Post by adreannaTal{fb} on Dec 28, 2010 16:38:25 GMT -5
Swords are often drawn on Gor over women, and particularly over lovely slaves. Women are prizes, perfections and treasures. It is no wonder that men fight over them with ferocity. Wars have been fought to recover a stolen slave. ---Renegades of Gor, 21;397---
Anytime, anyplace - when lust strikes a gorean man, a bed is not needed.
Against a wall on a city street
“Cosian slut!” snarled Marcus.
He seized her by the arms and lifted her from her feet, thrusting her back against the wall of the building.
He held her there, off her feet, her back pressed back, hard, against the rough wall.
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes!”
“Be thusly used, and as befits you,” said he, “slave, and slut of Cos!”
“Yes, my Master!” she wept. She clung about him, her eyes closed, her head back, gasping.
Then he cried out, and lowered her to the stones of the street.
She knelt there, gratefully, sobbing. Her back was bloody. Marcus had not been gentle with the slave. She was holding to his leg.
“Disgusting,” said a free woman, drawing her veil more closely about her face.
Did she not know that she, too, if she were a slave, would be similarly subject to a master’s pleasure?
Magicians
On the grass before other men, winning a round of "Girl Catch" (Refer to Gorean Games for details of the game.
Blindly, hooded, she fled—into the arms of the young blond giant. With a cry of pleasure he seized her and flung her to the grass, pinned beneath him. She was caught.The referee called out a word, which I would later learn was "Capture," and slapped the man on the shoulder. The other men stepped back. Then, to my horror, I saw Eta, still hooded and bound, in her bells, ravished in the grass.When the young man had finished with her he stood up and unknotted the hood from his head, casting it aside. Men lifted cups to him and shouted and pounded him upon the back. He was grinning. He had won. He returned to his place. Moneys were exchanged. Eta lay on her side in the grass.
In a few moments the referee had returned to her and, by the arms, thrown her again to her feet. She stood unsteadily, trembling, the motion of her body agitating the bells.
He again called the word I was later to learn was "Quarry," and again he put her into motion with the switch. Again the men stalked her. Second place was at stake. She did not run as well this time, but, perhaps because this time there were only four pursuers, performed on the whole commendably. In some two or three minutes she was again taken and, to my horror, was, with pleasure and ruthlessness, again subjected to the indignity of the caught female, her second captor handling her with an audacity and simple physical proprietorship scarcely inferior to that of the first.
How sorry I felt for her, and how, secretly, I envied her. I watched while third place and fourth place were won. The fifth man, when he had removed his hood, was the butt of much good-humored laughing and pushing. He, losing out, had not won the right to ravish the belied beauty.
Slave Girl
Another game of Girl Catch
Four times I ran as quarry in the cruel games of that evening.
Four times was I caught and, on my back in the dirt of that barbarian camp, rudely ravished by whom I knew not.
Slave Girl
On board an enemy ship, with the enemy Captains slave, in the midst of battle.
"I am the slave of Reginald," she said. "Captain of the Tamira."
"Are you aware that there is a battle going on outside?" I inquired.
"Yes," she said, uneasily, squirming, naked, in the berth.
...
"Why did Artemidorus, the first officer, when he inquired as to your readiness, not attempt to enter the cabin, and check you by hand?"
"None may touch me save Reginald, my master," She said, proudly, "unless I have displeased him.
"Oh," she cried. "Oh!"
"Have you forgotten, so soon," I asked, "pretty slave, to whom it is that you now belong?"
"To you," she said, "to you, Master! Ohl"
"It seems you are still simmering, little sweet, little delicacy," I said.
She looked at me, wildly. "Your touch!" she whispered. "What is it doing to me?" Then she lifted her body, piteously, the sweet, rounded centralities of her, to me. Then I took her by the hips, holding her, pressing my thumbs into the sides of her belly. She recoiled, frightened. "Show me mercy," she said.
"No," I said.
I pulled the portion of the wadded strip of scarlet sheet, wet and heavy, out of her mouth, a portion of the same, and still attached to it, that I had used earlier to blindfold her. I had thrust it in her mouth to muffle her cries. She was moaning softly, and kissing at me.
"I see that you are still simmering," I said.
"Simmering?" she laughed, ruefully, softly. "You brought me to a boil, and then, when you had well tasted of me, let me subside, and then again, when it pleased you, made me simmer, and then again brought me to a boil, and then again made me simmer, and then, once again, brought me to a boil."
I brushed back some blond hair from her face.
"You well know how to prepare a girl for your delectation, Master," she whispered. "Surely you are a gourmet of slave use, a master chef well trained in the art of preparing delicious slave viands for the satisfaction of your lustful hungers."
Guardsman
In the bath tub
I then flung her on her back in the water and she struggling, gasping, trying to keep her head above water, again had her.
Then I thrust her up, half sitting, half lying, against the edge of the tub. She turned her head toward me, gasping. The blindfold was sopped, but secure. Her hair and body were soaked and wet. The cord loops, soaked, were still tight on her small wrists. Her body, wet, was interesting to touch. Then I again had her. "Master," she sobbed.
Rogue
In a canoe, with others
“I desire no other,” she said, turning her head to face him. I could smell the heat of her. “Are you now going to claim me, as your slave?” she asked. They seemed oblivious of the others in the canoe. Yet had they not been, it would have made no difference, for the girl was only a slave.
“I claim you, Tende,” said he, “as my slave.”
“Are you going to take the rights of the Master?” she asked.
“When, and as I please,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Oh!” she said, forced down, roughly, in the canoe.
“I claim you, Tende, daughter of my hated enemy, Aibu,” he said, “as my slave, and now, for the first time, I assert over you the full and uncompromising rights of my mastery.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Yes, Master.”
Ayari and I, and the two bare-breasted, lovely white slaves, property girls, each of us now with a paddle, not speaking, propelled the long canoe quietly eastward.
Explorers
Being pleased orally while carrying a girl upside down to the bedroom
"Shall I heel my Master to his bedroom," she asked, "or does he desire that I precede him?"
"I shall carry you," I said.
"As Master wishes," she said, breathlessly.
I put my hands on her.
"Oh!@ she said.
I then rubbed my fingers and smelled my hand. "Slaves, too, it seems," I said, "sometimes find it difficult to conceal their desire"
"Yes, Master," she laughed.
"Oh!@ she said. "You are going to carry me like this," she asked, "upside down and in front of you?"
"Yes," I said, "and as I ascend the stairs slowly, you will please me."
"Yes, Master," she laughed.
At the top of the stairs I stopped, and shuddered, and cried out.
"Perhaps I should have gagged Master," she said.
I then carried her, over my shoulder, into the bedroom, to throw her to the foot of my couch, beneath the slave ring.
Guardsman
On the floor, in the blood of a recently killed sleen
I crouched before her, and took her by the arms. I was covered with the blood of the sleen. "Master?" she asked. I put her to her back on the tiles in the sleen's blood. I held her so she could not move, and entered her. "Master?" she asked, frightened. I began to caress her from within, deeply, with my manhood. The warm closeness of her body, so beautiful, so helpless, that of an owned slave, clasped me. She began to respond to me, frightened. Then I thrust again and again into her, in the strong, increasingly intense rhythms of a savage master until the collared she of her, once that of a civilized girl, screamed and shuddered, and then lay mine, without dignity or pride, shattered, only a yielded, barbarian slave, in my arms.
I stood up, and she lay at my feet collared, in the sleen's blood.
Beasts
"This is the retinue of Constance, Lady in Kassau, enroute to Lydius, returning from the sights of Ar."
"She must be rich," I said. Surely this was true, for her to travel as she did, not in public caravan.
"Stand aside," said the captain.
"A moment, Captain," said I. I looked to the free woman. "I am a man, dear lady," said I, "and am of the warriors. I have journeyed far."
"I do not understand," she said.
"I assume," said I, "that you will linger briefly here, to fill the flasks of water, if not camp for the night."
"What does he want?" she asked.
"He is of the warriors, milady," said the captain.
"Forgive me, Lady," said I, "but my need is much upon me."
The two slave girls, bare-armed and veiled, quickly glanced to one another.
"I do not understand," said the graceful figure in the sedan chair. She was free.
I grinned at her. "I have food," I said. "I have water. But I have not had for four days a woman."
Beasts
Taking a slave while she is on her knees, bent over a tub, washing dishes
After tonight, I would have to serve Mirus, and the others, as they might want me. I recalled that in the house of my training the "opened" girls had been available to the guards. The kitchen master, too, I knew had had his eye on me. Usually, laboring there, on our knees, bending over the low, steaming tubs, our arms immersed in the suds to our elbows, cleaning pots and pans, he had had Ina and I remove our kitchen tunics. He had used Ina several times. I swallowed hard. Doubtless I would be put back in the kitchen from time to time. He was probably waiting for me.
Dancer
On a table in an inn
I looked over to the table where the newcomer was. He had now pulled the slave to him and thrown her on her belly over the table.
“Disgusting,” said the Lady Temione.
“An attractive slave,” I commented. The girl was now gasping and clinging to the table. He was not being gently with her. But then, of course, she was only a slave.
“Disgusting,” said the Lady Temione.
“He may be something of a boor, but he seems to caress well,” I said.
The girl was now gasping with love noises.
“I would not know anything about that,” she said, acidly.
Yet I noted she did not take her eyes from the abused slave.
...
The slave on the table gasped, used, serving, clinging to its edges.
The bearded fellow, holding her, was then still for a moment.
“She is moving!” said the Lady Temione, scandalized.
“Yes,” I said, “she is cooperating in what is being done.”
“Terrible!” whispered the Lady Temione.
...
The bearded fellow drew back for a moment.
The girl clutched the table. She was still for a moment or two. Then she moaned. Then she moved.
“Did you see that!” she said. “She actually lifted herself to him!”
“Surely only a slave would so lift herself to a male,” I said.
The Lady Temione blushed, hotly.
“Look at that slut wriggle!” she said.
“She is afraid she may not have been fully pleasing,” I said. “She is trying now to interest him, to be pleasing, to entice him. But I think he is not angry with her. I think he is only playing with her, only teasing her.” I wondered how the Lady Temione would wriggle.
“Look!” said the Lady Temione.
“He is now again with her,” I said.
“Yes!” she said.
...
Suddenly the girl on the table screamed aloud, again and again, half reared up, began to buck, but could not escape, so tightly and helplessly held she was, uttering the word, “Master!” over and over.
“Slave orgasm has been forced upon her,” I commented.
Renegades
On a public bridge
We were but a short way from the Towers of Warriors, on the second of its approaching high bridges, when again Clitus Vitellius turned and faced me.
"I cannot wait," he said to me.
"Yes, Master," I said. We were on a high bridge, one of the highest in all Ar. The lights of the city were strewn beneath us; above us burned the stars of Gor.
He placed his shield upon the bridge, straps down, its convex surface like a bow facing the stars.
He indicated that I should take my position upon it, and I did so, my head down. With the straps, brought about the sides of the great shield he fastened my wrists apart, one on each side, about at shoulder level, at the edges of the shield. I lay over the shield, bound upon it.
"Now I have you where I want you, Dina," said he, "Earth girl."
"Yes, Master," I said.
Swiftly he took me in his arms. I yielded immediately to my master.
Slave Girl
Taking a slave found chained under a wagon in a storm
I put her to her back, a bit more under the shelter of the wagon. The chain moved a little through the loop ring above us. I heard the wagon creak a little, too, above us. Someone had stirred in it, or was moving, it seemed. The fellow who owned the wagon, I supposed, was turning in his sleep, or was addressing himself to his companion. But it then seemed quiet, and there was little noise except for the wind and rain, and the distant rumble of thunder.
My face was close to here. “You are slave,” I whispered.
Suddenly there was a great burst of lightning and crash of thunder.
I saw her eyes, and pressed down upon her, holding her head, pressing her lips with the kiss of the master.
I drew back.
There was another great flash of lightning and I saw her eyes, looking up at me, wild, frightened, needful. “Yes,” she whispered intensely, helplessly. “I am a slave! I am a slave!” Then she lifted her body and seized me in her arms and pressed her lips eagerly, needfully, gratefully to mine.
I put her to her back.
Then I caressed her, and she squirmed, writhing on the wet tarpaulin over the gravel, beneath the wagon, in the flashes of lightning, in the explosions of thunder.
She was small, naked and cuddly. Her thigh, as I determined, in turning her about, and caressing her, first, by feel, and then, in a flash of lightning, wore the common Kajira brand, the small, delicate “Kef,” for “Kajira,” sometimes called the staff and fronds, suggesting beauty subject to discipline. On her neck, beneath the coils of the heavy, padlocked chain, was a common, close-fitting Gorean slave collar.
“Alas,” she wept softly, in misery, in frustration, “my ankles are chained!”
I gathered she might not have been a slave long.
“Oh!” she cried, softly.
I thrust up her legs and slipped between them, and hen her legs were tight about me, I within their chained circuit. I lifted her up, and lowered her. “Ohh,” she said, softly. She clutched me.
The storm was fierce.
Then, after a time, I lifted her up and slipped back, freeing myself.
There are various ways, of course, to use a woman whose ankles were bound. I had utilized one of them.
Renegades
On public pleasure racks in the piazza during Carnival. (Quite popular, all the strap racks are in use.)
“Happy carnival,” I said to Boots Tarsk-Bit.
“Happy carnival,” said he.
I thrust the slave ahead of me, and we pressed through the crowds. In a few Ehn we had crossed the piazza and come to the racks. There were two sorts, refined, adjustable strap racks, with beddings of flat, soft, criss-crossed straps, with sturdy stud-and-eyelet securing straps, and simple net racks, little more than sturdy wooden frames within which was slung a netlike webbing of rope. In these riacks, if one wishes to secure the woman within the webbing, simple cords are used. There were also some trestles. I took the slave to one of the net racks. The strap racks were all in use.
I saw the free woman who had worn the brief cloth about her hips near the racks.
I threw the slave on her belly on the netting and then turned her to her back. I had her place her wrists and ankles through the netting in certain fashions. I did not bother secure her in position. I then joined her on the netting. In moments, gasping, looking at me wildly, gratefully, she was in the throes of slave orgasm.
Players
On the desk in the middle of work
At the side of the desk, to its right, as you faced it, on the bare tiles, there lay a chained, naked woman. She was dark-haired, and beautiful. It was not surprising to me that such a woman should lie at the side of his desk.
...
“You may leave, Captain,” he said.
“Sir,” I said.
“Yes?” he said.
“Recently; on the Genesian Road, north of Torcadino, there was an attack on a portion of the Cosian supply trains, a massacre. Were your men responsible for that?”
“No,” he said.
“Do you know what party, or parties, were?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“But it was done by mercenaries,” I said.
“Doubtless,” he said.
I then turned about and went toward the door. “Oh!” said Lady Cara. I heard the sounds of her chains. At the door, turning, I saw her on her feet, naked, in her chains, being held closely against him, looking up into his eyes. Then he threw her on her belly on the desk, on the papers, and the various documents of state. I then took my leave.
Mercenaries
Gorean hospitality, slaves offered to and used by guests
"It is late now," I said. "I think we should sleep."
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Tarl," said I. "Let that suffice."
"Accepted," he said, smiling. He would not pry further into my affairs. Doubtless he assumed I was bandit, fugitive or assassin.
I took Constance by the arm, and threw her to his feet. It was a simple act of Gorean courtesy.
Constance looked at me, wildly.
"Please him," I said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
Beasts
I rose to my feet. "The feast has but begun," laughed Policrates. "I am weary," I said. "I think I shall retire to my chambers." "Certainly!" he laughed, "Your journey has been long. I shall of course send a girl to wash your body and content you." "Policrates is generous," I said. "It is nothing." he said.
This form of hospitality of course is common on Gor. It is common to provide a guest with a girl for the night, to see to his comfort. My compliment, nonetheless, was appropriate as was his reply. Ritualistic amenities, and pleasantries on such occasions are invariably observed.
He rose to stand beside me. Together we looked about the tables at various girls, slaves, nude and partially clothed, who served there.
"Take your pick of the wenches," he said.
Rogue
Leader providing or offering his slave(s) for the use of his men
Bosk purchases Sandra, tries her himself first and gives her to his men for their use.
I had purchased the girl whom I had seen dance in the Paga Tavern, for forty pieces of gold. I had called her Sandra, after a girl once known on Earth. I had put my collar on her and, after using her, had consigned her to my men, that she might please their senses.
Raiders
Leader tosses one of his two slaves for the use of his fifteen men
I looked at him with loving eyes. Then he placed the blanket over my head, and, with a length of cord, looping it several times about my throat, tied it tightly under my chin, so that again, as in the cruel game, I was hooded. Then he threw me to his men.
Perhaps I would not have considered these matters save that I was unable to drive from my mind the recollection of an event which had occurred late in the sordid abuse to which I had been so brutally subjected. I had been thrown to my master’s men. One after another had raped and beaten me, and thrown me to the next. I was handed about as an object. Fierce was the discipline to which they subjected me.
Slave Girl
I now stood beside him, the man with the torch standing to one side. I looked down at the man in the furs, looking up at us. To me he was the least attractive man in the camp.
My master had said something to me. Its import was clear. I looked at him. His eyes were hard. I choked back sobs. I knelt beside the man in the furs, who threw back the furs.
My master stood behind me. The other man held the torch. I then, with hands and mouth, fell to kissing and touching the warrior. I pleased him as well as I could, being an ignorant girl, following his directions. At last he took me and threw me to the furs beneath him. I looked up at my master’s face. I could see the side of it in the torchlight. The torchlight illuminated me. Then, suddenly, I turned my head to one side, closing my eyes, crying out. I could no longer resist the man. I then, shamed, under the very eyes of my master, yielded to the man.
When he had done with me to his satisfaction, he thrust me from him. My master then ordered me to my feet and he conducted me to where my blanket had been discarded.
Slave Girl
Donna had been a virgin until she was raped in the coffle on the first night of the march by two of my master’s men. She had been had from time to time since then, but Marla, Eta and, surprisingly, I, had been the most consistently abused of the girls of Clitus Vitellius. The more beautiful I had become the more often I had been raped; and the more I had been raped, the more beautiful I had become.
Slave Girl
Slavers men having rape use of the slaves
"The pens!" she asked.
"There," I said, "you will be stripped and branded."
"Branded?" she said. I do not think she understood me. Her Earth mind would find this hard to understand. She was not yet cognizant of Gorean realities. She would learn them swiftly. No choice would be given her.
"Is she to be sold red-silk?" I asked Samos.
He looked at the girl. "Yes," he said.
The guards grinned.
It would be a girl who knew herself as a woman when she ascended the block.
...
"No!" she screamed. "No!"
"Then," I said, "you will be raped, and taught your womanhood. When you have learned your womanhood, you will be caged. Later you will be sold."
Beasts
Samos' men, in his great hall, using a new slave on a table while Samos plays kaissa and others watch a slave dance. Other slaves are then taken by men in the hall.
“Tula!” called a man. “Let Tula dance!”
Several men shouted their agreement to this. A long-legged brunette was thrust to the center of the tiles. She had high cheekbones, a tannish skin and a golden collar. Her bit of silk was ripped from her.
“Tula!” cried men, and, sensuously, she lifted her arms, and standing, excitingly posed, awaited the instruction of the music. She would show the men what true dancing could be.
Across the room I saw she who had been Lady Rowena of Lydius, her arms, her wrists still bound with her own hair, about the neck of the oarsman. His hands were one her. Her lips were pressed fervently to his. He lowered her to the tiles beside his table.
...
I heard soft gasps and cries from across the room, the fall of a goblet, and squirming. The former Lady Rowena of Lydius’s hands were no longer bound but they were now held above and behind her head, each wrist in the hands of a different man. She was on her back, thrown across one of the low tables.
Samos looked down at the board. I did not press him. His reticence to respond directly puzzled me. If he had heard something, of course, it was perhaps none of my business. I had no intention of prying into his affairs, or those of Priest-Kings. Also, of course, perhaps he had heard nothing.
“You are not playing your usual game,” I told him.
“I am sorry,” he said.
A new girl, Susan, was now dancing. She who had been the Lady Rowena of Lydius was o her belly on a table, clutching its sides, her teeth gritted. Tula was being handed from man to man. Some of the other girls, too, were now being used by masters. And others were licking and kissing at them, and whispering in their ears, begging for attention.
...
“Is it the sleen for her, Captain?” asked he who was first of the two guardsmen, he who had just spoken.
“Dorto, Krenbar,” said Samos.
“Yes, Captain,” said the men. Dorto was the oarsman who had opened the former Lady Rowena of Lydius for the uses of men. Krenbar was another oarsman. He had used her twice in the evening, after putting her through intricate slave paces each time.
“Does this slave,” asked Samos, “give some indication that she might eventually prove to be at least somewhat adequate in a collar?”
“Yes, Captain,” said Dorto. “Yes, Captain,” said Krenbar.
Players
During the evening meal in the holding of Policrates
The music ended with a swirl of sound and the girl with a jangle of bells, lay before the table of Policrates, whimpering, her hand extended. She lifted her head. I read the unmistakable need in her eyes. She was indeed a slave female.
"Master!" she whimpered. "Please Master!" Policrates glanced at her. "Throw me to your men, please Master," she begged.
Policrates gestured to a brawny fellow who, coming up behind the girl bent down and by her upper arms, lifted her from the floor. She was helpless in his arms. Only her toes, well painted, scarlet nails, touched the floor. Policrates gestured again to a table to the side, and the fellow, carrying the girl went to the table. He then threw her with a jangle of bells and a clatter of places and goblets to the surface of the table. Instantly the girl was held down on the table, on her back, her arms and legs held apart, and several men crowded about her. I heard her cry with pleasure.
Rogue
Another slave used during the meal in the holding of Policrates
I turned my attention to the dancer on the floor. She lay now on her back, one knee lifted, her arms at her sides, palms down, before the brute with his whip, who towered over her. Her head, too, was turned to the side. Then she turned her head to face the brute, who tyrannized her. She looked deeply into his eyes. Then delicately, in a graceful gentrues, she turned her hands, putting their backs to the floor, exposing her palms and the soft flesh of her palms to him, indicating her surrender, her submission, her vulnerability and her readiness.
There was applause, the striking of the left shoulder from the tables.
The brute then crouched beside her and encircles her neck with the coils of his whip. He drew her to her knees then before him. She looked up at him, her neck in the whip coils, his.
There was more applause. Then the brute looked to Policrates, who indicated a table. He then pulled the girl to her feet and, running her over the tiles, and then releasing the coils form her neck, threw her stumbling into the arms of waiting pirates who, with a cry of pleasure, seized her and began to work their lusty wills upon her. There was more applause, and laughter.
Rogue
Recent captives chained to benches for use of soldiers & civilians
I turned in the blankets, brought by soldiers, on the tiles of the vestibule of the Semnium. There were perhaps two hundred people, many of them civilians, being housed there this night. Near me, a free female, one of those to be counted among the spoils of Torcadino, was chained on one of the client ’s marble benches, one of several serving on such benches, women who, one after the other, in turn, were replaced by others.
The woman on the bench, groaning and ravished, on her belly on it, clutching it, her legs chained on either side of it, was now alone. She lay on the cool marble, clutching it.
A new female was brought to the further bench. She was sat upon it, straddling it. Her ankles were chained together beneath it. Her wrists were similarly secured, the length of chain running under the heavy, fixed-position marble bench.
She was then, by the hair, drawn forward, to lie upon her belly on the cool marble.
Mercenaries
It was easy to tell, however, which of us were virgins, for the virgins, like myself, wore the "iron belt."
...
The girl to my right did not wear it. She had already been "opened for the uses of men," as it is said here. She was thus free, of course, for the uses of the guards, who did not fail to avail themselves of their privileges. Once she had been dragged forth from her kennel, down several from mine, to the right, and they, so eager were they, such men, to have her, that they had not even seen fit to wait until they had pulled her on her leash to their own quarters.
Dancer
With Free Women
The She-urt, with a male accomplice, had just attempted to rob him
I then turned to the girl. I tied her hands behind her back, and then took her by the ankles and held her upside down, thrusting her head and shoulders, and upper body, under the cold waters of the canal. In a few seconds I pulled her up, sputtering, and sat her, tied, against the wall across from me. She gasped for air; she tried to clear water from her eyes. She choked. Her hair and the rag she wore were wet. She backed further against the wall, drawing her legs up, pressing her knees closely together. She looked at me, frightened. “Please, let me go,” she said.
...
“Please, let me go,” she said. “It will mean the collar for me.”
...
I drew her to me by the ankles.
Then in moments she moaned and wept.
I forced her to yield well, to the very limits of the free woman. Then I was finished with her.
Explorers
With a "debtor slut" serving while awaiting some gentleman to redeem her debts to the inn
I had scarcely arranged my blankets and put the pack down for a pillow when I saw an attendant enter the room, carrying a stripped female, her hands tied behind her, over his shoulder, her head to the rear, in slave position. I gestured to him, and, exciting my envy somewhat, he picked his way expertly among the sprawled, slumbering bodies to my space. “I shall return in an Ahn,” he said. He then sat his burden beside me.
“You!” said the Lady Temione.
“Shhh,” I cautioned her. “People are trying to sleep.”
She tried to struggle to her feet, but I gently placed her on the blanket beside me, on her side.
“This a terrible mistake,” she whispered. “You know I am a free woman.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I do not understand what I am doing here,” she said, “naked and tied beside you.”
“Really?” I asked.
“It can not be that!” she said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“I am free!” she said.
“But your bills are not paid,” I said.
She made an angry noise.
“It seems that this time you did not manage to inveigle some fellow into paying them for you.”
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Not that,” she said.
“Precisely,” I said.
“I am not an inn girl,” she said. “I am a free woman! I am not subject to guest use!”
“Were you told you were not subject to guest use?” I asked.
“No,” she said, hesitantly.
“So?” I said.
Renegades
Travelers sate their lust along the road
“You take her left hand and I will take her right,” said Hurtha.
Boabissia tried to scramble to her feet but, bound as she was, she fell. Then we had her wrists, and pulled her back, by them, to the wagon wheel.
“What are you doing?” cried Boabissia.
I tied her left wrist back to one of the spokes, and Hurtha, similarly, fastened her right wrist back, to another spoke.
“What are you doing?” asked Boabissia.
“You have seen several of the fellows about looking at Boabissia, haven't you?” asked Hurtha of me.
“Of course,” I said. “Though there are many slaves in Torcadino, and lovely ones, apparently there is a dearth of free women here, particularly ones not veiled.”
“Veil me then!” she begged.
“It is time you earned your keep, Boabissia,” said Hurtha.
“What do you mean?” she cried. “I am a free woman!”
“I think I can round up a few interested fellows,” said Hurtha.
“What are you thinking of!” she cried. She struggled, helplessly.
“She wanted her ankles untied,” said Hurtha.
“Yes,” I said.
“No, no!” she cried. “Do not untie my ankles!”
Hurtha dropped the ankle cords to one side. She clenched her ankles tightly together. She pulled desperately, futilely, against the thongs that held her wrists to the spokes. Hurtha left the vicinity of the wagon.
“Relax, Boabissia,” I encouraged her. “You have serious sexual needs, which you have been frustrating for too long. This has been evident in your temper, and in your demeanor and attitudes. This will do you a great deal of good.”
“I am not a slave!” she said, weeping, struggling. “I am a free woman! I do not have sexual needs!”
“Perhaps not,” I said. To be sure, it was difficult, and probably fruitless, to argue with a free woman about such matters. Too, I might have misread what seemed to be numerous and obvious signs of need in her. Perhaps free women neither needed nor wanted sexual experience. That, I supposed, was their business. On the other hand, if they did not want or need sex, the transformation between the free woman and the slave becomes difficult to understand. To be sure, perhaps it is merely the collar, and the uncompromising male domination, which so unlocks, and calls forth, the passion, service and love of a female.
“What are you doing?” she asked, weeping.
“Doubtless men will be here soon,” I said.
“What are you doing?” she wept.
I put the opaque sack over her head and tied it, with its own strings, under her chin, close about her neck, rather like a slave hood. “This will make it easier for you,” I said. “I am veiling you. Too, this will enable you, by shutting out certain extraneous factors, to concentrate more closely on the exact nature of your sensations.
“Release me!” she wept.
“No,” I said.
I heard a fellow near me. I looked about. “She is certified free?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Examine her.”
He thrust Boabissia's dress up, high over her breasts. He examined her thighs, and the usual brand sites on a Gorean female slave.
“How much?” he asked.
“She is only a free woman,” I said. I put a copper bowl on the ground, beside her, at her left. “She is not trained. Only a tarsk bit,” It was the smallest, least significant Gorean coin, at least in common circulation.
“In advance,” I said. Men are commonly disappointed in free women, and almost certainly if they have experienced the alternative. They are not slaves, trained in the giving of pleasure to men. Some free women believe their role in lovemaking consists primarily in lying down. Should they become slaves the whip soon teaches them differently.
“Of course,” he said. The coin rattled into the copper bowl.
“No,!” wept Boabissia. She clenched her ankles tightly together. Then her ankles, one in each hand of the fellow, were parted.
It was now late in the evening.
Hurtha happily shook the copper bowl. In it were several coins. I had not kept track. We were now, at any rate, once again solvent.
Mercenaries
I turned and strode toward the door of the hall. Luma fell back before me, her hand before her mouth.
I saw that her eyes were deep, and very beautiful. She was frightened.
"Precede me to my couch," I said.
"I am free." She whispered.
"Collar her," I said to Thurnock, "and send her to my couch."
His hand closed on the arm of the thin blond scribe.
"Clitus," I said, "send Sandra, the dancer, to my couch as well."
"You freed her, Captain," smiled Clitus.
"Collar her," I told him.
"Yes, Captain," he said. I well remembered Sandra, with her black hair, brownish skin and high cheekbones. I wanted her.
It had been long since I had had a woman.
"Tab," said I.
"Yes, Captain," said he
"The two females," I told him, "have recently been free. Accordingly, as soon as they have been collared, force them to drink slave wine."
Marauders
Anytime, anyplace - when lust strikes a gorean man, a bed is not needed.
Against a wall on a city street
“Cosian slut!” snarled Marcus.
He seized her by the arms and lifted her from her feet, thrusting her back against the wall of the building.
He held her there, off her feet, her back pressed back, hard, against the rough wall.
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes!”
“Be thusly used, and as befits you,” said he, “slave, and slut of Cos!”
“Yes, my Master!” she wept. She clung about him, her eyes closed, her head back, gasping.
Then he cried out, and lowered her to the stones of the street.
She knelt there, gratefully, sobbing. Her back was bloody. Marcus had not been gentle with the slave. She was holding to his leg.
“Disgusting,” said a free woman, drawing her veil more closely about her face.
Did she not know that she, too, if she were a slave, would be similarly subject to a master’s pleasure?
Magicians
On the grass before other men, winning a round of "Girl Catch" (Refer to Gorean Games for details of the game.
Blindly, hooded, she fled—into the arms of the young blond giant. With a cry of pleasure he seized her and flung her to the grass, pinned beneath him. She was caught.The referee called out a word, which I would later learn was "Capture," and slapped the man on the shoulder. The other men stepped back. Then, to my horror, I saw Eta, still hooded and bound, in her bells, ravished in the grass.When the young man had finished with her he stood up and unknotted the hood from his head, casting it aside. Men lifted cups to him and shouted and pounded him upon the back. He was grinning. He had won. He returned to his place. Moneys were exchanged. Eta lay on her side in the grass.
In a few moments the referee had returned to her and, by the arms, thrown her again to her feet. She stood unsteadily, trembling, the motion of her body agitating the bells.
He again called the word I was later to learn was "Quarry," and again he put her into motion with the switch. Again the men stalked her. Second place was at stake. She did not run as well this time, but, perhaps because this time there were only four pursuers, performed on the whole commendably. In some two or three minutes she was again taken and, to my horror, was, with pleasure and ruthlessness, again subjected to the indignity of the caught female, her second captor handling her with an audacity and simple physical proprietorship scarcely inferior to that of the first.
How sorry I felt for her, and how, secretly, I envied her. I watched while third place and fourth place were won. The fifth man, when he had removed his hood, was the butt of much good-humored laughing and pushing. He, losing out, had not won the right to ravish the belied beauty.
Slave Girl
Another game of Girl Catch
Four times I ran as quarry in the cruel games of that evening.
Four times was I caught and, on my back in the dirt of that barbarian camp, rudely ravished by whom I knew not.
Slave Girl
On board an enemy ship, with the enemy Captains slave, in the midst of battle.
"I am the slave of Reginald," she said. "Captain of the Tamira."
"Are you aware that there is a battle going on outside?" I inquired.
"Yes," she said, uneasily, squirming, naked, in the berth.
...
"Why did Artemidorus, the first officer, when he inquired as to your readiness, not attempt to enter the cabin, and check you by hand?"
"None may touch me save Reginald, my master," She said, proudly, "unless I have displeased him.
"Oh," she cried. "Oh!"
"Have you forgotten, so soon," I asked, "pretty slave, to whom it is that you now belong?"
"To you," she said, "to you, Master! Ohl"
"It seems you are still simmering, little sweet, little delicacy," I said.
She looked at me, wildly. "Your touch!" she whispered. "What is it doing to me?" Then she lifted her body, piteously, the sweet, rounded centralities of her, to me. Then I took her by the hips, holding her, pressing my thumbs into the sides of her belly. She recoiled, frightened. "Show me mercy," she said.
"No," I said.
I pulled the portion of the wadded strip of scarlet sheet, wet and heavy, out of her mouth, a portion of the same, and still attached to it, that I had used earlier to blindfold her. I had thrust it in her mouth to muffle her cries. She was moaning softly, and kissing at me.
"I see that you are still simmering," I said.
"Simmering?" she laughed, ruefully, softly. "You brought me to a boil, and then, when you had well tasted of me, let me subside, and then again, when it pleased you, made me simmer, and then again brought me to a boil, and then again made me simmer, and then, once again, brought me to a boil."
I brushed back some blond hair from her face.
"You well know how to prepare a girl for your delectation, Master," she whispered. "Surely you are a gourmet of slave use, a master chef well trained in the art of preparing delicious slave viands for the satisfaction of your lustful hungers."
Guardsman
In the bath tub
I then flung her on her back in the water and she struggling, gasping, trying to keep her head above water, again had her.
Then I thrust her up, half sitting, half lying, against the edge of the tub. She turned her head toward me, gasping. The blindfold was sopped, but secure. Her hair and body were soaked and wet. The cord loops, soaked, were still tight on her small wrists. Her body, wet, was interesting to touch. Then I again had her. "Master," she sobbed.
Rogue
In a canoe, with others
“I desire no other,” she said, turning her head to face him. I could smell the heat of her. “Are you now going to claim me, as your slave?” she asked. They seemed oblivious of the others in the canoe. Yet had they not been, it would have made no difference, for the girl was only a slave.
“I claim you, Tende,” said he, “as my slave.”
“Are you going to take the rights of the Master?” she asked.
“When, and as I please,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Oh!” she said, forced down, roughly, in the canoe.
“I claim you, Tende, daughter of my hated enemy, Aibu,” he said, “as my slave, and now, for the first time, I assert over you the full and uncompromising rights of my mastery.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Yes, Master.”
Ayari and I, and the two bare-breasted, lovely white slaves, property girls, each of us now with a paddle, not speaking, propelled the long canoe quietly eastward.
Explorers
Being pleased orally while carrying a girl upside down to the bedroom
"Shall I heel my Master to his bedroom," she asked, "or does he desire that I precede him?"
"I shall carry you," I said.
"As Master wishes," she said, breathlessly.
I put my hands on her.
"Oh!@ she said.
I then rubbed my fingers and smelled my hand. "Slaves, too, it seems," I said, "sometimes find it difficult to conceal their desire"
"Yes, Master," she laughed.
"Oh!@ she said. "You are going to carry me like this," she asked, "upside down and in front of you?"
"Yes," I said, "and as I ascend the stairs slowly, you will please me."
"Yes, Master," she laughed.
At the top of the stairs I stopped, and shuddered, and cried out.
"Perhaps I should have gagged Master," she said.
I then carried her, over my shoulder, into the bedroom, to throw her to the foot of my couch, beneath the slave ring.
Guardsman
On the floor, in the blood of a recently killed sleen
I crouched before her, and took her by the arms. I was covered with the blood of the sleen. "Master?" she asked. I put her to her back on the tiles in the sleen's blood. I held her so she could not move, and entered her. "Master?" she asked, frightened. I began to caress her from within, deeply, with my manhood. The warm closeness of her body, so beautiful, so helpless, that of an owned slave, clasped me. She began to respond to me, frightened. Then I thrust again and again into her, in the strong, increasingly intense rhythms of a savage master until the collared she of her, once that of a civilized girl, screamed and shuddered, and then lay mine, without dignity or pride, shattered, only a yielded, barbarian slave, in my arms.
I stood up, and she lay at my feet collared, in the sleen's blood.
Beasts
"This is the retinue of Constance, Lady in Kassau, enroute to Lydius, returning from the sights of Ar."
"She must be rich," I said. Surely this was true, for her to travel as she did, not in public caravan.
"Stand aside," said the captain.
"A moment, Captain," said I. I looked to the free woman. "I am a man, dear lady," said I, "and am of the warriors. I have journeyed far."
"I do not understand," she said.
"I assume," said I, "that you will linger briefly here, to fill the flasks of water, if not camp for the night."
"What does he want?" she asked.
"He is of the warriors, milady," said the captain.
"Forgive me, Lady," said I, "but my need is much upon me."
The two slave girls, bare-armed and veiled, quickly glanced to one another.
"I do not understand," said the graceful figure in the sedan chair. She was free.
I grinned at her. "I have food," I said. "I have water. But I have not had for four days a woman."
Beasts
Taking a slave while she is on her knees, bent over a tub, washing dishes
After tonight, I would have to serve Mirus, and the others, as they might want me. I recalled that in the house of my training the "opened" girls had been available to the guards. The kitchen master, too, I knew had had his eye on me. Usually, laboring there, on our knees, bending over the low, steaming tubs, our arms immersed in the suds to our elbows, cleaning pots and pans, he had had Ina and I remove our kitchen tunics. He had used Ina several times. I swallowed hard. Doubtless I would be put back in the kitchen from time to time. He was probably waiting for me.
Dancer
On a table in an inn
I looked over to the table where the newcomer was. He had now pulled the slave to him and thrown her on her belly over the table.
“Disgusting,” said the Lady Temione.
“An attractive slave,” I commented. The girl was now gasping and clinging to the table. He was not being gently with her. But then, of course, she was only a slave.
“Disgusting,” said the Lady Temione.
“He may be something of a boor, but he seems to caress well,” I said.
The girl was now gasping with love noises.
“I would not know anything about that,” she said, acidly.
Yet I noted she did not take her eyes from the abused slave.
...
The slave on the table gasped, used, serving, clinging to its edges.
The bearded fellow, holding her, was then still for a moment.
“She is moving!” said the Lady Temione, scandalized.
“Yes,” I said, “she is cooperating in what is being done.”
“Terrible!” whispered the Lady Temione.
...
The bearded fellow drew back for a moment.
The girl clutched the table. She was still for a moment or two. Then she moaned. Then she moved.
“Did you see that!” she said. “She actually lifted herself to him!”
“Surely only a slave would so lift herself to a male,” I said.
The Lady Temione blushed, hotly.
“Look at that slut wriggle!” she said.
“She is afraid she may not have been fully pleasing,” I said. “She is trying now to interest him, to be pleasing, to entice him. But I think he is not angry with her. I think he is only playing with her, only teasing her.” I wondered how the Lady Temione would wriggle.
“Look!” said the Lady Temione.
“He is now again with her,” I said.
“Yes!” she said.
...
Suddenly the girl on the table screamed aloud, again and again, half reared up, began to buck, but could not escape, so tightly and helplessly held she was, uttering the word, “Master!” over and over.
“Slave orgasm has been forced upon her,” I commented.
Renegades
On a public bridge
We were but a short way from the Towers of Warriors, on the second of its approaching high bridges, when again Clitus Vitellius turned and faced me.
"I cannot wait," he said to me.
"Yes, Master," I said. We were on a high bridge, one of the highest in all Ar. The lights of the city were strewn beneath us; above us burned the stars of Gor.
He placed his shield upon the bridge, straps down, its convex surface like a bow facing the stars.
He indicated that I should take my position upon it, and I did so, my head down. With the straps, brought about the sides of the great shield he fastened my wrists apart, one on each side, about at shoulder level, at the edges of the shield. I lay over the shield, bound upon it.
"Now I have you where I want you, Dina," said he, "Earth girl."
"Yes, Master," I said.
Swiftly he took me in his arms. I yielded immediately to my master.
Slave Girl
Taking a slave found chained under a wagon in a storm
I put her to her back, a bit more under the shelter of the wagon. The chain moved a little through the loop ring above us. I heard the wagon creak a little, too, above us. Someone had stirred in it, or was moving, it seemed. The fellow who owned the wagon, I supposed, was turning in his sleep, or was addressing himself to his companion. But it then seemed quiet, and there was little noise except for the wind and rain, and the distant rumble of thunder.
My face was close to here. “You are slave,” I whispered.
Suddenly there was a great burst of lightning and crash of thunder.
I saw her eyes, and pressed down upon her, holding her head, pressing her lips with the kiss of the master.
I drew back.
There was another great flash of lightning and I saw her eyes, looking up at me, wild, frightened, needful. “Yes,” she whispered intensely, helplessly. “I am a slave! I am a slave!” Then she lifted her body and seized me in her arms and pressed her lips eagerly, needfully, gratefully to mine.
I put her to her back.
Then I caressed her, and she squirmed, writhing on the wet tarpaulin over the gravel, beneath the wagon, in the flashes of lightning, in the explosions of thunder.
She was small, naked and cuddly. Her thigh, as I determined, in turning her about, and caressing her, first, by feel, and then, in a flash of lightning, wore the common Kajira brand, the small, delicate “Kef,” for “Kajira,” sometimes called the staff and fronds, suggesting beauty subject to discipline. On her neck, beneath the coils of the heavy, padlocked chain, was a common, close-fitting Gorean slave collar.
“Alas,” she wept softly, in misery, in frustration, “my ankles are chained!”
I gathered she might not have been a slave long.
“Oh!” she cried, softly.
I thrust up her legs and slipped between them, and hen her legs were tight about me, I within their chained circuit. I lifted her up, and lowered her. “Ohh,” she said, softly. She clutched me.
The storm was fierce.
Then, after a time, I lifted her up and slipped back, freeing myself.
There are various ways, of course, to use a woman whose ankles were bound. I had utilized one of them.
Renegades
On public pleasure racks in the piazza during Carnival. (Quite popular, all the strap racks are in use.)
“Happy carnival,” I said to Boots Tarsk-Bit.
“Happy carnival,” said he.
I thrust the slave ahead of me, and we pressed through the crowds. In a few Ehn we had crossed the piazza and come to the racks. There were two sorts, refined, adjustable strap racks, with beddings of flat, soft, criss-crossed straps, with sturdy stud-and-eyelet securing straps, and simple net racks, little more than sturdy wooden frames within which was slung a netlike webbing of rope. In these riacks, if one wishes to secure the woman within the webbing, simple cords are used. There were also some trestles. I took the slave to one of the net racks. The strap racks were all in use.
I saw the free woman who had worn the brief cloth about her hips near the racks.
I threw the slave on her belly on the netting and then turned her to her back. I had her place her wrists and ankles through the netting in certain fashions. I did not bother secure her in position. I then joined her on the netting. In moments, gasping, looking at me wildly, gratefully, she was in the throes of slave orgasm.
Players
On the desk in the middle of work
At the side of the desk, to its right, as you faced it, on the bare tiles, there lay a chained, naked woman. She was dark-haired, and beautiful. It was not surprising to me that such a woman should lie at the side of his desk.
...
“You may leave, Captain,” he said.
“Sir,” I said.
“Yes?” he said.
“Recently; on the Genesian Road, north of Torcadino, there was an attack on a portion of the Cosian supply trains, a massacre. Were your men responsible for that?”
“No,” he said.
“Do you know what party, or parties, were?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“But it was done by mercenaries,” I said.
“Doubtless,” he said.
I then turned about and went toward the door. “Oh!” said Lady Cara. I heard the sounds of her chains. At the door, turning, I saw her on her feet, naked, in her chains, being held closely against him, looking up into his eyes. Then he threw her on her belly on the desk, on the papers, and the various documents of state. I then took my leave.
Mercenaries
Gorean hospitality, slaves offered to and used by guests
"It is late now," I said. "I think we should sleep."
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Tarl," said I. "Let that suffice."
"Accepted," he said, smiling. He would not pry further into my affairs. Doubtless he assumed I was bandit, fugitive or assassin.
I took Constance by the arm, and threw her to his feet. It was a simple act of Gorean courtesy.
Constance looked at me, wildly.
"Please him," I said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
Beasts
I rose to my feet. "The feast has but begun," laughed Policrates. "I am weary," I said. "I think I shall retire to my chambers." "Certainly!" he laughed, "Your journey has been long. I shall of course send a girl to wash your body and content you." "Policrates is generous," I said. "It is nothing." he said.
This form of hospitality of course is common on Gor. It is common to provide a guest with a girl for the night, to see to his comfort. My compliment, nonetheless, was appropriate as was his reply. Ritualistic amenities, and pleasantries on such occasions are invariably observed.
He rose to stand beside me. Together we looked about the tables at various girls, slaves, nude and partially clothed, who served there.
"Take your pick of the wenches," he said.
Rogue
Leader providing or offering his slave(s) for the use of his men
Bosk purchases Sandra, tries her himself first and gives her to his men for their use.
I had purchased the girl whom I had seen dance in the Paga Tavern, for forty pieces of gold. I had called her Sandra, after a girl once known on Earth. I had put my collar on her and, after using her, had consigned her to my men, that she might please their senses.
Raiders
Leader tosses one of his two slaves for the use of his fifteen men
I looked at him with loving eyes. Then he placed the blanket over my head, and, with a length of cord, looping it several times about my throat, tied it tightly under my chin, so that again, as in the cruel game, I was hooded. Then he threw me to his men.
Perhaps I would not have considered these matters save that I was unable to drive from my mind the recollection of an event which had occurred late in the sordid abuse to which I had been so brutally subjected. I had been thrown to my master’s men. One after another had raped and beaten me, and thrown me to the next. I was handed about as an object. Fierce was the discipline to which they subjected me.
Slave Girl
I now stood beside him, the man with the torch standing to one side. I looked down at the man in the furs, looking up at us. To me he was the least attractive man in the camp.
My master had said something to me. Its import was clear. I looked at him. His eyes were hard. I choked back sobs. I knelt beside the man in the furs, who threw back the furs.
My master stood behind me. The other man held the torch. I then, with hands and mouth, fell to kissing and touching the warrior. I pleased him as well as I could, being an ignorant girl, following his directions. At last he took me and threw me to the furs beneath him. I looked up at my master’s face. I could see the side of it in the torchlight. The torchlight illuminated me. Then, suddenly, I turned my head to one side, closing my eyes, crying out. I could no longer resist the man. I then, shamed, under the very eyes of my master, yielded to the man.
When he had done with me to his satisfaction, he thrust me from him. My master then ordered me to my feet and he conducted me to where my blanket had been discarded.
Slave Girl
Donna had been a virgin until she was raped in the coffle on the first night of the march by two of my master’s men. She had been had from time to time since then, but Marla, Eta and, surprisingly, I, had been the most consistently abused of the girls of Clitus Vitellius. The more beautiful I had become the more often I had been raped; and the more I had been raped, the more beautiful I had become.
Slave Girl
Slavers men having rape use of the slaves
"The pens!" she asked.
"There," I said, "you will be stripped and branded."
"Branded?" she said. I do not think she understood me. Her Earth mind would find this hard to understand. She was not yet cognizant of Gorean realities. She would learn them swiftly. No choice would be given her.
"Is she to be sold red-silk?" I asked Samos.
He looked at the girl. "Yes," he said.
The guards grinned.
It would be a girl who knew herself as a woman when she ascended the block.
...
"No!" she screamed. "No!"
"Then," I said, "you will be raped, and taught your womanhood. When you have learned your womanhood, you will be caged. Later you will be sold."
Beasts
Samos' men, in his great hall, using a new slave on a table while Samos plays kaissa and others watch a slave dance. Other slaves are then taken by men in the hall.
“Tula!” called a man. “Let Tula dance!”
Several men shouted their agreement to this. A long-legged brunette was thrust to the center of the tiles. She had high cheekbones, a tannish skin and a golden collar. Her bit of silk was ripped from her.
“Tula!” cried men, and, sensuously, she lifted her arms, and standing, excitingly posed, awaited the instruction of the music. She would show the men what true dancing could be.
Across the room I saw she who had been Lady Rowena of Lydius, her arms, her wrists still bound with her own hair, about the neck of the oarsman. His hands were one her. Her lips were pressed fervently to his. He lowered her to the tiles beside his table.
...
I heard soft gasps and cries from across the room, the fall of a goblet, and squirming. The former Lady Rowena of Lydius’s hands were no longer bound but they were now held above and behind her head, each wrist in the hands of a different man. She was on her back, thrown across one of the low tables.
Samos looked down at the board. I did not press him. His reticence to respond directly puzzled me. If he had heard something, of course, it was perhaps none of my business. I had no intention of prying into his affairs, or those of Priest-Kings. Also, of course, perhaps he had heard nothing.
“You are not playing your usual game,” I told him.
“I am sorry,” he said.
A new girl, Susan, was now dancing. She who had been the Lady Rowena of Lydius was o her belly on a table, clutching its sides, her teeth gritted. Tula was being handed from man to man. Some of the other girls, too, were now being used by masters. And others were licking and kissing at them, and whispering in their ears, begging for attention.
...
“Is it the sleen for her, Captain?” asked he who was first of the two guardsmen, he who had just spoken.
“Dorto, Krenbar,” said Samos.
“Yes, Captain,” said the men. Dorto was the oarsman who had opened the former Lady Rowena of Lydius for the uses of men. Krenbar was another oarsman. He had used her twice in the evening, after putting her through intricate slave paces each time.
“Does this slave,” asked Samos, “give some indication that she might eventually prove to be at least somewhat adequate in a collar?”
“Yes, Captain,” said Dorto. “Yes, Captain,” said Krenbar.
Players
During the evening meal in the holding of Policrates
The music ended with a swirl of sound and the girl with a jangle of bells, lay before the table of Policrates, whimpering, her hand extended. She lifted her head. I read the unmistakable need in her eyes. She was indeed a slave female.
"Master!" she whimpered. "Please Master!" Policrates glanced at her. "Throw me to your men, please Master," she begged.
Policrates gestured to a brawny fellow who, coming up behind the girl bent down and by her upper arms, lifted her from the floor. She was helpless in his arms. Only her toes, well painted, scarlet nails, touched the floor. Policrates gestured again to a table to the side, and the fellow, carrying the girl went to the table. He then threw her with a jangle of bells and a clatter of places and goblets to the surface of the table. Instantly the girl was held down on the table, on her back, her arms and legs held apart, and several men crowded about her. I heard her cry with pleasure.
Rogue
Another slave used during the meal in the holding of Policrates
I turned my attention to the dancer on the floor. She lay now on her back, one knee lifted, her arms at her sides, palms down, before the brute with his whip, who towered over her. Her head, too, was turned to the side. Then she turned her head to face the brute, who tyrannized her. She looked deeply into his eyes. Then delicately, in a graceful gentrues, she turned her hands, putting their backs to the floor, exposing her palms and the soft flesh of her palms to him, indicating her surrender, her submission, her vulnerability and her readiness.
There was applause, the striking of the left shoulder from the tables.
The brute then crouched beside her and encircles her neck with the coils of his whip. He drew her to her knees then before him. She looked up at him, her neck in the whip coils, his.
There was more applause. Then the brute looked to Policrates, who indicated a table. He then pulled the girl to her feet and, running her over the tiles, and then releasing the coils form her neck, threw her stumbling into the arms of waiting pirates who, with a cry of pleasure, seized her and began to work their lusty wills upon her. There was more applause, and laughter.
Rogue
Recent captives chained to benches for use of soldiers & civilians
I turned in the blankets, brought by soldiers, on the tiles of the vestibule of the Semnium. There were perhaps two hundred people, many of them civilians, being housed there this night. Near me, a free female, one of those to be counted among the spoils of Torcadino, was chained on one of the client ’s marble benches, one of several serving on such benches, women who, one after the other, in turn, were replaced by others.
The woman on the bench, groaning and ravished, on her belly on it, clutching it, her legs chained on either side of it, was now alone. She lay on the cool marble, clutching it.
A new female was brought to the further bench. She was sat upon it, straddling it. Her ankles were chained together beneath it. Her wrists were similarly secured, the length of chain running under the heavy, fixed-position marble bench.
She was then, by the hair, drawn forward, to lie upon her belly on the cool marble.
Mercenaries
It was easy to tell, however, which of us were virgins, for the virgins, like myself, wore the "iron belt."
...
The girl to my right did not wear it. She had already been "opened for the uses of men," as it is said here. She was thus free, of course, for the uses of the guards, who did not fail to avail themselves of their privileges. Once she had been dragged forth from her kennel, down several from mine, to the right, and they, so eager were they, such men, to have her, that they had not even seen fit to wait until they had pulled her on her leash to their own quarters.
Dancer
With Free Women
The She-urt, with a male accomplice, had just attempted to rob him
I then turned to the girl. I tied her hands behind her back, and then took her by the ankles and held her upside down, thrusting her head and shoulders, and upper body, under the cold waters of the canal. In a few seconds I pulled her up, sputtering, and sat her, tied, against the wall across from me. She gasped for air; she tried to clear water from her eyes. She choked. Her hair and the rag she wore were wet. She backed further against the wall, drawing her legs up, pressing her knees closely together. She looked at me, frightened. “Please, let me go,” she said.
...
“Please, let me go,” she said. “It will mean the collar for me.”
...
I drew her to me by the ankles.
Then in moments she moaned and wept.
I forced her to yield well, to the very limits of the free woman. Then I was finished with her.
Explorers
With a "debtor slut" serving while awaiting some gentleman to redeem her debts to the inn
I had scarcely arranged my blankets and put the pack down for a pillow when I saw an attendant enter the room, carrying a stripped female, her hands tied behind her, over his shoulder, her head to the rear, in slave position. I gestured to him, and, exciting my envy somewhat, he picked his way expertly among the sprawled, slumbering bodies to my space. “I shall return in an Ahn,” he said. He then sat his burden beside me.
“You!” said the Lady Temione.
“Shhh,” I cautioned her. “People are trying to sleep.”
She tried to struggle to her feet, but I gently placed her on the blanket beside me, on her side.
“This a terrible mistake,” she whispered. “You know I am a free woman.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I do not understand what I am doing here,” she said, “naked and tied beside you.”
“Really?” I asked.
“It can not be that!” she said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“I am free!” she said.
“But your bills are not paid,” I said.
She made an angry noise.
“It seems that this time you did not manage to inveigle some fellow into paying them for you.”
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Not that,” she said.
“Precisely,” I said.
“I am not an inn girl,” she said. “I am a free woman! I am not subject to guest use!”
“Were you told you were not subject to guest use?” I asked.
“No,” she said, hesitantly.
“So?” I said.
Renegades
Travelers sate their lust along the road
“You take her left hand and I will take her right,” said Hurtha.
Boabissia tried to scramble to her feet but, bound as she was, she fell. Then we had her wrists, and pulled her back, by them, to the wagon wheel.
“What are you doing?” cried Boabissia.
I tied her left wrist back to one of the spokes, and Hurtha, similarly, fastened her right wrist back, to another spoke.
“What are you doing?” asked Boabissia.
“You have seen several of the fellows about looking at Boabissia, haven't you?” asked Hurtha of me.
“Of course,” I said. “Though there are many slaves in Torcadino, and lovely ones, apparently there is a dearth of free women here, particularly ones not veiled.”
“Veil me then!” she begged.
“It is time you earned your keep, Boabissia,” said Hurtha.
“What do you mean?” she cried. “I am a free woman!”
“I think I can round up a few interested fellows,” said Hurtha.
“What are you thinking of!” she cried. She struggled, helplessly.
“She wanted her ankles untied,” said Hurtha.
“Yes,” I said.
“No, no!” she cried. “Do not untie my ankles!”
Hurtha dropped the ankle cords to one side. She clenched her ankles tightly together. She pulled desperately, futilely, against the thongs that held her wrists to the spokes. Hurtha left the vicinity of the wagon.
“Relax, Boabissia,” I encouraged her. “You have serious sexual needs, which you have been frustrating for too long. This has been evident in your temper, and in your demeanor and attitudes. This will do you a great deal of good.”
“I am not a slave!” she said, weeping, struggling. “I am a free woman! I do not have sexual needs!”
“Perhaps not,” I said. To be sure, it was difficult, and probably fruitless, to argue with a free woman about such matters. Too, I might have misread what seemed to be numerous and obvious signs of need in her. Perhaps free women neither needed nor wanted sexual experience. That, I supposed, was their business. On the other hand, if they did not want or need sex, the transformation between the free woman and the slave becomes difficult to understand. To be sure, perhaps it is merely the collar, and the uncompromising male domination, which so unlocks, and calls forth, the passion, service and love of a female.
“What are you doing?” she asked, weeping.
“Doubtless men will be here soon,” I said.
“What are you doing?” she wept.
I put the opaque sack over her head and tied it, with its own strings, under her chin, close about her neck, rather like a slave hood. “This will make it easier for you,” I said. “I am veiling you. Too, this will enable you, by shutting out certain extraneous factors, to concentrate more closely on the exact nature of your sensations.
“Release me!” she wept.
“No,” I said.
I heard a fellow near me. I looked about. “She is certified free?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Examine her.”
He thrust Boabissia's dress up, high over her breasts. He examined her thighs, and the usual brand sites on a Gorean female slave.
“How much?” he asked.
“She is only a free woman,” I said. I put a copper bowl on the ground, beside her, at her left. “She is not trained. Only a tarsk bit,” It was the smallest, least significant Gorean coin, at least in common circulation.
“In advance,” I said. Men are commonly disappointed in free women, and almost certainly if they have experienced the alternative. They are not slaves, trained in the giving of pleasure to men. Some free women believe their role in lovemaking consists primarily in lying down. Should they become slaves the whip soon teaches them differently.
“Of course,” he said. The coin rattled into the copper bowl.
“No,!” wept Boabissia. She clenched her ankles tightly together. Then her ankles, one in each hand of the fellow, were parted.
It was now late in the evening.
Hurtha happily shook the copper bowl. In it were several coins. I had not kept track. We were now, at any rate, once again solvent.
Mercenaries
I turned and strode toward the door of the hall. Luma fell back before me, her hand before her mouth.
I saw that her eyes were deep, and very beautiful. She was frightened.
"Precede me to my couch," I said.
"I am free." She whispered.
"Collar her," I said to Thurnock, "and send her to my couch."
His hand closed on the arm of the thin blond scribe.
"Clitus," I said, "send Sandra, the dancer, to my couch as well."
"You freed her, Captain," smiled Clitus.
"Collar her," I told him.
"Yes, Captain," he said. I well remembered Sandra, with her black hair, brownish skin and high cheekbones. I wanted her.
It had been long since I had had a woman.
"Tab," said I.
"Yes, Captain," said he
"The two females," I told him, "have recently been free. Accordingly, as soon as they have been collared, force them to drink slave wine."
Marauders