Kajirus of Gor Chapter Thirty Two

“I answer now to the name Fliss. That is the name my masters have given me.”

 

I nodded as I gazed down at the lovely Fliss, kneeling, naked, on an alcove platform in front of the Jewelled Anklet tavern, with a length of chain attached to her collar ring. “Felicity is the name of a Free Woman. I suppose it would not be appropriate for you, in your current state.”

 

She lowered her gaze as I said that. “I suppose not.”

 

“I am still called Roland. That is the name my mistress gave me.”

 

“You have a mistress, now? You are owned by a woman?” She looked up, meeting my gaze. I saw Fliss move slightly where she knelt on the narrow display alcove, the steel chain hanging down from her collar, between the valley of her breasts, to then pool slightly on the rough surface of the platform in front of the tavern, before terminating in the iron ring set firmly in the building’s stone work. She was very beautiful; breathtakingly beautiful in fact. Were I a free man, I would be sorely tempted now to enter the Jewelled Anklet and ask for her with my cup of paga.

 

But I was not a free man. And I had never seen the inside of a paga tavern.

 

“I do, and I am. Her name is the Lady Savanna of Argentum.” If Felicity thought at all of Chelsea’s middle name in relation to the name of my mistress, she didn’t show any sign of making the connection, and so I didn’t bother to tell her that Lady Savanna and Chelsea Savannah Frick were one and the same. What would be the point? We were both mere slaves, with no say in who owned us. 

 

“What is she like, your mistress?”

 

I smiled to myself. “Proud, strong minded, focussed in her ambitions, confident, resourceful, strict with me when necessary, but rarely cruel for the sake of cruelty.”

 

“And pretty? Is your mistress pretty?”

 

I smiled again. “She is, yes. In terms of a Free Woman. This is different, very different from being slave beautiful. Only a slave can be slave beautiful.”

 

“Oh? I did not know that.” Fliss touched the loose links of chain coiled beside her knees. It was a lovely fluid gesture and one that drew attention to her chaining. No doubt she had been taught to do that, to further arouse the interests of a passing man. It certainly worked on me. 

 

“There is no comparison,” I said. I could see the lovely kef brand burnt into her left thigh. I remembered the day of the branding at the Lazy F ranch. I remembered her being herded through the bars of the corral, through the funnel system, with the other girls, and how she screamed when it was her turn and she was seized by the ranch hands and taken to the branding post. 

 

Fliss glanced about the quiet side street. There were few men here. One walked causally by, glancing for a moment at Fliss, before turning into one of the narrow alleyways. He was dressed poorly and probably did not wish to pay the price that the Jewelled Anklet might charge for a cup of paga. No doubt there were cheaper taverns buried deeply in the maze of alleyways. “You shouldn’t be here,” Fliss said. “You should go.”

 

“I want to be here. I’m glad to see you again, Fliss. Truly, I am.”

 

“I wish you didn’t see me like this,” she said.

 

“You are owned by the Jewelled Anklet?” I saw a jewelled anklet locked about her left ankle. The jewels of course would just be coloured glass – brightly sparkling things. Costume jewellery. On Gor such ornamentation is referred to as ‘bina’ – the translation of which is ‘slave beads’.

 

“I am a paga girl. I come with the price of a cup of paga.”

 

“What does that cost?”

 

“Here at the Jewelled Anklet, a cup of paga costs five tarsk bits. We are not the most expensive tavern, nor the cheapest.”

 

It should be noted that the exchange rate of tarsk bits to copper tarsk varies from city to city; anywhere between eight to twenty, depending on the quality of the metal coinage. In Argentum you might receive twelve tarsk bits to a copper tarsk, and a common labourer might expect to earn three to four copper tarsks for a day’s work. Five tarsk bits is therefore an expensive price for an alcoholic beverage, but you must understand that with that cup comes the use of a passionate slave girl. 

 

“And in the side alleys?”

 

Fliss tossed her head, annoyed. “They charge less. There you may find a cup of paga for three tarsk bits.”

 

“And with it, a girl like you?”

 

“The girls in the Jewelled Anklet are far superior to the girls in the alleyway taverns,” she said, with a surprising trace of pride.

 

“You are perhaps biased in your assessment?”

 

“Perhaps.” She drew back the leg that wore the jewelled anklet.

 

“Tell me about your tavern. I have never been inside one.”

 

“I suppose it is not dissimilar to other taverns in this city,” she said. “The floor has a number of low tables of various sizes where men sit cross-legged, either individually or with friends. These tables surround a central sandpit where our dancer, Maia, performs at set times for the pleasure of the men choosing to watch. She cost us two silver tarsks, and she never fails to remind us of the fact. A couple of the tables are inlaid with kaissa boards and we can provide game pieces on request. And of course there is an area containing three curtained pleasure alcoves where men can put a girl to use for half an ahn. Maia costs extra, if a man desires her. I come with the price of the cup. Our kitchen area is separated from the main area by a heavy beaded curtain. Two men work there, preparing food – simple dishes.”

 

“You were sold directly to the Jewelled Anklet? When I saw you last, you were still being trained.”

 

Fliss nodded. “This is my first collar. I have been owned by the Jewelled Anklet now for almost five weeks. When a girl first becomes a paga slave, it is usually the first two or three nights that are the most difficult. If the girl has not learned properly by then, if she proves inadequate in the furs, she may be disposed of. A girl has to be paga hot. That is the term my masters use. It is not enough for a paga girl to simply lie back and allow herself to be used. A girl must be complicit in her ravishment. Do you understand what I am saying?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“I must be happy to be taken to the pleasure alcove. I must smile. I must beg the master to have me. I must squirm in the furs and respond with deep and genuine arousal.”

 

“You have to fake all of this?  I am sorry.”

 

Fliss tossed her head. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand what?”

 

“You cannot fake such things. A girl is either paga hot, or she isn’t. Men know the difference. There is no faking.”

 

“And yet, you have succeeded in faking being paga hot all this time?”

 

Fliss said nothing. She looked away and I saw her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

 

“Ah.” I understood now. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It is a terrible thing for a girl to learn about herself, about her body. But it is not as rare as you might think. Many girls are the same, I think. Many of them.”

 

“Paga hot?”

 

“I hate that phrase!” She clutched, anxiously, at her collar chain with her fingers. “It is the collar! You wouldn’t understand.” She trembled. 

 

“You feel differently, now you wear a slave collar?’

 

“I don’t know. Maybe I have always felt this way, but the collar now makes me fully aware of my feelings. Like all girls, I had but three nights to prove that I could serve a man in the pleasure alcoves. As you can see, I am still here.”

 

“Paga hot.”

 

Here eyes flashed angrily again. “You shouldn’t be here.” She glanced round. Another man was approaching. She glanced back at me, obviously embarrassed that I would see and hear what she had to do now. “Please go. Please, if I still mean anything to you.”

 

I did not move. I continued to watch.

 

“Kind master,’ cried Fliss, as she extended her lovely arms, her wrists adorned with glittering bangles that chimed as she moved, “the Jewelled Anklet has lovely slaves ready to serve you. Tarry a while in the arms of Fliss, or one of my chain sisters, and I will offer you pleasure for the price of a cup of paga.” She swallowed, knowing full well I was watching as she thrust out her breasts. “I am hot and needy and desire the touch of a man!”

 

“How much?” asked the man. He paid me no attention. “How much for paga?”

 

“Five tarsk bits, Master, but I come with the price of the cup.”

 

The man snorted and shook his head, indicating a side alley that seemed dark, gloomy, and certainly too dangerous for a Free Woman to venture down it. “The Coiled Whip only charges two tarsk bits, and their girls are hot and wanton.”

 

“I am hot and wanton, too, Master. Take me to a pleasure alcove.”

 

“I will spend my two tarsk bits at the Coiled Whip and be served by Tiffini. She cries out piteously when I penetrate her.”

 

“Two tarsk bits sounds a good price,” I suggested as the man left.

 

“I hate that Tiffini,” said Fliss. She touched the coils of chain again. “Men can have her for only two tarsk bits. How can I compete?”

 

“There is probably a very good reason she is so cheap,” I suggested, trying to make Fliss feel better.

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Have you met her?”

 

“No.” Fliss gazed up and down the street again. Few men ventured down this far, and of those who did, many were intent on finding the cheapest paga taverns in the side alleys. I wondered what might happen to Fliss if she was lax in bringing in sufficient numbers of customers?

 

“It is good to see you again, Fliss. I mean that.”

 

She regarded me with heavy kohl lined eyes. There was red lipstick painted on her lips. Her nipples were both pierced with small rings, through which a glittering chain hung, connecting the two rings. “You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

 

“You are beautiful. Truly beautiful. Slave beautiful.”

 

She smiled softly and lowered her gaze. “Oh?”

 

“You must have been expensive.”

 

Her eyes flashed. “They bought me for just twenty three copper tarsks! That is all I sold for!”

 

“I would have priced you at a silver tarsk, easily.”

 

“You think of yourself as a connoisseur of slave flesh, now?”

 

“I am a man, even though I wear a collar, and I know when a women is slave beautiful.”

 

“More beautiful than your mistress?’

 

“The comparison is hard to make. She is a Free Woman. You cannot compare Free Women and slaves. If she were a meal, my mistress would be akin to a warm meat pastry, satisfying and tasty enough, while the slave girl, Fliss, hot and awakened - in touch now with her natural femininity - she would be a warm gooey berry pastry; a lovely desert, sweet and hot and sticky, and ever so much more satisfying.”

 

Fliss laughed softly. She slithered forward in her neck chain. “I’m a warm gooey pastry?”

 

“In food terms. So, you see, you cannot compare Free Women with slaves. The collar and brand brings a woman alive in ways she can never be in her robes and veils.”

 

“I fear Free Women,” said Fliss, quietly.

 

“Of course, and it’s sensible that you do. Free Women would despise you. Just the sight of you would offend them. You do well to avoid their gaze.”

 

“They carry whips.”

 

I nodded. 

 

“You should not be here.” She seemed anxious. “I have to attract customers. I will be whipped if I perform poorly. Please go.”

 

“Are you whipped often for such a reason?”

 

“No.” She drew back and touched her collar ring. Again, it was a lovely sensual gesture, reminding a man that she was a slave. She smiled softly. “Usually not.”

 

“So men are often tempted into the Jewelled Anklet by the sight of you?”

 

She smiled. “I suppose.”

 

“I’m not surprised. I would step inside, were I free. You are an enticing prospect.”

 

“Oh?” she laughed softly. “And you would drink paga?”

 

“I would order paga,” I nodded.

 

“It would be served by a girl. There is Lidia, or Imani or Ishara. They are all beauties.”

 

“Is there a girl called Fliss?” I gazed at the soft curves of her lovely body, so well enhanced by the steel of the chain and collar arrangement. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

 

“I think there is.” She tossed her head. “That girl is commonly chained outside.”

“But available for service?”

 

“For five tarsk bits, yes.”

 

“I would have a girl called Fliss serve me.”

 

“At your table?’”

 

“And then in the pleasure alcove. I would have paid five tarsk bits for a reason.”

 

“You should not be here,” she said quickly. She seemed alarmed by my words. Surely I was jesting? I was an Earth man, and I had known her when she had been free. “You are just a slave. I have to bring in free men.”

 

“It was very lovely the way you thrust out your breasts, as you sucked in your midriff. The man did notice. As did I.”

 

Fliss blushed. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

 

“Were I inside, having paid five tarsk bits, I would see that and more.”

 

“I suppose.” She glanced about the street again. Another man was approaching. Quickly she called out to him.

“Please Master, kind Master, rest a while in the Jewelled Anklet. Let pleasure slaves attend to your needs. Take a girl to an alcove and treat yourself.” She wiggled her body in a very pleasing fashion. I felt a deep sense of longing as I saw her writhe like that. 

 

“You are not a trained pleasure slave,” said the man. “I have known a pleasure slave once. Do not pretend to be what you are not.”

 

Fliss shrank back a little, scared by the gruff voice of the man.

 

“Please Master, I only meant that I am a paga slave, and my purpose is to give you pleasure.”

 

“Do not describe yourself as a pleasure slave again, girl, or I shall report your tavern to the authorities for misleading advertising.”

 

“I am sorry, Master. Please forgive a stupid girl.” Fliss knelt in a submissive position with her forehead touching the rough surface of the narrow alcove platform, and her hands extended, palms down.

 

“I should whip you,” said the man.

“Yes, Master.”

 

“But I do not have a whip on me. Nor do I have the time to waste.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Fliss trembled in position. She stayed like that until he walked away and rounded the corner into the maze of alleys. 

 

“He is gone,” I said, quietly. I watched as Fliss rose back to her knees. Her body trembled still. 

 

“He would have whipped me,” said Fliss as she composed herself on the alcove platform in front of the tavern. “I should not have compared myself to a pleasure slave.”

 

From what little I knew, Pleasure Slaves were expensive and highly trained to please men in the furs. They learned techniques and skills that a common kajira might never know. A trained pleasure slave with a pedigree, suitably documented, might be very expensive. Many silver tarsks in cost, possibly even a gold coin or two at the extreme end of things. And yet, looking now at the lovely Fliss, so hot and needy, so exposed in her chaining and her collar and her nudity, how much better could a pleasure slave truly be?

 

“Are you all right?” I asked the girl.

 

“I am a paga slave, chained to a display alcove. I’m not even sure how to begin to answer that question.”

 

“I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. This isn’t how you thought your life would be on Gor, is it?”

 

Her eyes flashed as I said that. “Of course not! I thought I would be a Free Woman.”

 

“Things have worked out differently. But you brought this on yourself, Fliss. In your foolishness and ambition, you thought you could be the equal of men on Gor. But as you now can see, Gorean men do not allow that. And women are only brought to Gor in one way – naked, collared, as part of a slave coffle.” I thought back to that night when the slaver, Darian Athuk, had patiently explained to Chelsea how she had been shipped and processed. 

 

“You must hate me,” she said. “For what I did to you.”

 

“I am trying to find it in myself to forgive you. But it will take time. Tell me about the Heathers.”

 

“What is there to say? We were all friends at High School: Chelsea, Paige and myself.” Fliss shook her hair, remembering those far away days. “We were the popular girls that everyone wanted to befriend. We couldn’t help being so. We came from the powerful North American families. We were pedigree girls, well bred, beautiful, with wealthy trust funds waiting patiently for the day we found ourselves husbands. We could pick and choose which girls at the school might enjoy our blessing. We had that power. We could make or destroy the reputation of girls who studied with us. I was only sixteen. You should not give sixteen year old girls such power.”

 

“Peer pressure can be a strong thing. Do you remember Hadley?”

 

“No. I truly do not. I remember the party she described. I remember we played a joke on a girl, but I do not remember it was Hadley, specifically. I knew so many girls back then. It was a sea of faces, and they all wanted my blessing. The joke was Paige’s idea. She was our group leader. Chelsea like to think she had equal footing, but really Paige Bannon decided what we would do and where we would go. I wasn’t a horrible person, Roland. I just couldn’t say no to Paige.”

 

“Peer pressure extended then to even the dynamics of your small group?”

 

“I suppose. Boys were always drawn to her. Oh, they noticed Chelsea and me as well, of course, but Paige was the one they all wanted. But we prospered, being with her. As I said, it was a long time ago.”

 

“And now you are a paga slave.”

 

“Now I am a paga slave,” she said bitterly. “You should not be here. I have to bring men into the Jewelled Anklet. If I do not, I will be whipped, and I will not be fed at supper time.”

 

“Another man approaches,” I remarked. 

 

“Please, Master!” She turned quickly towards him. “The tavern of the Jewelled Anklet offers the loveliest slaves in Argentum. Taste and take us to satisfy your pleasure! We are hot and needy.”

 

“Do you juice easily?’ asked the man. He wore the caste colours of the Scribes. He seemed possibly interested in Fliss. 

 

“Oh, yes, Master, I do. Very easily.” 

 

“Show me. Lie on your back, place your hands on the chain at the attachment point of your collar, raise your knees and part your thighs.”

 

Fliss quickly obeyed, changing position on the narrow alcove platform. As she parted her thighs, the man reached down and began to touch her with his fingers. Within thirty ihn or so, Fliss’s slight body began trembling, and within a further fifteen ihn her breathing became rapid and shallow. It seems she was juicing, and hadn’t lied.

 

“Interesting,” he said. “You do seem to be readily aroused.”

 

“Yes, Master,” she gasped. “You know how to handle me.”

 

The man chuckled as he drew his hand away. “That I do. What is the price of paga in the Jewelled Anklet?”

 

“Five tarsk bits, Master.”

 

“That is not cheap.”

 

“The girls in the Jewelled Anklet will give you your money’s worth, Master. Please ask for Fliss. Send Fliss to an alcove. I will serve you well.”

 

“If you do not, I will take the whip to you. I could have Tiffani in the Coiled Whip for only two tarsk bits.”

 

“Tiffani cannot please you the way I can, Master.” I could see how tightly Fliss grasped the steel links of the collar chain. She could feel the reality of her bondage as she had been teased and aroused. This, I felt, was what she didn’t want me to see. 

 

“A bold statement, and one that might see you whipped if you cannot meet the expectations of those words. But perhaps you do not fear the whip?”

 

“I fear the whip very much Master.”

 

The man nodded. “I think I shall try the Jewelled Anklet this afternoon.” He walked inside.

 

“He may ask for you soon,” I said.

 

Fliss nodded. The bells rang the start of the 13^th ahn. That was my reminder that I must return to my mistress. 

 

“I have to go. My mistress has commanded it. But there is something you should know, Fliss,” I said before I moved to turn away. “I will be a free man again, soon.”

 

Fliss suddenly laughed. I reacted angrily – the expression on my face clear to see. Why was she laughing? “I’m serious.”

 

“You will never be free, Roland. You wear a collar. You belong to a Lady of Argentum. How could you possibly expect to be free?”

 

“I have a plan. I will be free. And when I am free I will come back here.” I looked at her again. She was so very lovely. 

 

“Why?” She pulled back her left foot and touched her breast with her right hand.

 

“I will come back for you. I will come back and I will buy you.”

 

“Buy me?” Her eyes widened. 

 

“I will buy you, and then I will free you. You will be free again, Fliss. I will remove your collar. You will be free.”

 

“Free?” She could barely comprehend the suggestion. 

 

“Do not lose hope. I will not forget you. When you next see me, I will be a free man.”