Secrets of Gor Chapter Twenty

 

By the time of the twenty seventh day in the training pens, we were all beginning to relax and lose our sense of fear. We had learned a lot and with that came a growing sense of confidence. Now when we entered the wide training room in the morning, we glided in gracefully, backs straight, arms and fingers loose, taking small steps, like graceful birds, proud of our achievements to date. We would be chattering amongst ourselves, laughing, perhaps, at something we saw the day before, or brazenly critiquing one another’s progress to date.

 

“Your ankles are looking much trimmer now, Alika,” I might say. “Another few months and they may begin to approach the beauty of mine.”

 

“At least I remembered the ninth, thirteenth, and twenty first steps in our dance kata, yesterday. Thorn would have whipped you if she wasn’t laughing so much!”

 

“I need to do better there,” I agreed, and then Alika and I hugged and laughed at one another again. 

 

Thorn loved to see our coffle growing and bonding like this. She encouraged our friendships and rewarded us with tasty treats when we actively helped one another. Our friendship in the kennels was liberating. I had never known friends like these before, and despite them being mere slaves, I found myself enjoying my time with them. My earlier reserve, distrust and disapproval had given way to… emotions I didn’t truly understand. These girls weren’t competing against me the way Free Women were when I wore veils and robes. Yes, we did often compete in our training, but always when we left the training hall at the close of the day, we would scamper back to our stimulation cage, laughing, hand in hand, excited at the prospect of relaxing together that night. 

 

Our food improved. The slave gruel was supplemented by pieces of good quality meat, well cooked, with lots of vegetables. The only thing we routinely lacked were sugary treats: those we had to earn. 

 

In all this time we had grown beautiful. Our reflections no longer showed nervous, frightened girls, but rather budding pleasure slaves, rich with promise.

 

“Look at us,” said Alika one morning as we warmed our bodies up before the mirror. “We’re beautiful. Men will want us!”

 

And I suppose we were. And they would. Our makeup was now perfect, after much toil and error, and our poise was sensual as we moved and lowered ourselves to our knees. My hair now felt so rich and glossy. We had begun to notice the eager way that men now gazed at us as we passed by in coffle to the training area. They were not permitted to touch us, of course, for discipline is strict amongst the slaver caste, but I could tell they wanted to. You must understand that in a slaver house a man sees many naked women every day. For women to stand out, they have to be very special indeed. 

 

But none of the men who worked for the House of Andronicus were permitted to touch us, any more than was strictly necessary for our training and upkeep. It must have been frustrating for them, as we turned many heads along the corridors. 

 

I felt significant changes in my body. Not only did I feel stronger, more supple, lighter on my feet, but I was filled with an inner glow that radiated out in my smile, my casual expression, and the way my skin felt stimulated by anything it touched. My sense of taste and scent grew stronger. I became far more aware of my surroundings. I felt more awake, and I had more energy. Part of this was down to our diets, as we only ate healthy food, high in protein, but it was also down to our training, and the experience of sharing a stimulation cage with my coffle sisters.

 

At night we now routinely entertained one another with speaking forbidden fantasies that we previously would never have admitted to anyone. I would lie in the darkness on a soft rug, idly touching myself, as Alika or Anthea would recount some erotic fantasy of theirs. I would grow excited listening to them, imagining that I was the girl in the fantasy they described. 

 

It was exciting, primal, and above all, safe.

 

None of these fantasies were real, and we could indulge them in the darkness at our leisure, laughing softly as each girl in turn summoned the courage to speak. 

 

I told them of my time with Mikos, in the loft barn, tussling in the straw, a chain around my neck. I told them how I was taken to a paga tavern and sent to a pleasure alcove in red silk, my ankle locked in a steel restraint. I told them how I was walked through the streets of Vonda, taken to places I knew as a Lady, and places I had never been before. And I described how exciting it felt in the open air to be wearing brief silk, and to feel the touch of his fingers under the hem of my skirt. I shared everything I felt and was applauded by the other girls who congratulated me on my honesty.

 

We had become close, sharing almost everything – our fears, our hopes, our happiness. They were only slaves, but they meant more to me than any Free Women I had known in my lifetime. 

 

We were tactile, often touching and hugging one another. This formed a close bond between us during the days and nights. Sometimes, late at night, I would feel a girl move and settle down next to me. We would do nothing more than spoon, sharing one another’s curved bodies as a comfort blanket of sorts. I would wake in the morning feeling rested and calm, with Alika, or Leorah, or sometimes even beautiful Anthea, nestled next to me. We would rub noses when we were happy, and we would talk about the future, or rather, an optimistic future that we liked to imagine, but which may or may not have anything to do with reality.

 

They all wanted a single Master, a Master who would own them and put them to use, and keep them for life. I doubted any of them would get that lucky, for men often tire of their slaves, even Pleasure Slaves, and there is always the temptation to trade a girl in for some fresh acquisition. It was troubling to be asked what I saw in my future, for I couldn’t tell them I was to travel to the Northern Forests to kill a man, and then I would be freed. That would have prompted too many questions, if not accusations that I was making the whole story up. And so I pretended I wanted a Master, and surprisingly, I found it very easy to make up the shameful imaginary details to match such a claim. I pretended I wanted to be owned by a strong man, and I pretended I wanted to serve him passionately in the furs. 

 

I must be a good liar, for I grew excited at times with my own storytelling as I embellished the details. 

 

And then on the evening of the twenty seventh day, Thorn told us at the end of our class that she would speak to each of us alone over the next few nights. This was new. This had never happened before.

 

Anthea was the first, and when she returned to the stimulation cage she said nothing of the conversation, no matter how much we poked and prodded her for details. She had been gone an ahn and a half, but did not seem troubled or content. She simply said nothing. 

 

“Tell us something,” I asked. “Anything.”

 

But Anthea kept to her silence. 

 

I was next, called to Thorn’s kennel on the twenty eighth night. 

 

Thorn had a kennel pen of her own that was spacious and comfortable. Reed matting covered the floor, and on it were various rugs and cushions. She had a low table with a brass lamp and a view over the grassy grounds of the slaver house. Most noticeably, the door to her kennel was generally left unlocked.

 

“Cassie, thank you for coming.” She made it sound like I could have declined the invitation, like some high born Lady of Vonda. “Come, sit with me. I have a nice little surprise for you.” She indicated a bottle of ka-la-na wine and two shallow bowls. There was also a plate with some strips of fried vulo that had been coated in delicious spices. I knelt beside Thorn and wondered what she had to say to me. Over the past week or two some of her fierceness had receded and we began to see a kinder side to the girl. As we did better in our studies and training, she was no longer required to be so strict with us, and we found we could talk to her if we had problems. She was happy to help because she ultimately wanted us to do well. If we failed, then by extension, she failed.

 

“It’s cheap table wine,” said Thorn, “but I’m sure you’ll find it delicious after so long without.” The wine was cheap, rough, not at all what I would have drunk as a Free Woman, but as a slave it tasted lovely. Thorn permitted me to drink from the shallow bowl in my hands, and not for example lap at the wine on all fours.

 

“We’re informal tonight, Cassie. There is no need to call me Mistress.”

 

I was surprised by this, but I supposed we were all nearing the end of our time in the pens, and that this was Thorn’s way of beginning to graduate us. 

 

“We have come to the point in your training that is both delicate and often unspoken,” explained Thorn. I looked up, startled, as she placed a hand on my thigh. “You understand, I hope, that sometimes a Pleasure Slave is bought by a gentle Lady.”

 

I didn’t know that.

 

“Why? Why would a Lady buy a Pleasure…” it suddenly dawned on me as I asked the question. “Oh!”.

 

Thorn nodded. “It is rarely spoken of, which is why this part of your training is always conducted in private. Men do not necessarily approve, and you would do well not to draw their attention to any skills you acquire in this regard. All Pleasure Slaves learn what I am about to teach you, but we do not speak of such things to our Masters. And most importantly, if a Lady buys you, and… makes use of you… you must never in any way whatsoever speak of it, or make reference to it. Not even to her. It must be as if it has never happened. You will be compliant, of course, and you will serve her as she wishes, but you must act afterwards as if nothing had happened. A gentle Lady often does not wish to be reminded of what occurred in her bed chamber, even if she instigated the matter.”

 

I knew of course that Free Women of wealth and privilege sometimes acquired a male silk slave, but I had not heard of such a woman acquiring a Pleasure Slave.

 

“I don’t… I don’t find myself attracted to women…” My voice was quiet. I was shaking a little.

 

“Nor I, Cassie, but I would be remiss in my duty if I sent my kajirae out into the world with no idea how she could please a Mistress. Your failure in that regard would result in a disappointed Lady, who no doubt paid a considerable sum of money for you, through discrete channels, and she would punish you terribly. I will tonight instruct you on what to do. And the easiest way for you to understand, is for you to first see what I do to your person, and experience it first-hand. Then you will practice what you have seen, on me.”

 

I realised now why I had been given wine to drink. Why Thorn had drunk wine, too. Why we met in the evening, with a lamp burning low. It would make what was to come easier.

 

Thorn lay me down onto my back against the soft rugs and pillows, and she parted my thighs, spreading my knees.

 

“We use our tongue and lips, and I will show you now where we lick and kiss. Do not feel ashamed if you feel some pleasure. Your body has been trained to be easily stimulated, even by my mouth.”

 

When I returned to the stimulation cage, an ahn and a half later, I did not speak of what had happened, no matter how much Alika and Leorah begged me for information. I sat instead with Anthea at the side of the cage and gave her a knowing glance that she returned, with an unspoken understanding evident between us both. 

 

By day thirty-five, I confess there were actually moments of fun in our classes. We had been working hard on practising elegant serves for Masters and Mistresses, and learning how those serves should be varied if we were alone with a man, or alone with a woman, or perhaps serving them both together. After we had mastered the basics, Thorn had us role-play scenarios where two of us would be the Master and Mistress, while the other two slaves would practice what they had learnt.

 

I would usually partner with Anthea. Laughing, I would drape a white sheet, with a hole cut for my head, over my body, letting it hang over me like a shapeless tent.

 

“Look how modest I am!” I would laugh, for my body was now more concealed from view than if I had been wearing robes and gowns. I wrapped a length of rep cloth about my lower face as a veil and I joined my ‘handsome companion’ at a low table, ready to be served. I couldn’t take Anthea seriously when she appeared dressed in a man’s work tunic, many, many sizes too big for her. She had tied her hair back and had drawn with a black wax stick the approximation of a beard and moustache on her face.

 

“Ta-Sardar-Gor!” she would exclaim in a gruff voice as she struck her shoulder with the open palm of her left hand. “I am a MAN! Bring me a Pleasure Slave! My need is much upon me!”

 

“But I am your precious Free Companion! Why do you forsake me for a slut?!” I said, taking mock offence. “Let a priceless Free Woman offer gentle, chaste kisses, instead.” I pawed at Anthea’s tunic with my hands.

 

“I’ve forgotten what you even look like under those blankets, woman! Do I in fact even know you? WHERE IS MY PLEASURE SLAVE! And PAGA! Bring me PAGA!” 

 

“My beloved companion!” I just about managed to say, in-between frantic giggles. “But where is your sword?”

 

“Bah! Being cleaned of the blood of my enemies, by pot and kettle girls,” she roared as she pretended to swagger around the room, beating her fist against her chest.

 

Thorn stood aside from us, laughing herself, as she watched us play. But the game had a serious side, for the two slaves were expected to serve perfectly. After each serve the ‘master’ and ‘mistress’ would be told to stand up and list what small things had been done wrong. The switch was rarely, if ever, used on us now, but Thorn’s disappointment in our mistakes seemed just as bad.

 

I didn’t want to disappoint Thorn. When I made a mistake, and she looked at me as if I had personally failed her, I felt terrible. Three swipes of the switch couldn’t have made me feel worse.

 

And then it would be time for the coffle slaves to switch sides, with Alika and Leorah playing the part of a free couple, and Anthea and myself being the serving slaves. 

 

“My precious kajirae,” Thorn said at the close of the forty second day. “If only you could see yourselves now, compared with the clumsy pot and kettle girls who seemed hopeless at the outset. You’ve learned so much.” 

 

We sat, kneeling in a circle, relaxed, at ease, as Thorn sat with us. “Our days together are swiftly drawing to a close. Now, it’s not in my nature to give out compliments to cheap sluts…” she paused dramatically with a theatrical raising of her left eyebrow as we all laughed and booed at the ‘insult’, “but I grudgingly have to admit you’ve made me feel proud.”

 

“How much longer do we still have, Mistress?” asked Leorah. I could see she was as anxious as the rest of us. Our safe bubble in this house was nearing an end, and we all knew that meant we would soon lose one another; me being the first to go when Sadric collected me, while the other girls would inevitably ascend the auction block to their unknown fates. In just a few days’ time we might never see one another again. 

 

“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” said Thorn sadly, but then added, “we have some time still left.”

 

But how much time? As I lay in my comfortable stimulation cage, with Anthea nestled next to my breasts, I pondered on what the future might soon hold for me, when I would be taken so far away to the barbaric forests in the north. I shivered, fearing the danger that was to come.