Companions of Gor: Chapter Six

 

 

Cassandra was a little unsteady on her feet at first. As is often the case, you don’t realise how much you have had to drink until the first time you try to stand up. 

 

“Oh!” 

 

I caught hold of her arm as she nearly fell. 

 

“Careful, beloved. The wine has really gone to your head.”

 

“I could use some water,” she said as she steadied herself with the palm of one hand against a wall. 

 

The kajira who had been serving our table stood close by, watching keenly. She gave Cassandra a strange look, but I couldn’t imagine why.

 

“What is your name, girl?” She had red hair and eyes that suggested bright intelligence. 

 

“Esavina, if it pleases Master.”  

 

“I believe we have a…”

 

“Room booked, Master.” The girl smiled. It was a wonderful smile, very wide and with clean white teeth. “I know. It is ready for you upstairs.” She glanced again at Cassandra for some reason. 

 

“You…?”

 

“Are aware of the circumstances, Master, yes. The room is only booked for one reason at this house. We don’t take in guests for any other reason.”

 

“Right.” I glanced back at Cassandra. She had regained her balance and was drinking from a cup of water. “I just need to speak to the men I have outside.”

 

Ramon and Kesper sat in the courtyard with a lantern, playing dice on the cobblestones. They looked up as I emerged through the solid wooden door that was the entrance to the café. 

 

“Are you ready to leave, Sir?”

 

“Not quite.” I walked over to the men who stood up straight. “The Lady and I have decided to make a romantic night of it. We have a comfortable room upstairs and will,” I grinned, “enjoy the moment.”

 

The men grinned back, understanding what I meant. 

 

“We won’t need you to take us home. Just return in the morning at a reasonable hour. No doubt you know of some paga taverns close by that you might wish to frequent.”

 

“We do, Sir,” said Kesper. “It would be a shame to waste the night.”

 

“Here, some coins to make it a night to remember. And I will see you both in the morning.” I handed Kesper the small bag of copper coins I had tied to my belt. I had settled all the costs of the evening in advance, so wouldn’t be needing money. There were probably fifteen copper coins in there. 

 

“Kind of you, Sir.”

 

I walked round the corner to a shuttered doorway and relieved myself of some of the wine I’d drunk this evening. I pissed a steady stream of warm urine at a wall and shook myself dry. Once back inside, I returned to where the kajira, Esavina, was clearing our table. 

 

“So, um, is there anything I have to do?” I asked in a low voice.

 

“Nothing, Master. Everything is prepared for you. Just go up the stairs when you are ready. Your room is the first door on the landing. There is a pull rope that will summon me if you need a kajira.”

 

“Good.” I smiled at the girl in her lovely white tunic, before turning back to my companion.

 

“Shall we retire for the night?” I indicated the wooden staircase.

 

“Why are we staying here?” asked Cassandra. “We have a town house in Vonda.”

 

“It was such a lovely evening, I didn’t want to round it off with us having to steer our way home in the dark. Better we sleep the night off and return home when it’s daylight.”

 

Cassandra sniffed. “I’m not sure. I would rather sleep in my own bed and have the security of my walls. Thank you for the thought, though, Simon.” She walked towards the heavy wooden door and opened it. Outside of course there was no longer any sign of her men.

 

“Ramon? Kesper?” She peered out into the darkness. “Kesper?!”

 

A doorway in the courtyard opened. Someone was curious who was calling out names late at night. A man stood in the doorway and saw Cassandra silhouetted in the backlight of the café as she stood outside on the cobbled stones in her expensive gowns and sequined slippers. 

 

“I’m not Kesper, woman, but I can stand in for him,” said the man in a coarse voice. He stepped out into the courtyard and looked around suspiciously to his left and right, for the sight of such a rich looking woman, here on her own, late at night, was enough to make him cautious that this wasn’t some sort of trap. 

 

“Kesper! Ramon!” cried Cassandra again as she backed up to the café doorway. 

 

The man sensed the rising panic in her voice and proceeded to swagger boldly into the courtyard, grinning as he flexed his fingers.

 

Cassandra was back inside in an instant, pushing the heavy wooden door shut.

 

She looked at me wildly. ‘Where is Kesper? Where is Ramon?”

 

“Cassandra, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ve just sent them to a paga tavern for the night.” I went forward to hold her by her arms and then embrace her. “They will be back for us in the morning. You shouldn’t have gone out there. Not alone. It’s dangerous to wander into the street like that.”

 

“I thought my men were out there! Why did you send our men away!”

 

“Because we’re staying here for the night,” I said.

 

“I didn’t agree to that! You should have spoken to me before you sent them away! We can’t walk the streets in the dark on our own.”

 

“And we don’t need to. We have a room upstairs.”

 

The experience had sobered Cassandra up a bit. I crossed over to the heavy door, opened it up, and loomed in the doorway. 

 

“Fuck off!” I shouted at the man who stood in the courtyard. “The woman is mine!”

 

He shrugged and stalked back into his own home. Satisfied, I slammed the door shut, having staked my claim. Goreans tend to back off when another man is already involved. 

 

“You really sent Ramon and Kesper away!” screamed Cassandra. She paced about the ground floor of the café in an angry mood. “Ohhh! You are insufferable sometimes!”

 

I rubbed my chin and gazed up at the staircase. “Well, we’re staying here tonight, Cassandra. You can join me upstairs when you’re ready.” I walked up the wooden steps and onto the landing. There, by lantern light, I saw two doors. The first was obviously mine. The second would be the clandestine observation room. I considered knocking on the door of the second and having a quick word with Sansapina to ensure everything was ready, but decided not to, in case Cassandra came up sooner rather than later. 

 

My door was unlocked, and as it swung open I entered the bedroom. It was reasonably spacious and, as Sansapina had said, tastefully decorated with soft furnishings that might appeal to a free woman. There was a narrow window overlooking the courtyard below that I judged was too small for a man to slip through. I hadn’t seen any windows on the ground floor, which was sensible in a neighbourhood such as this. Glass was set inside the window, and there were shutters that could be swung over the glass and bolted in place.  

 

Pride of place in the room was the large couch bed. I walked round the three available sides and noted with approval the usual slave rings set into the heavy wooden frame. The wall adjoining the next room had a large mirror set in place, and this was obviously the viewing window. I gave the mirror a cheerful wave for Sansapina to see in the next room, and then sat down on the edge of the bed to take in the rest of my surroundings. Another wall was decorated with a large tapestry, and this would be the wall where there was a secret panel that led to the secret stairwell that in turn descended down into a basement below this building. Elsewhere in the room I saw all the accoutrements a man might wish for, such as chains, rope, leather bindings, slave bracelets, gags, a couple of useful whips and switches and various other things for putting a kajira to use. Few of these things were suitable for free women of course. I rose up and examined the slave bracelets for a moment before returning them to the hook on which they hung beside the headboard. Our bedroom had an adjoining alcove room of sorts, about a third of the size of the main room. Inside was a ledge made of wood like a bench, with slave rings and chains. A woman could be chained in position in here if the bed was not to be used. Often a slave isn’t permitted to lie on a bed, as such things are better suited for free women. 

 

There was also a closet space built into the third wall. It was empty except for some towels and a number of slave garments hanging from hooks. I ran my fingers through them and found they were simple slave tunics of rep cloth. The sort of garments common kettle girls might wear. There were no pleasure silks, for example. But on a shelf there was one other item: a small stoppered bottle with some pieces of rag next to it. I examined the label. It read ‘capture scent.’ 

 

Capture scent is a fast acting anaesthetic that can render a woman unconscious in just five to ten ihn after being inhaled. It is commonly soaked into a cloth and then placed against her mouth and nose. When she does breathe in, as she will do eventually, she breathes in the chemical and quickly passes out.

 

Out of curiosity I paced over to the tapestry, peeled back one side and checked for a secret panel behind it. My fingers quickly felt an outline which had to be the door, though there was no handle on this side. I couldn’t locate the hinges either, which suggested the door opened out into the stairwell. It felt solid enough when I knocked on it, suggesting a heavy wooden construction like the front door downstairs. 

 

Cassandra was still downstairs, no doubt fuming, and so I walked back to the narrow window and gazed outside into the dark courtyard below. From here there was a clear view of the stables. Was Mikos inside with Trublia? I should have quietly checked to satisfy my curiosity when I was outside. Oh well, I would take some fresh air later after putting Cassandra to use. 

 

I didn’t have to wait long. Five ehn later, she arrived without saying a word. She stood there in the doorway, gazing at our room and she slammed the door shut as she entered.

 

“This is it?! My closet where I hang my gowns is bigger than this room!” she seemed annoyed. Very annoyed. She stamped about the room and looked at the couch bed in disgust. I thought the fabrics and cushions were rather tasteful, but obviously they weren’t expensive enough for her. She walked to the narrow window and peered out as I had done just now. “I can’t believe I have to stay here tonight!”

 

“Cassandra, it’s supposed to be a romantic evening.” I walked towards her. 

 

“And how am I supposed to undress? I don’t have a slave to hand!” She turned round, flustered as she reached back trying to locate the line of ribbons and hooks that ran down the back of her outer gown. 

 

“I’m sure I can undress you,” I said with a smile. I had never undressed Cassandra before. It might be fun, stripping her layer by layer like an expensive birthday present, and kissing every inch of her skin as it became bare.

 

“Well, you’re going to have to, I suppose. I’m not having some untrained kettle girl pawing at me with her sooty hands.”   

 

She began to remove the intricate pins from her hair one at a time. It takes at least half an hour for a women to braid and set her hair in such elaborate arrangements, and again it is a sign of wealth and prestige. Poorer women do not bother. 

 

“You’re watching me,” she said, without turning to face me. 

 

“I am. I’m watching my woman prepare for bed.”

 

Despite her anger with me, she seemed pleased by the thought. “I like you watching me, Simon. I do.”

 

“Then I’ll make sure I never stop. You took your time coming upstairs tonight. What were you doing?”

 

“I had to go to the toilet. The kajira showed me where it was, and…” Cassandra laughed softly. “It’s a small world.”

 

“What do you mean?” I rose from the edge of the bed where I sat and paced towards her. I put my hands on her waist and nuzzled her throat with kisses that made her sigh. I was looking forward to having her tonight. 

 

“Well, there was something about her all evening. I couldn’t quite think what it was, and then when I spoke to her just now…” Casandra laughed softly again. “I knew her when she was a free woman. In fact, I’m the reason she’s a slave. How delicious! It was really satisfying to see her tonight, on her knees, in a collar, serving me. It almost makes up for this room.”

 

“I’m curious now. Tell me the story.”

 

“Curiosity isn’t becoming in a man. You could be… kissed for it,” said Cassandra as she turned round to face me and moved her lips forward. They parted in an obvious invitation.

 

“My woman is very daring tonight. Is she begging for a kiss?”

 

“Your woman is a bit drunk. And yes, she begs her man for a kiss.”

 

I kissed her, savouring the way she kissed me back. The wine was working. She emerged from the long kiss looking slightly flustered. I held her there and removed the last of the pins from her hair, brushing the hair loose about her shoulders. “I like you with your hair down.”

 

“Slaves wear their hair down.” she said. 

 

“Nevertheless, I like it when you have your hair down.”

 

“Why? Because you want me to look like a slave?” her eyes challenged me as she ran a hand through her long hair in what could possibly be a teasing fashion. Could she be possibly trying to provoke me into treating her as one in bed? I wasn’t sure. It was very hard to read the desires of free women.

 

“If I wanted you to look like a slave, the room is well furnished for that,” I said with a joking smile. 

 

“Oh?” She regarded me in that detached manner of hers that gave nothing away.

 

“There are slave tunics, slave bracelets, binding fibre, a couple of simple collars; all manner of things.”

 

Cassandra tossed her head disdainfully. “I see.”

 

“There are a couple of switches, too. A slave crop. Even a whip.”

 

“I see.” Again, she gave me a disdainful look. 

 

“Some men do fantasise about their companion occasionally performing as a slave girl might.”

 

“Shameful,” said Cassandra as she pushed at my chest with the palm of her hand.  

 

“I’m sure you have heard of such things?”

 

“Perhaps.” Cassandra turned away from me and folded her arms. “What other men do with their women is not my concern.”

 

“But what your man does with his woman?”

 

“I suppose that IS my concern.” She relaxed a little into my arms as I held her again from behind. I wanted her out of those cumbersome gowns and onto the bed.

 

“I think…” I paused, meaningfully as I kissed her neck. The wine had made her more relaxed, less protective of her dignity. Tonight I might well see the true Cassandra Assante, unfettered by her rigid conditioning. What would she be like, I wondered? Was she a true free woman, or did she have secret slave feelings? I wanted the former, but I secretly also hoped for the latter. 

 

“What is it you think?”

 

“I think… if you stood here now, in a tiny little slave tunic, tight on your body, you would be the most beautiful woman the Gods of Gor have ever made.”

 

“Oh!” She trembled slightly in my arms. Was that her imagination running riot now? Or some simple revulsion at the idea.

 

“A slave tunic makes a girl’s legs seem even longer than they actually are. It is a very erotic garment.”

 

“I didn’t know that.” 

 

“It’s the high waist, gathered in, and the way the short, ever so short, hem of the skirt, flares out just a little. Not much, but just a little – the hem line fluttering slightly around the thighs. It hugs her bottom tightly.” I stroked her bottom and heard her sigh, “and makes her instantly available for use.”

 

“Such a shameful garment,” whispered Cassandra. 

 

“It is very suitable for slaves, of course.”

“Of course.” Cassandra nodded. “That is true.”

 

“The breasts of a woman clad in a slave tunic, are pronounced too. The v-shape of the neck line reveals a delightful bosom. An enticing valley for the man to gaze at.”

 

“Men are lustful brutes,” said Cassandra softly. She wriggled a little as I held and kissed her neck again, tracing kisses along it. “Oh!” she sighed blissfully. 

 

“We are even more lustful when a woman wears such a garment. A woman is a true woman in such a tunic.”

 

“A woman is a slave in such a tunic!” she gasped. 

 

“Well, she could play the part. For a time.” Was it my imagination, or was there a definite lack of strident protests? Normally Cassandra would surely have stormed out in fury had I said things like this? And yet tonight, with my hands upon her, my kisses lingering along her throat, and the wine in her system, she was not explicitly outraged by anything I had said. That was interesting. “It is of course nonsense to think that a free woman could be mistaken for a slave, even if she was clad in a brief slave tunic.”

 

“Oh?” Cassandra turned slightly to regard me.

 

“Why, yes. She would not move as a kajira might. She would be a free woman. Every inch a free woman.”

“Though clad in a slave tunic.”

 

“Though clad in a slave tunic. But there would be no mistaking her grace, her poise, her sophistication. Think of it this way, beloved, if I dressed Anya in your garments, could she pass as a free woman?”

 

“Of course not. That is preposterous. She is a slut! Everyone would know. Her disguise would not help her in the slightest!”

 

“So you see, it is not the garments, but the woman herself. A slave is a slave. A free woman is a free woman.”

“Oh.” Cassandra turned away from me again. “I suppose.”

 

“But tell me about the slave downstairs, how you knew her.”

 

“You know I wasn’t always wealthy and important in Vonda. When Brinn was rewarded by the Priest Kings for his service in the Northern Forests, he made me wealthy. I rose up and moved in good social circles but was considered an outsider by some of the Ladies. I hadn’t been born into wealth like them, and so they considered me uncouth. I have sharp wits and could have withstood that, but then my brother had to father his children with Emma. Overnight I was a laughing stock with certain Ladies – Lady Esavina in particular. She had always resented my sudden wealth, and she now made it a point to remind everyone that I had, in her words, ‘a pleasure slave as a sister-in-law.’ It was horrible. I would be at a social engagement and Esavina would ask me, in her mocking voice, ‘it was your birthday last week, wasn’t it, Cassandra? Did your sister-in-law give you some nice dancing silks?’ That sort of thing. I have a sharp tongue and a quick wit and so at first I would make some cutting remark, but after a while that grew harder to do. I would always have to come up with something new to say, while Esavina could simply repeat the same old things time after time. I was the Lady who was related to a pleasure slave, because of the children. My precious nephew and niece were referred to as children of a slave girl. I had to do something.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

You know Geralt, of course. He is Brinn’s favoured captain, but that is because they were childhood friends. They grew up together and trained together. Geralt’s father stood in shield walls with my father. I would play with Geralt and Brinn when I was a little girl. We would run around in the apple orchard and the boys would use me to practice their capture knots on.” Cassandra smiled at the recollection. “You have to understand we were all children – we didn’t know what it meant – but Brinn and Geralt knew it was something they needed to be good at when they were older. There was nothing sexual about it. They would chase me and I would struggle as Geralt would draw my wrists behind my back and tie them, while Brinn watched and offered constructive criticism and told me to stop wriggling and protesting so much. I just thought it was the sort of thing a girl was supposed to let boys do. They had to learn somehow. It stopped of course on the night of my first bleeding. My mother took me aside then and told me I wouldn’t be playing with Geralt anymore. The boy had already reached puberty himself, and I think his father had spoken to him to say he needed to turn his attentions elsewhere now. We still saw each other at polite family meetings, but play time was over forever. I had my first robing, and from then on everything was very formal. Geralt was astonished that first day when he saw me in robes and veils. I was only eleven but he called me ‘Lady’. He had never called me that when I had run around with scuffed knees in the apple orchards. Brinn grew more protective of me too, and he made Geralt swear an oath on their practice swords to guard me with his life, whatever happened in later years. So, I turned to him when I couldn’t speak to Brinn. I was angry with Brinn for what he had done. He hadn’t thought of how his children would be perceived, and he hadn’t thought of my feelings. Do you know what he told me? Why he had Emma as the mother of his children?”

 

“He loved her,” I said. “Men do sometimes fall in love with their slaves.”

 

“Love? No. That had nothing to do with it. Brinn is far more practical than that. Emma is not the first blonde barbarian he owned in a collar for many years. There was a girl in the Tahari…”

 

This was news to me. “What happened to her?”

 

“Brinn sold her when he came back to central Gor.” She clicked her fingers. “Just like that. She thought of herself as his ‘love slave’, I think, but she was then inconvenient because he had a mission for the Priest Kings, and in those days he had no fixed abode. He sold her in a Taharian market. No doubt the girl couldn’t believe it when it happened.”

 

“Then why did he have children with Emma?”

 

“Emma is perfect breeding stock, apparently. The Kurii machines,” she added. “Her body is genetically perfect – highly resistant to disease, heals quickly, and builds muscle tone with moderate exercise. She is fit, athletic and can endure great hardships. The Kurii made her that way. Those genes would be passed on to Brinn’s children. That’s the only reason Brinn impregnated her. Love,” she said the word with scorn. “My brother is ever practical.”

 

“Does Emma know this?”

 

“No. Why should she. It’s not any of her business. She’s a slave.”

 

I was astonished. Was this true? Was Brinn really so practical minded that he had chosen a mother based solely on her genetics? It cast a new light on things. Suddenly I felt sorry for Emma. She had no idea. She had no idea that Brinn viewed her as a breeding mare. Suddenly I despised my former friend. I have my faults, but I don’t think I could do that. 

 

“What did Geralt do?”

 

“He took some leave. He came to Vonda and I introduced him to polite social circles as a close friend of the family, which of course he was. And importantly, he was a handsome man without a companion, and of the caste of warriors. The ladies were round him like a pack of sluts. But he seemed to only have eyes for Lady Esavina. He laughed at her jokes, privately agreed with her about my shameful character, and constantly charmed and flirted with her. Very soon they were courting in secret. Esavina was very happy. Not only was she the object of this man’s affections, but she was scoring another point over me by having him on her arm. One night the star crossed couple arranged to meet clandestinely in secret for something more than just excitable kisses under a cherry tree. Esavina had no idea where she was being taken to. It was dark, you see. There are some notorious streets in Vonda where certain men take women. Rooms can be rented easily without questions being asked. It is a game wealthy young blades play, seducing women, then putting them to use in a private room, and then, marking them as ’used’ in the morning.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“There is a side street that has quite the reputation now. Free women stupid enough to go somewhere private with men they don’t know well enough, are sometimes left there, tied and bound, leashed to iron rings set into the wall. Their bodies are marked with their names in an indelible wax pen, and a tarsk bit coin is tied around their throat as 'payment' for their services. Guardsmen find them in the morning. The guardsmen find the practice tiresome, but of course they are obliged to report each encounter. The woman’s family is notified, and a magistrate issues a declaration of improper conduct on the woman’s part. That is made public on the notice boards of Vonda. A fine is usually levied, and the woman never lives down the humiliation. In Esavina’s case, her family were ruined by scandal, or would have been, had her father not disavowed her to save his own reputation. He had her enslaved by a magistrate. She ended up in a collar. Afterwards I hinted to certain ladies that I had been behind this. No one could prove anything, of course, but word got round. The insults quickly ceased.”

 

“I see, And Esavina is the slave who served us tonight?”

 

“She is.”

 

“Does she know? That it was you?”

 

“I am sure she does. I saw it in her eyes when I spoke to her tonight. It was a delightful encounter.” 

 

A thought crossed my troubled mind. “You and Geralt. There was never any…?”

 

“Beloved, you are my only love. There has never been one before. Geralt was a childhood friend. It is nothing more than that. He has sworn an oath to look after me in the absence of my brother. We have that bond. That is our only bond. We played together as children.”

 

“I don’t expect you to have never been attracted to a man before me.”

 

“There has never been feelings like the feelings I have for you.” Cassandra placed her hand on my chest. “You are my man. You satisfy me. There is no one else.”

 

“I believe you.” But I couldn’t forget the lingering glance I think I saw her give to Mikos over the dinner table. And the way she had smiled every time he had spoken to her. Or was I imagining things?

 

“I love it when you cup my bottom with your hand,” she whispered softly, for I had done that while we talked. 

 

“It’s ideal for controlling how close I want my woman. It only takes a small push,” I gently nudged her forward until, with a gasp, her lips were now brushing mine, “and here you are.”

 

“Here I am,” she said. She couldn’t look away from me.

 

“I want those gowns on the floor,” I said with a low growl.

 

“All of them?” said Cassandra with what I think was rising excitement.

 

“All of them.”

 

“I’m to be naked in your bed?”

 

“Unless you want to wear one of the skimpy little slave tunics hanging in the closet?”

 

“Beast,” she laughed. “I think it is your ambition to see me in one of those.”

 

“Perhaps. Of course they may not fit you.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“They are cut and stitched to fit only the most beautiful of women.”

 

“Oh! But then a tunic is likely to fit me, isn’t it?”

 

“An interesting point. You are in fact a beautiful woman.” I kissed her. “But are you so beautiful that a slave tunic would actually fit your curves? There is no way of knowing.”

 

“Well,” she laughed softly, “I think there is one way of knowing, and I think you, beloved, are thinking about it a lot.”

 

Now I pretended innocence. “And how do you suppose we might ever know?”

 

“Why, if I stood here before you in one of those tunics. BUT” She tapped me on the nose. “I am a free woman, so that is impossible.” 

 

I stroked her bottom again and heard her sigh and snuggle against me.

 

“I do want these gowns gone, Cassandra. I need you. I’m very aroused.”

 

“Perhaps I could lose a few garments,” she suggested. “It is my duty after all to satisfy my man, despite the affront to my dignity.” 

 

“Then do so, now. Your companion commands you.”

 

She giggled softly, playfully, it seemed. She seemed to like being commanded by her companion. “Your woman obeys, but I will need help with my garments. Quickly now, while I am still in the mood. I hope you have nimble fingers. Undress me, my man.” 

 

I set to work and seven ehn later I think I had undone the back fastenings of her outer gown. Several of the ribbons had completely unravelled in the process and now lay on the floor, and a couple of the stubborn clasps had snapped in my fingers.

 

“You’re unbelievable!” snapped Cassandra. “What are you doing back there? How long is this going to take?”

 

“The light is poor,” I said. “And these blasted things aren’t designed for fingers as big as mine.”

“You’re ruining my gown! This is expensive!” She stamped her foot. The gown was undone at the back, but I couldn’t figure out how to undo it any further. I pulled at the fabric, thinking it was a case of just pulling the gown down around her ankles and she could step out of it, but that meant getting her arms out first. 

 

“Stop it!” she snarled. She stepped away from me and began to try and extricate her right arm from the gown. Because the back was only semi-loosened, it was like trying to pull her arm from a strait jacket. There was a tearing sound as the fabric ripped under her armpit.

 

“Aaaghh!” she screamed in frustration. 

 

I grew livid with her petulant complaints and just swore, “to hell with this. I just want that gown off.” I stepped forward, drew my knife and simply cut it open all the way down the back. Cassandra shrieked as I pulled the fabric away from her now easily enough. 

 

Unfortunately I had misjudged the sharpness of my knife and it had gone clean through the fabric of the inner garments too. I watched as a furious Cassandra pulled herself free of all the other sliced layers too. 

 

“Congratulations, Simon! This is officially one of my worst nights ever!” She was so angry that she didn’t even bother to try and cover herself up in front of me. “Now, come the morning, Kesper is going to have to head home to get me some new clothes before we can actually leave here! You stupid man!”

 

She automatically moved to storm out of the room, but immediately stopped before she reached the doorway. She was naked, after all.

 

“Ohhh! I can’t even leave the room now!”

 

“I’m… I’m sorry… you were just shouting at me the whole time!” I slid the knife back into its sheath. “I don’t deal well with people shouting at me.”

 

“Obviously!”

 

“Cassandra, come back here! I don’t like this habit you have of storming away every time you don’t get your own way. I am your companion and you will learn to obey me.”

 

“Obey you!” She turned and laughed. “I would sooner obey my first girl! You’re a man of Earth! What do you know about commanding a woman!” She stood there with her fists on her hips.

 

“You will obey me!” I stepped forward and took her wrist and pulled her back into the room.

 

“Oh, so you think a man of Earth can dominate a Gorean free woman?!” She reached suddenly to scratch my face with her nails. I wasn’t quick enough and she managed to rake my cheek before I slapped her hard and saw her stagger back.

 

“On the bed! Now!” I ordered. Cassandra responded by hissing at me and stalking around the room in a low crouch. “Don’t you touch me, Earth man! You’re all weak! I’m surprised you don’t wear dresses yourselves!”

 

I took hold of her quickly and used my greater strength and weight to trap her arms. She was kicking and screaming as I bundled her roughly onto the bed. “What are you doing?! Don’t you dare!” she screamed. I pulled her towards the slave ring at the head of the board as she continued to fight and struggle. “I forbid it! No! Simon! No! NO! LISTEN TO ME! NO!”

 

This time it was slave bracelets. One bracelet went about her right wrist with a loud click. Cassandra tried to it me, but I forced her head back. Then I passed the chain links through the iron ring and then snapped shut the open bracelet on her left wrist.

 

“Hate you!” She cried. “I hate you!”

 

I parted her legs and felt her pull them back, but my grip was firm. 

 

“You want this, don’t you?” I said. I saw the way she was breathing hard, the way her nipples were swollen again. “You don’t want to make the choice. You want me to make it for you. You want me to do the things you can’t ask me to do.”

 

“Beast!” she cried. She pulled hard at her wrist restraints. She started to make little whimpering sounds. 

 

“You’re excited now, aren’t you Cassandra?”

 

She shook her head and rattled the chain links of the slave bracelets against the iron ring. 

 

“Do you want to be put to use?”

 

“Let me go!” she cried. 

 

“Do you want me to put you to use, Cassandra? I really don’t know. Yes or no? Just say it.”

 

“Yes!” She cried. Her eyes blazed with anger that she had to say it. “Are you blind? Just use me!”

 

I swept off my tunic and jumped on to the bed. Beside her. “I had to know.”

 

“Don’t keep asking me questions!” She hissed. “I hate you! “

 

I kissed her hard and then looked down at her face There was a spot of blood on her lips. 

 

“What?” She screamed, writhing in the sheets. She pulled hard at the wrist restraints again and squirmed as she felt overwhelmingly helpless. “I’m Cassandra Assante! I demand to be freed!”

 

My hand went to the flat of her stomach and began to stroke it.

 

“Let me go!” the more she cried out, the more she fought, the hotter she was getting. Her wrists pulled incredibly hard against the iron and steel. I could see how her muscles tensed, for all the good it did her. I gripped her by her hair and pulled her face towards me.

 

“I think I understand,” I said.

 

“Stop talking!” 

 

I thrust her thighs apart and pushed myself between them. Her breathing was incredibly deep and pronounced now. I felt how wet she was between the legs. 

 

“You wear slave bracelets,” I said. “They are for slaves.”

 

“Beast!” she hissed.

 

“They hold slaves well.”

 

“Let me go!” But she pressed her body up towards me as I moved to position myself between her legs. The head of my stiff penis touched her there and she moaned softly.

 

“Please…” she begged. “Put me to use. Simon!”

 

It was the wine. The wine had done this.

 

I pressed the head inside her, just half way and she writhed at the sensation. 

 

“Simon! Simon! Simon!”

 

“Will you obey me?” I said.

 

“No!” she hissed. “NO!”

 

“Then I will use the whip on you, girl.”

 

“I will obey!” she cried. “Do NOT whip me.” THAT seemed to genuinely alarm her. That was obviously a red line as far as she was concerned. 

 

I began to push inside her, and each time I did she cried out and clutched at me with her thighs. I was fully inside her now and began to push with a steady rhythm, kissing and touching her all the while. She cried, wailed, moaned and writhed far more than the previous time. And with every push, she pulled hard at the bracelets, revelling in the tension of the bondage. 

 

This was superb. This was as good as fucking Anya. Well, almost. Actually, not really, not even close, but good enough, anyway. 

 

“You do not walk away from me in anger, Cassandra. You are my woman.” I rode her harder and saw the excitement in her face. And then I stopped. I drew myself from her and she sobbed, feeling the sudden loss. I shifted position on the bed and moved so that my stiff penis was now close to her mouth.

 

“I’m going to teach you something Cassandra. Kiss it. Lick it. Softly. Then take it into your mouth with your tongue.”

 

“Never!”

 

I moved to the wall and took down a slave crop.

 

“No! Simon! No! I mean it! Not that! NO!” She pulled herself back along the bed, sitting upright with her wrists bound above her head. “No, I’m serious now! I AM. No!”

I tuned her onto her stomach and proceeded to use the crop hard on her buttocks. She began screaming and crying and then when I rolled her back up, and I moved my penis back towards her face, she began to lick and kiss it. She didn’t know what to do, but I guided her, telling her when it felt good, and when it felt uncomfortable. Soon she was doing quite well and I watched her as she gobbled and sucked. She watched the fingers of my right hand which I used to signal when she should slow down (fingers lower), when she should speed up (fingers rise), and when she should pause (fingers clench).

 

I came eventually in her mouth which surprised her, I think. There was certainly a muffled squeal when it happened. As she lay there gagging, I rose from the bed and wiped my penis in her hair. She was burning between her thighs, for she had not been given a slave orgasm. She had been troublesome earlier, and so I had deprived her. With her wrists bound above her head, there was no way she could use her fingers to finish the job off.

 

I lay beside her for a while, stroking her thighs and breasts as her simmering cooled down to just a yearning ache. 

 

“I spared you a shameful response, “ I said. She whimpered.

 

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to go further. It would have been too much for you. Tell me, was the slave crop painful?”

 

“Yes! Incredibly painful!” She twisted round a little in her slave bracelets. “Unbelievably painful! I’m serious, Simon. I really mean it! You have no idea!”

 

I chuckled at that. “I believe you, Cassandra. And I do have some idea. I’ve used the crop on kajirae before, of course.”

 

“I’m not a kajira!”

 

“True, but you may be interested to know, your bottom is evidently as sensitive to pain as a kajira’s bottom. Perfectly matched, I would say. Did you know a kajira is highly sensitive to pain?”

 

“I suppose she is,” said Cassandra as she lay on her belly. “What has that to do with me?” 

 

“Would you say the crop was more or less painful than you had anticipated? Or merely the same?”

 

“Much more! Much, much more!” She twisted in her chains again. “A thousand times more!”

 

“You’re exaggerating Cassandra. It wasn’t a thousand times more.” 

 

“I didn’t know it would hurt so much!”

 

“Did it excite you in any way? Be honest.”

 

“No! I’m telling the truth, Simon. It just hurt. It hurt so much! You must believe me! Please believe me! I didn’t enjoy the crop at all! I can still feel the burning! I didn’t like it!”

 

I laughed again. “Relax. I believe you. You’re not supposed to like it. Again, that is a common reaction amongst kajirae. They are genuinely fearful of the crop. Just the sight of it can break them out in a panic attack.”

 

“You keep comparing my reactions to those of kajirae.”

 

“You are all women. You know now that the slave crop isn’t a game, don’t you?”

 

Cassandra nodded where she lay. 

 

“You know that if I take it down from the wall, you will be punished and it will hurt you?”

 

She nodded quickly again. 

 

“I will hang a slave crop in our bedroom from now on. Maybe it will never be taken down from its hook. But it will always be there for you to look at.” 

 

“Simon…” Cassandra rolled onto her side again, still avoiding putting pressure on her stinging red ass. “This is very awkward, but…” she winced.

 

“What?”

 

“I need to use the toilet. The wine…” she chewed her lower lip.

 

“Seriously?” I laughed. “Now, of all times?”

 

She nodded miserably. “I’m sorry.”

 

I unlocked the slave bracelets and let her stand. She rubbed her wrists that I saw were now very red. 

 

“I can’t walk downstairs naked,” she said.

 

“So?”

 

She blushed. “I need something to wear of course.”

 

“There are garments in the closet,” I said. When she said nothing, I added, “It’s dark downstairs, and the café owner has gone home for the night. It’s probably safe to wander down naked. The café kajirae will be chained in the kitchen by now. They won’t see you”

 

“I need something to wear,” she said. I rose from the bed, walked to the closet and picked out a slave tunic. It was skimpy, light and very brief. I threw it to Cassandra. She blushed as she caught it. 

 

“You are insufferable. Have you no consideration for me?”

 

“Put it on.” I stood there regarding her. 

 

“Very well. I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” She pulled the brief garment of rep cloth about her body. She wriggled the fabric down past her breasts, past her waist and then around her hips. Finally she stretched the hem as far as it might go, which wasn’t far at all.

 

“It’s so brief!” she cried.

 

I gazed in awe at the sight of Cassandra Assante in a common slave tunic. It was a powerful and inspiring sight. Already I felt a twitching again in my loins. 

 

“Look at yourself,” I said. I waited as Cassandra turned round towards the mirror .Her hands went to her mouth in shock at the sight of the beautiful kajira standing there. 

 

“No! No!”

 

Her legs were superb. I casually reached for something on the shelf and walked slowly toward my woman as she turned on one foot and then the other, shocked by what she saw. 

 

“I don’t recognise myself! That isn’t me!”

 

I stood silently behind her and brushed her long hair back over one shoulder. “Simon, that isn’t me!” She suddenly felt steel touch the skin of her neck, and before she could cry out, she felt it lock with a click.

 

“I wanted to see the full effect,” I said, standing back. Cassandra now wore a collar of polished slave steel. She grasped it with her fingers in panic and stared at me in shock.

 

“Relax. I just wanted to compete the illusion. Besides, now that you wear a collar, I know you’ll come running quickly back to my bed, and not wander around on your own for several ahn. That is, if you want me to take it off again in good time.”

 

Cassandra ran forward and pressed herself against my chest. “Put me to use, Simon! Put me to use!” She was still burning between her thighs. I had ignited her feelings but hadn’t satisfied them. 

 

“You need the toilet,” I said, pushing her away. 

 

She gazed at her reflection again, now with the adornment of a slave collar. Her heart was beating incredibly quickly and she moaned softly.

 

“Am I desirable? Do you want me?” she asked, turning round with an agonised look on her face.

 

“More than ever. I would bid for you at auction.”

 

I could see that Cassandra felt faint. “Where is the key?” she asked.

 

“Here.” I picked it up from the shelf and showed it to her.

 

“Give it to me!”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I placed it beside my discarded tunic. “If you need the toilet, go now. But do so quietly. You don’t want to wake the other kajirae.”

 

“Other kajirae?” said Cassandra.

 

I smiled. “You are so very beautiful tonight, Cassandra.”

 

“Other kajirae?!”

 

“You already said that once.” I watched as she stamped her foot in anger. 

 

“Remove the collar!”

 

“No. I’ll do so in the morning.”

 

“I’m Cassandra Assante!”

 

“I’m aware of that, but I would recommend you don’t mention it to strangers while you look like that.”

 

“You are unbelievable!” She squirmed as the pressure inside her bladder became more pronounced because of her movements. “I need to urinate,” she moaned.

 

“You know where the toilet is.”

 

“I wear a collar!”

 

“So I’ve noticed. And you are a thousand times more beautiful now, because of it. When you return, I shall ravish you at my leisure.”

 

“What do I say if someone sees me like this!”

 

“Master, is probably appropriate if he is a man. Mistress, if she is a woman.”

 

“I hate you!”

 

“Hurry back, Cassandra. I’ll be waiting for you in bed.”

 

I chuckled as she left. She was in no danger. The only other person in the café now would be Sansapina. The slaves would be chained in the kitchen. But nevertheless it would be a nerve wracking sensation for Cassandra to go out onto the landing and descend the stair case while dressed in a slave tunic and collar. How her heart must be pounding now. Every nerve in her body would be alive and she would be more alert to the slightest sound than she had ever been in her life.

 

A couple of ehn went by, and to my surprise the door creaked open. Cassandra couldn’t have found the toilet yet, let alone used it. Had she simply doubled back out of fear and would try and hold her bladder still? But no, it was Sansapina who walked into the room.

 

“Tal,” I said, as I lay on the bed. “I didn’t think I’d see you until the morning.”

 

“Woman has gone downstairs,” she remarked. “Good.”

 

“Yes, pacing about barefoot in a slave tunic. She’s probably feeling very aroused. You saw and heard everything?”

 

“I did.” She moved into the room and walked towards the bed.

 

“And? What is your assessment? I’m of the opinion that…” 

 

Before I could say anything else, Sansapina’s hand clamped a wet cloth pad over my face. Startled, I breathed in a strong sweet smelling chemical taste. Capture scent! Immediately I tried to rise and struggle, but I was already dizzy from the drug.

 

“I think you pretty man. Very pretty. I take pleasure from you tonight. Do not struggle. Stupid to struggle.”

 

I tried to rise but fell as Sansapina’s heavy arm smashed me back down on the bed. Drugged as I was, she was much stronger than me. 

 

“When you wake we have much fun, pretty man. Much fun.”

 

And then I blacked out.