Companions of Gor: Chapter One

 

((Something to help tide my faithful readers over while Chloe and I are working hard on the new book, ‘Gods of Gor’. This is a three part short story focussing on Simon and Cassandra, following on from their return to the Sardar after the events of Ubara of Gor))

 

And so, farewell to the bloodstained coast of the Black Kingdoms, and that bitch, Yishana!

 

It was a relief when Cassandra and I finally left the Sardar estate, that wet morning. It had been uncomfortable enough on the long voyage home on the ship, Waverider, surrounded by Brinn’s warriors, none of whom seemed to have anything good to say about me. Their grim, silent hostility hung over the vessel like a toxic cloud as the ship sailed north, and the way they stared at me as I passed by on the main deck beggared belief. When I would mention this to Cassandra, she would smile and simply reassure me that ‘my brother’s men can be surly at times. Ignore them, my beloved. We will be home soon.” Her gentle arms would embrace me and we would share a chaste kiss away from the gazes of the men. Cassandra Assante was a rich prize, indeed, and I basked in the raised status that companionship with her bestowed. 

 

There are many reasons why men seek out free companions on Gor, and climbing the social ladder is one of them. Women, of course, seek out free companions for protection, security, and for a socially acceptable means towards experiencing sexual intercourse.  

 

But throughout the voyage I could feel the resentment directed towards me by these Goreans.

 

‘I am a man more sinned against than sinning.’ That’s King Lear, that is. He said that in Shakespeare’s play of the same name. I mention that quote, incidentally, just to show you that I’m an intelligent and cultured man. I’m educated. I’ve read books. I mean, I expect you’ve built up some sort of impression of me based on what Emma has said in the past, yes? I expect she’s said all sorts of things about me, hasn’t she? Spiteful things? Slanderous things? I know you’ve read her books. Let me tell you something about Emma – she’s not the person she makes herself out to be. She thinks she’s the victim in all of this, and that men take advantage of her, but you don’t see the way she acts; you only read the way she describes herself. I mean, I’ve seen some of her writing. Brinn showed it to me when we were building the estate in the Sardar foothills, and I can tell you, what she writes is overblown and extremely biased. Brinn isn’t like that. I’m not like that. We’re complicated and emotional people, and Emma, well, Emma makes us out to be idiots and brutes and she’s very good at making herself seem, oh so clever. I mean, she begs for sex. All the time. Bear that in mind. She’s a slut. I didn’t know that when I first met her, but she is. She begs for sex in the most demeaning ways possible, and then, if the sex isn’t exactly how she wants it – I mean, exactly, precisely how she wants it - then she’s off on her high horse claiming she’s been brutalised. I put up with it for a while, but you can only put up with it for so long, can’t you? I mean, we’re all only human. 

 

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I respect women, but women have to have some respect for themselves too, don’t you think? It can’t just be one sided. If they act like sluts, well, it’s hard not to see them as sluts. 

 

So, yes, I am a man more sinned against than sinning. Emma wouldn’t know that quote. I doubt she’s even read Shakespeare. It would have all been ‘My little Pony,’ when she was young, followed by ‘Just Seventeen’ magazine with a guide to the best supermarket lipsticks and the top ten most fabulous little black party dresses of the season. And she wasn’t even a girl then! I bet she got bullied a lot at school. 

 

But I’ve read Fyodor Dostoevsky: the Russian novelist. I bet you didn’t know that. Emma never mentioned that, did she? Well she wouldn’t. I read what she wrote about me in Panther Girl of Gor, mentioning in that derisory way of hers how I collected Marvel and DC figurines. You could tell from the way she said it that she was laughing at me, even then. Poor Simon. Poor, hopeless, Simon, with his Justice League toys. She’ll never say anything positive about anyone if it might take the spotlight away from her. 

 

But anyway, we were going home, and home meant Cassandra’s estate in Vonda – a large country house set in many acres of grounds just outside the city walls, but still within the zone of protection of Vonda’s armed might. Cassandra owned a town house in Vonda too, a much smaller building, though far larger than anything I might have strived to own on Earth, and this she frequented occasionally when her business in the city made it impracticable to journey home late at night. Only a reckless fool ventured out into the countryside when the sun had set. The night belonged to outlaws and bandits. When Cassandra did travel, she did so with her banner men – warriors sworn to protect the Lady of House Assante. She always looked regal as she rode beside her banner men. I felt proud that she was my woman. 

 

Cassandra and I had become free companions on some nameless beach on the west coast of the black kingdoms, following the terrifying battle with the navy of Cos, in which we nearly died. I like to think my bravery and desire to protect Cassandra turned the tide and helped Brinn sweep aside the Cosian forces, granting us victory in the end. And that night, following the battle, Cassandra and I had pledged our vows and consummated our year long relationship, for the Gorean equivalent of marriage is a contract that must be renewed annually to remain in place. 

 

I have deep feelings for Cassandra. I want to make that quite clear, right from the word go. She’s a remarkable woman, and I recognised that when I first met her. She’s not like most women I’ve met. She has this… air of calm about her. Calm, and a state of grace and serenity, I guess. You can’t help loving the woman. She’s heavily involved with charity, you know? Did Emma mention that? I bet she didn’t. Cassandra helps the poor in Vonda. She’s deeply concerned about the welfare of people less fortunate than herself. She once said to me, “Simon, what are we going to do about the poor people?” And I just thought, that is so profound. And caring. Brinn had been talking about birds of prey, but Cassandra was worrying about some food queues she had seen in the city – people lining up all day for a handout of bread and soup. They were proud men having to take charity to feed their women and children. Cassandra cares. 

 

If I’m being open and honest, though, I have to admit to myself that the consummation with Cassandra was, well, disappointing. I was a virgin when I came to Gor, and my sexual awakening had been exclusively with slave girls. So many slave girls! You can buy the use of one for an evening for the price of a cup of paga! As soon as I knew that, well, you would, wouldn’t you? I mean, I’m a feminist, don’t get me wrong, I’m a great supporter of women’s rights, but those women in the paga brothels, well, they’re not exactly helping their cause, are they? They’re not feminists, themselves, are they? And they’re not ‘Ladies’, like Cassandra. I had never had the opportunity to sleep with a Gorean free woman before, because the rigid customs of Gor make that nigh on impossible outside the bonds of free companionship. I think you would have a better chance of sleeping your way through frigid Victorian society than you would with the free women of central Gor. 

 

And so it’s fair to say I’m used to a certain fire and passion when it comes to sex with a kajira. My first night with Cassandra was very different.

 

A small hut had been built for us well away from the main camp site on the beach, and soft throws and cushions had been salvaged for our bedding. The inside of the makeshift hut was illuminated by soft lantern light and there was a pleasing scent of perfume in the air. Cassandra had been nervous as I carried her into the hut, and I could feel her tremble as I placed her down onto the soft furs. She was fully clothed at this point and custom dictated I was supposed to tell her to undress. 

 

I had never seen Cassandra so nervous before. There was no doubting she was a virgin – and this I confirmed as fact shortly afterwards – and had she been in Vonda now she would have had the guidance and advice of her friends the night before, in what is the Gorean equivalent of a Hen Night, when previously companioned women advise their friend what is likely to take place and what she must do for her man, in order to please him in a dignified manner.

 

Cassandra undressed to her under garment, which was a long slip-like gown that reached to her upper calves. In the warmth of the lantern light, she stood there, unbinding her hair and combing it smooth past her shoulders. 

 

“In Vonda I would have a handmaiden to do this for me,” she said with a shy smile. “And I would be dressed in a fine gown of brushed silk. I am sorry I stand before you, looking so wretched.”

 

“You’re beautiful, whatever you wear, Cassandra,” I said. And she was. 

 

“I… do not know what to do now,” she said with a trace of embarrassment. “I had no one to advise me last night.”

 

“Luckily then, for both of us, I do know.”

 

I watched Cassandra lie down on the soft furs, nervously. She had not removed the under garment, nor had it occurred to her that she should. As I knelt beside her, and as my hands slid the hem of the gown up past her knees, she quickly shut her eyes and turned her face away from me in fear. I had to remind myself she was a virgin and a free woman. All her life she would have dreaded this. But from what I knew of free women, she would probably have fantasised about this moment too. 

 

As the hem of her garment rode up her thighs, Cassandra whispered to me, “the light, please, dim the light, dearest Simon.”

 

There wasn’t much light to talk of, but I dimmed the lanterns until we could only just make out the dark outlines of our bodies. Cassandra seemed to relax a little now that visibility was poor. To be brutally honest, I would have preferred to be able to gaze at those long legs of hers, and grip her ankles with my hands, pulling them apart in lustful desire, but it was her first time, and it was down to me to be a gentleman. Cassandra isn’t like the kajirae you read about in Emma’s writing. Cassandra is a free woman. The genuine article. You’d admire her if you met her. You’d understand why men worship her, and why all women desperately wish they could be her. You can’t expect her to have sexual desires like a kajirae slut.

 

I continued to roll her garment up until it was around her hips. I could tell that she had her thighs clasped tightly together and she was crying. I leant forward and kissed her softly, reassuring her that it would be all right, that she would be a real woman soon. I felt so protective of her. And that’s how a man should feel, isn’t it? We protect and cherish our women and show them respect. I would have liked to caress her breasts and play with her nipples between my fingers, sucking on them with my mouth, but when I touched her through the cloth, she pleaded with me not to do so.

 

“I’m sorry, Simon. This is my first time. Be gentle with me.”

 

Frustrated, I removed my hand and simply kissed her on her closed mouth instead. I get hard quite quickly, and in the darkness, with Cassandra’s semi-naked body lying in the furs I was already primed to enter her. Ordinarily I would initiate foreplay first to warm a girl up, but when I touched her thighs, she begged me not to.

 

“Please, Simon, just enter me. Enter me now.”

 

“You’ll enjoy it more if you let me arouse you first, Cassandra.”

 

“No! I do not want to be aroused! Please, Simon, just take your pleasure of me now, as I am.”

 

And so I pushed inside her. I had to remind her to part her thighs, which she did, she making small gasps as I settled on top of her body. When she felt the head of my penis press between her legs she gasped again and let out a little cry that she immediately tried to stifle. I pushed myself in, savouring the feeling you get of that first motion inside a woman’s sex, when she is slippery but still tight.

 

Slowly, not wanting to hurt her this first time, I pushed deeper inside Cassandra, feeling resistance that proved she was indeed white silk. If it hurt, she put up with it soundlessly until I was through, and then I began to slowly thrust and tell her that I loved her. I could feel her body quivering as I thrust, but then after maybe a dozen thrusts I felt her hand on my chest and I heard her say, “please, pause a moment, Simon. I fear I may swoon.” 

 

I paused, still inside her, still feeling the warmth of that embrace around my shaft as Cassandra lay there, breathless beneath me. I was hard and it was difficult to hold still inside her, but as I moved accidentally she begged me again to be still for a moment. And then when she felt fortified she indicated I could continue. 

 

I took my time because I did want Cassandra to enjoy this, but as I felt her body begin to quiver, she would ask me to stop again, and then she would lie there, impaled, gathering her strength and dignity before telling me I might proceed once more. I found it off putting after a while, and my lack of permission to touch her in any significant way was spoiling the experience. That and the fact she simply lay there, stiff as a board, just quivering as I thrust, only occasionally surrendering little gasps of sound which she quickly fought back against.

 

Cassandra concentrated all her energies on not allowing herself to feel anything if she could help it. But she clearly wanted me to take my pleasure from her. She felt it was her duty as my free companion. It frustrated me that she saw sex as such a one sided deal, and I tried to reassure her that it was perfectly acceptable for her to permit herself to enjoy this, but she was clearly terrified where those feelings might lead her. It was fear of the unknown – a fear that most free women seem to have, that their feelings may prove to be too intense if they give them free reign.

 

When I came, Cassandra seemed delighted. To her mind she had given me pleasure and done what was expected of her, though it was a pale reflection of the pleasure I would have achieved with an experienced kajira. This consummation of our companionship wasn’t far removed from being solitary masturbation with an inflatable doll.

 

Nevertheless I told her she had been magnificent, and that our union was now complete. 

 

I think she desperately wanted me to tell her that sex with her had surpassed anything I might have experienced with a kajira, and that such sordid relationships in the past could never hope to attain the sacred and spiritual act of sex with a free woman, but I didn’t feel like lying to her to quite that degree.

 

“How was it for you, my love?” I asked as I caressed her cheek.

 

“It was very nice,” she said with a soft smile of gratitude. “I felt such lovely tingles.” She hadn’t allowed herself to come, of course. She had begged me to pause whenever there was any risk of that. She felt between her legs and found a little blood, and, without realising it, some of my semen on her fingers. “I am a woman now. A full woman.”

 

“You are that.”

 

“I am experienced now,” she said with a smile. “I can advise other women in the future.”

 

I bloody hope not, I thought, for their sakes. 

 

“It wasn’t as difficult as I thought,” said Cassandra as she kissed me softly and squeezed my hand. “Now you know what you have been missing all those years when you’ve been playing with kajirae.”

 

It was such a stupid thing to say that I was lost for any sort of response. 

 

And that had been the sum total of my sexual encounters with Cassandra for the duration of the journey back to the Sardar. Although I shared a cabin with her on board the Waverider, she was terrified that the walls were paper thin and that men might hear us if I ‘took hold of her intimately’ during the sea voyage. 

 

“Please wait until we are home,” she said on the first night as I climbed into the small bunk with her. She was wearing her calf length gown again and looked at me nervously as I lay beside her. “I might make an inappropriate sound, and men might hear me!” 

 

“I could always gag you,” I said as a joke, but she gave me such a pained look of hurt disappointment that I ended up apologising to her that first night.

 

“How could you say that, Simon, after all I’ve been through on the Larl of the Thassa!” She buried her head in a pillow and turned her back to me as we lay in the bunk together. “I thought you would be different. I thought you would understand and support me. Have you no compassion?”

 

I spent several hours assuring her that it had been a foolish thing for me to say, and that I would never say such a thing again. Eventually she laid her head against my chest and allowed me to stroke her hair. She fell asleep soon after. 

 

I had to hold my sexual desires in check during the voyage as there were only a few kajirae on board the ship, and they seemed to be the property of the men, none of whom felt any kindness towards me. Brinn had no doubt poisoned their opinion of me, and I didn’t relish asking whether I might make use of one of their girls. There was also the thorny question of where I might use a kajira, as I couldn’t exactly bring her into the bed with Cassandra there, and I didn’t relish copulating in the cargo hold where all the warriors were bunked together.

 

It was frustrating lying next to Cassandra each night and knowing she was too scared to have sex. I didn’t think the walls were particularly thin, but obviously they were wood rather than stone. We kissed and snuggled together, but there was always a surprised admonishment from her if my hands strayed a bit. Though she would sometimes giggle and tell me I was ‘very bad’. 

 

I think she secretly liked my persistence and enjoyed the game of warding off my more forceful attempts. 

 

“Stop it, Simon!” she would laugh, struggling in my grip. “Stop it! I’ll scream!” But she was laughing as she said that. 

 

I could have told her that there was no point in screaming, because the law is on the side of the man in free companionship. I have rights on Gor. I have the right to enjoy sexual relief with my companion. Cassandra doesn’t have the legal right to refuse me, now that we’re free companioned. If a free companion is being petulant, a man may simply strip and tie her to his bed and put her to use. She is his for a year. She knows that of course. She was only joking. 

 

“Are all men as persistent and single minded as you?” she asked me one night as we dozed together. My hand was curved around her ass, which she permitted as she was dressed in her long bed gown. She even permitted me to gently stroke it, which seemed to excite her a little. 

 

“Some men even more so,” I replied.

 

“Such beasts,” she said, snuggling close to my chest and kissing me gently. “Men are such beasts.”

 

The sea journey was largely uneventful, for no pirate would even contemplate attacking a Port Kar warship full of warriors. Occasionally we saw a vessel that was obviously hunting for prey, but they gave us a wide berth once they saw what we were. The Waverider eventually docked in the great port of Brundisium, which was once the staging post for the mainland invasion by Cos. Nowadays it is the central port on the west coast, serving as a thriving gateway to the central city states of Gor. We disembarked, leaving the sailors to return the ship to Samos of Port Kar who had loaned it to Brinn when he had heard of his sister’s capture. 

 

Brinn’s warriors escorted us to the Sardar, where we received a frosty reception. Or rather I did. The Lady Cassandra was greeted warmly, and she wasted no time in assuming authority in her brother’s absence. Everyone jumped to her command, but offered only passive aggressive compliance when I said something. Again, I began to feel very uncomfortable, but was reassured by my companion that things would be very different once we returned to Vonda. 

 

“I have my own banner men there, and they are now your banner men too, my beloved. In taking my hand in companionship, you have elevated your status considerably.” 

 

I liked the sound of that. And it was true of course. Cassandra was now my woman and I could, as the male of the household, conduct matters as I saw fit. She was no longer in control of her own destiny. Cassandra was expected to defer to me, meekly, in all major decisions. Her household was now my household. I was, at a single stroke, suddenly elevated to the position of Brinn, himself. I would command warriors, sworn to the Lady’s serpent banner. 

 

That serpent banner fluttered in the wind as we rode on tharlarions to Vonda, accompanied by a retinue of twenty of Brinn’s men. We travelled via the city of Esalinius, then followed the Olni river, staying a night in Ti and then Port Olni, before reaching the great city walls of Vonda, south of the Sardar. 

 

As we rode through the streets I was immediately aware of how well respected my Lady was in her city. People cheered as they saw her banner ride through the main thoroughfare. The cheering intensified when a warrior passed my Lady a heavy pouch of copper coins which she then began to distribute to eager clutching hands that milled about our tharlarions. At first she pressed coins into eager, clutching fingers, but then when the crowd seemed too boisterous, she scattered coins carelessly to the left and right, making the men scramble to find them.

 

“Blessings from the house of Assante,” she cried, as she distributed money to those who needed it, and, I think, those who didn’t. I saw free women scramble for the coins too, though such a thing was technically beneath their dignity. If a free woman lacked the means to support herself, she need only find herself a male companion to aid her. 

 

“They love you, my beloved,” I said as I rode stirrup to stirrup with her.

 

“They love my money,” she replied. 

 

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The townhouse was lavish and put me in mind of the exclusive properties purchased by wealthy Russians in the more affluent areas of London – the ones with sprawling grounds and high walls and gates and basement levels that progressively build deeper and deeper as time goes by. There were cloistered gardens attached to the three storey property, and a number of outbuildings including a small private stable where the stable master lived. It had an architecture reminiscent of the Mediterranean, and Vonda shares much of the same climate as, say, Northern Italy. The sun shines brightly in this part of Gor and the buildings have the pale blues, soft yellows and gleaming white palettes of colours you see in coastal Mediterranean towns. 

 

“It’s quite a place,” I said, as I admired the structure.

 

“Wait until you see the country estate,” replied Cassandra with a soft smile. She had removed her veils as soon as we had ridden into our property. Away from the public streets of Vonda she could afford to be more casual in her modesty and, I think, she enjoyed the way I admired her features. “My handsome man,” she whispered as she gave my hand a squeeze.

 

“I’m looking forward to seeing the bedrooms,” I said as I squeezed her hand back. It amused me to see how she blushed and giggled like a young girl. 

 

“I have kept you waiting so long,” she said with a sparkle to her eyes. “Tonight I shall make up for it. Tonight I have something… special to excite you.”

 

My ears pricked up to that. Something special? Was she now, here in the safety and security of her private residence, going to show me a hidden side to her repressed sexual desires? In speculating what she had in mind, I began to imagine all manner of implausibly kinky scenarios.

 

But I would have to wait.

 

During the day I was introduced to the staff and the house kajirae, including Cassandra’s first girl, Brianna, who followed her around as we toured the residence. Strangely, I noticed a friendship of sorts between the kajira, Brianna, and the free woman, Cassandra. Casandra seemed to appreciate and trust Brianna to a degree I didn’t believe possible. There was a story here, I felt sure, but I wasn’t privy to it. When we came to the private bed chambers, Cassandra seemed delightfully embarrassed and just a little flustered. She indicated the huge bed and giggled again at the thought of what we would be doing in that bed tonight. 

 

The day wore on slowly and I began to grow restless. The constant parade of kajirae in their skimpy slave tunics did nothing to alleviate my growing sexual tension and I longed for night fall, when we might retire to the bed chambers. But Cassandra had been away from Vonda for many months and she needed to catch up on her business affairs. I understood that, but even so, I was close to bursting point. 

 

When at last it came time to retire for the night, Cassandra asked me to give her a little time before coming up to the bed chamber.

 

“I want tonight to be special for you, beloved. You’ve waited so patiently since the beach.” She sounded breathless and a little excited, herself. “I hope you like what I have planned.”

 

I watched as Cassandra left the hall, with her first girl by her side. In my most lurid imaginings, I wondered whether I was going to have both Cassandra and Brianna in bed together, but no, surely not. There was no way a free woman would even consider such a thing. 

 

I waited fifteen ehn, and then climbed the stairs to the bed chambers. Inside, the heavy drapes were shut, and candle illumination bathed the chamber in a rich warm glow. Brianna knelt to the side of the room, with her head lowered demurely, not meeting either my gaze or Cassandra’s. The bed dominated the chamber, with its ornate posts over which semi-translucent fabrics had been draped and hung. Like all Gorean beds and couches, it featured slave rings set along the sides, offering all manner of practical positions from which to chain slaves. But these slave rings had never been used. 

 

And there was Cassandra, waiting for me, dressed rather disappointingly in another, figure concealing, opaque bed gown with little in the way of sexual allure. “I promised you an exciting surprise,” she said with an expectant look on her face that left me confused. I gazed, first at her, then around the room, and then back again, failing to see what this surprise might be. 

 

“Do you like it?” she said softly. “I was nervous and almost didn’t go through with it.”

 

I still couldn’t see exactly what this erotic surprise was meant to be. And the bewilderment on my face must have been plain to her. 

 

“It… doesn’t please you?” she said with sadness in her face.

 

“I don’t know what we’re talking about, Cassandra.” I approached her, and still couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to be seeing. There she stood, dressed in one of her opaque bed gowns. 

 

“The gown…” she looked upset now. “It is cut just above the knee, instead of below it. I thought it might excite you…”

 

THAT was it? A few inches less of figure obscuring cloth? THAT was supposed to be the big erotic surprise of the night? The fact I could see her knees?!

 

There was a chill now in the atmosphere, despite my reassurances that Cassandra looked beautiful. I suppose she truly believed she had done something risqué to please me, and like all women, was mortified when I had failed to respond. 

 

“I was foolish,” she wept. “You must think me contemptible now.”

 

Whatever I said failed to placate her, and so, when she lay down on the bed, on her back, she did so with her eyes tightly shut. Her arms were straight by her side, and the only sign she was alive came from the steady rise and fall of her bosom, from her breathing.

 

I mounted the bed, and noticed that Brianna remained in the chambers, with her head down. It seemed strange to me that Cassandra’s first girl should witness this – my sexual use of her Mistress - but that is how Goreans consider their slaves – no more of a distraction than having a pet cat in the room.

 

As I did on the beach, I slid the fabric of Cassandra’s gown up around her hips, and then higher, to her waist, to gain access to her. I parted her thighs with my hand, and felt her tremble again as I did so. She was tense now, as stiff as a board, and any time I touched her she flinched in the darkness. 

 

I massaged my erection with my own hand and pondered how I’d instruct a slave to do this normally. I gazed back at the kneeling figure of Brianna and imagined her doing this now, using her lips too, perhaps. But no, it was left to me alone. 

 

“Please hurry, beloved,” said Cassandra, as if she perhaps had some other place to be. I felt angry and resentful. Was this what love making was going to be with her? No wonder men sought out kajirae in paga taverns. So be it. I was after all master of the house, and it was a house with a plentiful supply of kajirae. I’d make up for tonight with a slave of my choice the next day. 

 

But for now… I pushed inside of Cassandra and heard her gasp as she was penetrated.

 

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Of all the kajirae in the town house, Tula stood out the most. My God she was lovely. Well they all were, but it was a case of picking out your favourite chocolate from a box of expensive truffle centres. I cornered her in the afternoon of the next day, interrupting her work, gathering firewood. I enjoyed her surprised little ‘eek’ as she felt my hands on her ass, pushing her into a small recess in the yard outside.

 

“Tula, Tula, Tula. What a precious little slut you are.”

 

“Master?” She breathed deeply as I turned her to face me, my hands still cupping those exquisite ass cheeks under her tunic hem. 

 

“Yes, your Master.” I was master to all the kajirae, and that, believe me, was a very pleasing thought. It didn’t matter that sex with Cassandra was bland, for I had a stable of exquisite beauties in steel collars to choose from during the day. My fingers traced the kef brand on the girl’s thigh and I watched her reaction, which was a powerful one even by slave girl standards. She writhed as if she hadn’t been touched by a man in ages. 

 

“You like that, don’t you?” I said with a smile as I moved forward and kissed her on the lips, hearing a little gasp of astonishment, followed by a sensuous kiss back before she then broke away unexpectedly in fright. “You’re such a hot slut.”

 

“Please, Master…”

 

She suddenly seemed scared.

 

My hand moved up, under the brief tunic Tula wore, and my fingers touched what felt like a metal lock. Surprised, I pulled the girl’s tunic hem upwards and saw that she wore a chastity belt of the kind you sometimes see on Gor. 

 

“Why are you wearing this? Have you done something wrong?”

 

“Oh, no, Master. We all wear them when we’re not in our kennels for the night. The Mistress doesn’t want us to be available to men.”

 

Well that was a development I hadn’t foreseen. ALL the kajirae in this house were locked? I lowered the girl’s tunic hem and regarded her. “It’s only removed at night?”

 

“Only when we are returned to our kennels, Master. During the day, while we go about our chores, we are locked in the belts.”

 

“The men here must be frustrated by that.”

 

“I am sure they are, Master. Many of them frequent paga taverns in the evening.”

 

“Where is the key to your belt? I would like to unlock it.”

 

“I don’t know where it is kept during the day, Master, but at night the kennel Master collects it when it is time for us to return to the pens.” 

 

The girl was incredibly desirable, and I felt frustrated that I couldn’t take her to an alcove now and put her to use. She too was probably simmering from neglect. It was cruel for both of us. 

 

I pulled the wide neckline of the v-shaped tunic down around her shoulders so that I could see and feel her breasts. They were lovely, but as I touched and played with them, the girl flinched in fright.

 

“Please, Master,” she cried. “If you touch me like that I am expected to report to the first girl and ask to be whipped.”

 

“What?”

 

“The men are not supposed to touch us like that. If they do, it is not their fault of course, but ours. We have tempted them with our lewd ways. We are punished for being lewd. Please don’t have me whipped Master!”

 

“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

 

The girl looked even more frightened. “I could be killed if I was deceitful and concealed my use!” 

 

The girl’s terror was genuine enough, and so I resolved the best course of action was to leave her be and speak to Cassandra about it the next day. 

 

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

 

I raised the subject delicately and innocently enough over breakfast the next morning as we sat out on the veranda, enjoying the early sun rise.

 

“I was talking to Tula yesterday, beloved,” I began, as Cassandra nibbled daintily on a piece of buttered bread.

 

“Oh? Did the girl do something wrong? Does she need to be punished?”

 

“No, nothing like that,” I said with a loving smile. “Perfectly well behaved. I was just getting to know her and having a conversation, and…”

 

“Why?” Cassandra’s voice rose an octave or two and she glared at me, her right hand lowering the small piece of sa-tarna bread to her plate. “Why were you having a conversation with Tula?”

 

“Well, I wanted to get to know her and…”

 

“Get to know her?!” Cassandra flinched and sat back on her heels. “You like her? You find her beautiful? You lust after her?” She seemed suddenly very angry.

 

“I didn’t say that, beloved. She’s just a kajira, but…”

 

“I can’t believe this!” Cassandra rose to her feet, trembling. She seemed distraught.

 

“Cassandra, it was just a conversation and…”

 

“I feel sick. I feel sick! How could you…” She walked about randomly through the veranda doors and suddenly called out for Brandon, her personal champion, who appeared quickly, as if by magic.

 

“Lady?” He looked at her, saw how upset she was and then stared grimly at me in a way that I didn’t like.

 

“Find Tula, Brandon,” she cried, before I could say anything to calm the situation. “Whip her! Ten lashes. Then drag the stinking slut to the market and sell her! I don’t care what price you get! I never want to see her again!”

 

“Cassandra…” I rose to my feet in alarm.

 

“I feel nauseous,” she cried, weeping genuine tears that were painfully obvious to the loyal Brandon. “Nauseous! Summon my palanquin, kind Brandon. I’m going back to the estate.” She turned to glare at me. “Alone!” she snapped. 

 

“Cassandra, please, the girl means nothing to me!”

 

“I need some air!” she screamed and ran out of the bed room chambers. Brandon glared at me one final time, perhaps in warning to stay where I was, before following her. The man was HUGE. He looked like he could break my neck with a single slap of his hand.

 

I hurried down into the courtyard as soon as I heard Tula’s horrible screams. Have you ever heard a girl being whipped? It’s like nails down a blackboard. And she had done nothing to deserve this. Nothing. 

 

I found her with her wrists tied to a whipping post. Her back red from the first two stripes of the lash. 

 

“Stop!” I cried. The man with the whip turned to regard me and, seeing that I was the master of the house, stayed his hand from the third stroke. There were a few other men in the courtyard that morning, idly watching the punishment. How could they be so detached? How could they not try to intervene? 

 

“The girl is not to be whipped,” I said as I ran up to the man who held the lash. “Cut her down.” Poor Tula was already slumped with the strength gone from her legs and it had only been two strokes before I intervened. I could hear her crying, and of course she would have no comprehension of why she was being punished. 

 

“The Lady has ordered this girl to be whipped,” said the man. He seemed surprised I had ordered otherwise.

 

“And I, as the master of the house, have ordered otherwise.”

 

“Have you consulted with the Lady about this?” 

 

I thought the man was rather surly as he said this. Why should I even consider consulting with Cassandra! I was a man. She was my free companion. She deferred to me.

 

“No. And I see no need to do so. Put down the whip. That is an order.”

 

The men glanced at one another, not sure what to do. 

 

“I gave you an order!” I said, sharply. “Do you wish to be dismissed from service?”

 

The man handed me the whip and I threw it to the side of the courtyard in disgust. Poor Tula. Her back displayed two sharp red stripes, and all she had done was answer my questions last night. 

 

“Bathe and dress her injuries,” I said. 

 

“She is to be sold in the market place,” explained the man. He didn’t seem happy about this. “We are to take her there after the whipping.”

 

I considered countermanding that order, but then I imagined what Tula’s life might be like if she continued to serve in this house, attracting Cassandra’s ire and resentment from that moment on. It would be a living hell for her. Better she was sold to another house where she could start over. And also, I didn’t want to countermand too many of Cassandra’s wishes. It was still early days and it would not be good to see her sulking for days, maybe weeks. She had been a single woman for several years and needed time to adjust to the reality of companionship, where she was no longer the authority in the house. I would be patient with her, for a short while at least. 

 

“Very well. Take her to the market, but clean her up first. She can hardly stand.” 

 

Cassandra was gone, carried to her estate beyond the formidable walls of Vonda, where she would no doubt be sulking, as free women do. I wasn’t going to put up with this. She didn’t get to simply storm off in a huff when I disagreed with her. This was Gor. She was a woman. I would tame her if necessary.

 

“I am riding to the estate,” I said to the stable master. “Ready a tharlarion and arrange an escort for me.” I had no idea how to actually get to the estate on my own, and I didn’t relish riding by myself. Although I’m strong, I’ve never mastered the sword as well as Brinn hoped I might. 

 

“As you wish, master,” said the stable master. 

 

The tharlarion is an ill-tempered beast, prone to hissing and trying to frustrate its rider. In many ways it is like a woman, though I would never suggest as much to a Lady. I am a competent, if not spectacular rider, having learnt enough at Brinn’s estate to ride reasonably well from a city’s walls to a country estate. Few women ride tharlarions, and when they do it is always on the smaller of the breed. They prefer instead to be carried about on palanquins, though this requires a number of strong, burly male slaves, usually six to eight, to bear the weight of the Lady, her ornate chair, and the platform construction itself. Cassandra is capable of riding a tharlarion, and indeed did when we ventured from the Sardar to Vonda. A palanquin is slower, and she was eager to return home. She rode side saddle of course. It is not really possible for a woman wearing long skirts to ride any other way. 

 

Two men, mounted on tharlarions were waiting for me in the courtyard, with a third riding beast saddled and ready for me to mount. The men were clearly warriors and knew their business. They had that air of seriousness about them that you don’t see in, say, city guardsmen. 

 

“Oban and Ramon, awaiting your orders, Sir,” said the man I presumed was Oban. Ramon carried the serpent banner of what was now my house; the pole base supported in the socket of his saddle. 

 

“We ride to the estate,” I remarked. It felt good to have this kind of authority. I was a Lord here, or the Gorean equivalent of a Lord. I had authority, and I commanded men. I have to say it felt very good. “My Lady left earlier. We should overtake her palanquin on the way.”

 

“The Lady chose to ride, Sir,” said Ramon. 

 

“Oh.” This suggested she was in a hurry to leave Vonda, and, by implication, me. But still, riding side saddle meant she would ride slower than my mount. “How far is it to the estate?”

 

“Eight pasangs, Sir.”

 

A short ride, then. We would be there in less than an hour, even at a slow canter. I mounted the tharlarion and heard it hiss as I settled into the saddle. The lizard swung its head back to regard me, but I tugged at the reins to show it who was master. 

 

You must always maintain strict discipline with a riding tharlarion. Again, much the same as with a woman. It occurred to me as I led the men out through the courtyard gates, that I might have to assert my authority with Cassandra sooner rather than later. This petulant display of anger had annoyed me. She was my woman! She had relinquished her right to be angry at my interest in kajirae when she free companioned me. Obviously she needed a lesson in manners. It occurred to me also that I could, if I wished, spank her. She was my companion. Gorean men had that right. For some reason I found the thought arousing. Now, I love and respect Cassandra, and I am a feminist, but as we rode out through the gates of Vonda, I imagined what it might be like to have Cassandra squirming over my lap, her dress pulled up high about her waist to expose her ass cheeks. Oh, how she would rage and fume, sure in herself, no doubt, that I would never dare to spank her. And then that startled expression on her face as I placed my hand on her bottom, gently at first, but then with a firmness that served as a prelude for what was going to come. Then perhaps she might grow nervous, no longer sure I would not follow through with my threat. Perhaps just a few light spanks, as I’m kind and considerate when it comes to women. But hard enough for her to squeal and promise to behave in future. 

 

As we rode out into the countryside, I felt the warmth of a growing erection against my green tunic. 

 

It felt good to be a man on Gor. Now I just needed to tame my fiercely independent woman.