Secrets of Gor Chapter One

 

Several weeks had passed since my shameful adventures with Mikos of Vonda, and I had come to the logical conclusion that a true Free Woman deals with such embarrassing memories by conveniently pretending they had never happened in the first place.

 

That and disposing of any witnesses to the contrary.

 

Only, in this case disposing of witnesses was somewhat irrelevant. Simon had more to be ashamed of than I, and Mikos had left for Argentum, conveniently placing him beyond my powerful reach, as even I have limits.

 

As it happened, I felt no burning desire to have Mikos dipped in a vat of boiling tharlarion oil, which was unusual for me. He had after all treated me as a slave girl, which was enough ordinarily to spur me to an inventive revenge, but somehow my feelings did not extend that way in respect of him. Instead, I wrestled with the memories of his hands lifting the hem of the pleasure silk and touching me with his fingers as I walked beside him. I lay awake at night recalling the feeling of being shackled in bondage and taken roughly in the straw of that barn.

 

I told myself that I might have him killed if he hadn’t fled the city, but deep down I suspected that probably wasn’t true.

 

Brianna, my First Girl, noticed the subtle change in me, at first when I bathed. I think I must have touched myself without thinking as I stood in the warm scented water, just briefly – the merest tracing of fingertips across my pubic hairs.

 

“Mistress!” she said, shocked at what she saw.

 

I flushed red and quickly moved my hand away from the softness of my sex. I had forgotten that Brianna was there.

 

“Mistress must not do that,” she said. And she was right. For some reason I was embarrassed in front of my slave.

 

“I don’t know why I did that,” I said. Brianna was quick to round on me, slipping into the warm water beside me.

 

“NEVER do that, Mistress. A single lapse in discipline can lead to another, and then another, and if a man should sense such a thing.” She lifted my hand and held it for a moment. “A Free Woman must be strong, Mistress. A Free Woman must be frigid.”

 

“I am frigid,” I quickly said.

 

“Always,” she said, sternly. “Even when she is alone.”

 

I must have looked saddened by that thought, as Brianna turned my cheek to gaze at me. “What has happened, Mistress? What happened to you all those weeks ago?”

 

But I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Oh, Brianna is my most trusted confidante, but even so, she is a slave, and slaves gossip. They can’t help it.

 

Brianna watched me, with her hands on her hips, as I turned to pick up a goblet of wine that rested on the side of the tiled pool. My First Girl wore a steel collar. She was a slave, and yet the bond we shared had become a close one over the years.

 

“Nothing happened, Brianna. I’m just tired. I haven’t slept well recently.”

 

And THAT slip of the tongue probably confirmed to my First Girl that I was having restless thoughts, and that meant unrequited sexual desire. I bit my tongue quickly as soon as I realised I had confirmed Brianna’s worst fears.

 

“It is sometimes the case, Mistress, that a Free Woman becomes confused by her feelings when she has a Free Companion. The act of love she experiences is new to her.”

 

Yes, let Brianna think this had something to do with the way Simon would now carefully and slowly touch me through my night gown before softly coming inside of me. Let her think such polite couplings were a source of shameful stirrings in my body that I must be careful to control. The truth was they meant nothing to me now that I had experienced the passion of love making with Mikos. My body had been on fire when he had chained and raped me in that barn, and then, much later, in the paga tavern. I had felt emotions I never knew a Free Woman might feel.

 

My close relationship with my slave, Brianna, is not as strange as it might seem. I had few friends amongst the Free Women of Vonda, and none that I could truly trust with my thoughts. It must be remembered that women are by nature rivals and, as they begin to occupy positions of wealth, influence, and entitlement, we often become bitter rivals. Although we can be friends on a superficial level, entertaining one another at lunches and parties, we are always on our guard and wary of any woman who might seize on a perceived moment of weakness to reduce a rival in the eyes of polite society.

 

I was still considered an outsider to the high-born ladies of Vonda, and only grudgingly accepted due to the position of my brother, over whom they fawned. My own position secretly irritated them, especially as I employed my own Banner Men – a rare thing for a Lady to do. Of course, those Banner Men now belonged to Simon, my Free Companion, as did I, but the principle remained. I commended the loyalty of warriors in the city, and that made me feared by high born ladies who did not have that luxury themselves.

 

But life would be lonely and unbearable if I had no one to talk to in the quiet evenings. Provided a Free Woman takes care to select the right kind of girl, a First Girl can be a source of comfort and support. The First Girl in turn owes her Mistress a great deal. Brianna came from a poor family in the city of Lara, captured in one of the many border wars that flared up regularly. As a Free Woman she had a life of poverty to contend with, but as my First Girl she lived a comfortable life running my household. The collar about her throat afforded her a lifestyle she would never have experienced otherwise. No doubt she was grateful to me for buying her, and importantly, keeping her from the deprivations she might have endured at the hands of a Master. Here, in my home, she had clean clothing, good meals, a comfortable slave pen, and a degree of authority. It was natural she would look after my best interests. In private I permitted her to speak freely and openly, for I valued her insights and perspectives. Some might consider it strange that in private she might gently rebuke me, but there really was no one else I trusted to do so. Once or twice she crossed the line, and of course I had her whipped, and afterwards she understood more clearly where the line stood. But mostly I found Brianna to be a treasure. I had chosen well when I had purchased her all those years ago.

 

As the days passed by, I began to take notice of the kajirae in the market plaza as they ran errands for their households. They seemed so happy! I watched them as they took their time shopping, picking out the choicest items for their masters and mistresses, often meeting up in twos and threes and chatting freely in a way guarded Free Women rarely do. They held hands, hugged, moved freely without concern for their scandalous attire. They were barefoot owned nothing, not even the collars around their throats, and yet they seemed so full of life.

 

One afternoon I saw Julie, the kajira who had wanted to befriend me. I recalled the words she had spoken when we had been permitted to converse together on our knees as our masters conversed beside us. There had been no guile, no pretence, no jostling for permission. Julie had naturally liked the kajira, Cassie, and had asked to run errands with me the next day. I imagined myself as the girl who I saw meet up with her that afternoon, and I watched them holding hands together, baskets around their shoulders as they explored the market place with a freedom I didn’t share. I was browsing garments – long, heavy gowns, cumbersome to wear, but expensive. I had no true friends, but there, walking along the dusty street was a girl who had wanted to be my friend. I was robed and veiled and unrecognisable, and if she saw me, it was with the fearful expression that slaves display when they are in the presence of Free Women.

 

I saw other Free Women offer the girls hostile glances and often a low hissing as they passed by. The Free Women did not approve of the happiness they saw in these slaves, nor the way their menfolk gazed at their legs and breasts.

 

I felt I had lost something precious in never now knowing Julie, never hearing her soft laugh again.

 

Again, later that day, Brianna detected my down cast mood and suspected something had occurred in the market place.

 

“It is nothing,” I said. “A dress I had wanted was sold.”

 

I don’t think she believed me, for Brianna can read my moods easily. She suggested a bath and a gentle massage to relieve my spirits, but even after the bath and the scented oils I felt low. I missed Mikos. I missed that moment of abject happiness I had felt in the barn and on that day when we walked back home. Why couldn’t he stay in Vonda? Why did he have to leave for Argentum?

 

There is nothing here for me, he had said. Nothing.

 

I would have offered him Free Companionship. Or at least I think I would. Did I no longer have feelings for Simon? Kind, gentle, Simon who had looked after me at the time of my lowest ebb? I loved Simon, and yet, our companionship had been troubled from the outset. The reality was not the same as the fantasy. I had known no men intimately before him, but now I had known two, and Mikos had made me feel alive in a way Simon did not.

 

The answer to my problems was evident enough. I would throw myself fully into the relationship with Simon. I would be the perfect companion, loving, caring, considerate. And yet Simon now seemed troubled and distant. Whatever he had suffered at the hands of Sansapina had left its mark on him. He seemed wary and on guard around me, and when I once gently rebuked him for some oversight, he had been too quick to apologise.

 

He seemed overly concerned that I was happy with him, as if he feared some punishment perhaps. I tried to get him to talk about the time he had spent with Sansapina, but he grew defensive and insisted there was nothing to speak of, much as I assured him that my time with Mikos had meant nothing. And so, a cold gulf seemed to exist now: a gulf of secrets and lies.

 

In bed he would remind me to be careful if I exhibited little gasps of pleasure as he touched me. He would instantly stop whatever he was doing and withdraw, terrified I might be ashamed with myself in the morning. In public he would remind me to exhibit no signs of tenderness, for fear of it being misinterpreted by others. Any suggestion of intimacy in public would embarrass him and make him feel awkward.

 

“Cassandra is faithfully frigid,” he would assure our friends. “Completely so. She is dutiful, of course, and does what is necessary, but no more than that.”

 

“I envy you your companion,” said one man over dinner. “To have such a chaste companion must make you feel very proud.”

 

Simon regarded me with a look that I read to mean, “do not embarrass me in any way.” I said nothing, but merely listened at my table as Simon’s male friends recounted in turn how splendidly frigid their own companions were. In private of course they would then recount what ‘delightful sluts’ their slaves were, but such things would not be mentioned in the presence of Free Women.

 

One night as we entertained a number of guests, it occurred to me that one of them did not have a kajira. Gaius was an up-and-coming young captain in Vonda’s infantry, and to my mind he had never owned a kajira. This was partly due to the fact that his lifestyle was often spent campaigning, and also because it was simply more convenient for him to make use of girls in the paga taverns.

 

He was staying the night at my villa, before joining his regiment the next day. A bedroom had been prepared for him.

 

“You may make use of Brianna tonight, if you wish,” I said without realising I had said it.

 

Brianna looked up startled from where she knelt demurely, serving drinks.

 

Simon too seemed surprised, for he knew that I routinely protected Brianna from the lustful advances of men. A Lady’s First Girl benefits from remaining unsullied, so that she can focus her mind on gentler things.

 

“Mistress…” said Brianna, suddenly holding her tongue as she remembered she was in public.

 

“That is kind and hospitable of you, gentle Lady,” replied Gaius. He gazed at Brianna in her modest white tunic and seemed to like what he saw of my First Girl. “I happily accept your offer.”

 

“Why did you do that?” asked Simon later as I was watching the house slaves tidy away the dinner plates. “You never allow men to make use of your First Girl.”

 

“She has been without the touch of a man for a couple of years. She is a slave. I suppose she has needs.”

 

“Needs?” Simon touched my hand and I glanced in surprise at the suddenness of the physical contact.

 

“Yes, needs. She is a slave.”

 

“You speak of needs, as if you understand them?”

 

“I do not,” I snapped. “But I am not ignorant of what makes a slave a slave. It was a hospitable thing to do, offering Gaius a girl for the night. You saw how pleased he looked.”

 

I drew my hand away in the manner he expected to see. Quickly I glanced around and was aware that a couple of house slaves had seen the moment of intimacy and had no doubt expertly ready my reactions to it in a manner that only slaves might do.

 

“Be more careful when you touch me,” I suggested. “Slaves gossip. They will talk about us.”

 

“Let them. You are my companion. I have a right to touch you.”

 

I drew a breath. There was a trace of the old Simon in that remark. I drew a little closer to him, wondering if he was at last recovering from whatever had occurred with Sansapina, and was now keen to reinforce his natural place in our relationship – the place a man holds by right of his gender.

 

“You sound a little like the master of this house all of a sudden,” I said softly.

 

“Did I?” He suddenly clenched his fists in frustration.

 

“Is there something you want?” I asked. I imagined being led to my bed chamber, being ordered to undress and kneel, offering my wrists for binding, and then to be raped on the soft rug by the fireplace. He would ravage me slowly but fiercely, taking his time with his pleasures, growling at me with lust.

 

There was a look in Simon’s eyes as he gazed at me and felt the softness of my body as it brushed briefly before him. “I will see that our guests have everything they need tonight,” he said as he moved away.

 

I had an ulterior motive of course in offering my First Girl to Gaius that night. It had occurred to me that during my time in bondage with Mikos, I may have moved in certain ways, or made certain sounds commonplace in a kajira when she too is being put to use. Despite my self-assurances that it was impossible I might have moved in such a manner, the thought continued to plague my sub conscious. The problem was, I didn’t really know how a kajira responded during sex with a man. How could I possibly know? I had never observed such a thing. Obviously, I instinctively knew the kajira would be wanton and debauched in her responses, but was there even the slightest motion that might have been misinterpreted in my own responses when Mikos had done such things to me?

 

As it happened, Gaius had been given a guest bedroom that contained a spy hole through which the room could be secretly observed from the adjoining room. This is a common feature of large houses in Vonda where sometimes there may be reasons for the host spying on a troublesome guest. I had never previously made use of the optical glass, no larger than a tiny hole in the room where Gaius would sleep, but, through the clever optical properties of the sliver of glass, the scene inside would be greatly magnified from where I would stand. I could observe the coupling and determine for my own peace of mind that Brianna’s responses were considerably more extreme than my own must have been.

 

I retired as usual with Simon and rejected his tentative advances for I wished him to go quickly to sleep so that I might be free to leave the bed and secretly watch the guest room.

 

“I thought perhaps...” Simon began.

 

“You thought wrong,” I snapped, rather more harshly than I had meant to do. “We have guests.”

 

And so we lay there on the large couch, my bottom almost but not quite touching Simon’s bottom as we lay facing away from one another. Simon had been plied freely with drink throughout the night and very soon I heard the soft sounds of him fast asleep. Quietly I rose from the bed and made my way on bare feet to the door. I wore a long night gown but drew over it an equally long robe with wide sleeves that I belted about my body. My guests would all have retired to their rooms for the night and so I did not bother with a veil but rather walked out down the familiar corridors to the small spy room.

 

There I moved quickly and silently to the optical glass in the adjoining wall and placed my eye to it.

 

The scene that greeted me was shocking. I had never known what a slut Brianna might be! With her wrists tied to the slave ring at the head board she was whimpering and crying out with need, her whole body quivering as Gaius made use of her! Was this truly my First Girl? My demure First Girl? In the hands of a dominant man, she was writhing with need, crying out in response to each beastly thrust.

 

It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t actually know how I had had looked that night in the barn with Mikos. My memory was somewhat blurred, and of course crucially I had not been a third party to observe events remotely. But even so, there was no denying that I couldn’t possibly have responded and moved the way Brianna was now moving. Absolutely not.

 

I watched Brianna receive a slave orgasm and as she did, she cried out loudly.

 

Her responses would have been shameful in a Free Woman. No, rather those responses could never have been the responses of a Free Woman. Such responses would mean the woman was in truth a natural slave, and so I could conclude by the application of logic that I could never have responded to my own rich fulfilling orgasms in the same way.

 

Afterwards, when Gaius had freed Brianna’s wrists, they lay together on the couch softly touching one another as they talked quietly. I had no idea what Brianna was saying, but she spoke freely, laughing softly as he pressed herself close to the man.

 

In the morning I would have her whipped. She would not know why, but she would be whipped regardless.

 

But no, as soon as I thought that, I banished the thought from my mind. Natural slaves should be put under strict discipline, but they should not be punished for simply being what they are. I would not punish Brianna for her lack of self-control. She was not a Free Woman, after all.

 

I spoke earlier of two people who knew the details of my shameful days in a collar, but there is also a third: the Lady Donna of Dover. It was she who learned of my fate through the remarks of Sansapina, and it was Donna who had ultimately seen to it that I was spared the brand. Donna was my friend, but more than that she is a mentor of sorts, a woman who looked out for me, imparting her knowledge and wisdom gained through her own maturity. More than any woman I feared disappointing her in some way. I knew she had high expectations of me, perhaps too high, and she would naturally be disappointed that I had found myself in a collar and pleasure silk. Since gaining my freedom I had made a point of avoiding Donna, fearing the sight of disapproval in her eyes. It was ungrateful of me, for I owed her so much, but I felt nervous each time I considered calling upon her. What could I say? Either we avoided the subject and it would always hang in the air between us, souring our relationship, or I would speak of the barn, the paga tavern, the touch of Mikos’s hand under my silk, and she would be ashamed of me, for her piercing gaze would make it impossible to lie. Donna saw through all my evasions as if the truth was written on my face. I could deny it all, but she would know.

 

Ultimately of course Donna contacted me. A note arrived at my town house in Vonda, as I knew it eventually would. It was her familiar notepaper and her familiar hand. The message was short and to the point.

 

“You have been avoiding me, Cassandra. Come to my house at the 13th ahn. We shall have lunch. I will not take no for answer, Flower of the Assante. Donna.”

 

I held the paper in my hand, feeling my heart beating in panic.