Kajirus of Gor Chapter Forty: Final Chapter

 

At times like this I know there’s no point making excuses or trying to talk your way out of the situation. Anything you say is only going to make things worse. At times like this all you can do is get up and leave while you still can.

 

“You’re right,” I said with a disarming smile. “It’s really something I must get round to doing.” I rose from the table. “My thanks again for the paga. It was very generous of you, Julian, but I fear my lovely Kelsee was right to remind me of my appointment with Consus of Ar. I really shouldn’t keep him waiting. Heel me, Kelsee. We have to go.” I snapped my fingers in her direction.

 

And then, as I turned round, I came face to face with the hulking giant that was Atticus, Captain of the Guard. He had his muscled arms folded across his chest as he blocked my way.

 

“Sit down, Roland,” said Julian Lepidus. “Please.”

On the Banks of the Bighorn Chapter Twenty – by Tracker

 

Patrick and Juliette explore their changed relationship oblivious to the Drama around them.

 

Slaves’ Narratives as Range War Rages.

 

From the Slave Viki’s Narrative

 

Throughout the night I lay in fitful sleep in my small attic room in the Three Moon Saloon.  Above the bar and kitchen a false roof had been constructed.  The main room of the saloon was high, almost fourteen feet, so there was space above the service areas for small low rooms for the girls, as long as you don’t mind stooping.  Gor taught me to live on my knees anyway, as the price for living. As I wait for a response from my Masters in far off Montreal, regarding my report of possible treachery by our agent on the Lazy F,  I thought on the strange turns that had brought me to this place.

 

Victoria Mary Elizabeth Diana Windsor.  That’s me.  Or it used to be.  Now I am enrolled as Viki in some slaver’s house on Gor, an unacknowledged Planet circling the sun, in the same orbit as our own.

 

Nerd Girl, Tech Girl, Mat and Kettle Girl.  Now in godforsaken Montana in 2016 known as Bessie, although I told that man Patrick my real name.  He reminded me so much of a Master, I could not lie to him.

Kajirus of Gor Chapter Thirty Nine

 

Dexter and I were taken to a small cement floored cell, or a kennel, as the ranch hands tend to refer to it. We were to be kept separate from the females, for obvious reasons.  

 

“Big day for you tomorrow,” remarked Hawkins as he oversaw the two men who chained us by our wrists to a central iron ring bolted to the cement floor. “And for the fillies you came in with.”

 

“There is no Gor,” I said. “Just because everyone here has been conditioned to believe in it, doesn’t mean it exists.”

 

“Whatever, mister. Get some sleep. You’re being shipped out to Priest’s Hill tomorrow night.”

 

The barred door was slammed shut, followed by a clatter of a key turning in the lock. The men left the kennel shack, switching off the lights on their way.

 

“You belong to one of the families,” I said to Dexter, in the darkness. “What’s going on?” After having ranted and raved all the way to the lock up, telling Hawkins that he was a Bannon, and must be set free, Dexter was now uncharacteristically quiet. I sensed an air of despair in him that wasn’t encouraging.

On the Banks of the Bighorn Part Nineteen – by Tracker

Moving towards Nightfall.

 

From Viki’s Narrative

 

Ever since Mac the bartender released me from my collar in the alcove, I have been inundated by messages from my Master’s spy and contact on the Lazy F.  All the messages are coded and are to be sent on to his mysterious second contact.  There are no messages to be sent to his employers, my masters, in the Montreal Family. I keep the communicator hidden in my apron when I am serving drinks on the floor. It keeps buzzing, but no messages for Montreal, and lots of messages for the other people to whom he apparently reports.  This is not why my Masters supplied him with Kurii comms technology!  I am off duty here in ten minutes and will have to report to my Masters.  I will be whipped for doing so.  I was ordered by the Family to obey him in every particular, and the agent strictly ordered me to pass on his third party messages by the Narrow Beam Reporter.  I was also strictly ordered to not report this messages to Montreal.  I will be disobeying a direct order and must be punished.  I know that.  If the agent has betrayed my Masters though, and I don’t report that, I will also be punished or even destroyed. I am a slave.  My loyalty must be first to my Master, and then to the orders of another Free Man. I must act and do what is right, because I shall be punished in any case.

Secrets of Gor Chapter Twenty Five

 

The man settled down into the snug, facing Sadric across the table. He was a frontiersman, bearded, dressed in warm garments, perhaps a woodsman by trade.

 

“I am Tarvinn the Tracker. For ten copper tarsks a day I can guide you through the forest safely, for I know the old tracks, the ones long forgotten, the ones that even the Panther girls do not use.”

 

Tarvinn was the fifth such man who had spoken to us over the last couple of days. I knelt beside Sadric, or rather, lay beside him, gazing up at Tarvinn. He seemed distracted for some reason that probably had nothing to do with my semi-nudity. I wore a green cloth skirt about my hips, heavy bangles on my wrists, a costume necklace that dangled low between my breasts, and large hooped earrings. My breasts were exposed to the man’s view as he discussed employment with Sadric. I smiled at this as I lay my arms about my Master and kissed him at the base of his neck. 

 

“Your slave girl is very pretty,” he added as he shifted slightly where he sat.

 

“Yes she is,” said Sadric with a grin. “She pleases me very much.”

 

“Let me please you some more, Master,” I said softly. 

Kajirus of Gor Chapter Thirty Eight

 

“You have such a handsome, Master, Kelsee,” said Yarna as she embraced Chelsea again. “You must so love your collar! Does he make you squirm at nights?”

 

The expression on Chelsea’s face was priceless. She really didn’t know where to look. I really wish I could have taken a photograph of it for posterity.

 

“He, um…” Chelsea could hardly speak now.

 

“Oh, look, Kelsee is so embarrassed, now that we’re talking about her needs,” laughed Tasha. “Does she squirm, Master? Does she? Does she?” the girl then turned and asked me.

 

“Piteously,” I said, with an amused expression. “You’ve never seen such squirming in the furs.”

On the Banks of the Bighorn Part Eighteen – by Tracker

 

Paradise in Camp; Hell on the Ranch

 

Paradise in Camp

 

Juliette Chen’s Narrative

 

The morning had almost gone, and I was very hungry.   Patrick had been kind enough to remove the rope collar from around my throat.  After two and a half days, and being dunked in the Bighorn river, it had begun to chafe and irritate me. While I slept, Patrick had removed it from my neck for which I was grateful.  He had secured me instead by my left ankle, for which I was not grateful. The way he had secured me, with the other end of my rope attached to a stake driven into the ground, meant  I could not reach our food store, high in a tree to not attract dangerous animals.  I could see the food, but I could not reach it. There was a squirrel chattering on top of the food storage box, trying to get in, but he couldn't reach our food any more than I could.  

 

Birdsong filled the air, the breezes here among the trees were softer and much gentler than the stiff brisk winds of the prairie. The sun was filtered through the leaves and boughs of the trees. It was much more pleasant than being exposed to sun and wind on the bald prairie as I was yesterday.  There was no audience to see my nude state. Nature was much kinder today.