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!”

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Three

 

There were now four girls serving in the main room of the Inn this night.

 

Four, is, I think, a more viable number in respect of the number of men present. That works out as close to one girl per four men. Annika had briefly disappeared to change into clinging silks, better suited to the dances she would provide as the evening wore on. When she emerged from a side room there were loud cheers and the thumping of tables in a boisterous and masculine manner. Men roared their approval as she glided between the tables, introducing herself, strips of dancing silk swaying about her body. I found myself cheering, too, caught up in the frenzy of the moment. 

 

Annika seemed to relish the attention, and the little tease swayed her hips close to the reach of each man in turn, inviting their touch, or attempted touch. Sometimes she would spring lithely away, and other times she would permit herself to be touched, but never in a manner that suggested any preference amongst the men – that would be wrong of her – we were all paying customers. 

 

The men enjoyed the teasing. It fired their blood for the lithe dancer.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter Two

 

By the time I returned, there was now just a single free woman, seated stubbornly, in the main hall. I could tell that none of the men wanted her there. There were already muted grumblings as I passed between the low tables to where Felix and Adamus sat.

 

“Why doesn’t she just go upstairs to her room,” muttered one man as he drank paga with his friend. 

 

“The slave can’t be enjoying this,” muttered another. “You can see how naturally hot she is. She shouldn’t have to restrain herself.”

 

“It’s not fair on the slave,” said a third man. “She wants to please men. She needs to please men.”

 

And so on.

 

But the remaining free woman sat with her escort and drank wine. I knew her type. She resented the subtle pressure to leave the main hall, and as a consequence intended to stay and ruin our pleasure.

Barbarian of Gor Chapter One

 

 

Book Three of the Roland Martell trilogy

 

If I had to make a list of things that turned me on, then the sound of ankle bells locked on the left ankle of a kajira would be somewhere in the top twenty. Part of the appeal, other than the deliciously erotic sound as she moves, is knowing that she cannot remove the bells. They are locked on her. She is a slave, and she doesn’t have the key.

 

The girl in question was quite modestly dressed for a dancing slave, and this was on account of the fact that there were free women present. We sat in the main room of a travel Inn, somewhere south of Corcyrus. Walled Inns can be routinely found at conveniently spaced intervals along the main roads between cities. The distance between Inns is always slightly less than the average distance a man might travel on foot in a single day. Ergo, you are always likely to find shelter, for a price, and on a world where you really shouldn’t camp in the wild, unless you carry a sword and you know how to use it, the presence of the Inns makes travel feasible for most people.

 

“I apologise for the dancing slave,” I said to the young Lady Laetitia, who sat, rather stiffly, I thought, with her back to the sand pit in which the slave danced. As I observed, the slave wore a reasonably modest tunic, rather than slave silks, and her dance was far less sexual than you might find in a paga tavern in a city. 

 

There were free women present, after all.

Outcast of Gor Chapter Forty (Final Chapter)

 

Destiny is all. Those words would come to haunt and shape my life over the days, weeks and months that followed. I would be dragged into the Argentum/Corcyrus war as an unwitting participant, and I would see it through to the end, and all because a young girl looked at me in awe and respect, as if I was her saviour. 

 

Destiny is all. 

 

She spoke the words and meant them. 

 

“Lady, you have an overly inflated opinion of me. I was simply in the right place at the right time, and I was lucky.”

 

“Destiny is all,” she said again. “Please walk with me, Sir.”

 

And so I did. I should have turned round, said my farewells, and gone back to the market to reclaim my slaves. I should have enjoyed my life in Corcyrus, and had nothing more to do with war, politics, or the innocent young daughter of the Tatrix. 

 

You will probably think me a fool for what follows.

Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty Nine

 

I suppose I must have looked surprised.

 

The Tatrix certainly seemed amused by my reaction to her walking into the dining hall this morning. 

 

“You’re staring,” she remarked as she walked idly towards a side table on which an array of breakfast foods were laid out in presentation style. The table was covered with a brightly woven cloth, and on top of it there were golden platters, gleaming bowls, and ornate plates, each one filled with a different delicacy. The centre of the table boasted a platter of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven, its crust golden and crispy, while next to it I could take my pick from bowls of rich, creamy yoghurt, topped with a swirl of honey and garnished with fresh mint leaves. And besides that, begging to be tasted, a plate of ripe, juicy fruit - figs, dates, and oranges - adding a burst of colour as well as flavour to the table.