I walked back towards the general direction of my apartment. Before long I entered an area that had stone paved streets and started to see an improvement in the quality of buildings. I found a tavern and entered it. The paga attendant barely looked at me as I found a small vacant table along a side wall. I looked around the open room and saw some games with wheels that looked to be used for gambling. There was no one playing at this time of the afternoon. There were two tables set up with a board game that had chess type pieces. This must be kaissa. I love chess and other games and am also fond of gambling. There were two men playing kaissa and they looked very serious. I wondered how I would learn to play the game. It would be difficult without being fluent in Gorean. Maybe they wouldn’t mind if I watched.
I saw a tavern slave dressed modestly in a tight-fitting slave tunic approach my table. She knelt on the floor next to the table. She had brown hair and brown eyes. She was short and very curvaceous, slightly chubby around the middle. She had nicely shaped breasts that pushed against the tunic. She wore a collar.
“Paga Master?” she asked.
“Yes” I said.
“Yes Master,” she then rose to her feet and went to fetch my drink. I looked at her ample backside as she walked away. I would rather have a woman who has extra curves, versus one that is too skinny. But, if this paga slave were mine, I would put her on a diet until she had perfectly proportioned curves. I was attracted to her and my need for a woman was high after the encounter with the coin girl in the street.
The paga slave quickly returned to me with paga and stew. I watched her get into a serving position, knees wide, head forward and arms moving up over her head offering me the drink. I enjoyed her serve, gazing at her form and curves while taking the bowl from her and having a sip. She knelt for a few ihn, waiting on me, before standing up and walking away.
I sipped heavily on the paga and thought about the coin girl. Owning a woman as a slave is one of the biggest attractions in coming to Gor. But seeing a woman plying the streets as prostitute with a coin box and chain attached to her neck, subject to the discipline and pleasure of strange men was difficult for my earthly sensitivities to accept. The dirt, filth, bruises, malnourishment and whip marks upon her body are a display of the harsh realities of slavery that exist here.
What had she done to deserve this? Was this some sort of punishment, meant to correct displeasing behaviour? Or was it simply a business, run by some cruel Gorean master? How much money does a coin girl earn in a day? Where on the hierarchy of slaves is a coin girl; higher or lower than a kettle-and-mat girl? Coin girls probably have daily quotas. What happens to them if, day after day, week after week, they continually fail to meet the quotas?
I briefly thought about rescuing her. I could take her back to the apartment and remove the chain collar with a metal file. Keep her. Make her mine. Save her from this brutal existence. But that would be stealing. What is the penalty for stealing a slave from the street? Exile, enslavement, impalement? I worked too hard to get here to risk any of those punishments. I didn’t come here to become a thief. I didn’t come here to be a hero.
“More paga Master?” the curvaceous kajira asked.
“Yes” I said. I enjoyed looking at her. She was a pleasant distraction from my troubled thoughts.
Slavery is harsh and can be very ugly. But women submitting to strong men in exchange for security is the natural order and has been for millennia. If slavery is the ultimate refined expression of this natural order, then who am I to judge it and its undesirable facets? No, I did not come here to judge this world and culture. I came to embrace it and assimilate. A Gorean male would not have walked away from an eager to please coin girl on the street, especially after becoming aroused. Slave paces on Gor are merely foreplay, and who has foreplay without following through? A weak, inhibited and embarrassed man of Earth. That was not me. I came to Gor to become Gorean and I needed to leave my earthly inhibitions behind.
“More paga Master?” she asked again. She was the only paga girl I had seen in the tavern. All of this thinking was making me thirsty, but the sight of her was making me feel something else. Yesterday I had wanted to have a normal paga girl when I had entered my first tavern. I had been instantly distracted by a lovely dancing kajira. There were no dancers in this tavern. The use of the paga slave is usually included with the price of the paga. I intended to get my full money’s worth today.
“Yes” I said. She quickly returned with a fresh cup and served it to me.
“Furs,” I said, after I took the cup from her proffered hands.
“Yes Master,” she said, and stood up, leading me to the closest alcove along the wall. I followed, with the paga cup in my hands.
Once inside the alcove, the paga slave knelt in nadu as I closed the curtain. I then said, “Strip” then, “all fours.” She did so quickly and without answering. She had positioned herself so that her body was in the middle of the furs, the side of her towards me. I sipped paga and looked at her in this pose. It was stimulating to see her breasts move slightly with each breath. Her hair hung straight down, partially concealing her face. She was waiting for me and that made me feel very dominant. She remained looking straight ahead as I reached out and grabbed her left breast. I squeezed and groped, enjoying the dangling but firm flesh. Her nipple stiffened in my palm.
I finished my bowl of paga and set it down. She remained in position on all fours as I undressed quickly and got up on the furs behind her. My need was high after this morning’s frustration with the coin girl. She didn’t look anything like the coin girl with her plump curves but that didn’t matter to me. I needed release, and the use of this slave would serve as a delightful substitute. I reached forward and reached between her thighs, testing for slave heat. She was wet and ready.
I guided myself into her and then with both hands gripped her full padded hips. I did not enter slow or easy. I was very excited, energetic, pent up with frustration and thrust powerfully, making her body jolt, but my hands on her hips kept her from moving away from me. I repeated my thrusts, one after another, quickly and forcefully. She remained quiet except for her breath quickening. She did not move to meet my motions and that suited me fine. I was using her body for my pleasure and she was going to take all I had to give.
The sensation was magnificent! The feeling of power I had! Making an unknown woman submit to my ravenous desire was intoxicating. I didn’t even know her name. What a glorious world this was! The paga must have stifled my eagerness a bit as I didn’t think I would last very long with the overwhelming sensations. The slave began to make little noises and her breathing picked up more. She started to move herself, ever so slightly, engaging my thrusts. I spanked her ass and said, “Hold still!” She did not stop moving so I spanked her again, but she made a tiny cry and then relaxed, not moving anymore but holding her position.
I was distracted by her motions and little cry. I didn’t expect that she would much enjoy my crude use of her, and I was really surprised that she got release before me. I wasn’t distracted by her for long, perhaps an ehn, before I pulled her hips close and came deep inside.
“Thank you, Master,” she said. What? Why was she thanking me? Was it because she had gotten sexual release? Did she thank all men afterwards? I collapsed on her body and we lay in the furs together catching our breath. I lay there wondering about her gratitude. It was pleasing to be thanked in this manner. I briefly thought about thanking her as well, but that would be very awkward. Slaves don’t need to be thanked. Had she been trained to express thanks after release? I continued to lay there and think about such things. How I wanted to own my own slave. And how I would I train her to please me. I would train her to thank me when I gave her pleasure, like this slave had just done.
Again, I thought about my age and appearance. It didn’t seem to matter to her. She didn’t have a choice as a slave but to serve me, but she had gotten wet and achieved release. I guess she couldn’t be repulsed by me since she couldn’t see me once I was behind her. Eventually, my thoughts moved on and I got up from the alcove. I went out into the tavern and found a seat close to some men playing kaissa. I watched them for a bit but they were taking sometime between moves and I really wasn’t able to focus on the workings of the game and pieces. I needed some air.
I acquired some paga and drank from it as I explored the city some more. It was dark now and I was a getting a little careless about my route and potentially getting lost. I very rarely get lost. Actually, I never get lost, perhaps disoriented on a rare occasion, but never lost. The years of wandering through the outdoors have served to develop my natural talent for spatial awareness. Even wandering in urban environments has given me experience enough to keep a sense of direction and distance.
It wouldn’t be good to get lost in a strange unfamiliar city on Gor at night. The air felt good and clean and I tried not to make too many turns in my rambling stroll. I had been drinking for a while now and I was at the point where urination was becoming a frequent issue. I walked into a dark alleyway a bit to relieve myself.
Abruptly, a door opened in the back of a building about fifty feet from where I was standing. One man rushed out and started running down the alley in my direction. He was immediately followed by two other men in pursuit. The first man didn’t run far before tripping over something in the alley, about thirty feet away from me. The two pursuers quickly caught up to him and started kicking and beating on him. One of the two assailants had a wooden club that he started to use on the man on the ground, hitting him on the legs, arms and back when he rolled over.
The two men were both larger than me but in the darkness I couldn’t see much else. The clubbing was brutal and I was starting to wonder if I was going to witness a murder. The man wielding the club then hit the victim’s right ear and I winced. He proceeded to strike the man’s head and before I knew it, I stepped out of the shadow and yelled “Hey!”
I am not certain why I did that. Was it liquid courage from the paga? Was it that I couldn’t stand aside and watch a man be clubbed to death in front of me? I didn’t want to get involved with anyone’s business, especially violent business. Was I going to get clubbed next and have my Gorean experience end in this dark alley? No.
The two men immediately straightened up and turned towards me. “Who are you?” the club holder asked. I wasn’t sure what to do next. My Gorean is very limited and I am nowhere near conversant. I didn’t know what to say. I unsheathed my new short sword. Brandishing this sword in front of me I started walking quickly and confidently towards them. After four or five steps, the man without the club, took a step back, turned and ran the other way, down the alley. The man with the club, looked over his shoulder, watching his partner run.
I quickened my pace, encouraged by having only one opponent, and I with a superior weapon. Two ihn later, this man fled too. I watched them disappear into the darkness before crouching down on a knee to assess the beaten man on the ground.
He was unconscious. His head was bleeding and I checked for his pulse which seemed good. I cut part of his clothing to make a compression bandage for his bleeding wound. It looked bad, definitely needing stitches. His clothing was a very nice high quality woven fabric and did not cut easily. I wrapped the bandage on his head and eventually got the bleeding to halt.
I wasn’t sure what to do next. I am no physician but I have wilderness first responder training; but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. My heart was still racing. What had I done? Why had I drawn my sword and confronted two strange men? I don’t have any training or experience with swords and swordplay. My action had been more of an impulse to what I was seeing and any inhibitions or rational thinking must have been diminished by the hours of paga swilling.
What do I do now? Are the two assailants soon to return? Should I seek a Guardsman? If I had just saved this man’s life, I couldn’t leave now and have him bleed out alone. I don’t know the locations of any physicians or aid centres. I didn’t know what time it was, perhaps the Tenth hour? I am a barbarian with no caste or home stone and can’t speak the language. Would I be blamed for this crime? Was it a crime? Maybe this man deserved this beating?
I was starting to worry now and thought that the bandage had stopped the bleeding and I had done enough. I didn’t need to risk unforeseen consequences and the possibility that I could have no control of the situation if I waited here much longer.
To my relief, the man started to stir. He groaned and opened his eyes. He looked up at me in the dark, confused. He put his hand to his head and I gently guided it back down. “You have cut and blood,” I managed to put together.
“Who are you?” he asked. Should I answer, or just leave? He should be able to realize eventually that I placed the bandage on him.
“Rykart,” I said.
“Where are Lonn and Sig?”
“I not know,” I said.
He looked around and saw my sword laying next to me, within hands reach.
“What have you done? Are you a warrior? Are you a barbarian?”
“I am barbarian. What is your name?” I said.
“I am Trem, what have you done?”
“I moved two men away,” I said.
“Moved away? What does that mean?”
“Barbarian, Gorean not good,” I replied.
I pointed at his head and said, “Cut bad, blood, need more.”
Trem didn’t take this well and said some words very quickly, probably swearing. I didn’t understand any of them. He then tried to stand up and it wasn’t going so well. He went into a sitting position. I offered my hand to help him up, and he looked at me hesitantly.
“Get you help,” I said. He nodded and took my hand. I helped him to his feet. He swooned a bit and I put my arm around his shoulder to stabilize his stance. After a moment, I reached down and picked up my sword, re-sheathing it. He noticed my paga and asked for it. I recalled from my training that alcohol should not be given to people with head wounds or possible shock. But how could I explain this. I felt that it would be wrong at this time to deny him paga and that perhaps he would be less apprehensive towards me if I gave it to him. There wasn’t much left anyways, so I handed it to him. He took a sip and then a few ihn later, downed the rest of it.
I didn’t know how to say help, and that he needed some medical aid. I said, “Someone look at cut.”
He nodded and said “Yes. Take me, I know where to go.”
A good and exciting story, well written. I look forward to the next instalment.
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