Outcast of Gor Chapter Twenty Nine

 

This would be my life now. No more relationships, just a series of slave girls for my use. I had tried relationships with Felicity, with Kelsee, and with Kulai, and they had all ended in disaster, with me losing them. Even Kelly Milford, with whom I had not actually had a relationship - but in an alternative world maybe I would have - my friendship with her had also ended disastrously. Who knows where she was now; whether she remained free or had become a slave. 

 

No, from now on I would eschew any form of meaningful relationship with women, and simply satisfy my needs with slave girls.

 

It was apparently the Gorean way. 

 

I lay on my couch, feeling sated. Beside me lay the extremely curvaceous body of my slave, Clara. I owned five slaves! How incredible was that. I had put her to use last night after returning to my insula. First I had set her to cleaning the apartment as it was dirty from months of neglect while it had lain empty. She had scrubbed and cleaned on her hands and knees, while I took a walk around my local district, checking out the municipal parks and markets; familiarising myself with the area. I came back with some fresh food that I then gave to Clara and told her to prepare it in one of the two communal kitchens in this insula. One kitchen is reserved exclusively for free men and women, so that a Free Woman does not have to work alongside a slave girl, while the other, smaller, kitchen is permitted for the use of slaves.

 

Clara’s slave tunic looked lovely on her wide hipped, slim waisted body. It came down briefly about her thighs, where it was slit deeply on both sides, and she couldn’t help wiggling as she walked – an unconscious mannerism dictated by the ample curves of her hips. 

 

She was very nervous of course. Although she was red silk, she had never been put to use as a slave before. This would be her first time. In the past, I suppose sexual congress had been a delicate and polite affair, conducted in the comfort and privacy of her own home with her Free Companion, he permitting her the modesty of a long over the knee slip as she lay on their couch with her thighs pressed tightly together at first. He would dim the lights until only the vague outline of her body could be seen in the soft lamp glow, and he would be careful not to arouse any unwelcome feelings in her body as he maneuvered (possibly with some difficulty) her tight thighs apart, preparing to enter her. Their sexual congress would then be brisk, brief and functional – just sufficient for the man to climax. Clara would have fought hard against any threatening indications of her own climax approaching. Perhaps, as she now scrubbed and cleaned, on her hands and knees, and as she prepared my dinner, perhaps Clara harboured some vain hope that I would only set her to clean and cook as a domestic slave, and that I would respect her sexual inhibitions?

 

I ate a good meal by the glow of soft lamps. Clara knelt beside my table, and from time to time I fed her by hand from my plates. 

 

“You will eat better than your daughter, tonight,” I remarked. She ate the same food as me, which seemed to surprise her, and I gave her a little of the ka-la-na wine I drank, so as to relax her, for she seemed incredibly nervous. 

 

“Yes, Master,” she said as she took the offerings of meat between her teeth, and drank a little of the wine. Her daughter, the young Bina, and the other three girls, had been fed with cold lumpy slave gruel before I had departed for the day. They now lay on their straw, chained to slave rings in the darkness of thee small basement room. In the morning I would return to feed them breakfast and to chain them again to my display shelves.  

 

I had warmed to the idea of owning slave girls. And, I was considering that the life of a slaver was potentially a good one. Perhaps I should actually adopt that caste as my own? Perhaps I should settle down in Corcyrus, establish a thriving business, and swear loyalty to its Home Stone. The loyalty Goreans showed to both Home Stone and caste was appealing to me. 

 

Clara had been a Free Woman of Argentum. On that basis I felt no mercy towards her. I had many reasons to hate Argentum. I had been made a slave in that city. I had been whipped in that city. I had been branded an outlaw and cast out from that city. And the laws of Argentum had then enslaved the women I now know I loved: brave Kulai, once of Turia, but now only a slave girl with a kef branded on her left thigh, and Miss Felicity Emery of Earth, now just a common paga slave. Argentum had stolen them both from me. I therefore resolved now that I would take my revenge on that city through my callous use of its women. And, as I reminded myself, these former Free Women of Argentum would have happily owned and mistreated slaves of their own. They were hardly innocent. Clara, had she still been free, would have whipped and despised slave girls. So I cared nothing for her inhibitions now that she was a slave, herself, at my feet. She had been in favour of slavery while she had been a Free Woman, so let her now experience it first-hand, in a collar of her own.

 

Those who live by the sword…

 

Yes, I would be cruel to the women of Argentum, I thought, as I cut a tender morsel of the delicious meat, sopped it in the gravy and beckoned for her to eat it. 

 

“Thank you, Master,” she said. She hadn’t expected to be fed so well, it seems. She looked at me curiously.

 

Clara was a symbol of Argentum. They all were. They were all former Free Ladies of Argentum’s vassal town: Isurium, by the Agosta river. 

 

“Please, kind Master, please don’t,” she had cried as I had finished my meal and ordered her to strip, walk to my couch, and lie down, supine upon it, with her wrists crossed by the slave ring. “I was a Free Woman of Isurium. This is beyond me.”

 

I held up the back of my left hand so she could clearly see the outlaw brand of Argentum seared into my flesh. “This is what Argentum did to me,” I told her. “The Free Women of Argentum will be shown no mercy in return. I will put them to use, chained to my slave ring. That will be my revenge on your former city. Go to my couch and prepare yourself for use.”

 

She lay quickly on her back and crossed her wrists against the slave ring. Her lovely body trembled in the lamp light.

 

“I don’t know how to please a man,” she wept. “I was a Free Woman! I do not know! It is beyond me. I am incapable of satisfying a man! I am not some slut that can simply be taken and mastered. I was the Lady Clarana Prisca Bellona!”

 

She feared being beaten for being displeasing on the couch. Little did she understand how pleasing she might be, even unskilled as she was. I gazed at her and quickly felt aroused at the luscious, curvaceous beauty, who lay submitted on the furs before me. There is something about the abject submission of a woman that fires a man’s blood. I tied her wrists together with binding fibre, taking care not to make the bindings painfully tight, and then, parting her ankles, secured each one to a slave ring either side of the couch frame. She was now restrained and held open before me. She could wriggle (and I hoped she would) but was helpless to prevent me putting her to use.

 

“I am not a natural slave,” she cried. “I am a mother! I have a daughter! I was the Lady Clarana Prisca Bellona! That must mean something to you! Please, Master, spare me! Please don’t do this to me! Please, Master!”

 

I regarded the kef brand on her thigh. It was still raw and swollen. It would be some time yet before it was fully healed. 

 

“Did you own a slave in Isurium?” I asked.

 

“Yes,” she said. “Or rather, my companion did. We were moderately wealthy. My caste was the merchants. We could afford a slave.”

 

“Were you kind to your slave?” I asked.

 

“Of course not.” She seemed surprised by the question. She regarded me then as if I were a fool. What a stupid question that was, she seemed to think. “I despised the girl. Often, my companion would take her to the furs. She was a little slut. How she must have delighted in stealing my companion away from me. I would whip her on any pretext, whenever I could. Of course I did.”

 

I nodded. “Those days are behind you now. Now you will in turn be that wriggling slut who distracts men from their Free Companions.”

 

“I am not that kind of girl!” she cried. “I do not wriggle! I am cold! I am frigid. You will take little pleasure from me. I promise you that. I am an ice maiden.”

 

Within five to ten ehn she was wriggling superbly beneath me.

 

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhh!” she cried out, pulling hard against her restraints. “Oh, Master!”

 

“Slave,” I sneered as I thrust deep inside of her. I would take my revenge against Argentum, putting their women to use, and making them serve me superbly. 

 

I swore to myself, then and there, that I would never free a slave whose Home Stone had been Argentum. Let them all remain in collars at the feet of men. 

 

Clara shared my couch with me that night. The Gorean way, apparently, is to cast your slave away after use and chain her to the foot of your couch where she may sleep on the hard tiles. If she has performed well, she is given a blanket for comfort., But I am of Earth, and I take great pleasure in feeling a woman beside me at night. I see no reason to change that.

 

I had freed Clara after putting her to use, but I had then attached a chain to her collar ring and fastened the other end to the slave ring on the headboard. Other than that simple restraint, she had freedom of movement. 

 

Her body trembled softly for a time as we lay there, together. I played with her hair and after a while spoke to her. 

 

“Your body is not that of an ice maiden,” I suggested.

 

“Please do not tell my daughter.”

 

“I will tell your daughter whatever I wish to tell her.”

 

“No! Please… she will not understand. She has only known nineteen summers. She must not know how I responded to you, tonight. It was shameful. I didn’t know what I was doing! What I was saying! I was another person!”

 

“Oh?”

 

Clara turned on the couch with a jingle of chain. “Please, I beg you, Master. Let her think well of me. Do not tell her.”

 

“Do you think she would despise you, if she knew how your body had climaxed?”

 

“Yes,” whispered Clara. “She would be ashamed of me. She would hate me for my weakness.”

 

“I will not tell her,” I said. I recalled she was of Argentum, and I had many reasons to hate the men and women of Argentum.

 

“Thank you, Master! Thank you!”

 

“Rather, you will tell her.”

“No!”

 

“You will tell her that you were put to use and you will tell her the truth, that you responded to my use of you with hot, needy, reflexes.”

 

“I can’t do that! She is my daughter! Mercy, Master.”

 

“I am not going to force you,” I said, as I curled her hair around my fingers. “But if you tell your daughter the truth about yourself, then I will not put her to use while she is in my collar. I will spare her that. I give you my word. She will be spared such degradation. The choice is yours.”

 

Clara cried for a time. “I hate you,” She said.

 

I shrugged. “I do not care, woman of Argentum. Hate me all you want,” I said as I stroked her flanks. She was very beautiful and fitted well in my arms. 

 

I lay in bed for about an ahn that morning, after waking to the sunlight streaming through my windows. The chained beauty who lay on my couch was instructed to pleasure me with her tongue, lips and mouth, not using her hands. This was new to her of course, and so I had to explain some of the basic techniques. She was so ignorant of sexual matters that she had never even heard of such a thing before. She didn’t even comprehend that a man might derive much pleasure from her mouth, beyond the simple aspect of chaste kisses.

 

I revelled in my mastery of this woman of Argentum as she lowered her head over my groin and took me deep into her mouth, sucking and licking. I gasped and clutched at the rails of the headboard as she set to work. Occasionally I would have to correct what she was doing, and tell her not to scrape with her teeth, but it didn’t take her long to grasp the basics. And so I lay there, gazing up at her as she learned how else she might please a man. 

 

When I came close to coming, I told her not to lift her head away. I came inside of her mouth and I could see the sudden alarm in her eyes as she understood she was not to simply withdraw and spit the sticky fluid away. Instead she was commanded to keep me in her mouth, sucking and licking, as I gradually deflated. Some breath hissed from beneath my teeth as I felt the powerful climax. 

 

“Good slut,” I said. “You have learnt some new things.”

 

I watched her swallow, tears in her eyes, as she rose to her knees and gazed to the side of the couch. I had to remind myself that she was a woman of Argentum. I had many good reasons to hate Argentum. 

 

“Master, please,” she whimpered, on her knees on the couch. “If I have given you pleasure tonight, please, I beg you, do not make me humiliate myself before my daughter. I beg you.”

 

I looked away, feeling a torrent of emotions. She had been pleasing. But she was my hated enemy. I hated Argentum. I was supposed to be cruel to her. But she seemed so piteous. “Very well,” I said. “It will remain a secret, for now.”

 

“Please do not put my daughter to use. She has only know nineteen summers. She has never known the touch of a man. She is my baby. I will do anything for you. I will lick and kiss you and squirm and offer myself to you, Master, but please do not do this to my daughter. She is so young!”

 

I am very weak, it seems.

 

“I will not put your daughter to use,” I said. “Even if she is of Argentum.”

 

She began to sob, thanking me, thanking me piteously, crawling beside me, kissing and licking my body.

 

“Enough,” I said. “Go to the kitchen. Prepare my breakfast.”

 

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.” She gazed at me with what might have been a sly smile. 

 

The Lady Herminia had already brought her girls up in coffle chain to the market shelves and displayed them according to her preferences by the time I had returned to the market of Kadriya, later that morning. The market already showed signs of being busy by the time I chained Clara to her shelf position.

 

“May I speculate why you are so late?” said Herminia as she checked the shackling on my curvaceous Clara.

 

“You may,” I said, amused.

 

“You chose, perhaps, to assess the value of your stock, last night?” She indicated Clara, who shrank back, scared of Herminia.

 

“Something like that,” I grinned.  

 

“And how was she?”

 

“Untrained, but responsive.”

 

Herminia nodded. She ran her hands over Clara’s flanks and then bent the girl down into an examination position. “She seems more relaxed this morning. I had observed the stiffness of her movements yesterday. Your use of her has relaxed her tight muscles and she will no doubt display herself with superior grace and heat throughout the day.”

 

“Excellent,” I said. 

 

“You may find men pay her more attention. My advice?”

 

“Yes?” I said.

 

“Make her your girl of the day. Chain her not on her previous shelf position, but perhaps on your central plinth. Make her stand out. Make her kiss the whip when a man takes an interest in her. Caress her intimately with the whip. I think she will do well.”

 

I took Herminia’s advice and moved Clara from her shelf space and onto the central plinth. Iona would take her place on the shelf, once I brought her up from the basement. 

 

“Thank you, Lady,” I said. 

 

Bina was relieved to see her mother, when she was brought up to the market space, along with my other girls. I allowed the mother and child some time to embrace and reassure one another.

 

“Mama, are you all right?” asked the girl. 

 

“Yes, Bina.” She was intelligent enough to know she must not refer to her daughter by the name she had when she was a Free Woman. That girl was gone. A girl called Bina now stood in her place. “But you must not call me that,” she told her daughter. “I am just a slave girl now. As are you. My name is Clara. You are Bina. Do nothing that might earn you the whip.”

 

“I am so scared. I just want to go home,” sobbed Bina.

 

“We do not have a home any more, Bina. That home is gone. We belong to a man now.”

 

“Did he…” Bina couldn’t bring herself to say it.

 

“Yes,” said her mother. “He did. But he said he will not touch you.”

 

“Were you brave?” asked the girl. “Can I be proud of you?”

 

“You can, Bina,” lied Clara. “I was an ice maiden to him.”

 

“I love you,” sobbed Bina, embracing her mother again. “I will be brave, too, like my mother.”

 

I permitted them five ehn together, and then I led Bina away from her chained mother. I placed her back on her shelf and chained her ankle to the slave ring there.

 

“Please don’t use my mama again,” she begged. “Do not touch her!”

 

“Be quiet,” I said. “I will use your mother as and when I see fit. She is just a slave now. As are you.”

 

As the day wore on my stock received a good deal of attention and scrutiny. A couple of the men from yesterday returned. The man who had offered ten copper tarsks for Iona now offered twelve. I smiled and again declined his low offer. He went away again, grumbling.  

 

I saw some interest in my lovely redhead, Naja. Gorean men are often stimulated by the sight of red hair on a female. The most valuable female slave generally has auburn hair, which is a reddish brown hue, but all shades of red hair serve to excite the desires of men on this planet. The soft freckling of a natural redhead is also exciting to men, and redheads are often very conscious of their veiling, with more reason than most to hide away the sight of their soft freckling and conceal their hair with the drawing down of a deep hood. In some cities on Gor it is thought that redheads are natural slaves. Indeed, some of the more superstitious Goreans even theorise that it is a mark bestowed upon a woman by the Priest Kings themselves to make clear the slave desires of the woman in question. A writer called Trakkar theorises that the famed independence and combativeness shown by natural redheads are just ruses to make sure they draw the attention they crave to make sure they are collared and mastered. All this is known, adds the writer, in summary. Some cities even legislate on the matter. The city of Torcadino, for example, requires the testing of a redheaded girl’s frigidity no later than a month after her first bleeding. This is a historical precedence dating back generations. A redheaded daughter is brought before a female physician who administers certain tests upon her intimacies to see how she responds. Should she respond in ways that resemble the responses of slave girls, she will be promptly confiscated, collared, and enslaved by the city magistrates. Despite this, very few redheaded daughters are so enslaved. It is said that the families are often able to procure discrete sedatives for their daughter that, when taken on the day in question, leave her feeling numb and unresponsive to such routine stimulation. She will usually therefore pass the tests. But even so, her flaming red hair remains a beacon to men who will assume she perhaps has natural slave impulses. Such redheads in Torcadino go to great lengths to conceal their hair and soft freckling across the bridge of their nose from any man.  Some redheads even routinely dye their hair and apply concealing makeup to their enticing freckling. 

 

Although I have never read it, Lady Herminia speaks highly of the famous scroll written by the aforementioned author on Gorean matters: Trakkar. Entitled, ‘The Handling, Dispositions, Natural Responses and Training of the Slave Sex’, the scroll imparts much useful knowledge on the subject of the slave sex, and their suitability for the collar, and devotes an entire chapter to the subject of redheads. The writer, Trakkar, ultimately concludes that ‘once collared, their fiery hair proclaims the unquenchability of their burning slave fires. All this is known.’ 

 

I was disappointed by Clara’s supplications and pleading to passing men. Despite the fact her body was now looser than the day before, she seemed reluctant to display herself to her full potential. I guessed this was because her daughter might see and hear her. 

 

“Clara, you are not selling yourself.” I held the whip in my hand.

 

“My daughter…” she whispered, softly. “I can’t… not in front of Bina. I just… can’t.” I had shown her some kindness earlier this morning, and last night I had fed her by hand. Perhaps she thought I was weak. Perhaps she thought she might get her own way.

 

“Whipping position,” I said.

 

“No! You can’t! You can’t mean that,” she pleaded. “Not after… the things I did for you…” her voice was quiet, but urgent. “I know you are a kind man. I know you are fond of me. I know you won’t whip me.”

 

“You think wrong. I do not care for you. Kneel to the whip.”

 

“No! Please! I will perform. I will obey you. I will!”

 

“KNEEL!”

 

She knelt, and there on the plinth, I whipped her six times. By the end of the short whipping, she was crying, in great pain. “I will give you ten ehn to compose yourself, and then you will begin to perform well, display well, and you will call out with need to the passing men. Or you will feel the whip again.”

 

I reminded myself she had been a Free Woman of Argentum. 

 

Ten ehn later she was posing and moving the way she had seen Iona do yesterday. “Buy me masters!” she cried out, with her arms extended, the palms of her hands shown in supplication. “I am hot and needy! I am a woman of Argentum, and we are all sluts! You know this of us! Master me! Force me to lick and kiss your feet! Teach a proud haughty Argentum slut what she truly is! Buy me, masters! Teach me, my slavery!”

 

Bina shrank back, horrified and disgusted by how her mother was now acting. She couldn’t look, as her mother turned, kneeled with her head down on the cement shelf, raising her haunches up towards a man’s hand. “Take me, Master,” Clara cried, “feel me squirm and cry out to your touch! I am a slave slut!”

 

They were all former Free Women of Argentum. I must feel no pity for them. 

 

By mid-afternoon I received two offers for Clara. One was sixteen copper tarsks and the other seventeen copper tarsks. Despite the fact I stood to make a healthy profit on her from either price, I chose to decline both offers. The respective men went away grumbling.

 

“Those were reasonable offers,” said Lady Herminia.

 

“I think I can get more,” I remarked. One of the things I found fascinating about Herminia was the fact I had no idea what she looked like under all those robes, gowns, veils and the floppy hood that covered her hair. Was she plain, ugly, pretty, or perhaps even ravishingly beautiful? It was impossible to tell, and that I think adds to a Free Woman’s mystery. A man might begin to speculate on a woman’s appearance as time went by. All he had to go on would be her eyes and her voice, and what little he might discern of her figure through the loose garments she wore. Herminia wisely chose not to wear a belt, preferring instead the straight lines that the robes offered, unbelted. This would disguise, to some degree, whatever natural curves she possessed. Yes, I found the mystery of Lady Herminia really quite fascinating. Occasionally, when she might gesture to her stock, the sleeve of her outer brocade robe might slide a little along her arm, exposing a slender wrist – gloved of course – and such a motion I found of interest. Her ankles, though, remained elusively mysterious as the hem of her brocade robe concealed them perfectly, allowing only the tips of her slippers to protrude. 

 

“What are you hoping to get for the girl?” asked Herminia, during the last two ahn of the open market.

 

“I’m not sure. Perhaps a figure closer to twenty five copper tarsks. I feel she has a lot of potential.”

 

“You are setting a high price simply because you wish to enjoy her in your furs again, tonight, rather than sell her?” suggested Herminia.

 

“No, of course not. That would be foolish, from a business perspective.”

 

“And yet, you will perhaps enjoy her again, tonight?” suggested Herminia.

 

“Perhaps.” I regarded the curvaceous little slut. I was determined to no longer have relationships with women, but rather to just enjoy slaves as they came and went through my hands. I would never again have feelings for a woman, for such feelings always led to crushing disappointment. 

 

“My advice, take another girl to your furs tonight. Do not develop an attachment to your livestock. You should remain impartial.”

 

“She’s just a slave,” I said, scornfully. “I don’t feel anything for her.” I watched as Clara moved through a series of exciting paces on the stone plinth. I felt aroused just watching her move. I reminded myself that I could have her, if I wanted, any time and any place, within reason. She was my property. They all were. I should really sample one of the others tonight. The blonde girl was also red silk, and so I would not be lowering her value through first use, the way I would with my three white silk girls.

 

I gazed again at Clara’s wide hips, splendid curves and narrow waist. She had cried out piteously, clutching at me with her vaginal muscles as I had taken her last night. After some initial reluctance, she had been on fire. 

 

“You’re going to put her to use again, tonight, aren’t you?” said Herminia.

 

“Perhaps.”

 

She shrugged. “It is a mistake. That is all I will say. Do you still wish to attend the torchlit rally tonight, when our Tatrix will address the citizens of Corcyrus?”

 

“Yes,” I said. “I think that will be interesting.”

 

“Call on me then at the sounding of the seventeenth ahn. You may escort me to the palace plaza. I will show you the way. I think you will find our Tatrix to be very inspiring. You will be left in no doubt that Corcyrus will win this war.”