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His Kajira
I was his, and yet I was incapable of its admission. He was different to my last keeper, very much so. He was far more entrenched in protocol and ceremony. A few things stood the same, he loved simple nudity in preference to clothing, he loved to see me greet him as his younger brother had. However he was an infinitely more complex man even if he was paganly simplistic. He was also not ruled by sadism, he never hurt for hurts sake, or laughed at my tears.
He had summoned me to the rear courtyard a place I had come to love, the day had been for this northern land outrageously warm. I was glad of it, as I was often cold. He reclined on the outdoor lounge bidding me to kneel before him.
"I have decided how we should proceed, little one."
He regarded me kindly, I was not so comfortable now to kneel that I was heavy with child. If he saw my discomfort he did not comment, his mind this fine Sunday afternoon was on other matters.
"Ona learned this and I desire you to as well. I do not know if you have heard of Gor or not. Really it does not matter, all that matters is you learn it and do as I ask."
I tingled in wicked places at that, he had finally said the words I had long chased from the lips of others. Words and a universe I had almost forgotten and no longer expected to explore. Gorean philosophy was something I had all my teenage years lost myself in. The books didn't hold up now I had matured, the writing style to me was flat, but I still loved the premise of it and the world.
I had researched a little of Gor, tried to enact all the positions in my bedroom as a girl, long before I had met anyone. Then later again a passing fancy as I had filled in my days looking at the forbidden internet world.
Then in the next moment I felt heaviness at his words, it had been just over two weeks in his possession and he was now instilling in me his rules. Rules I would have to adhere to and live by. I sensed he was not going to be gradual in his introduction of them as his younger brother had been. I was not so good at adapting to vast sweeping changes. I preferred little alterations at a time. My mind would muddle if I had to recall too many new things at once.
However it was his decree, all I could do was try to absorb and learn what he instructed to the best of my ability. Hoping he would not punish me too severely for a misbehavior to follow his commands.
While I sat at his feet he took time to explain to me the tenets of Gor. For those that are unfamiliar it is very male-dominated, erotic, controlling, and I had to admit exciting. He was different to Frej, he was more imaginative and not afraid to employ it.
"I feel you need structure to your slavery, more than you had. I think it will help you adjust to your new life here. I'm going to show you one by one the commands I expect you to know by heart. I do not care where we are if I utter them you will immediately obey."
He frightened me then, and aroused me too. I had read enough of Gor to know he was the epitome of the kind of savage portrayed in such fiction. The warrior, the confident male who took his fill when and where it pleased him. Part of the reason I had been so smitten with Frej.
"Let's begin with something you almost do instinctively shall we? Something easy."
He rose putting his hands on me. I felt a rush of wickedness course through me as he positioned me on the cold paving stones as required, and mild panic also.
"This is called the crawl, and how you greet me."
I was on all fours, my forearms flat to the stone, my head also to the ground only just raised to not be touching. My rear positioned high in the air. His fingers in passing went to the ring below, he tugged on it and I moaned.
He made me stay there in this rigid position of supplication as he told me of the next one. The Bara, where a girl lays down on her belly forehead pressed to the floor. She crosses her ankles and wrists behind her and waits to be bound.
He told me I was currently excused from this one in my heavily pregnant state. He described each position in vivid detail, his voice lustful and low. I could tell this moved him, he knew all these positions by heart. It was a new thought to me, that of willing bondage. To lay supine and wait for a man to bind me. To accept that he could and he would. I was used to fear, a fight, and a struggle, which ultimately lead to pain and my loss.
Another voluntary binding position, bracelets. He bade me to kneel, thighs spread wide, back arched, and my arms extended before me, wrists together in preparation for being bound. He wanted my head high, but my eyes submissively lowered.
Then hair, a simple command where I must bend at the waist presenting my long tresses to him.
This was followed by the whipping position, I hoped it was rare I would ever have to assume it. Where a slave swiftly drops to her knees and raises her hips. She places her head to the floor and then crosses her arms across her belly, waiting motionless to accept her Master's punishment. A slave such as myself with long hair will pull the hair from my back so the skin is exposed for the whip.
The positions became harder to assume and more suggestive and sexual in nature. I felt embarrassed and degraded to be forced to assume them in front of him. Some of the more elaborate ones I was excused from completely, though he did say on my recovery from the birth of my child I would be taught them as well.
During this I chanced to look up, I had a clear view of his strong legs, his immense muscled thighs. The fabric of his trousers stretched taught encasing the solid muscle. I could see he was unashamedly hard, his member pressing against the constraining material. He may have been remembering her, but he was still just a man, and a man required satisfaction and release of the carnal kind.
"And now for my personal favorite the she-sleen."
His usually sad eyes sparkled, and his voice suddenly very alive. Again on my knees and elbows. He ordered me to clasp my hands over my head, and raise my hips. He walked behind me then, his hands going to both my inner thighs and parting them forcefully. I swallowed and almost came.
"Now," he said. "Arch your back, I want you to expose yourself to me like an animal, a female animal in heat. With no conscience and no shame."
In all the long years I had spent with his younger brother I thought I had become inured to any kind of shame. He was proof to me I had not. At his words my cheeks were flushed red in much the same way I felt that first evening I had ever beheld him. I felt his long hair brush my flesh and the warmth of his body as he leant close, his voice most concupiscent.
"She then readies herself to be beaten or taken sexually like an animal, depending on her Master's whim."
He could say these things to me so freely, so easily. He knew exactly which buttons to press to weaken my resolve.
"Do not break position."
I shuddered at his firm command, I was already wet and aching for him. I was not at liberty to look at him with my face pressed to the flagstones. I found myself fighting an overwhelming urge to. However I realized this was more than a game to him, it was a serious matter, and he expected my obedience.
