Kajirus of Gor Chapter Thirty One

I had no idea where we were being taken. We marched through dark woodland, occasionally prodded by a spear butt if we slowed our pace. I was naked, trampling through the detritus that litters a woodland floor. I was in a foul mood, and I still didn’t fully comprehend the danger I was in. 

 

You have to understand that at this point I didn’t believe a single word that was spoken about alien worlds and slave ships carrying captives to Gor. Yes, I thought these women were deranged, but I assumed that was the extent of this. 

 

How wrong I was. 

 

“My feet hurt,” said Felicity as she gingerly stepped over broken twigs and loose stones. 

 

“Keep walking,” said Rowan. “it will be dawn soon, and we need to find the truck before the sun rises.”

 

“I haven’t got any shoes.” Felicity was finding the barefoot experience even worse than I was. We weren’t following a clear path, and so Felicity’s pretty pyjamas were constantly getting snagged in branches and brambles. She was having a hard time of this, as were we all. 

 

It probably did take half an hour or so until we reached a clearing in the middle of nowhere. There, parked by the side of a dirt track was a four wheel drive flatbed truck designed for rough terrain. It looked like it might be army surplus.

 

“Now what?” I said. 

 

“Now you get on board,” said Anthea, as she playfully slapped my bare ass with the flat of her spear. 

 

Felicity seemed confused by the lack of sympathy from the wyld wymen. She winced as she stood on one leg and lifted the other so that she could feel the sole of her foot. Her lovely pyjamas were looking a bit worse for wear from the rough hike.  

 

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

 

“Yes.” She gave me a soft smile. I had shown concern for her well-being. That gave her hope that there might still be something between us. A future together. “Nothing bad will happen to you, Roland. I promise.”

 

“You can stop this, Felicity. Just speak to Anthea.”

 

Felicity shook her head. “It’s too late for that. I can’t just let Dexter go.”

 

“You fucking bitch,” said Dexter before Hadley chopped his legs out from under him with a sweep of her spear shaft. 

 

“Quiet, male.” With her right foot she ground his face into the dirt. 

 

“There’s no need for that,” said Felicity. “He won’t be any trouble.”

 

Hadley sneered and then shrugged. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you,” she said to Felicity. 

 

“What is your problem?” Felicity snapped back. “I have an arrangement with Anthea. If you don’t like it you can speak to her and she’ll put you straight.”

 

“Pretty pyjamas,” Hadley said as she turned and walked away.

 

Felicity moved over to where I stood and she put her hands on my chest. “Oh, Roland, you’re making this so hard. I don’t want you to suffer.”

 

“Great. Then tell your friends to untie me.”

 

“You know I can’t do that.” She put her face to my chest and sighed. “You’d be belligerent. You’d try and escape. The girls would have to chase you, and they’d probably be rough when they caught you.”

 

“Nice friends, then. You’ve known them long?”

 

“Some months. At the Spring gathering. We trade with the wyld wymen in Spring and Autumn at commonly prescribed trading posts close to the Bighorn river. I got talking with Anthea as the men examined the trade goods. We developed a friendship of sorts. I think she saw something of herself in my strong will and free spirit. She suggested she could help me, when she heard what I wanted. She made an interesting offer.”

 

“An offer?”

 

Felicity shrugged. She shivered a little in the cool early morning air. She only wore the lightest of pyjamas about her body. “Tradition is everything within the North American families. A first born must prove himself by living on Gor for at least six months, coming to terms with the civilization and culture there. And he must find a way to enslave a woman in order to earn his passage to Gor.” She smiled. “Not all men are capable of the latter. They are well shamed if their attempted abduction fails. Can you imagine how humiliated a first born son might be if he failed in the acquisition of his chosen woman? There have been times when such a man has been disowned by his family, sent  away in disgrace. So you see the formidable challenge facing me, if I am to prove myself the equal of a first born son? I am first born, you know.” She shook her head proudly. “Had I been born male, there would be no doubt I would have the right to seek passage, and with it, earn my place in the Emery family. I have a cousin who contests my right.” She frowned. “Michael is younger than me, and in a year’s time he will make his move. He will enslave a woman, and present her to my father, demanding the right to receive our family ring. That ring should be mine. I am first born!” The soft pyjamas were torn and ripped in several places where they had been caught by sharp thorns and branches, or where she had slipped and fallen as the path sloped downwards, grazing a knee. “I thought you would be pleased with Dexter’s fate. I know you despise him.”

 

“I don’t like the man, but he doesn’t deserve this.”

 

“Of course he does.” Felicity gazed round and watched as Dexter was manhandled onto the flatbed truck. There was a strong steel bar secured horizontally along the centre of the truck. Attached to it were some chains, terminating in ankle rings. Dexter swore again as Rowan extended his left leg to the point of the central bar and locked that ankle in tone of the shackles. “You’ve been conditioned, Roland, to be weak. It’s not your fault. You don’t understand your birth right. You are a man! And on Gor you can learn to be a man. I know you have it in you. You have an inner strength that will evolve and ripen when you live in a healthy society that understands that dominance and submission is the natural state for human beings. Haven’t you ever fantasised about such things?”

 

“All men fantasise,” I said. Dexter was now chained to the central bar of the flatbed truck. He looked furious.

 

“Do you know what those fantasies are? They are your natural, suppressed desires, because your mind, despite being conditioned, longs for you to embrace your gender, and take your natural place in society. You ae a man, Roland. That should mean something to you.”

 

“The other male is next,” said Hadley.

 

“I’m talking to him,” replied Felicity.

 

“You can talk to him later.” Hadley seized me by my hair and bent my head down to be level with her hip. She then marched me quickly to the flat bed and helped me ascend. I was sat next to Dexter. 

 

“Extend your left ankle, male,” she said. Felicity had compared herself to these wyld wymen, but I couldn’t see any similarity between her and Hadley. Hadley was dominant. She was clearly dominant. Hadley was fierce and single minded. Felicity, in contrast, looked so soft and feminine. I realised I was equating femininity with weakness, and that the only strength she possessed was born out of privilege. 

 

I extended my left ankle and felt a steel ring placed around it and closed. Hadley produce the same key she had used on Dexter and locked the shackle shut. “Get used to this,” she said with a smirk. She lowered her voice then. “Whatever the pyjama girl says, you won’t be a free man on Gor any time soon.”

 

She hadn’t wanted Felicity to hear that, it seemed. A shiver now ran down my spine. Was Felicity really in control of this situation? She seemed to think so, but looking at her now, I wasn’t so sure. 

 

Felicity climbed up onto the flat bed and sat down on the opposite side. She pointedly didn’t look at Dexter. Loose sets of ankle chains lay semi-coiled on the floor, close to her feet. Hadley then motioned for Kelly to climb up and sit next to Felicity. Neither girl looked at the other. Kelly would not forget any time soon how Felicity had kicked and spat at her, and Felicity would not forget that Kelly had been in an amorous tussle with me earlier this night. 

 

The wyld wymen split up. Anthea and Rowan climbed into the front of the truck, and the other four women joined us on the flat bed. There was some conversation in the front of the truck between Anthea and Rowan that I couldn’t hear, and then the engine started and we rolled out, driving along the uneven track and onto the prairie land. 

 

The sun rose long before we reached the wyld wymen camp, but that wasn’t a problem as we were now so remote as to have this land to ourselves. It was probably close to nine in the morning when Felicity smiled at me as we bumped up and down in the back of the truck. “Everything is going to be okay,” she said to me, and then she reached out with her bare foot to touch mine. She wiggled our toes together, and perhaps she thought I’d find that reassuring.

 

I wasn’t so sure everything was going to be okay. Kelly looked scared. This wasn’t what she had signed up for. I wanted to reassure her, but anything I might say would only inflame Felicity’s jealousy. Even so, I stole a glance or two at Kelly when I felt it was safe enough. 

 

We entered a camp built in a river valley with a line of trees to the north. I had no idea where we were, but this was definitely far off any hiking trail. The women here would have complete privacy for however they chose to live off the grid. We were watched with interest as we drove up to some timber buildings. Wyld Wymen worked here, doing everything from herding animals, to metal work at a number of lathes, and chopping firewood from a stack of cut timber. 

 

And I saw a cage. It was empty, but there were signs it was normally occupied, for I also saw four girls toiling under the watchful eye of a wyld wyman. These girls wore what looked like rough sack cloth wrapped about their hips and thighs like crude skirts. The sacks were tied about their waists with light rope. Each girl had what seemed to be a metal collar locked about her throat, in much the same way that Kelly and an anklet locked around her left ankle. 

 

“What is going on?” said Kelly as she leaned forward in the back of the truck. “Are those women prisoners?’

 

“They’re slaves,” said Hadley. She regarded Kelly with an amused expression. “Backpackers and the like. We find quite a few of them.”

 

Each girl had a chain looped about her left ankle and padlocked shut. The other end of the chain was looped once around the handle of a heavy kettle bell, easily weighing one hundred and fifty pounds. The girls could move beyond the extent allowed by the chain, but to do so they would have to lift the heavy kettle bell by its cast iron handle and walk with it. This would prove tiring over any distance, and would slow a girl’s pace, forcing her to rest frequently. It was an excellent compromise between mobility and restraint. None of these girls had any chance of running away. 

 

As our truck rolled into the settlement, the girls looked up from the exhausting labours. They were toiling with tools in a large vegetable garden that presumably fed the camp. None of the girls looked like they were used to such work. They looked like girls who might ordinarily enjoy the night life of a city, dancing, drinking cocktails, flirting with men.

 

I stole a glance at Felicity. If she seemed surprised to see these four captive women, she showed no sign of it. She watched curiously as we drove past a number of wyld wymen. They too paused with their work – one girl was making arrows, as far as I could tell – and they regarded us with amusement. 

 

When the truck rolled to a stop, Hadley and Summer jumped down and unfastened the rear end of the truck, to allow Felicity and Kelly to climb down. Felicity did so daintily and carefully, lowering first one leg and then the other, which prompted laughter from a number of wyld wymen.

 

Kelly was rather more athletic, and simply jumped down in a single bound. I heard the side doors open as Anthea and Rowan emerged from the cab, and finally Brielle and Aubrey set about unchaining the ankles of Dexter and myself. 

 

I think Felicity was very aware of how she was being watched. She turned to her left and saw a wyld wyman regarding her. She turned to the right and saw another such woman also regarding her. I think she found it unsettling at best.

 

“Anthea, I think we could all do with some breakfast,” said Felicity. Beside her, Hadley laughed.

 

“What?” Felicity was losing patience with Hadley, it seemed.

 

“You’ll be fed later,” Hadley said, as she simply turned and walked away.

 

Now Dexter and I were led towards a couple of heavy wooden posts that were sunk deep into the ground. Each post stood eight feet high, and each post had a set of wrist manacles screwed deep into the wood twelve inches below the top. One at a time, our wrist were untied and, under the watchful eye of wyld wymen with knives, our wrist were then locked in these shackles. I stood beside my post, naked, with my arms raised to accommodate the high point of the chaining. I felt Rowan stroke my bottom.

 

“Fuck off,’ I said.

 

“Oh, we have a proud man, it seems,” said Rowan. She then cupped my penis in her right hand, and there was nothing I could do about it. “A real man would not be aroused by being chained to a post,” she remarked as she began to stroke and fondle my penis. I grew hard easily, despite my wishes. “But then you’re not a real man, are you? You find it exciting to be chained and used by women.”

 

I was stiff now. She knew exactly how to arouse my manhood. And then she pressed her body against mine and took hold of my lower lip with her teeth, drawing blood. “That is the kiss of a wyld wyman,” she said, as she drew back. I tasted my own blood. “You will call me and all the other wyld wymen mistress from now on.”

 

I pulled at the chains securing my wrists, but the chains were screwed tight through a metal plate into the wood of the post. I really was helpless.

 

“How do you address me, slave?” she said as she picked up a supple whip that hung from a hook on the post.

 

“Mistress,” I said, as I gazed at the whip. The little bitch would use it on me, of that I had no doubts. And then she slapped me twice about each thigh, just for fun. I cried out, without meaning to. 

 

“Hey!” Felicity came over to confront Rowan. “Don’t do that.”

“Oh?” Rowan turned round with the whip in her hand. 

 

“He is my capture.” Felicity stare Rowan down, though Rowan found the sight of that amusing. “They are both my captures.” And then she called out to Anthea who was leaning against the back of the truck, arms folded. “Anthea, can you please keep your girls under control. They are not showing me the respect I deserve.”

 

“You really don’t remember Hadley, do you, Felicity?” said Anthea as she moved away from the front of the truck. “Really? I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Felicity turned round to regard Hadley who now stood facing her. She had gone to pick up a whip from Dexter’s post. “I haven’t met her before. I don’t know this girl”

 

“They do say that school days are the happiest days of our lives,” remarked Anthea. She paced towards Felicity like a prowling cat. “I bet you were a popular girl at High School, hmm?’

 

Felicity shrugged. She glanced nervously round to where Hadley stood, having taken another couple of steps towards her. “I had a lot of friends, yes.”

 

“I’m sure you did. The daughter of the Emerys. I bet you were the Queen bee at your school. Lots of girls wanting to be your friend. What did you call yourselves – you, Chelsea Frick and, what was her name?” Anthea glanced over to Hadley.

 

“Paige Bannon,” said Hadley. “Dexter’s sister.”

 

“That’s it, Paige Bannon. She was a popular girl, too. You all were. What did you call yourselves?”

 

Felicity noticed other wyld wymen stepping forward now. “The… the Heathers,” she said. She was barefoot, dressed only in soft pink pyjamas. “It was ironic. We were being ironic, because the Heathers were a…”

 

“Group of stupid fucking airheads obsessed with clothes and shoes,” said Hadley with a snarl. “In that fucking awful film.”

 

“It was meant to be ironic, because we weren’t like them, really. It was a joke. We weren’t like them at all. And none of us were called Heather.” She glanced round. Several wyld wymen now loitered in a circle in the vicinity of Felicity.

 

“I was at your High School,” said Hadley. “I wanted to be your friend, because if a girl wasn’t your friend, she was on the outside. I bought you ice cream when you wanted it, and complimented you on your handbags. I tried desperately to make you like me.”

 

Felicity swallowed a lump in her throat. I could tell she was scanning her high school memory to no avail. She really didn’t remember Hadley. Hadley had been that insignificant to her.

 

“Only I wasn’t girly enough. I didn’t wear pretty dresses, or, if I did, I looked out of place because I wasn’t five feet two inches tall and anorexic. I’m six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a hard chin. The clothes you wore never suited me, no matter how much I tried to fit in with your pleated or checked skirts and brightly coloured knee high socks and glossy shoes.” She flexed the whip. “You invited me to your slumber pyjama party when we were seventeen. Only it was a joke. I turned up, and you were all dressed elegantly like you were going to a day out at Saratoga. Everyone laughed, because I was the only girl wearing pyjamas.”

 

I think things suddenly clicked in `Felicity’s memory now. She may not remember Hadley exactly, but she probably now remembered that party.

 

“That…. that wasn’t my idea.” She turned round to the left and to the right. Several wyld wymen regarded her with their heads tilted to the side, their arms crossed, and sullen looks on their faces. “I think it was Paige! Yes, it was Paige! Her idea! I thought it cruel.”

 

“You were all Heathers. It was a Heathers party. I remember you laughing so much you couldn’t hold your champagne flute. And everyone laughed with you, because Chelsea, Paige and Felicity were the all-powerful Heathers, and if they didn’t like you, then you were socially dead.”

 

“I was seventeen!” said Felicity. “That’s not me anymore. It isn’t! “I’m sorry Hadley, but I was only seventeen. I didn’t even remember until you told me.”

 

“Pretty pyjamas,” said Hadley as she flexed the whip again. 

 

“Girls do cruel things when they’re young,” said Felicity with a tremor to her voice. “But that shouldn’t define us when we grow up. I’m not the same person  as when I was sixteen. None of us are.”

 

“If only that were true,” said Anthea as she approached Felicity and placed her hand on her shoulder. “So, what you’re going to do now, Felicity, is strip completely. Remove your pyjamas and the tight little panties you no doubt wear for additional security against your skin. And then you’ll kneel before Hadley, kiss her feet, and speak the words, la kajira, Mistress.” She smiled. “And then we’ll find you a lovely steel collar, of your very own.”