cliff in front of them, had covered where Lahf Tawreos now
reposed. But no more: it had since retreated and now the
coastline lay behind them, about ten miles distant.

A straight tree lined road bisected the marshy plain and
drew a path between them and the town on the other side. It
was not uncommon to see snakes or lizards upon it, or
butterflies and insects flitting amongst the flowers that
grew wild on its border.

Joanna pulled her horse to a halt and looked across
wistfully at her homestead. Home. It had been a long
journey, a long exhausting journey, both physically and
mentally. She found the close association of individuals
that had treated her so violently difficult to bear. On the
one hand, for the sake of self-preservation she needed to be
genial; this also was a requirement of her under the code:
to show human respect whatever the provocation. Yet, at the
same time she found it hard to tolerate their good humor and
conversation when she felt so bitter.

Fortunately, they had ignored her for much of the ride and
for the rest, they had been civil. Whatever the Chief
Priestess had said, it had certainly worked.

Paul brought his horse to a stand beside her. "Indeed," he
said, his gaze following hers. "And how does the prospect of
return fill you?" This the first time he had addressed her
on anything but essentials since they had left the Priory.

She remembered that he likely still did not know what the
Chief Priestess had told her: that she would not burn. That
was not for heathen ears. "Mixed feelings," she said
guardedly. "And yourself?"

"Oh I'm jubilant," he said, his intonation lacking any trace
of that sentiment.

"We have journeyed forth; we have accomplished all that was
asked of us, and now we return rejoicing and with captives,"
he waved ironically in her direction."

"You're drunk," she said with sudden discernment.

"As a lord," he acknowledged, showing her a largely consumed
bottle. "I've been saving this for a celebration."

"You're expecting to return a hero?"

"We return as conquering heroes, certainly. Whether the
praise will last, who can tell? As we both know, heroes can
quickly tarnish." He took a further large swig from his
bottle and lurched precariously on his saddle.

Joanna looked desperately to the other guards, hoping they
would control their superior. However, these bravehearts
lacked the experience necessary to handle such a delicate
situation. Therefore they did nothing.

"Jubilant and with captives," he repeated. "And just as they
did with victorious armies returning to Rome, they will rush
to greet us and shower us with petals and incense. They will
admire the procession as we ride into Lahf Tawreos
displaying the booty and captives we bring for the common
good."

He laughed with derision at his own words. "I don't think!"
he added in a growl, dismounting from his horse.

He staggered as he tried to control his stationary beast.
"What will they do? What will they really do? They will
politely thank us, and dismiss us, and dispatch us to exile,
while her ladyship here is lauded the hero."

"Not so," Joanna said.

"Yes so," Bradley contradicted. "Well, I think we'll give
them their procession, whether they like it or not. Do you
not agree?" he fixed her a stare. "Do you not agree?"

She shrugged. She was tired; she wanted to get home.
"Whatever you say. I'm sure my opinion is entirely
irrelevant."

"Whatever I say," he repeated. "Well, you are the teacher,
and know all about history..."

"I'm not really a teacher."

"Maybe not. But I'm sure you'll know this. Is it not the
case with those processions into Rome that they marched
right to the very centre of Rome."

"I believe so."

"And that the captives in the procession would all have been
stripped naked."

She froze. "Come on," he insisted. "Would that not have been
so?"

"Yes," she barely murmured, not trusting herself to say
more.

"Pardon? I'm sorry I didn't hear?"

"Yes," she repeated a little louder.

"So, my dear," he said turning with a sudden lopsided grin
to face her. "We reach the final act in our drama, and I do
believe it calls for the central actress to get her kit
off."

Still she said nothing. Merely fixed him a steely stare.
Finally, she said, "I'm sure you'll think better of this
when you sober up."

"Your lady friend at the Priory, she warned me, threatened
that we shouldn't touch you. She knows some impressive
people too. She misjudged me though, didn't she? But, then,
we're not going to touch you. I'm not going to do anything
she said we shouldn't. What we are going to do, we're all,
us here and everyone in the great Lahf Tawreos, we're all
going to celebrate and rejoice as we ride to the center of
town."

"Please..."

"Now look." he protested. "We're not going to go through the
whole rigmarole again are we? I tell you to strip, you say
no, I threaten, and you relent. It does get boring. We both
know you've got to do what I say in the end."

"What do you want me to take off?" she said, looking at him
defiantly. It was his turn not to answer. He pulled a
ridiculing face.

It took some seconds for the unspoken words to sink in.
"Now?" she asked.

He pulled the same face a second time.

For a moment it seemed she was about to object, but then
tiredness and resignation overtook defiance. She knew in her
heart that any protest was useless, and she no longer had
the energy to fight him. She bit her lip nervously. "I
really did think that maybe you were feeling a little
regret," she said, her fingers reaching upwards towards the
buttons of her blouse. She hesitated for a moment and then
began to slip them undone.

"Regret?" he asked.

"That just maybe it had dawned on you that what you've done
is wrong." Her blouse was open and hung loose. She
unfastened her belt, then looked down at him. "I thought
that perhaps there might be some spark of goodness in you."

She had to dismount from her horse to attend to her boots.
He took the reins from her and watched her remove them and
then unfasten her jeans, wriggle as she pulled them over her
hips, then pull them down.

"But you miss the point," he said, admiring the view. "You
take it all so seriously. This is such a wonderful game. But
everyone is so serious," he stopped to watch her pull her
feet out of her jeans. "About things that are not serious at
all."

She slipped the blouse down her arms. The Guards were
smiling and joking. She stood in just her bra and panties.
"It's easy to be cavalier with the feelings of others. I
wonder if you would feel the same if it were you being
humiliated."

She held her arms over her bra. "That's what this is about,
isn't it? Humiliation. That's the pain you enjoy inflicting.
To break the spirit."

He looked at her with a little annoyance. "You've stopped.
Your underwear as well. The captives rode into Rome totally
naked, remember."

She removed her bra, her breasts spilling out. He said,
"Humiliation is a torture you inflict upon yourself. I just
create the correct ambience. You do the rest. Take down your
pants."

She placed her hands in the waistband and pushed them over
her hips, allowing them then to fall to her feet. She
stepped out of them and carefully picked them up.

"OK, now what?" she asked, feeling herself beginning to
blush under his scrutiny. He was staring at her as though he
had never seen her naked before. And he had, twice. Please
don't stare at me like that, she thought. I can't bear it.
She drew her arms across her breasts and belly and he seemed
to enjoy that. It was as though he had gained a victory in
inducing her embarrassment. As he had said, he created the
atmosphere, he knew how and when to look, but it was her
mind that turned that into torture.

He took hold of her arms at her wrists and gently but firmly
pulled them away from her breasts. "Very nice," he said,
staring at her nude body. "Better than I remembered. Just
perfect for public exhibition." He reached out and took her
nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently rolled
them back and forth. She gasped, and unbelievably, it was a
gasp of pleasure.

"Now get back on your horse and we'll finish the journey,"
he said. "Isn't it so much easier when you cooperate?"

As he released her breasts and walked away she almost died.
For she knew that again her body had betrayed her. He had
seen that just by touching her breasts he could induce a
reaction. Why did he have this effect on her? She did not
react in this way for the others. Why should it only be him?
How could she be so wanton?

But now a further problem confronted her. She tried to clear
her mind so as to consider it. Her horse was beside her. How
should she ride? Sidesaddle would be more modest. But, no,
he was having none of it. Smiling and looking pleased with
himself he insisted she sit astride, and then watched her
attentively as she mounted.

Once again she blushed, knowing that naked as she was, such
a maneuver would expose her pussy entire.

He grinned as he caught her eye. "That was nice," he said.
"Now, let's go."

It was about five miles to the center of town, Joanna
calculated, and probably only about the final quarter mile
would be through the town itself. She consoled herself that
it was only the final stretch that she needed to fear.

It was towards evening but the summer sun had not yet lost
its strength. Joanna felt its warmth upon her bare breasts
and thighs. She could also feel a different kind of warmth
in the reaction of the guards around her.

This was not happening; it could not be happening. She had
once had a nightmare like this. In the nightmare she had
been walking through the streets of Lahf Tawreos and as she
had walked her clothes had begun to disintegrate, as though
rotten. Despite her efforts to cling on to them, they had
fallen apart in her hands. She had pleaded for help from
passersby, but they had ignored her. She remembered the
humiliation as she had tried to keep her bra and panties in
place, but had been unable. They had crumbled to the ground
leaving her nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, while everyone
had laughed and pointed at her nakedness. She had awoken in
a terrible sweat: breathing heavily, her heart thumping. It
was only a nightmare had been her consolation. So where was
the consolation today?

Paul rode five yards in front of her; on each side there was
a guard, slightly behind, the others were well back. This
arrangement kept her guarded, yet left her exposed. For
there was no concealment, no shielding her embarrassment.

The road stretched interminably in front of them, as did her
torment for they rode at a slow walk. Her bare pussy began
to rub upon the leather saddle and soon became itchy. She
needed to do something to soothe it, but the Guards were
behind her, joking. It would be too humiliating to do
anything that might spark ridicule. So she suffered the
irritation.

There were people still in the fields, harvesting their
crops. She held her breath. They must see her soon. They
would become aware of her state of undress. Yet no one
seemed to notice, perhaps they were too far. They did not
see.

How would her friends react? She knew most people in Lahf
Tawreos, had grown up with them, and they knew her. Would
they ignore her? Would they stare? How would they react?

They passed an isolated house to the left. To the front
there was a table and chairs on a small patio sheltered by
the luxuriant growth of a grapevine. The chairs stood empty.
Wherever the occupants were, they were not outside. There
was no one to see.

Further on there was a grassed area. Some children were
playing. They ran away giggling. She heard them clearly as
one said to the other that they were going 'to tell'.

Just up ahead, there was an elderly woman carrying a basket.
She was also walking into Lahf Tawreos and therefore did not
see them at first. Joanna knew that any moment she must
turn: would see that she was naked. She could not bear the
suspense. When would she look round? When would she turn?
They were about ten yards away when she finally did. She saw
the guards first, then Joanna. She stared straight and hard,
her gaze cruel and unflinching. Joanna cringed under the
intensity of that glare. She felt sick and humiliated. Her
pussy was beginning to burn.

Now they were in the town itself. They entered it suddenly
for although there was no wall to act as a delimiter, its
boundary was sharp.

A man whistled and several others look round. They stopped
their conversation and stared. They knew her, of course.
They could not believe, could not conceive that what they
witnessed was real.

>From behind her a woman screamed a clarion cry. "Whore! La
cepern whore!" she screeched. The cry reverberated through
Joanna again and again. Whore, whore, whore! She felt the
sting in the remark, the degradation. What had she ever done
to deserve such vilification?

Still the horses walked. On and on, enduring their rebuke,
their lecherous gaze. Her breasts they scrutinized, her cunt
they criticized. On and on, when would it stop?

In the town centre was a square. She knew it well. At this
time of the evening it would be full of hustle and bustle.
Of buying and selling. At the far end cut into the face of
the cliff were the Gates of Tawr. The Portal. Where so
recently she had expected to pass victorious, wearing her
ceremonial gown. Where today she must face humiliation. This
was where the road ended: where her journey would end.

"Would the Inquistador be there?" she thought in panic. He
was the Chief Representative of Tawr this side of the
Portal, the ultimate authority. Everyone looked to him to
explain and interpret the code. He taught and directed the
elders so that they in turn could train those such as the La
cepern in the holy Orders.

She had been privileged to be close to the Inquistador; he
had known her father. As a favor to him the Inquistador had
agreed to take a personal interest in her training. He had
been like an uncle to her, helping, advising. Would he now
be there to see her embarrassment? What would he think?
Surely he would be so distressed, so disappointed.

A woman stepped out; she had something in her hand. What was
it? She was shouting, abusive. She threw and a tomato
splattered in Joanna's hair. Something else hit her in the
back. She did not dare look to see what it had been or who
had thrown. She felt something sticky and wet running down
her back into her crease.

They were entering the square, Paul at the front, the others
behind. A hush slowly fell as people turned to see what was
about. A hush that turned into an excited babble as they
realized that a naked woman was approaching. A surge of
people pressed forwards trying to get closer, whether to
look or to attack, Joanna could not tell.

As the mob churned about them the procession slowly moved
forward until it reached the entrance to the headquarters of
the Inquistadorial Guard. Hands were at her feet, pulling at
her legs, trying to drag her from her horse. She was
paralyzed by fear: bewildered at the noise and commotion;
shocked by the hatred. She could not move, could not resist.
Paul had dismounted and was struggling to her side. He was
saying something, urging her down. Everything was a swirl as
she dropped down into his arms. He escorted her to the doors
in front of them, his strong hand clearing a path through
the crowd. But still that crowd pressed in upon them: she
could feel hands upon her, touching. She pushed away the
hands groping her breasts, her pussy. From behind someone
slapped her sharply on her buttocks. She shouted angrily in
indignation. Paul ordered them away, but in the noise few
could hear.

Finally, they managed to pass through the door into the
Inquisitorial Headquarters and shut the crowd and its noise
outside.

She shivered. She was safe. She was inside. At that moment
she realized she was crying. She didn't know when she had
begun. Emotion suddenly engulfed her completely and she
broke down in tears.

Through those tears she heard Paul speaking, "Where is the
Inquistador?" he said.

They cannot take me to him like this, she thought in panic.
Not him. But she was lucky. The Inquistador was away on a
pastoral visit and would not return until tomorrow.

"Place her in a cell," she heard Paul command.

He came and sat down beside her. In his hand were some
clothes. They were clean and fresh and she took them
gratefully.

"Well done," he said with admiration. "You played the game
well."

                          *

You have really done it, this time," barked the Inquistador
arriving with bluster. His large frame was tense and
agitated: a mass of heaving raw emotion. He slammed the door
behind him causing Joanna to flinch.

As he passed her, he pulled his cape from his shoulders and
tossed it onto a set of drawers in the corner, ignoring the
coat stand at its side. He swung round to face Joanna who
stood in the centre of the small room, a bemused look of
surprise on her face. But she was not scared, for she knew
the Inquistador well.

"Who did you think you were? Lady Godiva?" the Inquistador
roared at her again. I never thought I would hear of the day
when a La cepern, indeed the daughter of Jean De Brito,
would enter Lahf Tawreos riding a horse and as naked as the
day she was born. Can you conceive the damage you have done?
The pressure I am now under? You made yourself the
fulfillment of an adolescent wet dream. In one day you have
undone and ruined reputations built up over years. You have
brought shame not just upon yourself, but upon the whole
Order and even upon Tawr himself."

He paused, for a moment unable to vent his anger due to its
very intensity.

Now she was uncertain. She had never seen him this angry. "I
had no choice," she managed to stammer, filling the heavy
void his silence produced. "They took my clothes. What could
I do? They made me ride."

"What could you do?" he repeated quietly. But the lack of
volume was misleading, for his words were seething with
vitriol. "You could have conducted yourself honorably in the
first place. You damned yourself the moment you agreed to
act as a spy; yes, that's right, as a spy."

She had begun to sob softly. "Please, if you have any
regard..."

"And I suppose you came in here thinking that despite all
that is written, you would somehow escape. I would make an
exception of you. After all, she is the daughter of Jean de
Brito I would reason. I have known her since she was a
little girl, I would reason. She is almost my daughter, I
would reason. And because of all these things I must make an
exception. That is what you thought, I know you. I can read
you better than anyone."

"I only thought it because that's what the Chief Priestess
at Knee Priory told me."

He was contemptuous. "And what did this quasi Inquistador of
the back country decree should be done? Speak! She has my
ear!"

"I'm sure she didn't mean to be presumptuous, your holiness.
She merely said that I might merit mercy because although
the letter of the law may have been broken, I had not broken
its spirit."

"I see. And you and she are qualified to comment, not only
on the code itself, but also upon its very spirit?"

Joanna had regained a little of her self-confidence. She was
defiant. "My life has been spent living it. I should hope I
do have some right to comment."

He thought thirty seconds. A minute passed. Two. Still he
didn't speak. As the seconds past he slowly regained his
composure. Then he said, "Maybe you are right. Perhaps you
are ready. I will take the chance. Since you have obviously
given this much thought, I appoint you as judge. You sort
out this mess."

She didn't understand. "Pardon?"

"You know exactly what happened. You know better than anyone
does. As you correctly say, you also know the code, what it
says, what it leaves unsaid. I let you judge your own fate.
Whatever you decide, that is what will pass. May the code
and your conscience guide you. I trust your judgement."

"But that's silly, how can I judge myself? No one will
believe for a moment that I act impartially."

"I believe that you can and that you will. That's all that
counts. I am Tawr's Chief Representative. What I decide is
what Tawr has already spoken."

"But I am no judge! I have never been called upon to judge
in any matter. How can I decide this thing?"

He smiled. "Now you sing a different tune. A little humility
at last! A moment ago you were qualified to discern between
the code and its very spirit. And that is a very heavy
burden."

"You are determined to set me as my own judge?"

"I am."

"Then please provide some guidance for me!"

At first, he seemed loath to offer any advice, but her eyes
were beseeching. Eventually he conceded with a nod. "You
know your actions as well as your motives. You also know the
code. Seek Tawr in meditation and there try to view what
happened dispassionately. How would you react if it were
another La cepern? If it were someone you didn't know?
Remember too to give consideration to how your sisters, your
fellow La cepern, will receive any decision. Will it set an
unwelcome precedent? And what of the laity, those who are
not in the Orders at all, will they view your verdict as a
compromise? Finding the spirit of the code is not an
enviable task. But if you consider these things, I know you
will do what is right."

"I will need time to think."

"I would be concerned if that were not the case. Take as
much time as you need in reflection. Tell the keeper you
wish to see me when you reach a decision."

She was escorted out by two members of the Inquistadorial
Guard who took her to the Place of Solitude. This was a
windowless room deep beneath the castle. It was pitch-black
inside, for the room was underground. It was also cold and
dank: the chalk walls were hewn out of the cliff itself.
However, apart from the distant echo of dripping water, it
was quiet here. There was no noise, no source of
distraction. It was a place for meditation and thought. She
sat upon the cold floor, for the room was unfurnished apart
from a bucket by the door. This would be her only companion
until she had weighed and decided.

She felt rather scared. She had her fate in her own hands
now. But what a responsibility she had been given and that
she now carried. What a privilege: to judge for Tawr, to be
his chosen representative albeit in just this single matter.
If only it were so personally onerous. But it was a task she
could not shirk, whether it brought difficulty to herself or
not. Matters involving the code of Tawr went beyond the
personal interest of any individual. This she had always
been taught and believed. So now she must ponder.

She recalled what the Chief Priestess had said in the
Priory. "You did not desire sex with these men; they forced
themselves upon you." However, the more she thought about
that statement, the less she was sure that it was true.
Bradley had never truly hidden the fact that he found her
attractive, as by law he ought. Had that knowledge caused
improper feelings to be kindled within her? She had been
quite fond of him. He was the stranger in town and that made
him different, made him interesting. But had her feelings,
subconsciously, run deeper?

She recalled him standing over her on the mountain, towering
naked above her, his penis thick and solid. She closed her
eyes and in the darkness shivered as she saw him, so aroused
by her nakedness and vulnerability; the others holding her
submissive and subservient. He had known what he wanted and
had taken it. She could feel him inside her, his hands
mauling her breasts, flicking her nipples for his own
satisfaction and pleasure rather than to please her. She
remembered struggling and how her endeavors had only excited
him more.

How did this make her feel? There was no denying it. Right
now, here, within her solitary cell these thoughts were
exciting. Her breasts tingled and her pussy ached in want of
attention. But how could this happen? How perverted could
she be? How could any woman find eroticism in such violence?
What was it that she found exciting? The thought of his
control? That, certainly. The thought of submitting for his
pleasure. That also.

But wasn't there more? For hadn't he also managed to arouse
her during her rape itself, as he had thrust his invasive
penis into her yielding flesh? That was not a mere flight of
her fantasy, an imagination that must be brought under
control. That had actually happened. She had been on the
point of coming when he had withdrawn. It was not true that
she was simply an unwilling extra. She had wanted him inside
her; begged with her eyes that he finish what he'd started;
sucked with her soul as he'd pulled his tool from inside of
her.

And were these the actions of a La cepern?


****************************************************


I had wiped him clean with a tissue and found a polythene
bag for the tissue. He had come about half way though,
towards the end of my ride into Lahf Tawreos. That was
interesting, I thought. It told me, well, what did it tell
me?

We pulled into the restaurant car park and came to a stop.
He leant across and gave me a kiss. "Thank you," he said.
"That was nice."

It wasn't until deserts were on the table that either of us
mentioned the story again. During dinner, my dress had been
attracting many sly and not so sly glances. I couldn't work
out whether Paul was secretly enjoying the attention I was
receiving or not, I would have to find out later. But I was
certainly reveling in it. Anyhow, I think this was the
reason he was keeping the conversation rather conservative.
But now I had asked him outright about the tape.

"That last bit," he said. "I'm not so sure. No one would
ever condemn himself or herself to death. I don't
understand. The plot here seems ridiculous. How can you make
out that Joanna is taking this 'deliberation' about her fate
seriously?"

"You don't think anyone would do that?" I asked.

"Are there guilty men in jail? They all reckon they're
innocent."

"I disagree," I said robustly. "Joanna has been
indoctrinated with the idea that the code comes before
everything, life included. Is that so unbelievable? Think
back to the second world war and the Japanese Kamikaze. They
were indoctrinated into believing that the Emperor of Japan
was a God. Because of that they volunteered to commit
suicide for their country and its Emperor. I'm sure there
are lots of modern day examples; I'm thinking of freedom
fighters, for example. Many of them are willing to die for a
cause or their country. Why should you think it impossible
that Joanna would be equally motivated?"

"I don't know. I guess the idea makes me uncomfortable."

"It makes me uncomfortable as well. But I believe that given
her upbringing, and if you like, her brainwashing, that
Joanna is doing her very best by her conscience there in the
Place of Solitude and that she's really suffering. She
really wants to do what the code says is right."

"So what happens next?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "At the moment," I said. "I just
don't know."