The Paga Diaries (7) by Arizona Wanderer: ‘Penny’s Tutoring’

 

“Your name?” I asked the tan, blond, dirty slave, kneeling between my legs as I sat, slouching on stairway steps.  She had just expertly pleasured me with her mouth after I had put a copper tarsk bit into the slot of the coin box chained to her neck.

 

“Master may call me whatever he likes,” she said.

 

“Your Master calls you?”  I struggled to ask in Gorean. 

 

“Five,” she said.

 

“Five?” I asked, making sure I heard and understood her correctly.

 

“Yes Master, he calls me Five, I am girl five,” she said as she looked down. 

Outcast of Gor Chapter Four

 

I was surprised by the change that was occurring in Kelsee as the days progressed. Gone were any thoughts of relating to me as a mistress. Gone were any pretences at dominance. Was this really the same woman who had once owned me? I began to think these changes had something to do with the steel collar locked about her neck. It seemed to me that the transformational properties of the collar acted as some form of release that bypassed the natural defences a female learned to build during her life. Her orgasms seemed to grow deeper, more fulfilling, as the days progressed. She moaned softly to my touch at night as we shared a banket under the stars. She cried out piteously as I took her, and there was no mistaking how her appetite for sex grew as she came to discover the glorious feelings that can consume a woman once she learns to submit. 

 

She kept telling me how much better the sex was now, than when she used to control such things back in Argentum.

 

It was the collar, I think. It was changing her. She could blame the collar for the way she was acting and enjoy the acts of submission with a reasonably clear conscience. More than once she would say to me, “I can’t help these feelings I have now! I wear a collar after all.” As if it was beyond the control of any woman.

 

But it was inevitable I suppose that we would eventually have our first lover’s quarrel. 

On the Banks of the Bighorn Chapter Twenty One – by Tracker

 

Testimony

 

From Slave Fliss’s Narrative

 

A second night on the prairie.  The only reason I survived was my Navy training.  Even with my training though, I would not have survived if I had not grown resilient and strong in my three years as a slave to the Fricks. I learned to bend like the willow and accept what could not be changed.  I learned other things too, which were not relevant to survival at night on the plains, but I was able to make a fire last night out of dried animal dung which I started with making a friction bow to light some dried grass.  Such a fire makes considerable warmth without making a lot of smoke or a high flame.  Burning wood in this dry clean makes a smoke that can be smelled for miles.

 

Down by the river this morning I saw a couple swimming in the river.  He was wearing trunks, while she was naked and had a chain leading to a collar.  Is she a slave like me?  Was she kidnapped from the ranch?  More intelligence for my Masters if I can ever reach them.  I snuck further upriver towards the bridge before I drank.  I didn’t want them to see me.  

 

Well hydrated, but hungry, I knew if I could reach the bridge, I could reach the ranch. I need a master to be complete. I want to be protected in a strong man’s arms.  

Outcast of Gor Chapter Three

 

I was driven back by a series of furious sword cuts that came at me relentlessly. Had Rolfe wanted to actually kill me, I guess I would have been dead within an ehn or two, but even though this was a practice bout, we were using real swords and if I didn’t take this seriously I was likely to be injured. 

 

“Sword arm tired, yet?” asked Rolfe as he circled around me, doing that flashy impractical thing people do when they want to show off in a Hollywood movie – turning the hilt of your blade around in your open hand, tossing it lightly and catching it the other way around.

 

“It’s seen better days,” I admitted. I kept my guard up, because his questions were just a form of distraction, and at any moment he might lunge in again with a perfectly choreographed pattern of chops and cuts. My only saving grace was that he was restricting the nature of his attacks to the ones I was being specifically taught to parry. Otherwise, yeah, that bit about being dead within the first ehn or two…

Outcast of Gor Chapter Two

 

The men’s names were Rolfe, Rollo, and Hergessvar. As I soon ascertained, Rolfe and Rollo were brothers through the same mother, and Hergessvar was a close cousin. They lived and fought together as a freelance mercenary unit, selling their spears and swords wherever there might be a major military conflict.

 

Rolfe returned from putting Kelsee to use and motioned that Rollo might be next.

 

I closed my eyes and tried not to think of the soft sobbing I could hear from the grass on the other side of the campsite. The sun had set and thankfully I didn’t have to watch what the men were doing to her.

 

“She was adequate,” said Rolfe as he sat down and carved off a strip of meat. “Barely adequate.” He threw the meat towards me. I felt sick. I couldn’t eat while Kelsee was… while Kelsee was…

 

I hated this. I hated being so impotent, so useless, that I had to sit and let these men take Kelsee in that way, simply so we might both be fed. What sort of man was I, that I couldn’t even provide for my slave?

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. 

Chloe’s book cover project

 

As well as labouring on the Secrets of Gor chapters, Chloe has begun reworking covers for all the Gor novels published on this website. Since she began illustrating my stories many years ago, her software has become more sophisticated in leaps and bounds, to the point where she decided it was high time to revisit and replace her old covers and create ones for books that didn’t previously have covers (often because they were books she didn’t illustrate). It also offers a chance to use the famous title lettering that appeared on the classic 1970s/1980s UK editions. If you have any of the UK Gor books from the mid to late seventies, you’ll recognise the font immediately. When she’s finished, the covers will form a new bibliography of all our work on the top header section. Every book will have a cover illustration and supporting text details, listed in chronological order, but with side references for the order they were written in, also.