Companions of Gor: Chapter Four

 

 

Anya was of course quick to point out to me that night what hadn’t been immediately obvious.

 

“Master, a word in private?” She touched my arm as I stood there observing the sight of my beloved free companion lying on our bed, her wrists still tied to the slave ring. She seemed peaceful, relaxed,  content, as women do when they have experienced a healthy orgasm. Her knees were curled slightly to her stomach in a foetal position and her breathing was the female equivalent of a gentle purr.

 

The sex with Cassandra had been acceptable. Not good. Not superb. Simply acceptable. But that was a big step up from our previous occasions.

 

“Can’t it wait?” I said, barely turning to view my lovely slave. I was very happy that I had bought Anya. Could a man have ever made a better investment than this striking dark haired slut? She was a marvel in the furs and her advice had guided me well so far in the behaviour of women. And she was smitten with me. It was obvious enough. I think she saw in me her true master. 

 

“I don’t think it can, Master. It’s important.” 

 

“Oh?” I was intrigued. I trusted Anya enough by now to listen to when she had something to say. You’d have to be a fool not to. Anya was a very intelligent and perceptive woman. Slaves often are. It is free women who are muddled in their thinking. 

 

Of course, free women are a thousand, million times superior to a slave. That is beyond dispute. 

 

“Very well. We will talk in the adjoining room.”

 

“Untie me first, please, Simon,” said Cassandra as she turned onto her side and gazed up at me from the bed. Her wrists looked adorable in their tight leather thongs. That binding position did wonderful things to the shape of her breasts, and of course the sight of a woman bound helplessly before a man is incredibly arousing for both the man and the woman. 

 

I should perhaps mention there is no spontaneity when it comes to sex with a free woman. Assuming she is in the mood – and that is never a given - you then have to wait fifteen minutes for her to summon a slave to aid her in undressing. Layer by layer the complicated bows, clasps and hooks are unfastened, stripping garment after garment from her body. Honestly, fifteen minutes at least. And then her hair is loosened and the pins put away, and then she stands before you at last, breathless and nervous. That’s about as spontaneous as it gets. 

 

“In a moment, Cassandra. You have probably tired yourself out. Lie there a while and breathe deeply. Gather your feelings, your emotions. Relax. You did well. You pleased me.”

 

“I did?” She gazed up with hope written on her expression. Good. She now wanted to please me. These things were important in her development as a companion. 

 

“I love you, Simon,” she said desperately. “I want you to know that. I am sorry I was angry with you before.”

 

“Oh?” I gazed down at her for a moment and then I sat beside her on the bed. I placed my hand on her left thigh and ran my fingers along her flesh. “Then tell me what you did wrong.”

 

“I… treated you badly. I am sorry. I was spiteful and cruel.”

 

“You are a free woman. It is in your nature.”

 

“I didn’t mean the things I said to you. I love you!” I saw her wriggle her fingers and flex her wrists within the thongs. There was an interesting look in her eyes as she realised she was not to be immediately freed – that she would have to remain there until I chose to release her. I notice she didn’t call for her guards any more. Besides the fact such a thing was pointless, for they had been instructed to ignore her cries, I doubt she would want any man to find her like this. She was simply a woman who would have to wait on her man’s patience to free her. I wonder how that made her feel?

 

“Master? Please…” said Anya. 

 

“What is it, Anya?” I asked as I guided the girl into a side room. She looked so lovely in her brief, tight slave livery. The short skirt of the simple slave tunic gives the illusion of a girl’s legs being longer than they actually are, especially in relation to the way the garment gathers in tightly at the waist and then flares just a little around the hips and thighs. I leaned in and kissed her, though I was now spent and wouldn’t be able to use the girl for a while at least. 

 

“Tell me you saw it, Master?” She pressed herself to my body, possessively. She needed me. She had been forced to kneel and watch as I took Cassandra for my pleasure. 

 

“Saw… what…?” I nuzzled my kajira and rejoiced that I had her in my hands again. 

 

“Oh! This so frustrating at times! Men just don’t pay attention!”

 

“What?” I gazed at Anya. 

 

“Her responses! I know you were close to coming, yourself, Master, but you must have seen the way she moved, the pitiful cries that came from her mouth?”

 

Cassandra had certainly enjoyed the experience, which was putting it mildly. She had been thrashing beneath me towards the end when she reached that plateau where she found her orgasm. 

 

“What are you saying?” I glanced back towards the open doorway, through which was the bed chamber in which Cassandra lay, still tied to the slave ring. 

 

“Those were not the responses of a free woman! She was out of control. She responded as a slave might!”

 

“Surely not.” I couldn’t believe it. It’s true I hadn’t been paying close attention towards the end when I was thrusting hard and fast into her. I was enjoying myself too much. 

 

“Her movements on that bed were not that much different to mine. And what am I?”

 

“A slave,” I said.

 

“Yes. Quite.” Anya stood on tiptoes and kissed me long and hard. She moved her hand to my loins and was disappointed to find I was still limp. She would have to wait a while yet. “I’m a slave. A natural slave. I think we both agree?”

 

“Most certainly.”

 

“So a woman who writhes like I do?” She kissed me again.

 

“Well…”

 

“A woman who writhes like I do, who cries out in heat, who oils naturally because you have tied her hands to a slave ring? Oh come on, Master, do I have to say it?”

 

“She is a free woman!” 

 

“Where do you think slaves come from? They’re rarely slaves when they are born.”

 

“True. But, Cassandra…”

 

“Has slave responses! I saw them!”

 

“Quiet. She might hear.”

 

Anya fumed and cupped my penis again, for all the good it did her. “The little bitch used too much of you. There’s nothing left for me.”

 

“You can’t speak of a free woman like that,” I said, angrily.

 

“She shamed you in that bed! She is supposed to be your companion! She is not supposed to have responses like that!”

 

I considered this as Anya stroked my chest. I should have paid more attention to how Cassandra was responding. But Anya had been watching without any emotional distraction. Was she right? Now that I thought about it, Cassandra had been very wild towards the end. It was quite the transformation. And she had seemed aroused once I tied her to the iron ring. Her nipples had been swollen and erect once I did that.

 

“If a woman’s nipples swell when she is in bondage?”

 

“That’s a slave response! Master, believe me, I know! We get VERY heated when we’re helpless and tied.” 

 

“But she’s Cassandra…”

 

“I’m sure it was a surprise to her as well as you, Master. Or maybe not. Maybe she has always suspected and feared this possibility? Maybe she has always known. Maybe she has deceived you and other men all this time. Yes, that must be it! OF course she knows! A woman always knows the truth about herself!”

 

“What am I supposed to do? She’s a free woman. A citizen of Vonda. She has friends in high places.”

 

“Friends who would disown her completely if they knew the truth. That woman belongs in a collar!”

 

“Don’t say that, Anya.”

 

“Oh!” She stamped her foot in frustration. “You are in denial, Master. You have a natural slave for a free companion. If other men knew, they would laugh at you. Please listen to me. I know my sex. I don’t want her to ruin your reputation in Vonda.”

 

The question of Cassandra’s explicit sexual responses weighed heavily on my mind over the next few days. Could it be true? In truth, I didn’t know. I had little to no experience of the acceptable responses permitted to a free woman, and therefore had no one to compare Cassandra with. Maybe her responses were the norm for free women, but as Anya had pointed out, Cassandra had wriggled and panted in heat like the sluttiest kajira would. But was I remembering the night correctly, or were my recollections now clouded by what Anya had claimed she saw? Policemen will be quick to point out that the short term memories of members of the public are notoriously unreliable when witnessing crime scenes. In my own excitement, had I overestimated the responses I had got from Cassandra? She was a free woman! Was I doing her a terrible disservice with what I now thought I remembered?

 

The more I considered this, the more confused I became. 

 

As it happens, a solution presented itself soon enough through an unusual chance meeting in the streets of Vonda. 

 

“Excuse me, Sir, but do I know you?” A man approached and stopped me as I walked down Tybus Street one warm afternoon. “You seem familiar, but I can’t think how or why… My name is Mikos.”

 

The man seemed familiar to me too, but it wasn’t until he spoke his name that I recalled where I had seen him. It had been on a beach, at the exchange point called the Bastion, when I had been Yishana’s captive. Mikos had been the guest of Grigor Sanson, and he had assessed and purchased one of the Cosian women Yishana had come to sell. 

 

“We have met,” I said with an embarrassed smile. “Though the circumstances are awkward, for me at least.” And so I reluctantly told him who I was, and of the circumstances when he had seen me on a leash, kneeling before the Ubara of the Black Coast as she parlayed with Grigor later that evening. Mikos had still been there and had his new girl, Aimee, kneeling beside him. She had looked frightened by her sudden change in fortune, but she took comfort from Mikos’s frequent touch.

 

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” He seemed amused by the recollection. “It must be awkward. But you are a free man now?”

 

“As you can see, I am. I won my freedom soon after. Yishana is now a slave, herself.”

 

“I hadn’t heard that, but I suppose news travels slowly from the Black Coast. A slave, you say?”

 

“Collared and branded and now quite lovely in just a strip of white cloth around her loins. She responds well to the collar and to the whip.”

 

“I am glad to hear it. Did you have a hand in her enslavement?”

 

“A major one, yes. She wronged me and it was only fitting I saw to it that she was enslaved for her audacity. Women should think carefully before they attempt to treat a man as a sexual plaything.”

 

“Indeed.” Mikos clasped his hand on my shoulder. “Come, Simon. Let us talk. I have a town house nearby. I live in Vonda for about half the year. We should share paga. And something else that will perhaps come as a surprise to you…”

 

And so we did. 

 

The town house was simple enough; a mere shadow of Cassandra’s beautiful residence, it’s true, but it still wouldn’t have been cheap. It became clear that Mikos, like me, was from Earth, and as soon as we realised this, we naturally had more in common.

 

“You come and go between the worlds?” I said. I hadn’t thought this possible.

 

“I do. My name is Mick, on Earth. The journeys are not without risk, but I keep a foot on both worlds.”

 

“How is this possible?”

 

Mikos laughed. “You will find the explanation rather ridiculous. I know men who work in the slave trade from Earth. We drink together. I had a business proposition for them. I use their ships to transport coffee to Gor. Yes, coffee. On Earth it is cheap. Here it is a luxury product that only the very wealthy can afford. They call it…”

 

“Black wine. I know. And yes, until recently the price has been exorbitant.”

 

Mikos nodded. “I have done well, bringing coffee over, hidden in the cargo holds. I make far more than the slavers do with their girls. And I like it here. I’m spending more and more time on Gor as the years go by. What of yourself? Do you seek a ship home?”

 

“I… no…” the answer came quickly, without thought. “Once, maybe, but I have a life here that is better than any life I might have on Earth. And I could not give up the pleasures of kajirae. I am Gorean now. This is my home.”

 

“Well said.” Mikos steered me into his house, where we were greeted by the pleasing sight of Aimee, still in his personal steel collar. What a transformation! When last I had seen the Cosian girl she had been a frightened free woman, begging to be spared slavery. Now she had grown into her sex, and possessed a grace of movement that was eye catching. She greeted me on her knees, kissing my feet. Immediately I felt that I wanted to put her to use. Leave Gor? How unthinkable that seemed now. Why would any man want to leave Gor? 

 

We drank paga, and were served some of his excellent coffee, strong and dark, given to us in small cups without handles, by Aimee, on her knees. She wore a clean, tight, white tunic that emphasised her glorious body.

 

“I hardly recognise the girl now,” I said, as I sipped the coffee. I realised how much I had missed the drink.

 

Mikos nodded. “She was kept under firm discipline and now lives in anticipation of her time in the furs with me when the sun goes down.”

 

“It is true, Master,” she said as the girl pressed her head to his shoulder. “You are my love master.”

 

“Do not call me that,” said Mikos, but he laughed gently as he said it. 

 

“The truth is the truth whether it is spoken or not, Master.” 

 

“You have only had one master. You have no understanding of what others might be like.”

 

“I know I am yours. That is what is important to me.”

 

“I could sell you tomorrow and you would have a new master.”

 

“And I would never forget you.” She leaned forward and kissed his right hand tenderly. “Never. Not in my dreams, nor my waking hours.”

 

There was silence for a moment before Mikos cleared his throat and continued the conversation with me. 

 

We talked about slaves for a time, and I enthused greatly about my own, Anya, boasting of her prowess in the furs, and then it seemed natural enough to mention I also had a free companion. This seemed to amuse Mikos.

 

“You have fallen for that trap, then, Simon? How is wedded bliss?”

 

And that then was my cue to open up about my concerns regarding Cassandra and her sexual responses. Mikos listened attentively, only occasionally asking a question as I described the evening. He nodded at times, but otherwise saved his remarks until I was finished. Even then he waited until a third cup of delicious coffee had been served by Aimee.

 

“I may be able to help you. The situation you describe is not unique. You are not the first man to have suspicions about his companion. You are correct to doubt your own memories of the night, but there is a solution to your quandary. Have you considered a professional assessment of Cassandra’s responses?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I know a woman in Vonda, through a mutual acquaintance of sorts. This woman’s name is the Lady Sansapina, and she is a slaver.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“She is also Russian, and very intimidating to smaller, softer, more feminine women. Aimee is terrified of her.”

 

“Please, Master…” There was indeed a look of nervousness on the kajira now. 

 

“Lady Sansapina is rather stocky, and I think she can probably bench press as much as I can. Women such as your companion are somewhat wary of her.”

 

“Russian, you say?”

 

“Yes, and you know what authoritarian Russian women can be like.”

 

“But I don’t see how this can help? I can’t exactly take Cassandra to a slaver for assessment! Free companionship doesn’t stretch that far!”

 

“It wouldn’t be like that. Let me introduce you, and then she can explain.”

 

The next day I met Sansapina at a slaver house in the afternoon. She wore mannish garb of breeches, knee high leather boots and a long tunic that fell to just above her knees. The colours were all dark browns and blacks, and there were no feminine concessions to her garments. Her hair was dark and tied back in a pony tail, much like my own, and she spurned the affectation of veils inside the house. 

 

“You must be Simon. I am Sansapina. Sit. Have drink.”

 

Mikos wasn’t kidding when he had described Lady Sansapina to me. I would describe her as ‘handsome’ rather than beautiful, as she had a hard, domineering look to her face and a square, almost masculine cut to her jaw line. There was a deep scar above her left eye and the knuckles of her hands looked like those of a prize fighter. She reminded me of a Russian shot putter and right away I could see how she might intimidate soft, beautiful, feminine women. They would sense Sansapina might think them weak, silly, and a disgrace to their sex.

 

I, on the other hand, consider soft, beautiful, feminine women as a standard for that sex to strive towards. Women should be women. If that means they are weaker, softer than men, then so be it. Handsome as Sansapina was, I wouldn’t bed her in preference to a kajira. 

 

“Thank you for the offer, Lady, but I…”

 

Sansapina ignored what I was about to say as she placed a small glass of some clear liquid before me. She, it seemed, had one of her own.

 

“Vodka. I have it made to precise instructions. Very precise. Drink. It is not request.”

 

She watched me, and for some reason I lifted my glass as she lifted hers and we both drank together.

 

“Good. I do not do business with man who cannot drink.”

 

“Well, I’m…”

 

“You are man of Earth, yes? Mikos tells me. Are you weak, pussy whipped man who cries when woman mock him?”

 

“Um, no, not at all…

 

“If you are, walk out of door. I despise weak pussy whipped man. I chase them down street with bosk whip. Or if pretty, with soft hands, I put them to use hard, on bed.”

 

“That’s, that’s not me…”

 

“We see. So, you have problem with slutty woman?” She crossed her legs in her chair and regarded me. Her boots were of black leather, well scuffed and military looking.

 

I cleared my throat as Sansapina poured two more small glasses of the sharp tasting vodka. There was a hint of pepper to it. 

 

“I’m not sure. I’m looking for some detached and professional clarity. I have a free companion who surprised me with her responses in bed. I don’t know what to think.”

 

“Do not think. I do that for you. Drink.” She raised the second glass and I was polite enough to follow suit. But it was only mid-afternoon and I didn’t really wish to be drunk by evening time.

 

“This is what I offer. I have special rooms above fashionable café. Rooms are suitable for observation. You bring slutty woman there and put her to use. I observe through special glass and make notes on behaviour. Full assessment given afterwards.”

 

“I see. These rooms…”

 

“She will think place to stay for night after you dine together. Romantic. Soft cushions. Pretty drapes. Flowers. Pleasing smell. Stupid things women like.”

 

“And you… don’t?”

 

“I like kettle bells.”

 

“I see.”

 

“I have done this before. Seven times. Seven times out of seven, woman had been slut.”

 

“I see. What then?”

 

“I provide legal assessment, stamped by reputable slaver house. What you do then is not my concern.”

 

“So, I would have papers that…”

 

“Detail responses of woman. In legal terms adopted by my caste. Proper seals and stamps.”

 

“And a court would…”

 

“They would view as evidence.”

 

I would have professional papers attesting to the true nature of Cassandra’s sexual responses? I could see the practical uses for such papers. I could ruin her reputation at the very least. She would have to leave Vonda and adopt a fresh identity in another city, far from home. That would be her best possible outcome. The worse outcomes would be unthinkable for her. The papers would give me incredible power over Cassandra. There would be no question that she would renew our free companionship at the end of the year, and every year after that, so long as I wished. 

 

“And all I would have to do is…?”

 

“Put her to use in bed. Ply slut with wine first in café below. That is what it is for.”

 

“Would anyone else be watching?”

 

“Of course not. I am professional, not woman who provide service to titilate.”

 

“This would be discrete? I haven’t made up my mind what I might do if…”

 

“If woman is slut? None of my concern. I provide service. Slut means nothing to me.”

 

I nodded. “Please arrange this, Lady.” 

 

---------------------------------------------

 

“What did you think of Sansapina?” asked Mikos the next day.

 

“I felt a bit intimidated, if I’m being honest.” 

 

“Hah! She’s a pussycat once you get to know her.”

 

“How do you know her?”

 

“She’s a casual acquaintance of the Lady Donna of Dover. Something about kettle bells, I believe.” 

 

“She made a joke about putting weak men with soft hands to ‘hard’ use on a bed.”

 

“Really? I don’t think Sansapina has ever made a joke in her life.” 

 

I had arranged to meet Mikos at the city’s recently refurbished Tharlarion race track, just outside the city walls. There had been a rise in popularity in recent years of Tharlarion racing, and Mikos had taken to it with passion. He owned a couple of racing tharlarions of his own and we stood by a fence watching them take part in one of the day’s events.

 

They did well, but neither of them won.

 

Interestingly, tharlarion racing is popular with free women as well as men. Women attend in small groups of two or three, dressed beautifully and obviously move around there only in the hope of attracting male attention in the spectator stands. There are few social events that offer free women the opportunity to display themselves before the men folk of their city, and in the women’s enclosure they were able to do just that. I say, ‘women’s enclosure’, but that is not meant to say it is segregated for their use, but rather it is a place where Ladies can gather in numbers, safe in the knowledge they are not intruding on areas where men expect to be able to talk freely without offending a Lady. 

 

We were not in the women’s enclosure, but Mikos was in the company of a Lady Trublia of Vonda, who was his elegant escort that day.

 

What he was doing courting Lady Trublia was never stated within earshot of the woman herself, but afterwards Mikos confessed he enjoyed flirting with free women as much as the next man. “I see it as sport,” he explained. “The rewards themselves are poor, but it is fascinating to reel in a catch or two.”

 

I flattered Lady Trublia and she seemed delighted to have not one, but two men paying her close attention. The free wine was an added bonus. In the midday sun she must have felt very hot, for she was clothed head to foot in cumbersome gowns and veils. But she suffered the discomfort for respectability. Despite the heat she still wore small white gloves. 

 

I watched in amusement as Mikos bought her flute after flute of chilled white wine, and as the Lady succumbed to the alcohol, she allowed the man to touch her, seemingly innocently, in various places, each one more daring than before. Seeing a wink from Mikos, I joined in, and succeeded in stroking her bottom once or twice. She giggled, intoxicated by the taste of the wine, and chided me gently each time I did so, with a wagging, white gloved finger. 

 

“I am glad I am veiled and mysterious to passers-by,” she remarked. “No one can know who it is that you take scandalous liberties with.”

 

“You are completely anonymous, Lady,” joked Mikos. “Even I’m not sure who you might be.”

 

“Slut,” said another woman as she walked past in the company of an equally disapproving female friend. She had seen Trublia permit me to stroke her bottom, and had scorned her for it.

 

Beneath the layers of heavy outdoor veils, Trublia was no doubt flustered and blushing now.

 

“Ignore them,” I said in reassurance. “That Lady is only jealous because no man would even want to touch her bottom.”

 

Trublia laughed at that and nuzzled close to me in her intoxicated state. 

 

“Have you given any thought to what you might do after Sansapina files her papers?” asked Mikos. He placed a hand around the Lady’s slim waist. 

 

“I don’t know what the papers will say. This could all be a mistake.”

 

“And how will you feel if it is not?”

 

“Betrayed, I suppose. She has always claimed to be a demure and chaste woman. I took her as such. Why, her vows included a statement to that effect.”

 

This is an important point. During the free companionship ceremony, a woman makes legal and binding statements attesting to her sexual nature, promising, under oath, that she is chaste and frigid. Any Gorean court would agree that this is at best misrepresentation if it turns out not to be true. Mercantile law even applies to a degree, as it can be argued that the Lady is misrepresenting the nature of a transfer of property, that being her own independence into the care of a man. Goreans view misrepresentation in mercantile matters very seriously. A merchant who might mis-weigh salt for example, could be stoned to death. 

 

“I understand,” said Mikos.

 

“It is a matter of trust, I suppose,” I said. “She represented herself as something she may not be. That reflects on my dignity and honour.”

 

“It does,” agreed Mikos. 

 

“What are we talking about?” asked Trublia. I had noticed her level of curiosity this afternoon bordered on the curiosity of a kajira, and they are very curious indeed.

 

“A woman who may have slave like responses on the couch,” explained Mikos.

 

“Shameful!” said Trublia. She sipped some more wine and didn’t meet our eyes for a while. 

 

“You think?” asked Mikos with a wink to me.

 

“But yes! Women like that give the rest of us a bad name. I know the type. They are usually vain sluts.” 

 

“Have I mentioned how remarkably beautiful your eyes are?” said Mikos.

 

“Oh!” The woman seemed very pleased. “Thank you!” She took a couple of unsteady steps, looking around to see if I agreed with Mikos’s assessment of her beauty, which I did with a nod and a smile. “I do think they are pretty, to be honest,” she said.

 

“Pretty is an understatement, Lady,” I said with a smile. “Gazing into your eyes is like gazing into the mysteries of the universe.”

 

“So bold!” She giggled. “But so kind. Oh!” she gave a little squeal of mock outrage as I touched her bottom with another gentle stroke. “You keep doing that!”

 

“So I do. It is an irresistible bottom.”

 

“Well try much harder to resist it!”

 

“Impossible,” I laughed. “Some things cannot be resisted.”

 

By the time I bid farewell to Mikos, I was amused to see the Lady Trublia leaning against his shoulder. People nearby probably assumed she was his free companion now that she was seemingly intimate to that degree. 

 

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” I asked him.

 

“The Lady seems a little tired.”

 

“I’m a little tired,” she agreed, her eyes now only half open. “Sleepy…”

 

“As a tharlarion owner I keep a private room at this track,” he remarked. “I’ll take the Lady there so she can lie down and… rest for a while.”

 

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” I said with a smile.

 

I left the race track and headed back into Vonda, the question of Cassandra still weighing heavily on my mind. Tomorrow, though she didn’t know it, she would be professionally assessed by a slaver house, and I would have my definitive answer, one way or another.