Companions of Gor: Chapter Two

 

I was in a great mood that morning as I rode through the countryside surrounding the walls of Vonda. 

 

A great mood.

 

I must have been an impressive sight as I rode like the important man I now was, with my personal banner men who sat with rigid spines on their tharlarions. We flew the serpent banner of Cassandra’s house and from time to time we passed travellers on foot going to or from Vonda.

 

“Tal, friend,” I would say, offering them a cheery wave. They were mostly poor people of low castes, though we also rode past a few wagons and carts on which sat men and women of the scribes and merchants. I wanted them to feel a little of my benevolence and good mood, and once they realised my banner men weren’t going to rob or kill them, they responded back with polite greetings of their own. 

 

“It’s a fine morning, isn’t it, Ramon?” I said.

 

“Yes, Sir,” he replied. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the sides of the road, looking repeatedly to the left and right, though Gorean roads are usually clear of surrounding trees and bush that might offer hiding places for bandits. Chain gangs of male slaves routinely clear these areas close to a city. 

 

“Gentle Lady. A good morning to you,” I said with a courteous smile as we rode past a wagon on which a free woman sat primly with the graceful poise of her sex.   She had a couple of servants with her and a nervous looking kajira. She was of course heavily veiled and wore multiple layers of gowns with long sleeves that flopped well past her wrists. Gorean men find the wrists of a free woman sexually exciting, for they imagine locking slave steel about those wrists, and so a Gorean woman is wise to always conceal her wrists with overly long sleeves. I had never considered the sight of a wrist to be sexually alluring on Earth, but I had been on Gor long enough now to have absorbed some of the Gorean norms when it came to free women. Now I too tended to routinely glance to see if a glimpse of a wrist might be spied when a free woman walked by, and the sight was indeed arousing, if ever it appeared in view.  

 

“And to you, Sir,” she replied, as her wagon rode on towards Vonda. Her servants were not fighting men, and as such they were happier when my own fighting men rode by. 

 

“I think that Lady was nervous to see us,” I said to Ramon as we continued down the road.

 

“Possibly, Sir.”

 

“I suppose she has reason to be. We are strange men and it would have been a simple matter to kill her servants, pull her from her wagon, and strip and collar her. I would not allow my woman to travel unguarded like that.”

 

“No, Sir,” said Ramon. “But we fly the serpent banner of House Assante. We are not bandits.”

 

“Of course. I suppose the woman realised that.”

 

I breathed in the warm morning air. It felt so fresh! You could taste the clean environment, so different from the polluted air of Earth. So many years on Gor and I still marvelled at the difference. How healthy this world was, in comparison. How good it felt to be a man in control of his own destiny, a man comfortable with the birthright he possessed on this planet. I could understand now why Tarl Cabot had no wish to return to England after spending so long on Gor. I have never met Tarl Cabot, but I think he would like me. I think he would see much of himself reflected in me. 

 

And then it began to rain. It was a shower at first, but soon enough the rain grew harder as it fell, and before long I was soaking wet. The tharlarion didn’t seem to mind the rain and plodded on regardless, kicking up sloppy mud with each step. The soft Mediterranean climate meant I wasn’t really dressed for rain, clad only in my tunic and sandals.

 

“My Lady won’t like this,” I said. She too would be caught out in the downpour, and riding side saddle on her own tharlarion meant she wouldn’t have the option to raise a canopy on a palanquin. “Getting wet, I mean.” I felt sorry for her. 

 

“The Lady is not unfamiliar with rainfall,” remarked Ramon. 

 

“Yes, but, I mean, women worry about their hair and their clothes. She’s likely to seek shelter.” I sniffed and gazed up at the rain that struck my face. “Perhaps we should find some shelter too?”

 

“The Lady is unlikely to stop,” said Ramon. “It is only rain. It doesn’t bother her. She is born to a family of warriors.”

 

“Well she isn’t a warrior herself, though,” I pointed out. “Not Cassandra. She hasn’t lived through the hardship of the caste.”

 

“You’ve never met her father, have you, Sir?”

 

“Well, no…”

 

“Hmm. It wouldn’t have been an easy childhood for the Lady, Sir. Stannis Assante would have maintained strict discipline with his children. He doesn’t suffer weakness.”

 

“Hmm, yes, I suppose. But still.” An idea occurred to me. “I could do with a woman, you know,” I said to Ramon. “I’m sure you could, too. We could stop at a roadside Inn for an ahn or so; one that has kajirae serving at the tables. Drink some paga, and fur a while with the little sluts. How does that sound?”

 

“As you wish, Sir.”

 

I hadn’t enjoyed the comforts of a slave girl for a long time, and it occurred to me that I might be in a far better mood for speaking to Cassandra, and listening to her petulant whining on the subject of kajirae in our house, if I paused to put a kajira to use before arriving at the estate, unannounced. Cassandra was often uncomfortable when I felt hungry for female companionship, and she could be defensive and reluctant to engage with me if my appetites were too great. She wanted gentle affection and soft kisses. I often wanted more.

 

Ten ehn later, we saw a roadside Inn up ahead. It was set back from the road, with a high wall surrounding it, and open gates. A sign swung from a pole declaring it to be ‘the Ubar’s Delight’, which seemed to me to possibly promise things it wasn’t likely to deliver. A lovely looking girl stood to the side of the gates, sheltering under a wooden overhang that kept out most of the rain. I was immediately intrigued! She was naked and wore a collar, which was delightful enough, and she was chained by her left ankle to a heavy iron ring set into the gate post. As she saw us approach, she began to pose herself enticingly, drawing my attention and presumably that of my men too. She had been placed there as an advertisement of sorts to encourage passing travellers to spend some time inside. 

 

“Kind masters!” she called out as she placed her weight on her left foot and then dropped down to a beautiful nadu position. “Why ride on in the rain, when food, warmth and the pleasures of skilled kajirae await you inside the Ubar’s Delight. My name is Anya, and I welcome you with a free cup of paga with your lunch!” 

 

Her accent was still noticeably a barbarian one, meaning she had been plucked from Earth. Although her Gorean was fluent, there was no mistaking she was an American girl. Interesting. I reined in the tharlarion and instructed my men that we would rest for a while. Cassandra would still be at the estate when I arrived. There was no hurry, and in fact, we could still possibly catch up with her if we didn’t tarry too long.

 

We were warmly welcomed inside by the Inn Keeper, a man who seemed exceptionally hairy. He was practically a bear dressed in a Roman tunic! With a click of his fingers, complimentary towels were brought over so that we could dry ourselves, and at once he led us to a table in an alcove with a good view of the courtyard outside. 

 

“The first cup of paga is free to honoured guests!” he remarked. I was fascinated by the extent of his body hair as I sat down and enquired about the girl, Anya.

 

“You like her, master?” asked the Inn Keeper.

 

“She enticed me inside, so my answer is surely obvious,” I said with a smile, leaning back where I sat. He could see I was an important man. I projected that image, you see. 

 

“Then the girl has done her job well. That is why she is chained to the gate post.”

 

“Chain another girl there. I would like Anya to serve me today.”

 

The Inn Keeper reflected on this. Obviously he preferred to keep Anya in her position as an advertisement for his establishment, but on the other hand I was obviously a dangerous man, on account of my bodyguards, and one who should not be disappointed or angered in any way.

 

“She shall be at your table within a few ehn, master.” And so she was.

 

She knelt very close to me, her breasts brushing my body as she served paga and kissed the rim of the cup gently with her lips. Her hair was dark, sleek, like the hair women have when they flat iron it, though here on Gor that had to be natural. It was centre parted and hung past her shoulder blades. She had high cheek bones and large eyes, made larger with mascara, and her lips were top heavy and wide. I guessed she was maybe five feet two inches tall, with large breasts and accentuated hips that would have marked her out on Earth to Gorean slavers as choice slave material. Goreans do not like ‘thin’ women, but rather women with pronounced curves. Anya was definitely their type. She would never have made it as a model on Earth – too short, and too rounded, but Goreans think differently. 

 

“Where are you from?” I asked as I tore pieces of vulo from a plate and dipped the meat into a small pot of sauce. 

 

“I was trained in a slave pen in the city of Rarn, Master.”

 

“No, I meant, where on Earth? I recognise your accent. You are American.”

 

She regarded me for a moment and then shook her head slightly. “No, I’m Canadian, Master.”

 

“Ah. My apologies. I never could tell the difference.”

 

“Toronto, Master. You know Toronto?”

 

“No, but I’m from Earth, too. Does that surprise you?”

 

“A little, Master. I did not know that men were brought here. Only women. Girls, like me.” Was that a look of shame in her eyes just then? Now that she knew I was a man of Earth, seeing her like this? “May I ask…”

 

“No, you may not.” I ate some more of the spiced vulo, which as I’m sure you know, is very much like chicken. “Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira.” 

 

“Of course, Master. I am sorry,” she said, quickly correcting herself. Kajirae are innately curious, hence the saying. 

 

“Do you like being a slave on Gor?’ I regarded her again. “You can speak honestly. I won’t beat you for honesty. I’m a man of Earth.”

 

She seemed to relax a little as I said that. It was true of course, while a Gorean might beat a girl, a man of Earth would surely never dream of doing so.

 

“No, I do not. I was kidnapped from my world, branded and abused.” She shook her head in anguish. “Why would I like that?”

 

“I have no idea, but then I’m not a woman. Are you hungry?”

 

“Yes.” The girl eyed the spiced vulo that I ate. No doubt she had been given breakfast, but it was now mid-afternoon and I suspect she had not been given lunch. Slaves generally are fed early and late in the day. 

 

“Eat.” I held some of the vulo towards her and watched as she bent her head forward to take the meat in her mouth. She ate the meat slowly, chewing, savouring it as she had no doubt been taught to do in the slave pens. A slave must not guzzle food in front of a man, but rather eat it in a manner that is suggestive and pleasing to the eye.   

 

“You are not Gorean then,” said Anya. She seemed to be considering her options. 

 

“Not by birth, but I have lived on Gor for seven years now. I have become familiar with the customs. I can pass as a Gorean man if I wish, which is useful.”

 

“I am sorry you see me like this,” said Anya. She seemed ashamed of her nudity and the sensuous way her body moved. “Naked, collared.” She paused and then added, “Branded.”

 

“You would have been very different on Earth I expect?”

 

“Yes.” I noticed she had stopped referring to me as ‘master’. “Very different.” She smiled softly, perhaps thinking there was now some sort of bond between us. “I certainly wouldn’t be naked, on my knees, taking food from your hand, if we had met in Toronto.”

 

“Of course not. How absurd that would be,” I remarked. “How inappropriate. How shameful. What was your name there?”

 

“Ms. Evangeline Katrina Laswick.” There as a hint of forgotten pride as she spoke her former name. “My family is quite rich. Do you know the Laswicks?”

 

“No. Would you prefer me to call you Evangeline?”

 

“You can call me Ms. Laswick,” she said, sensing perhaps a shift of power now that she knew I was from earth. “We hardly know each other, after all.”

 

“Of course. That was very forward of me. Do you know why you were selected? The circumstances of your capture?”

 

“Not really. I suppose a man must have seen me and my name was added to a list. I know I am beautiful. They only take beautiful girls.”

 

“That is true. And yes, Ms. Laswick, you are most certainly beautiful.” I smiled gently at her.

 

“Thank you. Again, I am sorry you have to see me like this. I would normally wear jeans and a sweater. Comfortable sneakers, and perhaps a fashionable scarf.”

 

“I think I prefer you without the jeans and a sweater,” I said with another smile, “If I may be so cheeky and bold.”

 

“I would rather you didn’t say that,” she said. A frown crossed her face. She knew I was a man of Earth of course, so she was free to speak in such a bold manner. “It does you little credit. We share the same home, remember!” 

 

“Well, I’m English. Not quite the same home.”

 

“You know what I mean.” The girl frowned again. “Do you have to stare at my breasts like that?”

 

“I am sorry.” I smiled as I looked away. “They are very tempting, though. You can hardly blame me…”

 

“Well, yes, actually I can. Just because the men of this world are brutes, doesn’t mean you have to embarrass me as well.” A thought crossed her mind. “The Inn Keeper would sell me if you asked. You could take me from here!”

 

“You would want me to buy you?” I seemed astonished by the enormity of the suggestion. 

 

“Well, yes, and then you could help me! I’m a woman of Earth, not some Gorean girl!”

 

“That is true,” I mused. “But to actually buy you? As if you were livestock?” I gave the indication of being dismayed by the idea.

 

“They make me serve men here! Intimately!” She moved closer. “You have no idea what those men make me do!”

 

Actually, I had quite a good idea what their demands might be.

 

“No?!” I seemed outraged. “Do they not know you are from Earth?”

 

“It doesn’t matter to them!” she said in sudden anger. “They actually think girls from Earth are natural slaves! They expect even more from me than the Gorean sluts who serve other tables!”

 

“How degrading,” I said. “I would like to help, of course, but looking at you now, I can see that your price would almost certainly be out of my reach. You are exceptionally beautiful and the Inn Keeper would demand many gold coins which I do not have.”

 

She seemed very pleased by this compliment, but quickly reassured me. “I am not that expensive, really!” said Anya, urgently. “I think you would find my price was really quite reasonable. I am actually…’ She blushed a little, “priced far below what I am worth, if I must speak of such things.”

 

“Oh?” This interested me. The girl obviously had a notion in her mind of what she should cost, a notion that might be light years different from her actual block price. “Please, Ms. Laswick, speak of such things.”

 

“You are of course right that any sane slaver would price me at many, many gold pieces, but the Inn Keeper is a fool, and he has often said…” she blushed again, “that I would fetch only…”

 

“Only?” I leaned forward and sae the young Canadian beauty clench her small hands into fists in frustration.  

 

“A handful of copper coins!” she said, angrily. “If you must know.” 

 

“Surely not? You are suggesting that Ms. Evangeline Katrina Laswick of Toronto is worth only a few copper tarsks here on Gor?”

 

The girl fumed silently. “Men are fools,” she hissed. “Blind fools. They have no idea of my value!”

 

“Perhaps you are priced that way because you are unable to satisfy men in the furs?” I suggested, kindly. “Perhaps you are clumsy and, as the saying goes, a poor ‘lay’?”

 

“How dare you suggest that! I can be quite the hot slut in the… furs…” her voice trailed off quickly as she realised what she had been provoked to say.

 

“I see.”

 

“I… didn’t mean to say that. It came out wrong.” She glanced away. She looked so adorable when she was embarrassed. 

 

“But you claimed to be a hot slut in the furs? Did I truly hear you say that?”

 

“That is not a gracious thing to say!” she snapped. “You are a man of Earth!”

 

“So I am.” I shrugged. “I suppose I should apologise.”

 

“Yes, you should!”

 

“In Toronto I would probably beg your forgiveness now.”

 

“Of course!”   

 

“And you would graciously accept my apology?”

 

“Perhaps. I don’t know. It depends on my mood.” She sniffed. “When you buy me you will also need to acquire clothing.”

 

“A slave tunic?”

 

“You are being ridiculous now.” She looked away, annoyed. Presumably she expected some sort of reaction from me that might take the form of further apologies. When I said nothing there was silence for a moment, before she turned back and spoke again, worrying perhaps that I was losing interest. “I would require clothing. Acceptable clothing.” She accentuated the last two words.

 

“A slave tunic is surely acceptable clothing for a slave?”

 

“We both know you will free me,” she said. “You are a man of Earth. Let us not play games.”

 

“That is true,” I said. “I am a man of Earth.”

 

“Then let us not pretend you would keep me as a slave. It is degrading. You will buy me and you will free me.”

 

“I understand now. You see your salvation at hand?”

 

“Of course.” She smiled. “I am glad you came here today.”

“So am I, Ms. Laswick. I said it before, and I will say it again – you are very beautiful. I really can see why you were chosen by slavers on Earth.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

“You have the voluptuous curves of a natural slave. Your hips, for example, are delightful.”

 

I saw how she placed her left hand on her hip, thoughtfully. “I will allow you that comment, though I am not sure it is in good taste to discuss my body.”

 

“Your lips, then, are adorable. The upper lip in particular, and the way your mouth parts when your skin flushes. The contours of your cheek bones, and that long, sleek hair. Yes, you are quite the beauty. I think I know your true market value.”

 

“Oh?” Ms. Laswick moved a little closer.

 

“I have some experience with the markets. I lived for a while with a patron who bought and sold many girls, as his mood took him. Ms. Evangeline Katrina Laswick is certainly worth more than a handful of copper tarsks.”

 

“I suspected as much,” she said with a smile. “I knew as much.” Despite her nudity, her brand, the collar locked about her throat, she was of course a woman, and a woman is always curious of her block price. Her sex is extremely competitive and proud when it comes to their vanity. “How much?”

 

I smiled and ate some more of the excellent vulo. I didn’t answer her question. I could see my refusal to do so irritated her. She was exceptionally curious, even for a kajira. 

 

“I will let you into a little secret, Ms. Laswick. You would sell for more on the block than any of the other girls here.”

 

She smiled, very pleased to hear this. 

 

“You mentioned earlier, Ms. Laswick, that you are sometimes called upon to serve men intimately?”

 

“They are brutes. Vicious brutes who put me to use!”

 

“Shameful. But where does this take place and how?”

 

“If you must know, the men take me to that curtained alcove over there.” She indicated a curtained alcove that was currently open. I could see a space large enough to accommodate a girl on her back, or indeed in any manner of interesting positions. There were chains fastened to the wall, sufficient to hold her in place, if bondage was required. “Often the men seize my hair, bend my head to their hip and then walk me to the alcove! I hate them!”

 

“But of course. And then…?”

 

“And then they make me… I do not wish to discuss this!” she snapped.

 

“I understand. And it is then that you become a hot slut in the furs?”

 

“Forget I said that. It is not relevant!”

 

I actually thought it very relevant. I was beginning to imagine how Ms. Laswick might squirm and cry out as she was penetrated. 

 

“You are very beautiful. I can see why men would want to take you to that alcove.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling uneasy from that ambiguous compliment. “I think.”

 

“If we were in Toronto, would you permit me to kiss you at the close of our evening together?”

 

“Certainly not. It would not be appropriate.” She shook her head, affronted by the suggestion. “Turn your mind away from such things. You are a man of Earth!”

 

“Of course. Would you like some more of the spiced vulo?”

 

“Not now. I will eat after you buy and free me. It is degrading to eat from your hand.” She glanced in the direction of the Inn Keeper who was wiping some tables clean. Goreans are quite fastidious about cleanliness. “He will sell me cheaply. You should hurry and speak to him before he sends me away.”

 

I rose to my feet. I had eaten well and now I was hungry for something else. I placed my fingers in the girl’s hair and brought her up, with her head down so that it was pressed against my hip.

 

“What are you doing!”

 

“I am conducting you to that alcove, Ms. Laswick.”

 

“You can’t do that!” she cried.

 

“Patently, I can. I am a man and I am a customer. No one is going to stop me.”

 

The girl cried out again as I walked her across the floor towards the waiting alcove. Once inside I thrust her onto her back and set about chaining her wrists and ankles apart. She squirmed delightfully once she was held that way. 

 

“No! You are man of Earth! You won’t do this!”

 

“But I will, Ms. Laswick. You are simply too beautiful to resist.” I removed my tunic and the girl immediately saw how hard I was in anticipation of her charms. 

 

“You are going to buy and free me, aren’t you?” she gasped as I moved on top of her.

 

“No, Ms. Laswick, I am not.” And then I entered her with a firm push of my loins. 

 

I took my pleasure with the girl for perhaps three quarters of an ahn, savouring every part of her body. She was indeed quite the hot slut once she was warmed up. Not a free woman at all. I reflected on the difference with Cassandra who was a true free woman, proud of her chastity and frigidity – a credit to her sex. Cassandra would never have squirmed and gasped and begged for an orgasm the way this girl had. Cassandra was dignified and respectable. I admired her above all other women on Gor. Cassandra was a thousand, million times superior to Ms. Evangeline Katrina Laswick of Toronto.

 

“You are a hot slut, Ms. Laswick,” I said after a while.

 

“Please!” She squirmed again, perfectly held. I was inside her for the second time, and enjoyed the way she wriggled beneath me.

 

“I am familiar with free women, Ms. Laswick, and I can assure you that you do not move or conduct yourself in the manner of a free woman. You are a slave. A natural, passionate, needful slave. It would be wrong to free you.”

 

She gasped again as I moved rhythmically inside her. “You simply respond too strongly. The collar marks you clearly as what you are. Men would expect nothing less.”

 

“Then buy me and keep me!” she sobbed, her voice breaking.

 

“You wish me to keep you as a slave? I am shocked! You are a woman of Earth!”

 

“I don’t want to be a chain girl in an Inn! No girl wants that! I want a personal collar! If I can’t be free, I want a personal Master!”

 

“You are begging to be owned?”

 

She nodded, her face flushed red again. “Yes! Please don’t leave me here! Please!”

 

I ran my fingers along her collar and then touched the site of her brand. “It’s tempting. But I’m not sure it would be right for me to own a woman from Earth. A Gorean girl, maybe, for they are natural slaves, but surely not a woman of my own planet.”

 

“I can be as hot and lewd as any Gorean girl,” she begged. “More so! You have seen me move, and… oh!” She arched her back and let out a cry again as I played with her with my fingers. 

 

“It is hard to conjecture that you are an Earth girl when you move like that, Ms. Laswick. You should be ashamed. That is if you think of yourself as a free woman.”

 

“I am a slave! You can see I move like a slave! Please, Simon. I mean it – buy me, keep me.” She snuggled close to me now in the alcove, for I had freed her wrists and ankles from the chains after we had coupled together for the second time that afternoon. In truth, we were lingering longer than I had intended, and I could imagine how far ahead of me my Lady Cassandra was now. I was unlikely to catch and overtake her, and I resigned myself to simply finding her at the villa. I didn’t regret the delay at all, for Anya had turned out to be delightful. 

 

“Simon?” she kissed and licked my shoulder with genuine enthusiasm. I had given her a general permission to call me by my name while we lay together. It seemed appropriate as she was an Earth girl. I wanted her to understand I wasn’t like the brutes she was used to pleasing here. I was an intelligent, caring, considerate man. I had already reassured her that I was a feminist. 

 

“What, Ms. Laswick?”

 

“Buy me. Please. I hate it here. We all do. You have no idea how soul destroying it is to be a common work chain girl, a kettle and pot girl who scrubs and cleans, and serves total strangers. I want a personal collar.”

 

“You want my collar?”

 

“Isn’t that obvious?” She kissed me again and put her hand down around my loins. 

 

“What of your freedom? Your dignity?”

 

“To hell with that. This is Gor! My choice is simple, and both choices involve a collar. Make me your slave, Simon. Master me. You know you want to. You won’t find a better slave than me.”

 

How she had changed these last couple of ahn, once I had put her to use and her frostiness was dismissed. I could understand the appeal of a personal collar to a girl who had nothing to live for on a work chain. All kajirae desperately long for a personal master. They will fight like hellcats amongst themselves to try and earn one. 

 

“I am considering the matter.” I stroked her flanks and heard her purr with delight. “What of your earlier demand for freedom?”

 

She looked to one side and shrugged. “I thought you were a fool, weak, even. I thought I might implore you to help me. I know better now. I was stupid to think you might free me.”

 

“It was a foolish thing to suppose. You belong in a collar.”

 

“I know that! Do you not think I know that! I can pretend to deny my feelings, but I am always aware of them.” She turned to press herself on me again. “Of course I’m a natural slave. I knew that long before I was taken and collared. Of course you shouldn’t free me. I would hate you for it! I yearn for freedom, but I know I would resent it eventually. Why would I want to live as a free woman on Gor! How unhappy I would be. Just look at them dressed in their stifling blankets.” 

 

“I should tell you, I think, that I have a free companion.”

 

“Oh.” Anya looked troubled now. She bit her lower lip and trembled slightly.

 

“She is a dignified free woman. She would not be happy if I bought you. She might forbid it. She might chide me for just he thought.”

 

I felt Anya clutch hold of me, despairing now that I might never buy her. 

 

“But she doesn’t decide what I do. If I want a slave, I shall have a slave. I am the master to both my companion and our slaves.”

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I would be afraid of her.”

 

“So you should be. She has a sharp temper with kajirae. You would have to be very careful.”

 

“Master is thinking of buying me?” she asked softly.

 

“I am considering it still.” 

 

“Do you love your companion, Simon?”

 

“Of course. She is a remarkable woman, in every respect. I am very lucky.”

 

“And does she please you? The way I pleased you today?” She stroked my chest as she said that, reminding me by her touch of how much pleasure she had given me.

 

“No, she does not. She is a free woman. They are limited when it comes to sex. They can never compete with you, Ms. Laswick.”

 

She laughed softly and pressed her face to my chest. “I am glad to hear it. Can I tell you a secret, Simon?”

 

“I suppose so.” I stroked her hair. “You have a general permission this afternoon to speak freely.”

 

“I think I hate the woman already.” She laughed softly again. “Of course I do! I am very territorial with my master to be. You are my master, Simon. You just need to admit it. I think that if I wore your collar, you would never have to concern yourself with her insipid love making again. I would lend fire to your loins. You would long for the warm nights that you lay with me, and your free woman would have to learn to compete with what I can do for you. She would have real reason to hate me, for I would show her what a real woman can do.”

 

“An interesting thought,” I said. “Though I can hardly imagine Cassandra lowering herself to compete with a kajira.”

 

“You think not?” Anya looked up, seizing on this thought. “I have heard of such things from other girls, many times before. We talk of such things in the pens. How, often, a proud free woman is driven to better herself when her man turns to a beautiful and hot kajira. You would be surprised the changes that can come over a free woman when she knows she has a simple choice to either strive harder in the arms of her man, or lose him completely to a kajira at night.”

 

“Really?” This was news to me. But still – I couldn’t imagine Cassandra caring. She was frigid, uninterested in sex. 

 

“Sometimes…” she whispered softly now, “sometimes the free woman has no recourse but to turn to the kajira for advice on how to keep her man. For no woman, free or otherwise, truly wishes to be alone. Imagine how desperate she ultimately is, to have to turn to her rival and concede she is the inferior in the bed chamber and beg the girl for help.”

 

“Cassandra would never turn to a kajira for advice on how to please me,” I laughed. “It would never happen.”

 

“Are you so sure? She wouldn’t be the first such woman by any means.” Anya kissed me again. “Buy me. Collar me. Keep me for your pleasure. Take pleasure in owning Ms. Evangeline Katrina Laswick. Why deprive yourself of something you want? It is your birthright as a man. And it is my natural right as a woman to crave a man who will own me unconditionally. I want to be owned. I NEED to be owned. It is in my blood.”

 

“You make an interesting argument, Ms. Laswick.”

 

“I know women. I know women better than you do, Simon. I know how my sex thinks. Your companion will challenge you. She will try and control you, because secretly she wants you to be dominant with her. She probably doesn’t even understand this need, but it is there regardless. The happiest companionships are the ones where the man is firm with his woman, and where the man can turn to a kajira for the needs that the free woman can’t meet. Let her learn her place in your affections. Let her understand that she will need to plead with you for affection, for you have a hot desirable girl who can provide that in abundance.” Anya rose up onto her knees. “Own me, Master, and you will soon see a change in your companion, how desperately she strives to please you in so many small ways so that one night you may choose to send her to your bed instead of me. And then she will hurry gladly, eagerly, trying her best to give you pleasure.”

 

“You haven’t met Cassandra,” I said with a smile. “She is frigid.”

 

“No woman is frigid, Master. A woman may fight that war, but she can never win it. Her blood runs hot but she has been conditioned to fear the consequences. Buy me, Master. Buy Anya.”

 

An ahn later, Anya stood by the stirrup of my tharlarion, gazing up at me. She wore a simple tunic and a plain steel collar, no longer inscribed with the name of the Inn. A thong of leather was tied to her right wrist and the other end tied to the stirrup on the left of my saddle. She would walk beside the beast, with a leash length of five feet in length for comfort and safety. Anya was smiling and seemed incredibly happy. She had escaped the shared cage in the basement of the Inn and was now going to serve a personal master instead.

 

I had bought a girl, and as Anya had predicted, I had bought her cheaply, for seven copper tarsks. It was a bargain, for this girl had impressed me with her cunning and intelligence. She would be fiercely competitive, and eager to please me, even in the face of animosity from free women. 

 

“Your name is Anya,” I said to her. “Who is your master?”

 

“My Master is Simon of House Assante of Vonda,” she said proudly. “I am his kajira!”

 

As I sat in my high saddle it amused me to imagine Anya and Cassandra standing side by side in matching tunics, posing for my pleasure, Anya doing so superbly, but Cassandra struggling, wooden at first, until Anya encouraged her with a few slaps of a switch.

 

Don’t we all have forbidden secret thoughts at times that are remote from reality? The thought of Anya training Cassandra to please me was strangely erotic and exciting. I could imagine the fury in Cassandra’s eyes as she hissed at Anya to begin with, before the girl turned her on her belly and spanked her ass. It could never happen of course, but the thought of it gave me an erection where I sat. 

 

And so we rode and walked then, on to the villa outside Vonda, where I was determined to tame my delightfully high spirited free companion.