A Paga Girl on Gor

I found myself once more in the cleaning room being scrubbed down by the dwarf Tupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master. Despite my most fastidious attempts to keep myself as clean as possible in Heracles' cage, I was, as might be imagined, considerably sullied with various of the substances and residues to be found therein. Indeed, my Lord, Overseer, and Master had informed me several times of how badly I smelt, and how much work it was going to take him to transform me into an adequately presentable state.

I was curious at this. Adequately presentable for what? Were they going to send me back into the tavern? I had thought that Lady Draca, my Mistress, had decided that I was not sufficiently skilled to serve in the alcoves.

Despite my somewhat indecorous appearance, Tupp was skilled enough with the brush and cloths so that I was eventually considered by him worthy of presentation to Lady Draca, my Mistress.

"There," he said, "Now don't get yourself in such a state again."

"No, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I replied, meekly, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

I thought to myself that if they wanted to keep me cleaner, they had best perhaps stable me elsewhere than within a small cage with a beast such as Heracles, but, of course, I did not dare articulate this sentiment.

The dwarf Tupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master, took my leash and led me down to the room in which I had waited yesterday, that where I had been inspected by Lady Draca, my Mistress. He led me inside, and once more I stood, waiting, with my back to the door.

"I am off to fetch Mistress," he said, "Stand and wait."

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

He had imperiously informed me that this list of titles was how I should now address him, and I did not demur. I had, I reflected, well learnt obedience in this place. I stood straight, tummy pulled in, breasts pushed out, nude, hands secured behind me, awaiting his return with my Mistress.

I looked around the room. I was so hungry, Heracles having earlier firmly rebuffed my attempts to procure sustenance from his trough.

On a side table I saw there was a wooden board, as might be used as a base for cutting, and upon it a rectangular slab of yellow-brown material, rather like a slab of cornbread or some such. It was about three inches high, the same in width, and about six inches in length. It had been sliced, and there were crumbs of the material lying upon the slab, the residue of previous cuts.

I wondered if it might be edible.

I was so hungry.

I tried to put such a thought from my head.

After all, were I to be caught eating without permission, and furthermore, food that was presumably intended for others, I knew that my punishments would undoubtedly be severe.

And yet I was so hungry.

It might not even be food. Perhaps it was poison or some such.

My belly rumbled.

The chances of my being caught, I thought, were remote. After all, I was now familiar with the footfall of my Mistress, and from experience, knew that there would be a delay of several seconds between my first hearing her steps, and then her coming into the room.

I listened intently. There was no sound outside. There can be little harm in such a thing, I thought. After all, my Mistress had, rather curtly, informed me that I was to fend for myself, and that she would no longer feel it incumbent upon herself to provide me with clothing, food, and shelter.

My heart beating swiftly, I quickly went to the table and bent down, sniffing the loaf-shaped item.

It smelt vaguely sweet and pleasant, certainly not noxious.

A few crumbs, I felt, could do no harm.

I carefully used my tongue to pick up the crumbs on the board.

To the casual imbiber they would perhaps be relatively bland. A utilitarian feedcake made of oat or grain, yet with a vague sensation of sweetness, perhaps inherent within the constituents, or perhaps the result of adding a small amount of sugar, or such.

I gasped with pleasure, such a wonderful sensation was it to once more experience a sensation redolent of sweetness in my mouth. There was certainly no such sensation inherent within the watery porridge which had so far been my allotted provision. on this world.

I swiftly licked up all of the granular crumbs, listening intently for any footfall.

All was silent.

I savoured the taste of the crumbs in my mouth.

I noticed that the slab had been pre-cut into slices, each about one third of an inch in width. The taste of the crumbs was so delicious. Almost without thinking I detached one of the slices, pushing it separately from the remainder of the cake with my nose, then nibbled at it with my teeth.

How delicious it was! Perhaps the best thing that I had ever tasted, although I knew that this sensation would undoubtedly be exaggerated by my long enforced abstinence from such foodstuffs. I knew that if my Mistress came in now I would be in severe trouble. I was sure that she knew to some extent the situation of the cake before she left. I would have to eat all of the slice now, and quickly.

I thought it unlikely that a single slice would be particularly missed, and after all, I reasoned, I apparently had to fend for myself now, so any food that I could procure would have to do, else I slowly starve to death.

I was bent over the table, nibbling at the slice, desperately trying to imbibe it all as quickly as possible. It was rather like a strange version of bobbing for apples, a game which I had sometimes played on my previous world. But here the stakes were higher. I knew certainly that my punishment would be much greater than a mischievous or playful forfeit should anyone catch me.

I listened carefully for any footfall.

I worked swiftly with my tongue, deftly eating the slice, grateful for the skill of my tongue in such work, then licked most of the crumbs off the plate, leaving about as many as there had been before. Now the slab looked identical, I thought, but with one slice less. I knew that I had to make absolutely sure that there were no crumbs adhering to my person. I licked my own face clean as far as I could, feeling like a cat. I am a fastidious eater, and even under such circumstances felt sure that I had succeeded in not leaving any tell-tale crumbs about my face or body.

I went and stood back in the middle of the room, my back to the door, awaiting Lady Draca, my Mistress, and Tupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master. My heart was beating loudly. What if my theft were detected? It hardly bore thinking about. Why had I done such a thing? Yet I had been so hungry, and the slice of food had been so welcome. I could still savour the hint of sweetness in my mouth.

Still there was no sound outside the door. I wondered how long they would leave me to wait, and I realised that it would be a matter of Lady Draca's convenience, not mine. It might be minutes, or hours, utterly depending upon her own schedule. She had little reason to give any priority to the inspection of a slavegirl, particularly one that she did not consider fit to serve in the alcoves of her tavern.

Eventually, I heard footsteps.

Swiftly did I suck in my belly, push out my breasts, and stand as straight as I possibly could.

Lady Draca, my Mistress, came round to the front of me, Tupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master, stayed behind me.

She looked me over carefully, and sniffed me.

"Hmm - good job, Tupp, I can barely smell Heracles on her at all."

"Thank you, Mistress," said Tupp, from behind me.

I was grateful then for the residual smell of Heracles' cage upon me, knowing that it would help mask any hint of the substance upon my breath.

"I will apply some cosmetics and we will take her out for the show," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," said Tupp.

I wondered what sort of show she referred to, and with a sinking feeling in my belly, what sort of part I would be playing in it.

"You may leave us," said Lady Draca, my Mistress.

"Yes, Mistress," said Tupp, "Shall I take the slave-biscuit back also, also?."

"Yes," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "and go easy with it. Remember, one slice in the gruel trough should have them all dripping for a week. Put the remainder back in the storage room for next week."

"Yes, Mistress," said Tupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master, "

"Oh, leave a single crumb on the table."

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," he said.

The dwarf took the board and the yellow slab upon it out of the room, leaving a single crumb as commanded.

I regarded it and my heart fluttered. What was it that I had eaten?

"Come here," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "And I will apply your cosmetics."

I was curious at this.

"What are you going to do with me, Lady Draca, my Mistress?" I asked, hopefully, "Is there to be a show?"

She laughed a little.

"Yes," she said, "I have been deliberating all day what to do with you, given that you are not skilled enough to serve paga, and are worthless in the alcoves. Not very good attributes for a paga slut, you would agree?"

"No, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied. I supposed that this was true enough.

"But I have thought of something that you might do, with that tongue of yours. You seem at least able to provide a small degree of pleasure with it."

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Thank you, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied, delighted that she had praised me thusly.

She took out a grease-pen, such as are used for marking the bodies of slaves, and wrote something on my belly.

"There," she said, "Do you like it?"

"Oh yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I said, with what I hoped was sufficient enthusiasm in my voice. I knew that it would not do to say otherwise, nor to ask what it was that she had written.

"Don't you want to know what it says?"

"Oh yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress, I would love to know."

She nodded. I wondered whether she was going to tell me, or was just teasing me. Of course, I was desperate to know what the writing said.

"We have, as you know," she said, "a shortage of alcoves. We have expanded somewhat quickly over the last while, chiefly because we have some very fine dancers here, but the tavern is still the same size as when I had half the number of customers and girls."

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied. I wondered what this had to do with me.

"Your task," she went on, "Will be to please the men as they are watching the dancers. That way, they will not need to take girls to the alcoves, but can use you to please them while they view."

"H..how shall I please them?" I asked, tremulously.

"With your lips and tongue of course," she answered, "How did you think? By reading to them?"

I realised that this last was a cruel jibe at my illiteracy, but I did not respond to it.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Of course, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"You will be what is known as a 'suckslut'. You will go round the men at the dance pit in turn, endeavouring to please each of them."

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied, with a sinking heart.

"After some thought," she continued, "I have also decided to rename you 'Suckslut'. It will be easier to remember, as you are now simply 'Suckslut the suckslut'.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I whispered.

I supposed that it was a slight improvement to be called "Suckslut," rather than "Sleenmeat", and I should be grateful for that, but I did not much relish the prospect of having to introduce myself to all and sundry as 'Suckslut the suckslut'.

"Just so that there is no doubt in the matter, upon your belly has been written, 'one sucking'"

I knew from my questioning of Tuka that it would thus echo the marks on the other girl's tunics, that of 'one serving'. I was not to be permitted a tunic of course. I knew enough of the language by that time to know that 'one sucking' could also be grammatically construed along the lines of 'I suck'. Essentially, Suckslut the suckslut would be presented with the phrase 'I suck', on her belly, as if to confirm her chief function.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, despondently.

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Thank you, Lady Draca, my Mistress." I said, trying to make my voice brighter and more enthusiastic, as if grateful for my latest renaming. Despondency is not generally permitted in a slavegirl.

"Better," she said, "Now, you will also eat this. I am prepared to make an exception in my vow not to feed you, as this will help your performance."

She licked her forefinger, and placed it on the single yellow grain on her desk. It stuck thereto, and she placed her wetted finger out to me, with the crumb adherent.

"You may feed, Suckslut," she said. I did not know of course, if she were referring to me generically, or personally, by my new name. For the purposes of this narration I shall assume it to have been personally, at this and future instances, and beg forgiveness if this premise is mistaken and the capitalisation of Suckslut is erroneous.

Obediently, I bent forward and licked the single grain off her finger.

She nodded. "Yes," she said, "You have a pretty tongue."

"Thank you, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied gratefully, "May I be permitted to ask a question, Lady Draca, my Mistress?"

"You may," she said.

"What is it that I have been given to eat?" I asked, my tummy fluttering.

"It is slave-biscuit," she said, "As you will not be getting any more gruel, I thought I would give you some to help you with the task ahead. What do you think of it?"

"It is lovely, Lady Draca, my Mistress. What does it do, Lady Draca, my Mistress?"

"You are full of questions today," she said, " You will feel the effects in a while. It is a powerful sample of what we call 'aphrodisiac'. Do you know what that means, Suckslut?"

I nodded, numbly. I had not been taught the word specifically in my lessons, but it seemed, to my surprise, that the word 'aphrodisiac' was practically the same in both my original and new languages, with just a different inflection.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"That single grain should have you hot and dripping all night. A slice of it will suffice in the gruel trough for a week for all of the slaves."

I felt my stomach palpitate. I had eaten enough of it to last the whole tavern a week!

I stammered out "Wh..what would happen if you ate too much of it?"

She laughed.

"Well they say that even a few grains extra can send a slavegirl mad. Her little brain gets overloaded, and she becomes a quivering wreck of a slut, juicing and orgasming continuously. But we are very careful with the dosage of course."

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied numbly.

"The effects of the crumb that I gave you should begin to take effect during your spanking," she said.

"M..my spanking?" I looked at her aghast.

"Yes," she said, "Did I not mention that? Come along now, Suckslut, the customers are waiting for the show."

She took my leash and led me out of the room. I followed, my belly churning with desperate apprehension.

***

"One," I called, trying to restrain my sobs.

There was a sharp smacking noise, as the paddle came down on my bottom, and I was unable to suppress a wail of dismay.

"Come on, Suckslut," said the voice of my Mistress, "What comes next?"

"T..two," I stammered, wincing, then closing my eyes trying to shut out the humiliation of the position I was in. She, sitting on a chair; me, sprawled, nude, hands cuffed behind me, across her lap, as I felt the small paddle, shaped similarly to a ping-pong bat, descend once more onto my upturned ass. I heard a few of the customers in the tavern, and too, some of the slavegirls also, call out 'Two'.

"Th-three," I wailed, and this time more joined in, seemingly enjoying the entertainment. The paddle came down hard, between the previous two strikes. One had been on each of my lower cheeks, but this was placed in the middle. My bottom.felt as if it were on fire.

I whimpered and squirmed as I lay sprawled over her lap. Her strength was not that of a warrior, but she was not sparing me. I could feel something happening inside me, my belly roiling with a sensation that I had not experienced before.

It seemed that I could feel the slave-biscuit beginning to take effect.

The pain was there of course, from the three hits so far on my bared posterior, and the humiliation, from the watching, leering, laughing patrons of the Juicy Pudding, but there was something more. An excitement in my predicament, in the exhibition that was being made of me. I struggled to retain my composure, and a measure of dignity.

"What comes next?" asked Lady Draca, my Mistress, impatiently.

"Pur...please, Mistress...I...I...do not know, Mistress, I have been taught only to count to three, Mistress. Have mercy, Mistress."

There was laughter.

"Four," called Lady Draca, my Mistress, and the crowd. Her hand came down hard again, the sound of the smack drowned in the raucous cheer of the crowd. I assume she said 'four', of course. I did not know at that time.

I tried to control myself, my feelings, as the pain suffused through me. I tried to concentrate on the pain, but the bubbling sensations in my belly and body were eclipsing them.

I did not want to yield in front of the audience, not bent across my Mistress's lap as she publicly spanked me. I must retain a level of decorum.

"Please, Mistress," I uttered, my voice shuddering, hoarse and varying in pitch, as I teetered on the edge of losing control, but she showed me no mercy.

My Mistress called again, "Five," I assume, as another burst of pain crashed into my posterior. My resistance crumbled and I was sent over the rim of my limits, writhing wildly on my Mistress's lap, incoherent cries emanating from my lips, my legs flailing, my whole body wreathed in perspiration. I heard more laughter from the crowd.

"The slut is enjoying it!"

"She is dripping wet!"

"And after so few hits! Imagine her under the whip!"

My Mistress called another number, and the crowd called with her. I felt the pain of course, but was almost past caring, the shame I felt at being publicly spanked, now exacerbated by my reaction to it, and the laughter and remarks my actions had brought forth from the bawdy crowd gathered around.

"Hold her still, Draca, she is slithering around like a wet eel!"

"What a slut!"

My Mistress called another number, and the crowd joined her, although now there was now as much laughter as counting. My bottom felt another hard slap.

I did not know this number, as at that time, I had been taught only to count to three. I assumed it was the equivalent of 'seven'. I wondered how many times my Mistress would spank me. I had not been told, of course.

Another call from my Mistress and the crowd. I felt myself again losing control. A barely human noise came from my throat, and I felt myself involuntarily writhe on my Mistress's lap, tears springing from me. I knew that I was leaking my sex fluids, and that all could witness it.

There was laughter from the men, and my Mistress's paddle again spanked me, as the audience called out another number that I did not know.

I had never felt so excited within myself.

***

My lips were around the Master's organ, my tongue tasting him as he filled my mouth and throat, his hand in my hair, pumping me back and forth in his lap, as he sat cross-legged. I looked up at him, but he was not looking at me, but staring intently ahead. I knew that he was regarding Tela, the dancer, whilst I pleasured him as was appropriate for a suckslut.

I devoted my attentions to the task in hand. It was extremely demeaning, even hurtful, being used to give a man pleasure, whilst he watched lustfully the movements of another. I knew that I was nothing more to him than a vessel for his pleasure, his eyes had shown me that, fixed, I knew, on the gyrations of Tela. I knew further, that I was simply a device, employed by Lady Draca, my Mistress, to keep him from the too scarce alcoves, to enable him to take his pleasure out here on the floor of the Juicy Pudding.