The Slave Girl

This story contains:

Gor is a harsh, cruel world. Its rules, societies and expectations can appear over-strict and decidedly disadvantageous to women, but if one looks further within - behind the stigmas and the over-established political correctness of our own Earth - it is, in fact, a beautiful and superbly-crafted society in which few individuals are unhappy. 

Females on Gor can be one of two things. The Free Companion is a partner, lover, girlfriend, wife and mother. She is tightly protected and highly regarded in Gorean society, though even so, the female Free Companion's male partner is still most definitely the dominant of the two. If she does not please him, he has the authority - and the right - to punish her. Free Companions, incidentally, especially when they are of High Caste, make high-spirited slave girls if they are captured and for this reason are often highly sought-after.

The slave girl, on the other hand, is, in a way, even more important to Gorean society and culture than the free woman. Most manner of menial tasks fall to her. There are different types of slaves. The work slave is, perhaps, the simplest. Household chores like cooking, cleaning, sewing and serving wine and food are her main duties, but as with all slaves, she will do anything necessary to ensure her Master is well pleased. Almost every establishment on Gor - whether it be a public kitchen or a bathhouse or a peasant's hut - will sport at least one work slave. 

The other main type of slave girl is the pleasure slave. This girl is, if she is lucky, trained in one of the specialised pens in many of the major cities of Gor. She is shown how to walk, sit, stand, behave, smile, dance, serve, speak, move and every other possible action in order to tantalise her Master and serve him the perfect pleasure. The best pleasure slaves are given cosmetics to enhance their beauty. 

A good slave girl's lot is not an unhappy one, provided she serves her Master well. If, however, such a girl is in any way displeasing, or if she lies, cheats, betrays or commits any such crime, she will be severely punished, or killed.

All females on Gor who are, or have ever been, slave girls are branded with a symbol on their left thighs. This symbol varies in some districts, but most often it is the character is the first letter in the Gorean word for slave girl; kajira. A brand, worn on the upper left thigh, well enhances the beauty of a girl. A slave is thus ever branded as a slave, but her collar - a simple steel band locked or hammered about her throat and engraved with words at the behest of her Master - may be changed as she is sold and purchased throughout her servitude. 

It was a well known and widely believed fact on Gor that every woman had within her the ability and the desire to be both a Free Companion and a slave girl. Few slave girls will aspire to, and become, Free Companions, but not a few Free Companions have, at one point or another in their lives, experienced slavery.

The girl, kaska, was a slave. She was attractive, and though her physical description means nothing, she shall, here, receive one. She had dark - almost black - hair that fell to just below her shoulders and hid her face when she knelt. Her eyes were soft and green, her skin pale, her body lithe and appealing. She was untrained, but was eager and wished only to please and, though she would not admit it to one who asked, to be pleased. She longed to be completely and utterly owned, to be beaten when she was bad and kissed and held and loved when she was good. Her being reached out, desperately, with the desire to be not only a slave girl, but His slave girl, body, mind and soul. She wanted to belong.

Oh, there were moments when she hated Him. When He frustrated her to all infinity and she wanted to scream and cry and pummel Him with her small fists and bang her head against a wall until she knocked herself out. There were plenty of those moments. She would fall into a black rage and her soft eyes would gleam like steel and her fingers clench and her jaw work, and though, at that instant, there could be nothing that could come close to bringing her from that blinding rage, that all-encompassing frustration and sharp-edged angst, it would not last. She would, perhaps the next hour or perhaps the next night, be at His feet once more, begging for His forgiveness and His love. She would look back on herself at these times and curse her weakness. But it was who she was. And it was who she wanted to be.

It was only this morning that one of these moments had passed through her vision. Only this morning had He spurned her casually. All she had wanted was a kiss. A tiny peck on the cheek. And she had begged Him for it. She had promised wonderful returns if only... And He had laughed at her. "I can have you whenever I desire you, my kaska. Do not promise what you cannot help but give, girl." And He had been right. If He wanted her, He could take her in any way He pleased. She had nothing to offer. And so, eyes darkening, she left the room, a dismissed slave girl.

A kaska was a small hand drum. The girl, named by her previous Master, was so named because he had liked to beat her. She had suffered cruelly in his hands, but, as many Masters do, He had eventually tired of her. He had sold her, and her current Master, whose name she did not know, had liked the name and allowed her to keep it. The girl had been born into slavery. She was a bred pleasure slave, and one who had been highly trained in the pens of the great city of Ar. Her mother, and her mother's mother, all the way back as far as the records went, had been pleasure slaves. She didn't know who her father was. The most attractive and virile male slave at the time would have been brought, hooded, to mate with the female slave selected for breeding. Like any other animal, they were bred for looks and temperament. Because of her lineage, she was quite an expensive little slave, and she knew it. Her fiery temper she got from her mother. Her Master, who had only owned her for a few moons' passing, liked the fire in her eyes. It amused Him. She supposed He though He could take it out of her.

The sun had set on the painted landscape some time past, and kaska knelt in the slave quarters she shared with two other girls. She would be summoned, she was sure. She was head girl amongst the three of them, for her beauty, and for fear of her temper. The other two, mere work slaves, were afraid of her. In the slaves' world, she was queen. But still she knelt, powerless, for Him.

She gauged it was almost midnight before the low door slid open with a soft rumble. The door was the only entrance to the slave quarters and forced them to enter and exit on their hands and knees. It served to remind them, every morning and every night, their position.

kaska crawled through, her knees accustomed to the rough stone floor, and waited for permission to break position. He was silent long enough to make her squirm.

"Stand." His voice, deep and vividly masculine, echoed in the stone corridor, reverberating around them, blanketing her in its authority.

Following the command with an instant tingle of anticipation between her thighs, kaska found herself glancing up at His face momentarily, despite her extensive training. He was so beautiful. Dark hair, tied back loosely at the nape of His neck, impossibly dark eyes, swarthily complected. His jaw was chiselled, His nose long and straight. Everything about Him screamed Man! The girl breathed in slightly, drinking His aroma like wine; her head swam with the mixture of a subtle musky cologne, sweat and leather.

Her Master's hand rose; she, watching its movement with frightened eyes, stood perfectly still. Calloused fingers grasped her chin and forced her head upwards. She averted her eyes, heart galloping in her ears, every sense on her body heightened to the tenacity of a violin string.

"Look at me, now, girl," He grunted softly.

Hesitating only because it was against her training, kaska directed her eyes towards His and had to fight from falling to her knees in a quivering heap.

"I will forgive you that mistake," He said, His voice dangerously still. He was referring, of course, to her earlier blunder. She had dared to look at his face without permission. Every Master differs in His requirements of His girls. Her current Master had stipulated from the day He had purchased her, standing on the slave block in the Market, that she was not to gaze upon His face. The first time she had stolen a glance at Him, she had gasped out loud. Although otherwise a stunningly attractive man, His right cheek was scarred horribly - the result of a badly stitched battle wound, she could only assume. She gathered that this was the reason He felt so strongly about His girls looking at Him. That first time, she had been severely beaten.

He released her chin, and kaska resisted a sudden pull of gravity. Her gaze leapt immediately back to His feet, and she felt her skin blush hotly. When a slave girl blushed, not only her face rouged, but her entire exposed body. A slave girl shows her emotions fully and without compunction. It is not only expected of her, but required.

"Come," her Master commanded brusquely, turning firmly on one heel and striding down the centre of the stone hallway. The walls and floor in this particular section of the small Castle that served as His home were fitted blocks of sandstone, worn dark and smooth by the years. The slave quarters were on the edge of the keep, farthest from His living space, as was fit for such a thing.

kaska followed at a quick step, walking delicately on the balls of her feet. Walking thus extended the line of her legs and forced her buttocks and back into a beautiful and erotic curve as she swayed alluringly after Him. They reached the end of the passageway and her Master stopped abruptly. She, heeling Him to perfection, paused a foot or two behind.

He turned to face her, Master a good foot taller than girl. He grasped her shoulders tight and whispered huskily, His voice betraying His hunger. "Display for me, girl." He then shoved her roughly a step or two before Him to continue walking.

kaska performed at her best when she was, so to speak, in the spotlight. She swayed to the silent music of lust, hips moving suggestively with each slave-step she took, feet stretched to their limits and legs slinking, catlike. She noted that He had not tied her hands this time, and briefly wondered why. With its temporary freedom, however, her upper body danced in time with the movement of her hips. As she walked, she felt the warmth between her legs grow, complimented by a delicious and pungent wetness. Her recently-trimmed pubic hair caused further friction with every step, and by the time they had reached the base of the staircase that led to His sleeping quarters, the girl's legs were weak and trembling, her slave's breath coming quickly not from exertion, but from pure and animal arousal.


She stopped at His command, a well-trained puppy, all her effort put into convincing her legs not to collapse.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, stone stairs looming before them and the air swirling with the scent of her. She heard Him take a step and, to her trembling delight, felt coarse fabric brush against her shoulder blades. He stepped forward further still and pressed His hips towards her buttocks just enough for her to feel the state of his arousal. The girl let out an involuntary whimper at the touch and pressed back towards Him. She felt Him twitch against her and her breath quickened again. Her hyper-oxygenated system made her head swirl. And He hadn't started to play with her yet. When He whispered for her to climb the stairs she couldn't make her eyes focus on the first step and tripped. Her heart suddenly beat faster, this time in fear of His reaction to her clumsiness.

kaska couldn't know, of course, that her Master was fighting His own almost insurmountable desire to take her right there and then. Not only did He not care that she'd fallen, but, in the action, she had inadvertently displayed enough of her womanhood that He saw just how ready she was. He gritted his teeth, fists clenched by his sides, and kicked her gently with his booted foot to get up.

Understanding that she was not to be beaten - for the second time that night - kaska begun to get an inkling of the state her Master must be in. She stored that away for later use, if the need arose.

Concentrating harder, the girl stood and proceeded up the semi-circular stone stairs.

The ground floor of the small castle consisted of the living rooms, both for Himself and for entertaining; the kitchens; and a large courtyard where His two dogs were kept. In the smaller upstairs area were His sleeping quarters and his private baths, where she would often tend to Him after a gruelling day.

They turned left at the top of the stairs, entering His sleeping quarters, and kaska felt a shiver cascade down her spine, settling decisively in her stomach and making things worse. The sight of His bed always excited her. It was covered not in blankets, but in luxurious, high-quality animal furs. Four iron-wrought posts surrounded the bed but no curtain hung from their heights. There would be no hiding in this, a Master's room. Hanging on the wall beside the bed, in close reach, was a slave whip. The girl knew, also, that in the low storage cupboard below the hanging whip were various other tools, straps and adornments to serve His amusement and desire.

"Stay." He walked past her and bent to open the locked doors of the small cupboard.

kaska felt yet another delicious tingling in the pit of her stomach.

He removed slave bells - two hardened leather ankle-straps with twin rows of golden bells, and matching wrists-straps - and a long chain. The chain He linked to the slave ring on the floor at the base of the bed, and the straps He threw to her wordlessly.

kaska saw that He watched closely, and made the most of her opportunity for the spotlight once more. Turning slightly so that her back was to Him, she bent at the waist and fastened the ankle-straps tightly. Knowing that she was purposefully teasing Him, she wasn't surprised when she felt a firm hand on her buttocks. She remained bent-over, widening her legs just a little, and arched her back so that she could look at Him. She had found that during their sessions, she could get away with more than just stolen glances, and she took advantage of every opportunity she got.

At the sight of her half-lidded eyes, her Master groaned softly and slid His hand down between her buttocks, cupping her sensitive mound. He felt her spasm briefly at His touch. His thumb parted her folds and expertly found her clitoris.

"Don't you fall down, girl," He ordered huskily, His fingers slick with her.

"Yes, Master," His slave girl whimpered.

His thumb concentrated on her node, varying pressure and speed, bringing her to the point of orgasm over and over. While still working her clitoris, He slipped two fingers inside her, enjoying the moan of pleasure she let out at the sensation and letting her hump her hips against his hand. His own member strained at his pants, but He put it out of His mind for the moment. He wanted her to beg for it before He gave her that pleasure. He slipped a third finger inside her and hooked them underneath, finding the spot He searched for after just a moment. kaska cried out as he worked both centres of pleasure at once and felt her legs begin to buckle. She was breathing so quickly that her extremities were beginning to tingle and the intense pleasure that was building in her stomach was almost unbearable. This time, her Master did not stop as she reached her peak. He felt her internal muscles clench and hold, her back arching back against him, displaying her breasts, and her breath caught in her throat. After a long moment of stasis, her chest burst forward and she spasmed violently, eyes tightly shut and breath coming hard once more. Her legs trembled, but held, His hand wet with her juices. She cried out for Him without words as the spasms continued, and then died, slowly, leaving her shaking and weak at the knees. Her stomach muscles ached after even one such slave orgasm; the ultimate humiliation and pleasure.

"Master," she whispered.

"Yes, girl."

"May I fall, please, Master." Her voice trembled.

"No," He responded. After a pause, in which He watched struggle to maintain verticality with pleasure, He added, "Finish readying yourself, girl."

"Yes, Master," kaska replied weakly and proceeded to tie on the belled wrist-straps.

"Go to the bed," her Master commanded, too aroused for such trivialities as watching her dance, as he had originally intended. He would instead enjoy the music they made as he Mastered her in the furs.

kaska sat on the edge of the bed, concentrating on the sensation of the soft, thick furs and tried to relax somewhat. She knew that her Master enjoyed Dominating her mind when they were in the furs, and she needed some essence of control. When she saw Him approaching the bed, He had removed His clothes and His full arousal was apparent. Any control she had just gained dissipated as He knelt across her.

The girl moved backwards to accommodate Him, watching His smoothly-muscled form slink across the bed above her. She felt a smile cross her lips as a glint of mischief came into His eyes. He could both terrify and tease her, as most Masters who found slave girls suited to them could. And despite anything He would do to her, she knew was that she loved Him.

"I am going to grant you a single request, my kaska," her Master said quietly, taking her off-guard. The relationship between Master and slave girl was a complicated one, but at the same time it was very simple. Two people who cared for each other in complimentary ways come together in a harmonious and mutually satisfactory relationship. Despite the rights a slave girl lacked, she was taken care of, even loved. A true Master was rarely cruel, unless the girl had done something to deserve it.

kaska looked fleetingly into His eyes, smiling. "I request that You treat me without mercy, my Master."

He growled hungrily. "As you wish, girl."

He drove His mouth down upon hers, forcing her mouth open and probing within. His teeth bit at her lips and she cried out softly when He drew blood. He growled deep in his throat and ran fierce kisses down her jaw to her ear, where He nibbled and licked, breathing hot breath against her skin. His hands grasped hers, holding them firmly above her head as He continued to devour her neck and collar. The whimpers she let out at each inch of skin He touched spurred Him on, the tiny movements of her hips against His drove Him to the point of insanity. He yearned for her, ached to be inside her tight, warm depths.

Her Master transferred her small hands into one of His - though there was no chance she was going anywhere, it added to her excitement to be physically restrained by Him - and snaked the other from wrist to elbow, lingered on the sensitive skin under her arm, brushed past her heaving breast. It paused a moment in thought, then returned to her nipple, encircling, teasing and finally torturing it, making her breath catch in her throat and the warmth between her legs grow. If He'd lingered there but a moment longer, she would have come again, just from that small thing - and He knew it. His hand regrettably left her breast and continued on it's journey past her taught stomach, caressing the subtle musculature there, tight with the tiny spasms racking her abdomen. It paused for what seemed an interminably long moment, and then gently brushed her pubic hair. The sensation, for one already so tightly wound, was verging on orgasmic.

He closed his eyes, willing for self control. His girl could feel His emotion as He tightened the grip on her wrists. She smiled, loving the momentary control she had over Him. Teasing herself as much as Him, she lifted her hips and ground into His hand, surprising a thick moan from his lips.

It was too much. He could wait no longer. Leaving His hand there, bringing her just a little closer to the edge with His fingers, He repositioned Himself, climbing directly on top of her and removing His hand the same moment He pushed His engorged manhood inside her velveteen depths.

kaska cried out as she stretched to fit Him, her legs automatically raising to encircle His broad back, giving Him access to withdraw and pound in again, harder, deeper. He grunted something unintelligible and thrust into her again. She felt so good - how could a single slave feel so wet, so tight, so perfect?

When the explosion came, they both cried out louder than they had before. She felt His seed released deep inside her, and for a moment regretted that she had been given contraceptive slave-wine a few days before. Her every muscle spasmed over and over, her breath lost.

And then all that existed was Master and slave, man and girl, inextricably and joyfully intertwined.