The Paga Diaries (1) by Arizona Wanderer: ‘First Paga’

 

Emma’s Preface: And, yes, I’ve inspired another of our lovely masters to put pen to parchment and try their hand at some Gorean writing! Arizona Wanderer has sent me three chapters (so far) of his experiences on that savage but beautiful world, as the barbarian traveller, Rykart of Gor, and I’ll be serialising them here on my Blog, alongside master Tracker’s current serial. Thank you so much, Master, and please keep writing. Hopefully soon I can semi-retire and just sit with the audience eating bak-la-va… 😊

 

-       Emma

 

1) First Paga

 

How much time, effort and morality had I lost to make this possible?  Years of sweat, unscrupulous deeds done with unsavoury characters and an incredible amount of luck had finally landed me on the planet Gor.  For a man of Earth to arrive here, set free to wander, is near impossible.  I have sworn not to reveal the details of the arrangement, which were mostly unpleasant and ugly. 

 

For years I had visualized how my first day would go and now it was finally happening.  I slowly walked into the paga tavern.  My first one.  The smell is hard to describe.  It was foreign to me but not unpleasant.  The smell of cooking meat had initially drawn me to this tavern.  There was a mix of meat, sweat, something baking, and, well a lot of things I had never smelled before.

 

After walking through the door, I reminded myself to be observant and to try and not stand out from the crowd.  The tavern was about two thirds occupied but before I could find a place to sit, my eyes were drawn to the dancing woman.  She was not beautiful, but I was attracted to her.  She was thin and athletic, had shoulder length light brown hair and wore red silk about her.  I immediately noticed the thin metal band around her neck and heard the jingling bells on her ankles. 

 

Find a seat!  I told myself.  I was standing and staring, after having only taken a few steps through the door. The tavernkeeper was looking at me.  I looked around and saw perhaps twenty or so occupants and I made my way to a small table near a corner.  Most of the other guests were not watching the dancer.  It didn’t take long before my eyes found her again.  She had smallish breasts and a plain face, but it was the way that she moved that kept me focused on her.  I had been to strip clubs on Earth and seen plenty of women dance provocatively, but this dance was different.  It was graceful. It was fluid.  It definitely had sexual undertones, but it was not vulgar.  It was art and I was mesmerized. 

 

“Paga, Master?” said the tavern girl who I had not noticed kneeling at the side of my table.  So much for being observant of my surroundings.  I had not seen her approach.

 

“Yes” I said.  My Gorean was very limited; I was not fluent.  That would be something that makes me stand out.  The tavern girl was quick to return with the paga.  She knelt before me again with a small wooden bowl filled with liquid.  I admired her serving position, knees wide, head forward and arms moving up over her head offering me the drink.  I waited a few ihn, enjoying her serve, before taking the bowl from her and placing it on the table.  She waited for a few more ihn, perhaps to see if there was anything else that she could provide. She did not make eye contact as she eventually stood up and walked away, ready for the callings of the tavern. 

 

I took a sip from the wooden bowl with three tiny elaborate feet.   I didn’t know what to expect.  It was cold and smelled like beer but tasted more like whiskey.  I could definitely tell that there was alcohol.  It wasn’t bad.  It wasn’t something to be swilled.  I took another sip and wondered about paga quality and how it is probably similar to Earth scotches and whiskeys, there being many varieties and qualities. 

 

Contemplating paga did not remain in my mind for long.  I was in a Gorean tavern with a nearly nude woman dancing for all to enjoy!  The way she used the red silk to accentuate her moves and curves while she danced was very erotic.  The silk was transparent, and I had read descriptions that said wearing this silk made women appear more than naked.  Now I truly understood what that meant.  She made the silk a part of her body.  A moveable layer that she used to emphasize her areas and movements. 

 

The dance quickened to the beat of the simple music and ended with the dancer in a frenzy before dropping to the floor in a pose that suggested need, and invited touch.  There was applause, and to my surprise, more people had been paying attention to her than I had assumed.

 

I drank paga and was quickly offered more, which I accepted.  The dancer disappeared into a side door and I started to look at the tavern girls and the customers they served. There were four of them and they all wore the same thin band on their necks, indicating that they were owned.  Collared slaves.  They also wore the same skimpy top or camisk, tan coloured, with a cord around the waist.  I looked closely at the very short hem and could see scars, high up on their outer thighs.  They were branded.  I cannot read Gorean but the brand was the letter ‘k’, a kef, for kajira.  I had read about this too and seeing it for the first time was very exciting!

 

Another cup of paga, and 20 ehn later, a different woman in red silk ascended the dancing platform.  She was more my type, not thin, but fuller with womanly curves in all the right places.  She had fair skin, black hair and brown eyes.  She too, wore a collar and a brand, and nothing else except silk and bells. 

 

She used the silk in an attempt to conceal her body.  It was wrapped about her in a way that was not transparent, denying the audience the sight of her flesh.  Her dancing began slow.  Her style was shy and timid.  She began to unwrap the silk, slowly.  The silk was a long red ribbon, hand width.  The beat quickened and so did her steps.  She unwrapped more silk, revealing more of herself.  As the beat became even faster so did her movements and then the long ribbon lay on the floor.  She was beautiful and unashamed.  No longer shy and timid, now her style was bold and provocative.  

 

Her dancing had displayed her entire body to the tavern and I saw that many more men were watching than before.  Her pace slowed and she bent over seductively and picked up the silk with her teeth.  She then began to re-wrap her body with it.  She wrapped herself by slowly spinning in place and using her hands to delicately place the ribbon in position, concealing herself once again.  Once the last tip of silk became wrapped and tucked into place, she gracefully knelt on the platform with her back to the audience and put her head to the floor.

 

Twice as much applause burst from the men in the room and I noticed a serving girl applauding as well.  I wanted to jump on the platform and tear that silk away!  She knelt for a time during the applause then rose up and began to walk with elegance towards the side door.

 

“More paga Master?” asked the tavern girl.

 

“No.”  Paga wasn’t the only thing I came in here for.  I stood up and walked toward the tavern keeper.  The paga had lessoned my inhibitions with the language and I managed to say, “I want the dancing kajira.” 

 

The tavern keeper stated something about her costing more than the just price of paga.  I had plenty of coin and I gave him what he wanted plus an extra tarsk bit.  He called out “Kora!”  

 

Kora came through the door behind the bar and walked around to me.  She was still wearing the silk that she had wrapped about herself in the dance.  She knelt before me, head up, eyes cast down, knees wide apart with her hands upturned on her thighs.  This was nadu! 

 

She was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat from her dance.  I had noticed three alcoves with dark brown curtains inset in the walls around the tavern.  The curtains were open on all of them.  I did not know the Gorean word for alcove, so I said “furs” in a commanding tone.  She quickly stood up without meeting my gaze, and walked to the nearest alcove.  I followed her in and shut the curtain behind me.

 

I am 50 years old and have greying hair.  I am not unattractive, and I look younger than my age.  I have a modest muscular build that I maintain.  On Gor, I stand out because of my age; I have not had the age stabilizing serum.  That serum was another reason I had worked so hard to get here.  I am very physically active and growing old and inactive is a terrible worry for me.  There are Goreans who are old, hundreds of years old, but they don’t look old.  People that have the appearance of a 20-year-old, think that other people who appear 50, look old.  Age is considered a disease on Gor, a disease with a cure. 

 

I have wondered if a kajira here would be repulsed by my older appearance.  It didn’t matter much, because slaves don’t get to decide who their masters are and must be pleasing to men.  All men.  Even older ones.  And that was the main reason I had come to this planet.  But still, I didn’t want anyone to be revolted by me.  I would prefer a slave that might actually enjoy serving me.   

 

Inside the alcove, there was a shelf covered in “furs.”  This shelf was large enough for two people to recline on and covered most of the alcove area.  The only floor was enough foot space to stand next to the shelf.  The furs were not fur.  I had always wondered about that expression.   There were what appeared to be sheets covering some type of padding or mattress.  There were several pillows around the perimeter.  I noticed binding fibre hanging from a steel ring, attached to the wall above some pillows.  There was also a small slave switch hanging from the wall.  

 

Kora, upon entering the alcove immediately went to the middle of the furs and knelt again in nadu.  She did not look me in the eyes.  I was very excited now and it showed.  The dances, nadu, and now a kajira awaiting my pleasure was intoxicating.  I felt very alive and anxious, despite the paga.  I had not had a woman in months and I was starving.  My relief was moments away and the only thing slowing me down was that silk wrap.  I wanted to tear into it like a child’s first present on Christmas Day!  

 

I knelt in front of her on the shelf and she continued to keep her eyes lowered.  I reached out and pulled at the silk on her chest. The tight ribbon resisted me for a brief moment and Kora gave a fleeting glance up while uttering a small protest.  Perhaps she did not want me to ruin the silk.  She remained in position as I gave the ribbon another tug, loosening the wrap.  She had used the tight silk wrap to cleverly support her ample breasts and they were swelling against the fabric.  They began to jiggle as I kept pulling at the thin fabric.  I was determined to see my present, and I continued to tug and pull but without tearing the fine silk. 

 

Her breasts did not need support.  They moved perfectly with each breath and the hard nipples were pointed at me.  I reached out to them, freeing them from the silk binding.  I enjoyed the firmness of them for a few moments. 

 

I moved to Kora’s side and continued cupping her from this new angle.  Too embarrassed by my limited vocabulary, instead of commanding her, I grabbed her long black hair at the back of her neck and guided her into a reclining position.  I then grabbed the mess of red silk ribbon and wrapped it around her wrists before securing them to the slave ring, mounted on the wall.  Who needs binding fibre when you have strong soft silk?

 

I had to catch my breath and admire the view.  Kora had dared to timidly raise her gaze to match mine.  I welcomed her gaze and her apprehensive eyes.  I smiled, and reached down between her legs, placing my hand on the soft curly hair.  She was fully oiled, despite my age!  With my fingers, I toyed with her until she began to make soft moans.  Did her juice flow because she knew that I was about to put her to use?  Or, had it started when I tied her to the ring?  In my experience, some women become aroused just at the thought of being forced to submit to a man, and being restrained makes that thought reality.  Perhaps dancing nude, in front of men, was all that she needed to become wet.  She was a trained slave after all and it probably didn’t take much to get her natural womanly processes to flow.  Maybe even walking to the alcove got her going?   

 

I had waited a very long time for this moment and I could wait no more.  I shed my clothes in an instant, and crouched myself between her legs, spreading them wider with my knees.  I smelled a faint perfume on her, very exotic and stimulating!  I did not need any more stimulation.  I entered her abruptly and kept myself deep while my right hand sought out her collar.  I grabbed her collar and began to thrust.  

 

“Master?” she whimpered.  I ignored her and continued my eager onslaught. Taking what I wanted from her, her collar in my hand, making her feel my dominance with every thrust. This is what it felt like to own a woman.  I had never felt so masculine.  I was on Gor!

 

She was moving sweetly beneath me, her hips meeting my every move.  I knew I wouldn’t last long at this rate due to my prolonged hunger and I really wanted to enjoy every moment with this slave girl.  But I had to know how her dancing skills translated into pleasing a man in the furs. I let go of my grip on her collar and reached up to the silk ribbon, pulling on the slipknot to free her hands from the ring.  I then withdrew and rolled over next to her.

 

“Master?” she said again. 

 

“Ride me kajira!” I replied.

 

“Yes Master!” she said, smiling.

 

I no longer wonder how the dancing skills of a trained kajira translate in the furs…

 

-       Rykart, Wanderer on Gor.