Females of Gor

Comment: this is based on John Norman's Gor novels. I tried to emulate his style to the best of my abilities, to represent the Gorean way. This may not appeal to everyone, and I apologize for that. There is more to this story than just graphic sex.

*

I write this narrative at the orders of my Master, Aaron of Treve, of the Warriors.

I knelt on the side block, a naked barbarian slave girl, my left ankle chained to the circular wooden block by virtue of an iron shackle.

I had been groomed, my skin scrubbed and my hair combed, in order that I appear more attractive to prospective buyers.

I wore an iron collar on my neck, heavy and ugly, which had been hammered around my throat. A metal tag had been wired to it, round and red, which meant that I had been opened for men. On my left thigh, high, near the hip, I had been branded with the kef, the common brand. On my left breast I had a number, written with a black grease pencil. I do not know which number it was, for I am illiterate in Gorean.

How far I was from Earth. My name had been Alejandra Vargas, and I lived in Mexico, free, the daughter of a wealthy marriage. I had never worked in my whole life, before coming to Gor, and I had been vain, haughty, arrogant.

Doubtless I had been watched for months, studied, evaluated, before I was kidnapped. It happened one day while I was clubbing with a friend of mine. They put something in our drinks, perhaps tassa powder, but I do not know.

I had awakened nude, in close chains, scared. I had been branded, whipped and raped.

-Oh! -- I cried out, raising my hands to cover my face, defensively. I had been lashed.

-Call out you slut! -- said Aneus, the whip master, he who had whipped me -- entice the buyers, beg them to buy you! More prettily!

-Yes Master! -- I answered, pained and humbled.

Aneus was not my Master, but rather an employee of my Master, Publius Dormus, of Ar, dealer in slaves.

-Buy me Master! -- I called out, extending my arms, as if to grab the men which had come to buy slaves.

I had been a slave for little more than one year, and I had well learned how the men of this world handle women. I had been often raped, as I was a slave, but I had not been used in more than a week, and I was restless, needful. Slave fires had been lit in my belly, and I longed for sex, or even as little as a caress, a kiss.

This is a common technique used to enhance a slave's beauty before a sale.

I was not Alejandra anymore, but my name was Tuka, a common slave name.

I am slim, a petite girl, with dark brown skin, dark hair and olive eyes. My breasts are large for my build, somewhat contrasting with my lean figure. I do not have the greatest ass, it is average at best, but I think it is well formed. My Master, Aaron of Treve, says I have a slave's body, and that it was made for bonds and close chains.

-Buy me Master! -- I called to a man which passed nearby, a handsome one. I knelt at the edge of the platform, near him, stretching my body to him. He had warmed my genitals.

-She-sleen -- he laughed.

-This one is pretty -- said another man, who had approached me, from behind. He was with Publius Dormus, my Master.

-Yes -- said Publius Dormus -- see her dusky skin, her small and soft belly...

He touched me, indicating each part as he spoke of my body.

-...it's a slave's navel. Too, look at her flanks, her legs. See how delicious her breasts are, ripe for kissing and kneading, and her pretty nipples.

-Yes indeed. I like her face -- the man said, grabbing my face as he said it, roughly, pulling me towards him --but is she sensitive?

-This little bundle of pleasure is as hot as a burning coal. I do not sell cold slaves Portus, and you know it. Test her.

The man, Portus, touched my pussy with authority, cupping it and rubbing his thumb on it, and I yelped and squirmed. He had sent electric sparks down my veins, across my body. I bit my lip.

-She juices quickly. What can she do?

-She has been trained in the arts of pleasing men, in the pens of Mirus Cernius.

I blushed, being the subject of their conversation. I felt so helpless, so worthless. Such things are unthinkable on Earth.

-She would look good in slave silk, serving paga. I like her. How much?

-Three silver tarsks.

-You must be kidding. Is she a dancer?

-No, but she can be taught.

-Three tarsks is too much...

I knelt, before them, as they haggled for me. On Earth, I had been a rich, spoiled girl, but here, I was chattel, an animal, with a price.

I was scared, unsure of what was to become of me. I feared men, and they could do to me on this world, but at the same time, I was fascinated by their power, their manliness. They were lions, while the men of Earth were kittens. These men exuded might, power and strength. They made me juice.

I had been kidnapped by agents of Mirus Cernius, a slaver of Ar. I had been branded at his pens, and taught to speak Gorean, to cook, to sew, to launder, to present myself before men, to submit and beg, to lick their feet, to pour paga and wine. I had been taught by slaves with switches, who had punished me often.

Mirus Cernius had deigned to have me as one of his pot slaves, in effect, a maid. He only used me once, on the floor, but he had used me well, making me cry and squirm. I was his maid, or pot slave, for several months, aiding the cook in the kitchen, polishing boots and shoes, mopping and sweeping the floors, doing laundry and other sorts of menial labors. I had been allowed a tiny slave tunic, of rep-cloth, with I wore gratefully, humbly.

He had used me only once, but the cook, the guards, the whip master and others had often put me to their pleasures.

Mirus Cernius had me sold after a time, some months, to Publius Dormus, my current owner. In the end, I was sold for one silver tarsk.

My new Master, Portus, owned a paga tavern, the Scarlet Dina, in Ar, and I became a paga slave. Portus took me to his quarters, in a slave sack. He opened it, and pulled me out, I bound hand and foot. I was scared, nervous, but thrilled. He put me on the floor, on my back.

-Yes you are a pretty one -- he said.

-Thank you Master -- I answered, still bound, at his feet.

I lifted my body to his, almost inadvertently, unconsciously, instinctively. I longed for his shaft inside me.

-Slut -- he said, laughing, as she removed his tunic. He freed my ankles of the binding fiber, but left my hands tied, behind me.

-Oh Master -- I moaned as he positioned himself, his penis hard now, at the entrance of my vagina.

I was restless. I squirmed a bit, as he lightly touched me with his shaft. He then grabbed my hips, tightly, and entered me roughly, suddenly, making me cry out.

He rammed me, again and again, the sound of his hips against mine filling the room, as well as my tiny, piteous moans. He clasped my hips, digging his fingers into me, hurting me. I writhed, helplessly, as he fucked me. His tongue was on me, on my belly, on my nipples. He then kissed me, a master's kiss, crushing my lips, drawing blood.

-Oh! Master! -- I cried.

I could feel him, ravishing me, filling my soft interior, which stretched to accommodate him. The tiles were hurting my back, but I did not care, so enthralled I was by his manhood, his power on me. I was breathing heavily.

He was huge, muscular, and I was afraid he would crush me. I could feel his hard chest over my soft body, possessively. He had his hands at both sides of my head, as he raped my mouth.

-Master! Oh!

My genitals were aflame, exuding pleasure across my body, taunting me with the promise of a slave orgasm.

However, before I could climax, before I could yield to my new Master, he spilled his fluids inside me, peaking, and withdrew.

I was whimpering, squirming on the floor like worm, begging for him to continue raping me. I was on fire, itching for release. But he merely left the room, leaving me there, bound and panting, starved for an orgasm.

He would return shortly after, and set me about my labors.