Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Three

 

There were now five girls in our coffle line, each one with a Harl ring locked on her left ankle, each one secured to the other girls in line through a single light chain.

 

“You see our problem” said Adam as we stood to one side of the coffle.

 

I did see. Now that she was naked, Laetitia was clearly a Fire Crotch. “Someone should have thought to dye her pubic hair to match her head hair. This is how Miss Sally Reeve identified her.”

 

“It seemed so obvious that I never considered mentioning it back in Corcyrus,” said Adam. “Who was responsible for dyeing her hair?”

 

“Well obviously not me,” I said. “Whichever of the household kajirae that tended to her morning bathing and dressing, I suppose.”

 

“Whoever it was needs a whipping.”

 

Laetitia crouched in the grass, her arms still crossed against her small breasts, her hips turned away from us. She had been crying. Tears are common enough when a girl, new to her collar, is stripped and placed in coffle for the first time. How traumatic it must seem to her. She wore heavy slave makeup now, and her long hair had been trimmed and styled in a fashionable slave cut, beloved of masters from most regions of Gor. 

 

“We’ll have to shave her,” said Adam. “All of them, in fact.”

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Two

In hindsight, I should perhaps have forewarned Felix and Adam that I was going to put Misa to use last night, but in my defence it had been a spur of the moment decision when I had left the campfire to find my bed.

 

Misa served us breakfast in the morning, on her knees, in nadu. Nearby her so-called sisters knelt in the grass, still chained between their Harl rings, glaring at the slave as she made no attempt to resist my commands.

 

“You had a good night, then,” remarked Adam, drily.

 

“I of course offer you the use of my slave, Misa, from here on in,” I said. Unlike me, Adam and Felix still had not enjoyed a woman in over a week. Misa looked up, startled by my offer. I had not consulted with her before offering her use to the men.

 

“That is kind of you, sword brother,” said Felix, before Adam might object. “Perhaps tonight?”

 

“She is yours tonight, Felix,” I said, slapping his shoulder. “Misa,” I turned to regard the softly curved slave, “serve my brother well tonight, or you will feel the  whip.”

 

“Yes, Master,” said the former huntress as she lowered her gaze. She would know a second man tonight, and perhaps once again experience a slave orgasm. 

 

“And what brought about this remarkable and sudden change of heart?” enquired Adam as he sipped some Black Wine.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty One

 

I felt very content as I lay on my back, in some furs, gazing up at the star constellations in the night sky.

 

I had eaten well, I had drunk well, and I had enjoyed the company of my caste around a communal camp fire. We had been served throughout the evening by some beautiful kajirae – some trained, and some raw, new, and anxious in their fresh collars and brands. All had served to the best of their abilities, knowing they would feel the whip if they slacked in any way.

 

We were now in the territory of Torcadino, with no sign of Stannis Assante’s cavalry, and despite not wishing to tempt fate I began to feel a sense of hope that we would reach the great gates of Torcadino with no further incidents. While Stannis might risk taking action in the border region, he would not dare to send his men deep into Torcadino’s territory. That would be an act of war and he would met by Torcadino’s own warriors. 

 

A slave girl lay beside me in the furs, her head resting close to my chest, her breathing shallow and dreamlike. I had put her to use three times tonight, and now I was content and thinking clearly, my mind no longer distracted by thoughts of sex. Women are beautiful, but even more beautiful in that sense of post-coital bliss they enjoy after they have orgasmed. I mean of course a true orgasm of the kind that slaves routinely relish, and not whatever it is that free women feel when they lie down on their backs and spread their legs for their free companion. It is probably for the best that free women have no intrinsic understanding of what it is they are missing. Think how miserable their lives would be if they actually understood the difference, the vast gulf, between what a slave feels and what they feel.  

 

I stroked the girl’s soft, long hair and kissed her sleepy forehead. Her eyelids fluttered a little as she hovered in that warm cosy space between dreaming and waking.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty

 

Blue and yellow, the colours of my adopted caste, were flying from a pole at the summit of Slaver’s Point, denoting that at least one Slaver House was in residence tonight and open for business within the confines of the ancient, monolithic stone circle.

 

Being a Brit with Welsh ancestry, I was no stranger to a land riddled with cairns, barrow mounds, and mysterious stone circles; all part of our wider, ancient pagan history that the Romans did their very best to stamp out. But unlike the megalithic structures of Earth, these stones were well maintained. None were missing, and none had fallen over, or, if they had, they had been righted. The summit of the low hill was surrounded by an outer ring of vertical sandstone blocks, each one over twenty feet high, maybe ten or so feet wide, and, like similar circles in England, topped by connecting horizontal lintel stones. 

 

A second, smaller circle of trilithon stones stood within the interior of the outer circle, and within this second hollow was an open space of grass land in which slavers might camp on their way, to and from Torcadino.   

 

“Can I assume this is considered peaceful territory?” I asked Adam. 

 

“Pretty much, yes. Aside from the obvious point of Torcadino sovereignty, the slavers who pitch camp at Slaver’s Point observe caste discipline, regardless of which Home Stones they belong to. No one will try and steal our slaves, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“Captives,” I said, correcting him.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Nineteen

 

“The landing zone erupted into an intense fire fight as soon as the women were being loaded as livestock onboard the slave ship. The very last words I spoke to Caitlin are forever imprinted in my head,” said Adam. “She had a favourite film, you see: the Last of the Mohicans. And there’s this scene when everything seems doomed, and Daniel Day Lewis says something like, ‘No! You stay alive! If they don't kill you, they'll take you north up to the Huron lands. Submit, do you hear? You're strong! You survive! You stay alive, no matter what occurs! I will find you! No matter how long it takes, no matter how far. I will find you!’ It was the last time I ever saw her face. I promised her I would move heaven and earth to bring her back, and believe me, I will. Everything I have done since then has been with that goal in mind.”

 

He was telling the truth. There was no mistaking the pained look in his eyes now.

 

“You know where she is?”

 

“No. I would have found her by now if I did.”

 

“Hope is a great thing, but realistically, Adam, what chance do you have? She’ll have been unloaded in a slave market in any one of the many Gorean cities. She will have been sold, possibly several times, and she won’t have the same name any more. How are you going to find her?”

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Eighteen

 

I’ll say one thing for the lovely huntresses – their saddle bags contained an abundance of treasures.

 

“That’s the best smoked bacon I’ve eaten in a while,” said Felix as he devoured his breakfast. Being staked out for the sexual pleasure of women seems to give a man a hearty appetite. There were also cheeses and olives and sa-tarna bread and some liver Pâté and a few bottles of red ka-la-na, though we agreed it was a bit early in the day to open those.   

 

Livinnia, Mishka and Svetlana sat on the grass in a Harl ring chain arrangement, watching us eat, with sullen expressions on their faces. The Harl ring is named after the famous slaver, Harl of Turia, who first used it with his own coffles of girls. The Harl ring consists of four pieces. First, there is a metal ankle ring that locks onto a slave's ankle. It is secure and cannot be slipped. Second, on the back of the ankle ring is welded a closed metal loop. Third, on the front of the ankle ring, is another closed metal loop. The fourth and final part of the Harl ring arrangement is the addition of a chain that can be threaded through either of the two ankle rings. The chain typically ends in a locking device that can be secured to or through the back of a second ankle ring. It is a very versatile item and can be used to chain a girl to nearly anything. A closed Harl ring arrangement is where you lock the chain on its own ankle ring around a tree, pole or similar item. Harl rings are frequently used to form slave coffles and typically a single key will lock and unlock all of the rings on such a slave coffle. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Seventeen

 

“Where is Laetitia?” Livinnia stood before the prone figures of Felix and Adamus. She wore a brief, long sleeved riding tunic of coarse wool, long brown hose on her legs, a scarlet cape and cap, and black boots with spurs. Her hair was tied back into a pony tail, and she was armed with weapons more suitable for a Gorean man – a short sword and long knife. Lying to one side, where she might quickly reach for it, was her short bow of ka-la-na wood and a quiver of goose fletched arrows. Both Felix and Adamus were naked, and both men now lay on their backs in the mossy grass with their wrists and ankles widely stretched out to wooden stakes. They were secured there with binding fibre and helpless.

 

Four riding tharlarion were tethered to nearby trees. On the backs of the beasts were long, light lances and a number of throwing javelins. 

 

Livinnia wasn’t alone in the clearing. The lovely huntresses, Svetlana and Danata were with her. Svetlana seemed alert, keeping watch as Danata knelt beside the bound figure of Adamus. 

 

“We are refugees from the small town of Tynen, kind Lady. I do not know who this woman you ask of is,” said Felix. “We are just fleeing the soldiers, my brother and I. Please have mercy on us. We have suffered so much already. I lost my free companion to raiders, and then my daughter. She was only five.”

 

His voice sound tearful, pleading, and scared. I suspected it was an act.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Sixteen

 

I held Laetitia to me, feeling how soft and lovely her warm body was after so many days of sexual abstinence. She clung to me for comfort and reassurance, pressing her face to my chest, and snaking her arms about my waist. I placed my arms about her shoulder blades, rocking her a little in the way a mother might comfort a child who had endured some terrible nightmare.

 

“I thought I would never see you again,” she sobbed. “I thought I was alone.”

 

“Our assailant was a woman,” I said.

 

“I know.” Laetitia pressed herself close to me. Perhaps a little too close. I was a man, after all. “I was shouting that to you.”

 

“I didn’t hear you. I was focussed on the fight.”

 

“Is she dead?”

 

“No.” I smiled, thinking of her tethered in a slave bow, her wrists and ankles crossed and tied together, perhaps praying for my return. “She lives. She is my captive.”

 

I became aware that I now had an erection. Laetitia was dressed in a  brief, artfully torn slave tunic, and she wore a collar. Her body seemed to fit into my embrace exquisitely. And then she sensed the stirring in my loins, too.

 

“Roland…” she raised her head, perplexed. “Is that…”

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Fifteen

 

“You’re not a man.” I gazed down at the lovely Mishka as I gripped both her wrists and easily spread them widely apart, resting the weight of my body on her own to press her down into the grassy moss of the river bank. We were both wet, cold and exhausted, but crucially she was more exhausted than I.

 

“No,” she hissed, “I am not a man. I am far superior to men!” She writhed against my grip which proved futile.

 

“Apparently not when it comes to physical strength,” I said.

 

“I will kill you!” she snarled.

 

“Thank you for the warning.” I flipped her over onto her stomach with considerable ease and rested my weight against her lower back. 

 

“Let go of me, male!” she cried.

 

“Be quiet. We were washed a long way down stream. We are on a river bank and there may be outlaws close by. I’m in no mood to take part in yet another fight tonight.” I took her right wrist and pulled it to the small of her back. Again, this was so easy.

 

She was breathing heavily from the exertion of our fight and the battle against the river current. Also, she had struck the rocks at some point and would probably be heavily bruised at the very least. 

 

“Gahh!” she strained against me, continuing to ignore the evidence that I was far stronger than her. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Fourteen

 

The night was silent, save for the occasional rustling sound in the trees and bushes as nocturnal animals prowled and searched for food. Up in the sky, the three bright moons of Gor shone down on the land offering a little illumination to my night vision. The stars were distinct tonight, unaffected by the pollution of city street lighting. The steady hum of crickets and other insects added a certain ambience as I sat with my back to a tree and simply stared out into the vast distance surrounding our small encampment.

 

It was our third night away from the Inn, and without wishing to tempt fate we were beginning to feel very optimistic about our chances now. In just one more day we would be inside the sphere of influence of Torcadino. Stannis’s patrols, if they were even out there looking for us, had failed to locate our trail.

 

I chewed on a piece of cured meat and considered the welcome possibility that Miss Sally Reeve had failed to locate any of Stannis’s riders. She was a lone woman on foot in outlaw country, after all. Anything might have happened to her. She had set out to locate a column of refugees, but could just as likely have run into outlaws. Even now she might be walking behind them, her wrists braceleted behind her back, the peasant garments stripped from her body, and a leash tied about her throat. By now she may even have found herself in the travelling camp of a slaver, for such men follow the paths of marching armies, ready to do business with the victorious forces. Travelling slaver camps are set up to process, enslave, and brand women in quick succession. Sally might even now have a kef branded on her left thigh. 

 

In many ways that would be a shame for I had hoped to come across her again and see to that detail myself. 

 

In the darkness I head a light jingle of chain.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Thirteen

We had dined on a couple of rabbits that we had purchased from the Inn Keeper’s cold room before setting out that day. Felix skinned, diced and cooked them in a pot with some herbs and root vegetables whilst Laetitia watched with interest.

 

Laetitia knelt as a free woman commonly kneels, in elegant tower, which seemed incongruous with the garment she now wore, let alone the steel collar that was locked so perfectly around her throat.

 

Felix seemed to barely look at her as he prepared the evening meal. Was this an indication that the felt she had shamed herself by allowing herself to be collared?  Or simply a desire to not embarrass her with unwanted stares? His frustrations would be all the more intense as he understood that the fate of his city hung in the balance. I was speculating of course. At some point I would have to speak to him about it. 

 

“You cook well, Felix,” said Laetitia as she ate her portion of the rabbit with impeccable table manners, despite having to use her fingers. “Considering you only had a single pot and a campfire.”

 

Felix simply nodded. Perhaps he didn’t care for the compliment from a slave girl. I really couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. He looked everywhere but at her, though when he did look at her there was no mistaking where he looked. The valley between her modest breasts drew the eye automatically. And there were a couple of small tears in the rep cloth just above her left hip. It was a cheap garment and she had snagged it in a thorn bush when she had gone to fetch water. Somehow the tears added to the garment’s allure. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twelve

 

We left the safety of the Inn an ahn later.

 

In contrast to her initial claim, it is only a collar, Laetitia had to be coaxed from her room when the time finally came. She stood at the edge of the doorway hyper ventilating. The reality that men and women would now see her like this had suddenly struck home, but rather too late. It is one thing to imagine how it might be to wear a slave collar, and quite another to actually wear it. Women never understand until the time actually comes. 

 

“They will not know who you are,” I assured her. 

 

Her eyes were downcast. She refused to look straight ahead for fear of seeing the way free men and women might now look at her. 

 

“Be brave,” I said. 

 

I had her walk before me. Step by step, her body shaking, she passed along the landing. 

 

“She is new to the collar,” I explained to a slave who was gathering used bedding from a nearby room.

 

“She’ll learn, Master,” said the slave. “We all do in time. Men see to that.”

 

“So we do.”

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Eleven

 

The fact is I was now recognised, within Corcyrus at least, as being of the caste of Slavers.

 

I had collared a woman in the wilderness where the laws of Corcyrus and Torcadino do not apply.

 

The only law pertaining to enslavement of women that applies in the wilderness is Common Capture Law. Free Women are not protected from licensed and accredited slavers under Common Capture Law.

 

Technically speaking, I had just enslaved Lady Laetitia. 

 

She was my slave now.

 

Unfortunately that fact had only dawned upon me after the fact. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Ten

 

How could I explain the intervention of the sleen?

 

Frankly, I couldn’t. By all rights it should have seen me as available prey. I should now be dead, but instead it had sniffed at the ropes and chewed through them. 

 

Were I the kind of man who believed even slightly in divine intervention I would think my wild prayer had been answered, but I am rational and I know there are no gods lording themselves over Gor or anywhere else for that matter. Prayers, sadly, are never answered. 

 

It took me half an ahn to free my bound wrists and then it was simple enough to address myself to the ankle ties. I worked carefully and I had to wait until feeling returned to my fingers, but eventually I was free of the restraints.

 

I had been gone a whole day and most of the night. It would be dawn soon. Time was not on my side, for Miss Sally Reeve would be trying to get a message to Stannis Assante. Once she did, Stannis’s soldiers would head this way and we would not be able to hide from them for long. Our only hope had been that the forces of Argentum would have to spread their resources far and wide, being ignorant of the direction Laetitia might take to reach Torcadino. Once the search area was narrowed, Stannis could concentrate all his cavalry and find us. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Nine

 

I was still tied helplessly between the tree trunks as darkness fell. I had tried for several ahn to wriggle a hand free from the binding fibre, but Sally had done a very good job of tying me up. I don’t think I could have done a better job on her, if I’m being honest. No one had found me, if anyone was even looking for me, and I had been too embarrassed to begin with to make any attempt at shouting for help. My dumb pride had surfaced. After all, I’d been captured by a woman; any man on Gor would be ashamed of that. To be a woman’s capture is humiliating in the extreme. And even if I did call out, I wasn’t sure anyone on the distant road would hear me, or if they did, would dare to venture into the deep copse of trees for fear it was a trap. Travellers do not leave the safety of the road to plunge into dense woodland, especially not to rescue a man. A woman screaming for help might inspire thoughts of a pretty captive, but who wants to risk their life because a man called for help?

 

You don’t need me to state the obvious that it's not safe to be staked out in the dark in the Gorean wilderness. The wildlife on Gor can be vicious. If there were sleen in the vicinity I was as good as dead and would never see the sun rise. Tied here, unable to flee, I would be eaten alive. Not an enticing prospect.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Eight

 

“How are my capture knots?’

 

I couldn’t feel my hands when I woke. I was naked, stripped, and tightly tied between a couple of trees. My wrists were tied together and then lashed to a trunk. My ankles were tied separately to trunks either side, so that my legs were widely spread. And, as is always the case when I wake from sleep – whether naturally induced or not – I had a stiff morning glory erection. I’ve never understood why that happens to men. It’s not as if I’m always dreaming erotic dreams.

 

Though on Gor those dreams do come a lot more frequently than they ever did on Earth.

 

“You’re actually the first man I’ve had to tie as a captive. I’m just wondering how I did?” she asked. “Please, I’m curious. Indulge me.” 

 

“They’re good knots,” I said through gritted teeth. Leda was dressed again in the simple peasant gowns belonging to Laetitia. She sat in Tower position beside me, unveiled, and bereft of the slave collar. She had found the key, then. My pouches and sword lay close by. Hidden in one of the pouches was the precious serum I had to give to Laetitia before she might be tested for slave responses by physicians in Torcadino. No doubt Leda had been through everything. I had to hope she hadn’t given the vial any due consideration.

 

“You’re not just saying that to make me happy?” asked Leda. “You can be critical if you want. Women rarely master the art of capture knots.”

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Seven

 

How difficult can it be to help a woman escape from a travel Inn, when in actual fact the Innkeeper would allow her to walk free anyway?

 

Not particularly difficult, it has to be said.

 

But I had to make it seem difficult. 

 

“A man has arrived,” said pretty Leda. “I think he is a metal worker.”

 

Of that there was little doubt. I saw him drop a heavy leather hold all containing all manner of tools and implements onto the flagstones of the inner courtyard. He was here to work. 

 

Leda stood before me in the corridor that connected the main room of the Inn to the kitchen. She was barefoot, wore a white tunic with light blue trim, and sported a steel collar about her throat. “Do not be overly concerned,” I reassured her. She was perhaps five feet four inches tall, with wavy light brown hair and a slightly upturned nose that was endearingly cute. Her lips were wide and expressive. Her breasts were beautifully formed and straining within the softness of the rep cloth tunic, where the plunging neckline offered an enticing vision of her bosom. “There are many reasons why a metal worker might call on this Inn at short notice.”

 

I watched as Leda looked furtively around. She was loitering beside me instead of working. A slave might be punished for such laziness. Leda, of course, wasn’t a slave, but she feared the Innkeeper might make her one.

 

“A metal worker brands women.” She flexed the toes of her left foot as she stood there.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Six

 

“The situation is even more dire than I may have previously suggested,” I whispered through the side of my mouth as pretty Leda served breakfast to our table, on her knees.

 

When she looked up in alarm, her hands shaking slightly as she held a tray of bowls and plates, I quickly added, “do not acknowledge anything I tell you. Not a thing! The Innkeeper’s eyes may be upon us at this very moment!”

 

Pretty Leda lowered her eyes submissively, the way a slave might. She had seen the other girls do so when awaiting a master’s command. She did it quite well, even though she was a proud free woman. No doubt it would come more naturally to her if she found herself enslaved, wearing a collar, and a kef brand marked upon her thigh.

 

“Early this morning the Innkeeper sent word to the outlying village for the services of a metal worker,” I explained.

 

“Oh!” she gasped. Her hands trembled as she placed the tray on the floor beside her knees and poured black wine into a small cup beside me. A metal worker is of course skilled in branding the left thigh of a woman. The implication from my words was no doubt obvious to pretty Leda. She seemed intelligent enough to grasp the obvious. 

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Five

 

I lay in one of the common rooms of the Inn, unable to sleep. Outside, a soft rain continued to fall on the cobblestones of the walled courtyard. I find the sound of rain soothing, and usually it aids a night’s sleep, but tonight I felt my nerves wound up, and I felt tense and aware of everything around me.

 

Felix lay nearby, as did Adamus. They both seemed to be sound asleep. Perhaps they were.

 

I rose to a seated position, casting aside my rough spun woollen blanket as I observed the other sleeping forms in the room. Common rooms in roadside Inns are the cheapest way of spending a night safely when travelling. Here, men can rent simple wooden floor space for a few copper tarsks and know they will wake up in the morning without their throats slit. Free women, of course, rarely choose to sleep in common rooms, or if they do, it would be a common room reserved exclusively for the use of women. In times of war, though, all things become scarce, and, with the passing of war torn refugees, even room in an Inn becomes a precious commodity. I observed a couple of free women sleeping to the side of the room. They had made a low wall with their travel bags to delineate their area. Men, of course, were not permitted to cross it. I suspect the women slept little, if at all, conscious of snoring males close by. They slept in their robes and gowns, not daring to so much as remove a stitch.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Four

 

That last morning in Corcyrus, before I left for the city of Torcadino, I enjoyed both of my red silk girls in the furs of my bed.

 

“Master!” cried Clara, her eyes wide and dilated, her wrists fastened past her head in slave manacles to an iron ring set in the headboard. “Oh, Master!”

 

I was inside of her, pushing her on towards a slave orgasm. She thrashed wildly beneath me, responding fully to each stroke of my body. Beside me, my Scandinavian looking blonde slut, the sexually awakened Ornah, who had known the touch of men long before I had bought her, mewled softly as she kissed and rubbed my body with her breasts and nipples, plaintively trying to attract my attention away from using Clara. Her wrists too were secured to the same iron ring, meaning she could not use her hands on me. 

 

As I felt Clara shaking, I slid out from inside her and turned round to gaze at blonde Ornah. 

 

“Yes, Master, yes!” she cried, excitedly as I pressed her down onto her back, while Clara writhed and begged for me to return. I ignored wide-hipped Clara, and instead parted Ornah’s thighs and entered her now, gazing deeply into her eyes as I did so.

 

“I love you, Master,” sobbed Ornah. “I love you!”