I was just another girl - just another girl being marched naked through the dusty sand covered streets of Patashqar, naked that is save for my steel collar, now with the added inscription of my slave name, Emma, and naked except for the slave bracelets locking my wrists behind my back; naked save for the iron belt locked around my sex, and naked save for the string of slave bells tied about my left ankle. I sobbed as the leash, the free end residing in the left hand of Seremides, jerked occasionally to remind me to keep in perfect step with my Master.
"Please give me my ta-teera back,” I sobbed. “There is no need to march me naked to the public pens!”
"Quiet.” Seremides tugged the leash again, harder this time, choking my words to an end. My feet and ankles were dark and dusty from the sand. I dared not meet anyone's gaze, knowing that men on the street would be lusting after my body, and the women, the noble Free Women, would be glaring at me in hatred because of the very same qualities of my body.
I knew this because until I proclaimed myself a slave in the House of Abdul Hamid, I had been one of those very same Free Women who had looked down on slave-girls as something less than them.
But now I wore a locked collar around my throat, and slave papers had been lodged pertaining to my ownership. I was, in a legal sense, now a slave-girl on the planet Gor, belonging to the hateful Seremides.
This was supposed to be merely an elaborate deception, but so far Seremides had been treating me as if I truly was his property!
Seremides had, against my protests, tied the slave bells around my left ankle. They chimed with each step I took – a beautiful, sensual sound coming from a naked girl. That too I had protested, but Seremides had simply told me it was part of my new role. “I like my girls to be belled,” he said that morning as I was quickly marched against my wishes out into the courtyard. “Your movements are beautiful, Emma. Let them sound beautiful too.”
To my surprise I was not alone. Seremides marched the beautiful Sakkara beside me. She too was naked, wearing a collar. But unlike me she had been branded with the common Kef brand last night in the basement of the slaver house. From where I had lain in a girl cage (Seremides had caged me! I was furious!) I had heard the horrible screams as the white hot iron had marked Sakkara's bare thigh. Half an hour later her tear stained face appeared as the guards placed her in a separate cage beside mine. Her wrists were braceleted behind her back that night so that she could not claw or scratch at the brand which looked raw and red. She cried most of the night for it is a truly painful thing to be branded with a white hot iron. Seremides had given me blankets to make the girl cage more comfortable, as well he should. He explained that obviously the slaver house did not have fine quarters set aside for Free Women, and so regrettably I would have to sleep in the communal slave pens downstairs. It was, he pointed out, for my own benefit, to ensure that no guardsman might take advantage of me in the night. While I could appreciate the logic of such a thing, I was still angry that I had to reside in a locked cage like a common slave. Seremides promised that he would obtain an iron belt for me in the morning, at which point I would then be safe from unwanted attentions.
We walked together because we had been placed in a two girl coffle with a length of light coffle chain linking our collars. I led because naturally enough I was designated First Girl – a vulgar expression used in reference to genuine slaves and not for example appropriate for a Free Woman such as myself, masquerading as a slave, but in the present context I understood I suppose why Seremides had used it. First Girl simply meant I was of highest importance within the linking chain arrangement. In theory I would have switch rights over Sakkara should discipline need to be enforced, but in practice of course for I was not really a slave, except in some petty bureaucratic legal sense, I already had such rights over a mere slave. Sakkara had been renamed Kara, and I had to admit she looked beautiful in her steel collar with her hands secured behind her back. The posture brought her breasts more forward, as it also did mine. It was impossible to walk in a way that didn't cause the breasts to jut forward and sway with each step.
"Slave sluts!” hissed a Free Woman of the Tahari at us as we had been marched past her. Once, without thinking, I had glanced at such a Free Woman from hearing a similar remark, only to have her stride forward and cuff me for doing so. I had nearly fallen over, more in shock and surprise than anything else, but the leash kept me moving. Seremides of course did not object to her striking me. She had been free and I was supposed to be a slave.
"Keep your back straight,” whispered Seremides to me as we approached the entrance to the public pens. The coffle was brought to a halt as two guardsmen dressed in imposing black robes approached us. The men were swarthy with desert tanned skins and they wore sharp scimitars thrust into their waist sashes. The men regarded us with nothing more than casual interest as women were of course routinely delivered to pens throughout the day, every day. Perhaps in our cases we were somewhat more beautiful than the average, but even so, the guards saw enough slave flesh entering and leaving that they were not going to express any particular delight in seeing us.
"I wish these two girls stabled in the pens for a few days,” explained Seremides as he handed over our legal papers. These papers would clearly identify us as last night before I had been placed in a cage to sleep, my body had been thoroughly and professionally measured in over thirty ways. Those papers I knew recorded everything from my thumb and toe prints to measurements pertaining to the septum of my nose, the distance between my eyes, the length of my fingers and so forth. I was perfectly documented and couldn't hope to evade identification from that level of data. “I will require basic training too, for they are both new captures, especially this one.” He placed his right hand on the smooth flank of my hip, causing me to squeal in surprise.
"She is new to a man's touch, I see,” said the guard.
"That she is,” said Seremides. “She is still white silk, hence the belt.”
The belt had been locked around my waist this morning, with the vertical curved bar positioned like a shield over my vaginal opening. The fit was snug but reasonably comfortable to prevent excessive chafing. I had as it happens tried to insert my fingers beneath the shield guard but found that it was impossible to bend them sufficiently to penetrate my lips and provide myself with sexual relief. The belt it seemed didn't simply protect me from men, but also from myself.
"She isn't branded,” said the guard as he compared the notes in the papers to what he could see before him.
"No, I haven't had the time. Nor have I decided on a suitable brand yet. I will rectify such matters when I return to collect her in a few days' time.”
I smiled softly to myself with my head lowered. The guard had nodded, foolishly believing Seremides's story. It was almost too easy to pass me off in this way. I suppose the guard assumed I was simply what I appeared to be and that Seremides might indeed brand me at a blacksmiths in a few days' time after collecting me from the pens. After all, had he not branded the slave girl, Kara, last night? The difference of course was that Kara had been genuinely enslaved, whereas I was but playing a role in order to meet the former Kurii agent, the slave-girl, Erin. When my mission was successful, Seremides had promised to collect me from the pens, and once he did, I would of course be quickly escorted to safety and freed of my bracelets and collar. Fine clothes would be given to me and I would once again be the Free Woman that I was yesterday. Poor Kara of course had no such hope to cling to. Seremides would never free her.
Seremides had considered it prudent not to explain any of the details of my mission or the circumstances of my apparent slavery to Kara. Personally speaking, I didn't like that idea.
"I would prefer her to know that, unlike her, I am not really a slave. I'm not comfortable with Sakkara, or Kara as she is now named, thinking that I'm the same as her.”
"But you are the same as her, Emma. You wear a collar. You are legally recorded as a slave. Papers will be filed in the cylinder of records in Patashqar,” he had explained while he measured my hips, waist and neck sizes last night. “What she doesn't know she can't reveal to anyone. Let her think I have enslaved you. Let her think you are now a slave too. Let her think the matter is permanent.”
"You know what I mean! This is different.” I twisted a little in his hands while he measured my body. To my shame I found his touch thrilling, despite my best intentions. It had perhaps something to do with the fact that the hateful man had insisted on securing my wrists above my head to a slave ring while he did so. He smiled as I wriggled in the bracelets, helpless to prevent his lingering touches over the breadth of my body.
"How so?”
"It is different because I will be...” I suddenly gasped and raised myself up onto tip toes as his hand casually brushed high between my thighs.
"Is something wrong?” He asked as he paused in measuring my inner thighs. He had noticed perhaps the involuntary flushing of my cheeks, the way I helplessly could not prevent my nipples from hardening, or the breathless tone to my voice.
"No! No!” I shook my head to assure him that nothing was wrong. As I did so, he rested his hands, one slightly between my thighs and the other on the flat of my stomach above my loins. My heart was beating furiously as I felt myself moistening again to his touch.
"Are you sure there is nothing wrong, Emma?” he asked out of curiosity.
"I'm sure!” I whimpered as I turned my head.
"You were saying?”
"It is different because Kara is now a slave, and will remain a slave, but I will be free again when my work in the pens is concluded. She should know this so that she can continue to respect me.”
"Interesting.” Seremides measured the cup size of my breasts and in so doing drew his fingers across my sensitive nipples. My body twitched again as I had to stifle a gasp.
"Interesting how?”
"Interesting that you perceive a difference between yourself and Kara on the grounds that you know you will be freed.”
"It is an important distinction!”
"But what if you weren't freed?” Seremides stroked my belly and allowed his fingers to stray close to my soft down of pubic hair. “What if something happened to me while you were in the pens and I could not free you even if I wanted to?”
"That… that mustn't happen!”
"What if it did? Would you then be any different from Kara?”
"Samir would have to free me!”
"Samir would not free you. He is a slaver. It is not in his nature.”
"Please Seremides, do not tease me like this. Please just finish taking your measurements.” I wriggled again in the wrist chains, aware that my chest was rising up and down with the effort of trying to control my breathing. I felt flushed and hot to a man's touch. How I hated my body right now, with it treating me like this.
"You call me Master, Emma. Let me hear you say it.”
"Please, Master...” I squealed again as he touched another intimate part of my body while I was bound.
"I suspect my touch is stimulating you?”
"No! No, it is not!”
"Good, because these are but standard assessment touches. This is not how I would truly caress a slave in order to ignite fire in her belly. There are many more intimate ways in which to excite a female and render her ready for use.” His left hand rose between my parted thighs to pause tantalisingly close to my vaginal lips. My body rose and bucked in anticipation and I shivered as a wave of pleasure rode through my loins.
"No, really it means nothing!”
"You are perspiring, Emma.”
"I'm nervous. Nothing more!”
"Of course.” He removed his hands from my body, allowing me to subside, satisfied perhaps that he had now obtained all the pertinent data for the slave registration papers. “I will be stabling the former Lady Sakkara with you, Emma. She may share your pen.”
"You are actually going to keep her as a slave then?” I felt sorry for the girl. For her there would be no release in a few days' time.
"I would be a fool not to. There is a saying that only a fool frees a slave, and I am not a fool, Emma. I think it will do you good to have someone you know in the public pens. The days to come will be traumatic for you, so a familiar face may ease the shock somewhat. Furthermore it will amuse me to see which one of you does best in the training.”
"I can assure you it will be Sakkara. I'm in the pens to perform a mission. I will only be paying lip service at best to the actual training while I'm there.”
"I think not. I rather think that after your first beating for an inadequate performance you will suddenly be eager to please. You may find yourself striving desperately to obtain high marks from your instructors. In the pens, the penalties for doing poorly can be unpleasant. Girls who prove obstinate in the training may be whipped and housed in small boxes with insufficient room to stretch out. Such girls are harshly beaten, their hair may be shorn and so forth. You have never felt the whip, have you, Emma?”
"No.” I pulled at the chains that held my wrists above my head. “No, I haven't.”
"I think you might be surprised how well you would beg to improve your performance after a serious whipping. It might perhaps be amusing to instruct the slavers to grade the two of you against one another, perhaps with inducements and incentives to out perform one another.”
"You wouldn't dare! I'm finding your comments in very poor taste.”
"Oh? You think it inappropriate that I should compete you against the former Lady Sakkara? Surely you understand that competition between two slaves produces superior results? If you out performed Sakkara you might for example earn a blanket for your pen, some candies, perhaps a ta-teera to wear. But if Sakkara did better than you, you might find yourself sleeping on a cold cement floor, and go a day without food. Can you imagine how much harder you might strive the next day?”
"You will not instruct the slavers in such a fashion. I forbid it!”
"May I remind you again that you are no longer a Free Woman. All legal formalities have been seen to, and so long as you are legally recorded as my property, your status as my superior is gone. You have no say in the matter while you wear that collar.”
"Then I look forward to when it is removed and I will once again be in charge. Rest assured I will remember the insolent way you've treated me since I agreed to this desperate course of action. I would suggest you think carefully about how you treat me in future.”
"I thank the former Lady Felicia for her warning.”
I was so scared now as I gazed at the entrance to the slave pens of Banu Hashim. I felt the leash being unclipped from my collar and a new one, in the hands of the black robed guard clipped in its place. While I was under the control of Seremides I at least had the reassurance that he knew who I really was, but once I was taken inside the pens I would simply be a slave-girl and treated as such. Anything might happen to me.
"Master…” I said to Seremides, as I reached out with my hands. “Please don't leave me here too long.” I wasn't clear how long it might be before Seremides would check whether I had made contact with Erin. “Please come for me soon...”
"I wish the girls to be penned together,” said Seremides to the guard as he ignored my desperate appeal.
"Our girl cages hold five girls. I will ensure these two are penned together,” confirmed the guard as he made a note on our slave papers. “Anything else?”
"Yes.” Seremides looked at me with a smile. “I wish this one in particular to be trained to dance. I think she has a body well suited to the silken harem dances. See that she learns them.”
“Of course.” The guard made another note as I stared at Seremides in dismay. I would be trained to dance?! I clenched my fists but held my tongue, knowing that any sign of disrespect would be rewarded now with a beating.
For I was now legally a slave within the city of Patashqar, and I would be treated as one. I looked at the graceful and dignified Free Women in their long flowing gowns as they strolled through the early morning market place in small groups of twos and threes. They would spend the day shopping, gossiping, perhaps drinking a little wine at a cafe in the souq.
All things I would normally have done.
One Free Woman passed by with a basket in her arm. She had been buying fresh fruits and spices, but she paused to regard Kara and myself being leashed. She said nothing but I could see in her eyes the contempt she had for us. We were slave-girls, the desirable property of men, and in her mind we deserved the lash. She made a derisory motion with her head as if to say, 'sluts' before moving on.
And then, with a tug on my leash, I was led by the guards deep into the public slave pens of Banu Hashim, where my personal Hell was to begin.
The End of book one, 'Mistress of Gor', but Emma's story continues in book two, “Harem Girl of Gor' and finally concludes in book three, 'Panther Girl of Gor.
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