Outcast of Gor Chapter One

 

Book Two of the Roland Martell trilogy

 

“For fuck’s sake!”

 

We were being pelted by stones, thrown by a pack of feral children who were chasing us away from the edge of their village. Three adults with staves and pitchforks trailed close to the children in case either Kelsee or I tried anything.

 

“We’re hungry! We were only trying to beg food!” I shouted as I dodged a thrown rock. “My slave is hungry! At least let her have some food. She’s done nothing wrong.”

 

“You can eat these stones, outlaw,” snarled a peasant wielding a wooden stave. 

 

“My slave hasn’t eaten in two days! Have some pity on her!”

 

“You can give her to us and then she’ll be fed each night,” shouted a second peasant. 

 

“Come on, let’s go,” said Kelsee as she pressed close to me. “We’ll get nothing from these people.”

 

It was true, except for a few handfuls of berries, picked from the edges of the woodland, Kelsee had not eaten for two days and two nights. She was to all intents and purposes my slave girl, and I was incapable of even providing for her. 

 

“Are you all right?” I said once we outpaced the children and seemed safe again. A stone had grazed her head just below her hair line. 

 

“It’s just a scratch, Master.”

 

I had saved her from the brand, at the cost of an outlaw brand on the back my left hand. I had hoped Kelsee would show some sign of gratitude. I wasn’t wrong. 

 

“I will never forget what you did for me,” she said, that first night when we camped out in a wooded area close enough for the lantern lights of Argentum to still be seen in the far distance. She knelt before me in nadu. I hadn’t told her to do that. She brushed her hair back as I struggled to light a fire with flint and steel. My captive, my slave, was shivering, in her light tunic, for a wind had picked up and we had very little in the way of shelter. 

 

“You’re kneeling in nadu,” I said as I continued to scrape at the flint I had found, with my short knife. 

 

“Do you like it?” she asked. She looked beautiful in what light remained.

 

“Are you doing this for me?” My left hand ached horribly from the deep brand as I held the flint. 

 

“I am.” She leaned forward and kissed me. “You saved me from a kef. I won’t forget that, Master.”

 

“Why are you calling me master?” I smiled, despite the agony from the burn. 

 

“I’m getting in practice for when I have to appear to be your slave.” She touched her collar. “I don’t think this is coming off any time soon.”

 

“No, I suppose it isn’t.” I gazed at her. She really was lovely in her slave collar. “But you’re not a slave.”

 

“Of course not,” she said.  “I suppose we’ll have to keep each other warm tonight?”

 

“That’s the logical survival thing to do.”

 

She moved close to me and placed her hand on my chest as I paused from trying to light my small bed of dry tinder. “I’m your Kelsee.”

 

“I’m not sure what you’re saying?”

 

“I’m saying… you deserve a reward.”

 

“Technically, you’re still my mistress.”

 

“Technically you have abducted your mistress and escaped to freedom,” she said. 

 

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. That makes you, what?”

 

“Your helpless captive?”

 

“I have a helpless captive?”

 

She nodded. “Very helpless. She doesn’t know how to survive out here, and with a collar around her throat she would fall prey to the first Gorean man she encountered. She really is helpless.”

 

“My former mistress makes a lovely captive.” I took her in my arms, dropping the flint and steel for now. “And, yes, she feels very helpless.”

 

“Oh!” she gasped, and smiled as I gently placed her onto her back in the soft leaves of the woodland clearing. “Are you going to master your helpless captive?”

 

“Yes” I said.  

 

We made love. Kelsee gasped, cried out and wept as I took her fully for the first time. We were perhaps half an ahn before I made her climax. She cried out passionately and held herself tightly to me as she felt her orgasm. I realised then that towards the end I’d been holding her wrists for a while, which contributed to her deepening arousal.

 

“That was…” she gasped.

 

“Hardly appropriate responses for a Free Woman captive?” I suggested.

 

“No, perhaps not.” She laughed softly. I was still inside her, though I too had climaxed and was now growing soft. “This felt very different from…”

 

“The times you would tie me to your couch and use me?”

 

She pouted and gazed up at my face from where she lay on her back. “It seems so long ago.”

 

I touched her steel collar with my uninjured hand. “It was a lifetime ago. You were the lofty Lady Savanna, then.”

 

“Am I not still the Lady Savanna?”

 

“No, I don’t think you are. I only see a lovely collared slave. My Kelsee."

 

"Your Kelsee," she whispered back. “But not a slave.” Her eyes flashed. “Your captive. I am not branded after all.”

 

“True. Yet you called me master earlier.”

 

“What else should a captive call her captor?”

 

“I’m not sure. I’ve never given it any thought.” I stroked her flanks. “I’ve never had a captive before now.”

 

“Should a captive call her captor by his first name?” She seemed dismissive of the idea.

 

“Probably not. It doesn’t sound right,” I mused.

 

She nodded, agreeing with me. “It’s hardly appropriate. Perhaps, she should refer to him as Sir?”

 

“Again, it sounds too formal. It is a form of address associated with Free Women in polite society.”

“So, what then?”

“I think you are right. I think master is appropriate from the lips of a beautiful captive. I think it is time to reassess our relationship in more practical terms befitting the fact you are clearly collared. You will call me master from now on.”

 

“Oh? And if I don’t?”

 

“I suppose I can spank you,” I said with a wicked smile.

 

She blushed. “I shall have to call you master, then. What choice do you give me?” I sensed she liked the idea. 

 

“I suppose so. Are you sure you don’t want to feel what it might be like to be spanked, first?”

 

“Believe me, I have plenty of experience of that from my childhood, growing up with the supervision of the Grannies. So, what am I to you, then?” She tossed her head. 

 

“Technically, my beautiful captive. I have abducted you from your home in Argentum, it seems.”

 

“You have.” She trembled to my touch. “Where are you taking me?”

 

“To Corcyrus.”

 

“But I am a woman of Argentum!” she said in mock outrage. Corcyrus of course had been her own idea, and I had to agree it was our most practical destination, leaving aside the problem of walking through a warzone unmolested.  

 

“It’s probably best you don’t claim to be so, to the Corcyrians.” 

 

 

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“There is something to be said for female submission,” said Kelsee as she flexed her bound wrists, several ehn after she had climaxed loudly. On the second night, we had camped again in some woodland, our bellies sadly rumbling from lack of food.

 

“I’m going to tie you to that tree root,” I said, earlier, as I produced a length of binding fibre. I had found it lying, discarded, along the side of the road. 

 

“Oh? What has prompted this?” Kelsee asked with an excited smile.

 

“It occurs to me that you are my captive.”

 

“That is true,” she admitted.

 

“And a very beautiful captive, I might add.”

 

She laughed and held out her wrists, playfully, but then suddenly pulled them away again, wagging a warning finger at me. “I am not some slave you can simply tie to a tree root before you proceed to ravish her! I am a Free Woman captive!”

 

“Was I going to ravish you?”

 

“Oh.” Kelsee blushed. “I thought you said you were going to do that?”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“Good.” She sniffed. “I don’t know why I said ‘ravished’. The last thing I want is to be ravished. Not on my back, and certainly not on my belly.”

 

“That was a lie, actually,” I said. “I think I am going to ravish you, after all.”

 

“Oh.” She sucked in her lower lip. “You can hardly expect your captive to submit to such a thing! She is a Free Woman!”

 

“Hence why I shall tie her wrists to the tree root. She will find herself to be quite helpless.” I took hold of her left wrist and wrapped binding fibre about it.

 

“Beast!” She said. “You are making me helpless!” Her eyes shone with excitement. 

 

“Apparently so.” I lashed her wrists together and then tied them to the upraised tree root. My knot work was really quite good. I watched as Kelsee wriggled helplessly.

 

“How are the knots?” I enquired.

 

“Tight, restraining, and capable of rendering a captive truly helpless.”

 

“Excellent.” I Iifted the hem of her slave tunic and rolled it about her hips, up past her belly, over her luscious breasts, where it became a tube like roll of fabric, between her armpits. 

 

“Ohhhh!” she cried as she struggled against her bonds.

 

“This will probably shock you, but some women, some very low women, some women who are easily and shamefully aroused, they respond very well to bondage.”

 

“Really?” She gasped. I saw her areola flush and enlarge as she felt the effects of her bondage. “They must be such wanton sluts!”

 

“Apparently so. Part your thighs, captive.”

 

She quickly parted her thighs and moaned softly. I suspected she was beginning to juice. Being restrained often does that to a woman.

 

“I suppose you plan on resisting me?” I said.

 

“Of course! I am not a slave!”

 

“You are my lovely helpless captive.”

 

She nodded quickly. I lay down beside her and began to stroke her body, paying particular attention to her breasts, her nipples, her areola.

 

“Oh God!” she sobbed after perhaps ten ehn of light stimulation. “Please take me! Please!” She was pulling frantically at her bonds. 

 

“Your resistance is somewhat disappointing,” I observed. “I have seen more resistance from a sloth. The League of Gentle Free Women would probably mark you rather low on that score.”

 

“Your captive begs to be taken!” she cried out suddenly. 

 

“Really?” I seemed surprised. “This is an unexpected development.” I then took her. She had begged about as well as one might expect from a captive Free Woman. No doubt she would get better at it as time went on.

 

“There is something to be said for female submission,” said Kelsee, later, as she lay there in my arms. “The sex is so much better.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Oh, yes, there’s really no comparison.”

 

“Better than when you put me to use on your couch?”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

“Actually, I think I do. For there is something to be said for male dominance, too.”

 

“It was better for you, as well?” She said, anxiously, lifting her head, keen to hear my opinion. “You prefer it this way, too? Really? Honestly?”

 

“Far better. Of course. I confess I used to feel very frustrated when you rode me in Argentum. This feels more natural.”

 

“It does, doesn’t it,” she said, feeling excited. “So much more natural. For both of us?”

 

“For both of us.”

 

She struggled helplessly against her bonds and let out a deeply contented sigh. “I feel wonderful,” she said. “Can I tell you a secret?”

 

“Of course.” I kissed her soft neck, just above where the collar lay.

 

“In Argentum, on the nights when you used to hold me, after I had put you to use, I often imagined something like this as I felt your arms around me.”

 

“Something like this, specifically?”

 

She blushed by the firelight. “Something like this. I didn’t have actual experiences to draw upon, so my fantasies were simple and crude, but I fantasised something like this.”

 

“And now it’s not a fantasy.”

 

“Now I’m your captive.” She sighed.

 

“A lovely captive.”

 

She began to cry.

 

“What’s wrong, Kelsee?”

 

“Nothing. I’m happy,” she sobbed. “This is me being happy.”

 

 

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“I’m hungry, Master. So hungry.” It was our third day since leaving Argentum, and we were both very hungry. We were also wet and sitting out some heavy rainfall in a crudely made shelter that I had built around a fallen tree trunk. The shelter consisted of a crude frame with a mass of branches and foliage stacked around the frame. If the wind picked up to gale force the entire thing would be blown away, but, as it stood, it provided us with some shelter. While not completely water tight, it protected us from most of the rain fall. 

 

“I know, Kelsee. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get any food for us.”

 

We should now be walking, covering ground, but the rain was heavy and Kelsee only had a thin slave tunic to wear. I didn’t want her catching pneumonia, trudging for six hours through the rain, dressed like that. 

 

“Tell me about your childhood,” I said. We’d been talking about ourselves to pass the time. I was getting to know more about the way my beautiful captive thought, based on her life experiences to date. I wanted to know everything about her. Gorean men feel that way about their slaves. They are fascinated to learn all they can about their beautiful, collared property. 

 

“It was a very strict childhood, and terribly old fashioned,” she said, as she snuggled close to me, “under the watchful eye of the Grannies. It would probably surprise you to know I never received any formal sex education.”

 

“Really?”

 

“None at all.” She leaned her head against my chest. “The families arrange their own home education until a girl is old enough to bleed. That’s always an auspicious day. I remember telling my granny that there was blood between my legs, staining the sheets. I had no idea what it was, and assumed I had some internal injury. Suddenly the house was in full swing when I told her that! Everyone was running around to inform my father and arrange my Staining Ceremony.”

 

“Your what?”

 

“Staining ceremony. It’s a big day. The sheets are shown first to my governess, and then my father, and then my mother is dutifully informed in her parlour room where she took her morning tea. We got cake. Lots of cake! Felicity and Paige were driven over to witness my coming of age and support me, because it can be a bit scary at first. Paige had already bled, months ago, of course. She was so smug about it, acting like she knew everything about being a young girl, until I caught up with her, with my own first bleeding. Then we were equals again. A girl is no longer dressed as an infant in childish smocks and thick woollen tights and so forth, once she bleeds for the first time. Her hair is taken out of pigtails. Felicity still hadn’t bled by the time of my Staining Ceremony, so she was still an immature child, and Paige and I were now young girls. We both teased her about it. Then, after the ceremony, a girl graduates to a private school funded by the families. She is treated more seriously. She…” Kelsee squirmed from the recollections, “my, um, bedtime was extended to half past eight in the evening.”

 

I laughed.

 

“Nooo, don’t laugh! It was a big thing when I turned twelve, and I stained my sheets for the first time. The Grannies told me I was turning into a Free Woman, though they didn’t explain what it really meant.”

 

“Pigtails? You had cute pigtails? Until you were twelve? That is so funny.”

 

Kelsee frowned and dug an elbow into my ribs. “Don’t tease me, you brute. Yes, until I was twelve. I hated those pigtails by the time I was eight, but I had to keep wearing them until I bled. You would have laughed if you saw me back then. Once I was old enough to bleed, my daytime wear was mostly knee-length Edwardian dresses, often starched and heavily decorated with lace, worn with neat black stockings and Mary Jane shoes. My hair was always tied back in a ribbon, and outdoors I would have to wear a hat and gloves. Playtime would call for a pinafore dress and blouse. The Families feel it’s not necessary or appropriate to teach their daughters about sex. We only learn something of that the night before our wedding, so we don’t go into the bridal bed totally confused and frightened. Of course, once I was old enough to be sent to a European school for young ladies, by age sixteen, I got to meet girls who weren’t from the North American families, and I started to learn second hand what they knew. But even so, even for a time after, I thought kissing a boy would make me pregnant.”

 

I laughed. “I’d have got a lot of women pregnant, if that were true.”

 

“Mmm, I’m sure you would, you virile beast. Actually…” she laughed at the memory, “and you’re going to think this really stupid, it wasn’t until I was sixteen that I even knew boys had, well, a penis.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Well, yes. I mean, think about it. I didn’t have one. And Felicity didn’t have one. Paige certainly didn’t have one. God, no. Not Paige. I’d never even seen a penis. Not even a drawing. How could I possibly know boys were built differently? I just assumed they were smooth down there, like me, with their own little slits. Boy slits. Probably a bit rougher and reptilian, but still basically somewhere you could slide your fingers at night in secret when the lights were off.”

 

“Amazing. Dare I ask how you knew Felicity and Paige didn’t have a penis?”

 

“We used to show each other what our bodies looked like from the time we began developing. In secret, of course. And Paige taught me what a girl could do to herself with her fingers. THAT was a revelation! Oh God, was it! Me and Felicity didn’t stop talking about it for days afterwards. It’s like we had discovered a magic trick that no other girl in the world knew. I used to be so jealous of how quickly Felicity’s breasts developed, then. She was so big by the time she turned fourteen. It wasn’t fair. I never caught up with her. It was a shock when a girl told me about the male sexual organ, and how it gets excited. I was so naive back then. We all were.”

 

“Excited?” I smiled.

 

“Apparently so. That’s what Lilian Peterson said, after lights out in our dormitory. It works like this: the boy sees something, like a pretty girl’s wrist,” She showed me her wrist, extending it to my view, turning it for me to appreciate fully, “and then he can’t help himself; he gets excited and it sort of gets bigger.”

 

“Bigger?” 

 

“Oh!” I think Kelsee suddenly felt something press against her. “Are you getting excited? It seems suddenly bigger!” She laughed as she wrapped her fingers around it. “I shouldn’t have shown you my pretty wrist!”

 

“So it is.” I pushed her down onto her back again and parted her thighs. “Definitely bigger now. Let me demonstrate how different boys are, my beautiful captive.”

 

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As the sun was setting on the third night, and as our hunger pains intensified, we came across a small camp site, set to the side of the road. Three men had lit a fire on some open, clear ground, and were roasting some animal flesh. Instantly, my mouth began to water, and my stomach began to rumble. We were seen approaching, and the three men stiffened and reached for their weapons in warning.

 

“Please,” I called out, “we ae hungry, starving. I am unarmed, save for a knife. My slave is so hungry.”

 

“Away with you,” said one of the men. “We do not offer charity to vagabonds.”

 

“Hold,” said the second man, patiently, placing a hand on his friend’s arm. “No need to be so hasty. Let us see his slave. Perhaps an arrangement can be agreed upon.”

 

My blood chilled at that remark. I knew exactly what it meant. “Keep walking,” I said to Kelsee. “These men mean to buy your use with scraps of food.”

 

“You need food,” she said, softly. I could sense she was scared now.

 

“I’m not so hungry that I’m prepared to…”

 

“If you don’t eat, you will grow weak, and if you are weak you won’t be able to protect me.” She touched the fingers of my hand and squeezed them softly. “We both know that.”

 

“Kelsee, they will…”

She closed her eyes and shivered, perhaps not from the cool evening air. “Speak to the men. Bargain for food.”

 

“Kelsee…”

 

“I’ll live. And I know you’ll be there for me afterwards.”

 

I crouched down on the opposite side of the camp fire. The men had told me to remove my knife from its sheath and stab it into the ground far enough away that I couldn’t easily reach it. I felt uneasy about disarming myself like that, but to be honest there were three of them, they were armed with spears and short swords, they probably knew how to use them, so if they really wanted to kill me, the knife wouldn’t make that much of a difference anyway.

 

“We’ll feed you both in exchange for the use of your slave,” said the man who had identified himself as Rolfe. The three men were mercenary soldiers, related through blood, and they were on their way to the frontlines to seek employment. I had asked them whether they planned on fighting for Argentum or Corcyrus, and Rolfe had laughed. “Depends who is paying the most.” 

 

“Remove your tunic,” said Rolfe to Kelsee, “and display yourself. I want to see whether you are of interest.”

 

Kelsee stepped nervously forward and pulled her tunic up over her body. She stood there, presenting herself in a clumsy form of display position. 

 

“You haven’t been a slave long, have you,” remarked Rolfe.

 

“No, Master, I am new to my collar.”

“It shows.” He then proceeded to correct her stance, having her adjust her position until it seemed pleasing. “Well, you’re certainly collar meat.” He rose to his feet, approached the girl and ran his hands over her body. She trembled and forced a smile on her race to appear pleasing. 

 

“Her thigh is smooth and unmarked,” he said to me.

 

“I will have her branded soon. Once I find a metal smith whose skill with the iron is above average. A slave like Kelsee should be branded with skill and artistry.”

 

“I suppose,” said Rolfe. 

 

“Her marked thigh must be precise and beautiful.”

 

“I can see the merit in that,” agreed Rolfe.  

 

“In the meantime her collar ensures there can be no misunderstanding as to what she is. It is locked upon her. She cannot remove it.” 

 

“You will encourage us to use you,” he said to Kelsee.

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

“I’m not feeding a frigid Free Woman.”

 

“No, Master.”

 

“You will beg to be put to use when you are on your back, serving me, and my brothers. You will be eager and you will be responsive, otherwise neither of you will be fed.”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

“What was your Home Stone when you were free?”

 

“Argentum, Master. The city of Argentum.”

 

“Are the fine ladies of Argentum sluts?” he asked.

 

“No, Master!” she seemed shocked.

 

“A shame. It is a wanton slut that I want to serve me tonight.”

 

“Some are, Master!” she said quickly, as he began to turn away. “Many, in fact!” 

 

“Oh?” He turned to face her again.

 

“Many of us dream of masters collaring us.”

 

“Continue.”

 

“I have always known in my heart of hearts that I was a slave. From the time of my first bleeding. It has always been my shameful secret.”

 

“Continue.” He placed his hands on her hips while Kelsee concocted the words that he wanted to hear. 

 

“At night, in my soft, opulent chambers, I would sometimes grip the slave ring set into my couch and imagine I was tied there by a strong master.”

 

Rolfe grinned. Kelsee was arousing him now, with her words. 

 

“I used to fantasise that a man might steal into my chambers at night, so easily overpower me, tie me to my own slave ring with lengths of my own veils and put me to use. I would struggle at first, but I was so helpless! He was a warrior after all. How could I resist such a man!”

 

A nice touch, as these men were warriors, it seemed. 

 

“Only helpless?” Rolfe asked.

 

“Helpless and…” Kelsee blushed, ”shamefully needy.”

 

“Go to the grass, over there. Lie down in Sula. I am going to put you to use.” Kelsee had definitely aroused him. 

 

“Yes, Master,” said Kelsee, a forced smile still clinging to her lovely slave lips.