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A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 02

By: Mischiana



We had been outside for only a short while. I felt the sun on my body. It felt so good after so long in the filth and squalor of the pens.

There were calls and cries. We were apparently in a public street. 

I was being led, leashed, nude, gagged and hooded through a public street! 

In some ways I was thankful for the hood, which at least afforded me a degree of anonymity. I imagined what it would be like to be paraded nude, leashed, and gagged without the hood. 

I stumbled. There was a pain at my bottom. Someone had slapped it.

"Nice ass!" I heard a male voice say. There was laughter.

I wondered how long I would have to endure such acute humiliation and degradation. I heard the braying of animals. There was no sound of motor engines. How primitive this place was.

My bare feet felt the dirt of the street. It felt dusty and uneven. Several times I stepped in what I hoped to be mud. There were puddles. I could not see where to place my feet. I was much at the mercy of him who held my leash, pulling me along by my neck.

After a time, I heard the sound of a door opening and I sensed that we were inside once more. 

"Kneel," said the guard.

I knelt.

The man called out. 

"Draca!"

There was no reply. He called again.

"Draca!"

I heard footsteps approach, lighter than those before. They stopped, and I guessed that someone else was in front of me. I knelt very still and listened intently.

"Morning, Tarak," said a voice, a woman's, "What do you want at this time of day? All the sluts are still asleep. But I suppose I could wake one up for a good customer, for an extra coin. You want little Lita, I suppose?"

"I don't want paga now," said the man, "I'm working. I've brought the wench we talked of. This is her." 

"This is who?" said the woman.

"The barbarian. The one with pierced ears that we were talking about last night. That you agreed to take in."

The woman harrumphed.

"I don't recall anything about taking in a barbarian."

"You do. It was just last night. You said that rather than selling her off for sleen-meat you could use her here."

"I don't remember it being a barbarian. I assumed you meant a proper slave. What am I meant to do with a barbarian?"

"They're all the same, Draca. Look at her body, don't you think she's got slave curves?"

I felt my left breast cupped and dropped. It was not painful, but humiliating and embarrassing nonetheless. 

I had not yet become used to having my bottom casually slapped, or my breasts fondled, even as in this case, apparently, to make a point about my putative attractiveness.

There was a pause. 

"Hmmm...yes," said the woman, "I see what you mean. Not bad. Be a shame to sell her straight off for sleen-meat."

They were talking about me as if I was not there. I was scandalized but was unable to help myself straightening a little in the hood, and arching my back a bit to accentuate my figure, knowing myself under their careful appraisal.

Eventually the woman grunted. 

"Alright," she said, "I suppose she isn't costing me anything, and I am short of a slut or two at the moment. I'll take her on, if you say so, but you owe me one, Tarak."

The man's voice laughed.

"You get plenty enough coin out of me, Draca. Look on this as a bonus. I'll be here again this evening; be sure and have Lita hot and waiting for me."

"You don't want the barbarian to serve you then?"

He laughed again, mockingly. 

I heard his footsteps recede.

The hood was taken from my head. I breathed in the air. It smelt unpleasant and stuffy. A faint odour combining something like whisky, and sweat, and something else less familiar, the smell of sexual fluids. The combination smelt disgusting to my sensitive nose. I have a very good sense of smell and taste.

I found myself looking up into the eyes of a robed corpulent woman. She looked down at me with hostility. I instinctively averted my eyes, but then her hand gripped my face, her thumb at my left cheek, her fingers at my right. She removed the gag. I felt drool drip down my chin. With her hands she forced me to look upwards once more, my blue eyes meeting her downward glaring gaze. It felt good to be without the gag.

"So you're the barbarian bit of ass they're fobbing off on me, eh? What do they call you, slut?"

I stammered out quickly, "M-masters have been pleased to name me, 'flower', Mistress." 

"I see, and how much training have you had, 'flower'?" She spoke my new name contemptuously, as if it was unpleasant to even let it cross her lips.

"I have been taught to speak Gorean, Mistress, and some slave positions, and something of my duties as a slave, Mistress."

"Oh," she said, "Have you indeed? And what about pleasing men? Have they taught you that, wench?"

"A little bit, Mistress." 

I thought dejectedly of the embarrassing encounters with the guards, and when Chloe and Siri had taunted me. Of my assessment mark of one out of ten for what had been termed 'slave heat'.

"A little bit? Well that isn't going to do you much good here, is it, candy cake?"

She still gripped my cheeks in her pudgy hand, so that I was unable to lower my head. I am sure that I was blushing.

"No, Mistress," I managed to say.

She removed her fingers from my face.

"Stand up," she said, "Let's have a proper look at your set of curves, little blondie. 

I did as I was told, and got unsteadily up from my knees to my feet. 

"Hands on your head," she barked, "Arch your back, push those tits out! Don't you even know how to stand properly?"

I complied with her instructions. I had been taught to stand in such a position, of course, as a basic part of my training. It was termed the display position, and was one of a number of bodily positions that I had been taught.

Even standing thusly the woman loomed over me. I am fairly short, about five feet two inches, and she must have been at least five foot ten, and probably weighed twice what I did. She was wearing a long and flowing robe that had seen better days, and sandals.

She surveyed me from tip to toe, her brow furrowed in thought. Her fingers pinched me at the waist, testing the tautness of my skin. She took my left breast and cupped it in her hand, then letting it drop, as if testing its pertness, and my flexibility. She inspected the mark burnt into my leg.

I wanted to hide somewhere, but I knew that in such a position I was perfectly positioned for her unhurried perusal of my curves. 

I thought back to earth, and imagined myself walking down the street in my sexiest minidress, the canary yellow one, as short as I dared wear back then, tight at my chest and hips, aware of the darting eyes of men. They would sneak a quick look at me, and then look away again quickly. 

Oh the pleasure I got knowing that they were 'checking me out', but also of the cultural boundaries that ensured that they were not permitted more than a brief glance as I walked down the street, swaying my hips, fully aware that they could hardly take their eyes off me, and yet still safe from them and their baser, more primitive urges.

Now it seemed that anyone could 'look me over', for as long, and in as much detail, as they desired. They could even touch me or, apparently, spank me in the street. I shivered, frightened at what I now was and its implications.

I was no longer wearing the canary yellow minidress, of course. Nor my lacy lingerie. I was nude apart from a collar and my hoop earrings.

The fact that she inspecting me so assiduously was also a woman made it more embarrassing and humiliating. I was not used to being regarded as such by women.

"Turn about, sugarplum, let me see your ass."

I followed her instructions. I knew that my ass was one of my best features. Had not a man shortly before complimented it in the street, emphasizing his compliment with a firm smack?

"Feet apart. Split those pretty legs."

I complied. Even under such conditions my innate vanity meant that I was grateful to hear that she thought my legs were also pretty. I knew that I had a lovely body. The college boys had nicknamed me 'Ten', after all. Now I was 'flower', which still had in it connotations of beauty, I thought. It was a simple name, not subtle, but not too bad. I could have done far worse, I reflected, than be named 'flower'. 

"Wider, slut."

I did as she requested.

"Wider."

I stretched further. I did not think that I would be able to maintain this position for very long. My thighs trembled with the muscular stress of it. My sex felt stretched and raw and open. I had been selected for ballet classes at school, but had not maintained this activity at college, and was no longer as supple as once I had been. One is not as supple at twenty-one as at eighteen. 

I had once been able to perform the 'Grand Ecart' or 'Splits'. In fact, it had been a specialty of mine, but it was something that I had not practiced for a while, despite it being laughingly requested from time to time at parties and such.

I well knew its sexual connotations and implications, of course. I was not that naive, and strongly suspected the motives of those requesting it, usually men of my acquaintance, who had had a drink or two too many. Accordingly, I generally chose not to perform my party piece at the behest of others. Except sometimes, when I had had a drink or two myself, or there was a boy at the party that I particularly wished to impress. I was not really that sort of girl, you see.

I wondered how long I would be able to maintain the awkward position to which I had been directed, and whether my 'pretty legs' were now split satisfactorily for my demanding inspector.

Suddenly, I felt an intimate touch. 

It was swift and sure and devastating. Her finger had come between my split legs, round to my front, and briefly caressed my sex, looking for my little sex nub.

I was unable to stifle a moan, putting my head back, my eyes going up in my head. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. I moaned again. My hands gripped my blonde hair tightly, pulling it painfully. 

It was extremely difficult for me to retain my position, spread as I was, but luckily for me, the touch was short, perhaps a second or two, and my former ballet training had come to my aid.

I was so embarrassed that her short-lived but deft touch had had such an effect on me. I felt a sense of shame suffuse within me. I was grateful that no men had been present to witness my response. I had practically fallen on the floor. I supposed that I could take some pride in the fact that I had remained upon my feet. I had always had a certain grace of movement, and with that came a sure sense of balance.

"Turn back to face me," barked my inspector. She sounded annoyed.

With difficulty I moved my legs closer and turned back to face her. 

"That's the best you can do, is it, you worthless barbarian object?"

Her voice was hostile, even contemptuous.

I did not know what to say in answer to her. Had she been unhappy with how widely I had been able to stretch my legs? At one time I had been able to perform the grand ecart, or floor splits. Certainly a girl is not as supple at twenty-one as at eighteen, yet I was sure that I could perform such movements again, if I practiced a bit. 

"I touch you like that and you stay on your feet! Any other slut in the tavern would be a writhing mass of need and juice on the floor, but you just moan a little! What am I meant to do with you, cold fish, hmmm?"

I did not answer, as her claw-like fingers once more gripped my face. Her other hand moved back my long blonde mane, so that my left ear was uncovered.

"And you have pierced ears," she said, "How am I going to be able to use a worthless piece of trash like you, when the Masters are calling for a hot slut desperate to please them? You think they'll be happy with a little bit of light moaning?"

There did not seem much for me to say. 

She seemed to have completed her rant. She carried on more thoughtfully.

"Still, I don't have much choice. If they tell me to take you on, I have to take you. They're good customers and I need the business. I suppose there are plenty of other things you can do around the place, and you might do for the really drunk customers. Yes, I suppose I can use you."

This last she almost mused to herself, quieter now as the fingers of her right hand explored my face, then went to my left ear and felt the lobe, then pulled a little on the hoop earring that I still wore.

"Yes, and I suppose Tupp could do with a bit of help," she smiled a little, but not with her eyes. It was a cruel smile. 

She called loudly, "Tupp!, Tupp!, get in here."

There was a pause whilst she continued to regard me, then footsteps and an ugly misshapen dwarf came into the room, dressed practically in rags.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress?" intoned the dwarf, in a nasal voice. He saw me and looked at me more directly. I shuddered. He was disgusting.

She looked at him, "Now Tupp. You're always complaining about having too much to do to keep the place clean, so you can have this barbarian slut help you. Put her to work, and get the place cleaner." 

The dwarf practically capered about, such seemed his joy. I wondered about his mental capacity.

"Yes, Lady Draca! Thank you, Lady Draca!"

"Don't damage her, as she'll be needed to serve in the alcoves sometimes. Do you understand?"

"Oh yes, Lady Draca! Of course, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"Good," said the woman, then turning her malevolent glare back to me, "Looks like I've found a purpose for you after all. Just remember though, that although you are to do everything he tells you, Tupp here is just your Overseer, not your Master. He works for me, just like you do. Do you understand, barbarian?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She slapped me, once, with the flat of her hand across my left cheek.

"You will call me, 'Lady Draca, my Mistress', understand?"

My cheek burned. There had been no need to hit me, but I suppose that it showed me my place, and that I could be physically punished for the slightest infraction, even when I was not aware of it being such.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

She slapped me again, this time with the back of her hand, against my right cheek.

"Don't you know enough to kneel when you address the free?"

I knelt.

"Again, and thank me for teaching you manners"

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Thank you for reprimanding me, Lady Draca, my Mistress, and teaching me my manners."

She hit me once more on the left cheek. She was able to summon up more force now as I was kneeling and she was standing. Tears sprang to my eyes. Both my cheeks burned with pain.

"And put your knees together when you address a Free Woman. I don't need to see your sex every time I talk to you."

I hastily placed my knees together. I had known this rule, of course, it is a basic lesson of our training, but I had assumed that with the other being present I would be required to kneel with my legs wide. I had been educated otherwise.

"And you will address Tupp here as 'Tupp, my Overseer", got it, slut?"

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"Alright," she said, "Show me you understand."

I turned on my knees to face the dwarf.

"Greetings," I said, "Tupp, my Overseer."

The dwarf capered about again. The Lady Draca, my Mistress laughed to see it.

"Good," she said, "See that she is given something suitable to wear, and tie her hair back. I want those earrings to be visible at all times."

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," intoned my Overseer.

"And I think we need a new name for her too. 'Flower' is too grand for a barbarian. I need to think a bit. Do you have any ideas for a name for your new helpmate, Tupp?"

I wondered what my new name might be. 

I had once been 'Amanda Felicity Charrington'. That seemed a long time ago now. 

In the pens I had been 'beast 13'. 

I had not liked that name, of course, but at least it had not been any better or worse than the other girls, all of whom had been titled in similar vein in the pens. It would seem that there were no favorites in the pens. 

Then I had been renamed 'flower', which was a simple and lovely name, albeit a little suggestive of something pretty that could be picked or crushed. I had not minded it. 

It seemed however that such a simple pretty name was not be my appellation for very long. Lady Draca my Mistress deemed it too grand for the likes of me, and had something else in mind, happy to invoke the assistance of an apparently demented dwarf.

I wondered what my new name might be. i doubted that it would be as descriptive as 'flower', nor as civilized as 'Amanda Felicity Charrington'.

Whatever my new name, I thought hopefully, it plainly could be no worse than labouring in the pens under the name of 'beast 13'.

A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 03



It seemed that every muscle in my body ached. 

I was terribly weary.

I had been given my new name, and then my Lord and Overseer had taken the dangling leash on my neck and conducted me away to my place of work. 

I was sobbing bitterly, humiliated.

The gag and the hood were not replaced upon me at that time. 

I had been led to the scullery area of the tavern. 

I looked around it dejectedly.

Filth and grime were encrusted upon every surface. It smelt bad, the tang of rotten meat and congealed fat, the residue of many meals cooked.

My Lord and Overseer had thrown a garment to me.

"Put it on," he had said. 

Gratefully I had pulled the garment over my head. It was a brief apron, with a loop around my neck. It only partially covered my breasts, and barely reached to my hips. There was no covering at the back at all of course.

However, I was grateful for it. It was the first garment that I had been permitted to wear for a considerable time.

There were two ties attached to the waist part of it. I looped these back around myself and tied them at the front.

My Lord and Overseer, looked on.

"Tighter," he said.

"Yes, Tupp, my Overseer," I said. I undid the knot, and then pulled the strings tighter around my waist.

He looked at me.

"Come here," he said.

I went over to him. He undid the knot again, and then pulled the apron strings around me. His face was at the same level as the strings he was tying. I could scarcely breathe so tight did he pull them. They dug into the flesh of my waist through the material of the little apron. 

He stepped back. He grinned.

"Better," said my Lord and Overseer, "That shows off your figure nicely."

He grinned. It seemed that he would enjoy exercising his power over me. I guessed that it was not often that he had another at the whim of his command.

"Kneel," said my Lord and Overseer.

I knelt, with my knees widely apart. That position which Lady Draca, my Mistress, had cuffed me for kneeling in before. That position which exposed me fully to the gaze of the onlooker.

My Lord and Overseer did not punish me for kneeling in this position. He was a man, of course. The apron was not long enough to sufficiently cover me.

He went behind me and I felt him fiddling with my hair. I suspected that without my kneeling he would not have been able to reach it. He could not have been more than three feet in height, although he was broad, and seemed possessed of a certain brute strength. I had no doubt that he, as other men, could overpower me when and as he desired.

I felt him tie back my long, blonde hair.

Now my pierced ears would be on display, for anyone to see.

How I regretted having had them pierced. What had seemed a matter of small import on my home planet, a bit of harmless titillation or frippery, seemed here to be regarded with great significance, and to my considerable detriment.

Apparently satisfied with his work, my Lord and Overseer came back round in front of me. He pointed to a large wooden pail in the corner of the room.

"Take that to the pump," he said.

"Yes, Tupp, my Overseer," I replied, then, "Where is the pump, Tupp, my Overseer?" I asked.

"Right outside the door. Fill the bucket to the brim and get back here. If I think you have been tardy you will feel the sting of my belt across your bare ass."

"Yes Tupp, my Overseer, " I said. 

"And I prefer to be your Lord and Overseer," he said, "it is more appropriate and sounds better."

"Yes, my Lord and Overseer," I said.

I did not think it worth arguing over this formulation, and even had I chosen to do so, I strongly suspect that his will would have prevailed. Lady Draca, my Mistress, had informed me that I was not to regard the dwarf as my Master, but she had not said anything about him being my Lord.

I had already guessed that it was rare for him to have control over another, and like many such folk, when such circumstances do occur, they tend to relish it greatly.

I picked up the heavy bucket, scurried out of the door, and found myself in a decrepit yard. In the centre of this was what I took to be the pump. 

There was an unpleasant smell.

I jumped with surprise as I heard a loud grunt. There were animals out here, in cages, of types I had never seen before. I supposed that they were domesticated beasts, and were there to be used as food, the supply of eggs and meat and so forth. I had always got my food directly from the supermarket, of course, and it was a shock for me to see this close link to the fare that was no doubt served from the scullery of the Juicy Pudding.

In one of the cages were tawny-coloured birds, something between pigeons and small chickens. There were about twelve in the cage. The other contained a single animal, much larger and hoofed, fat like a pig. Its cage was filthy, and no doubt contributed in no small part to the smell pervading the small yard. It was also this beast from whence the grunt had emerged. It was eyeing me now. Perhaps it had thought that I was bringing it food or such in the empty bucket.

In any case, I recalled my Lord and Overseer's imprecations to haste and put the small menagerie out of my mind. I inspected the pump from which I had been ordered to fill the wooden bucket.

I had never used such a pump before, of course, but had seen such primitive devices used in films and such, and was confident of being able to operate it.

The device consisted of a small circular wooden platform, presumably the top of a well or a pipe, with a wooden cylinder standing above it. Halfway up the cylinder was a tap-shaped protrusion of metal. I placed the bucket under this protuberance. 

Attached to the wooden cylinder was an inclined wooden lever. This I surmised to be connected to the pumping device below. 

I bent over, gripped the lever in both hands and pushed down, as hard as I could. It barely moved. It was rusty and stiff. It was almost impossible for someone of my strength and stature to work it. It seemed to have been designed for someone much more powerful than a girl of five foot two and one hundred and fifteen pounds. Eventually, pitting all of my strength and weight against it, I managed to push the lever down further. 

I was rewarded with a creaking sound within the mechanism and a thin trickle of dirty water from the protruding horizontal tap. 

I was gasping with effort after this single pump.

I realised that it would take many such exertions to fill the bucket to the brim, as my Lord and Overseer had commanded me.

I pulled the lever up, and then pushed it down again. It was no easier the second time around, but a further squirt of fluid emerged from the pipe, and I pulled the apparatus up again.

I had imagined myself getting into a rhythm, my arms pumping up and down, but there was, in actuality, no possibility of that. Each push down was a major separate effort of my strength and will. It was a single push, and then recovering sufficiently to manage another.

It took a goodly while and much effort for me to fill the bucket to the brim. I was sweating profusely, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

It was all that I could do to lift the bucket, now heavy from the water filling it to the brim, and convey it the short distance back to the scullery. I could only move a small pace at a time, and to my chagrin some of the water, that had taken so much effort to accrue, slopped over the brim of the primitive wooden vessel, and splashed, wetting the bricks of the yard.

I placed the vessel down, opened the door, and lifted it again and brought it in across the threshold.

My Lord and Overseer glared at me.

"Did you find the pump?" he questioned.

I would have thought that this was obvious from the fact that I was half carrying, half dragging a bucket full of water, but knew better than to make a smart answer.

"Yes, Tupp, my Overseer...my Lord and Overseer," I replied, quickly.

He grunted. I was grateful that he did not seem inclined to punish me for tardiness, nor for my momentary forgetfulness as to his full title. I had performed the task as quickly as I might, but I knew that such heavy manual labour was not really part of my repertoire.

He threw me a dirty rag. He indicated the floor of the scullery.

"Start there," he said, "and work your way upwards."

"Yes, Tupp, my Lord and Overseer," I replied.

I had thus been put to cleaning the kitchen surfaces that morning, and only now, late in the evening, was the job nearing completion.

I had been given only a rag and a bucket of water by my Lord and Overseer. No cleaning fluids, detergents or such. No scourers, brushes, or powders, unguents, fluids or solutions. Just a rag and a wooden bucket.

My first task had been to fill the bucket using a pump. There were apparently no taps or sinks, or any such devices.

Five times the water in the bucket got to such a state that it was deemed by my Lord and Overseer to be making things worse rather than better.

Each time I had had to refill the bucket. Each time was a strenuous trial of my small strength against the handle of the yard pump. 

Every muscle in my arms ached as I worked at the pump. It was also hard on my legs and hips and abdomen. Each gush of water entailed exertion of my limbs and torso. I was pouring with sweat in the heat of the sun, which became hotter each time that I had to refill the bucket.

On my first two times in the yard all was quiet, as if most inside the tavern were sleeping or resting. On my third excursion, as I had almost completed pumping another load of water into the bucket, a girl wandered into the small yard. She was auburn haired, and green eyed and very full figured. 

I had always thought myself a great beauty; and even in the pens, amongst the other earth girls, I had felt that I 'stacked up' very well, even though it seemed obvious that beauty had been one of the criteria pertinent to our selection. However I could instantly see that this girl's beauty was far in excess of my own. 

She was absolutely exquisite. 

The grace of her every movement, and her deportment, were sensual and voluptuous. She indolently stretched her limbs, as if still still in the latter stages of waking up. I was reminded of the feline grace of a cat by her movements. 

I thought that I had never seen a more beautiful girl.

She was wearing a tiny scrap of yellow silk, and a metal collar. There was a mark upon her leg. Her garment was scandalously, ludicrously short. Its length did not even cover her. Her areolae peeked from the top of it, as it plunged to her belly. It was essentially a cruel mockery of a garment. One designed with the emphasis on accentuating the features of her beautiful body rather concealing them. Moreover, it was immediately obvious that she wore nothing beneath it. There were black symbols on it that looked like letters of some sort. 

She regarded me and smiled pleasantly, revealing her perfect teeth.

"Greetings," she said, pleasantly enough.

"Greetings, Mistress," I replied.

She laughed a little, each note of her laughter melodious and tuneful, as if carefully practised.

"I am not a Mistress," she said, pleasantly, "I am Tela. Are you a new work slave?"

I supposed this to be the case. Certainly, as I crouched, my arms working the reticent pump-handle, my face no doubt red with effort, my body sheathed with sweat, wearing a utilitarian apron in contrast to her beautiful, if overly revealing, garment of yellow silk, I thought that it seemed an appropriate enough description.

"I am new, yes. I am helping Tupp."

She giggled, affectedly. "Oh," she said, "Well we need a new work slave. The last one...well, it was a bit unpleasant, but I am sure you will do better. Are you a barbarian? Your accent is...well...not very cultivated."

"Yes, I am a barbarian," I said, rather reluctantly.

She looked at me, still pleasantly enough. 

"Your ears are pierced," she said, "That is...well...unusual...in a work slave. Is it a barbarian thing?"

I thought about this.

"Yes," I said, "I suppose you could say that."

"Oh," she said, "Still, lovely earrings, I'm almost jealous. And I really do love your accent! It is so...well...primitive. We haven't had a barbarian here before. I thought you were all too...well...cold...frigid...to work in taverns. But then you have pierced ears, so...well...but what do I know? I suppose you will make a good work slave, at any rate. Hopefully not end up like the last one. Who knows how Draca will decide to use you," she smiled at me sweetly, "May I use some of that water? You don't mind, do you?"

So saying she cupped her hands into the bucket under the tap and splashed herself with water. She did this several times. I might not have minded if she had done it just once.

I thought how much extra effort it would take to replenish that which she negligently used to splash her face and refresh herself.

"Please, Tela," I said, trying not to sound annoyed, "Don't use up too much of the water. It's hard work pumping it."

She smiled her beautiful and gracious smile.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she said, "I didn't realise. We dancing girls don't have to do jobs like that."

I tried to maintain my composure. She had emphasised the words 'dancing girls'.

"I see," I said, as calmly as I could.

"I didn't catch your name," she said.

I paused. 

I really did not want to say the name that I had been given by Lady Draca, my Mistress, and Tupp, my Lord and Overseer.

"What is it?", she said, a little more forcefully.

I swallowed hard. I might as well get it over with. I could not remain anonymous for ever.

"Lady Draca, my Mistress, has been pleased to name me, 'Sleenmeat'," I said, quietly.

She blinked.

I saw an expression pass over her beautiful face; something between sympathy, amusement and mockery.

"Did you say 'Sleenmeat'?" she asked.

"Yes," I said bitterly.

"I've never heard of anyone being called that before," she said, blithely, "Is it a barbarian name?"

"No," I said, not enjoying the conversation one bit, "Not that I am aware."

I was becoming somewhat flustered.

"Then how did you come by it?" she continued, pleasantly.

"It was chosen by Lady Draca," I replied quietly. I had already told her this of course.

"Sleenmeat?" she asked casually.

"Yes, Tela," I said, through gritted teeth. I felt that she was enjoying this line of questioning more than she made out.

She shrugged her shoulders and made a small noise of bemusement.

"You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes, Tela, I do."

I was getting discomfited now. I suspected that her attitude towards me was not as sympathetic as I had at first thought. She was the first true Gorean slave girl I had met. 

Apparently there had been a few in the pens. However, those girls in my vicinity had all been from my own home planet. There had been rumours that the Gorean girls were somewhat hostile to barbarians, and considered themselves somehow superior, but I had not really seen anything of this until now.

I was very aware, of course, of the derivation of the name that Lady Draca, my Mistress, and Tupp, my Lord and Overseer had selected for me.

Had I been in any doubt of it, they had been kind enough to inform me that it referred to my likely fate, should I not 'come up to scratch' in my services for the Juicy Pudding.

Thusly, they remarked, it might well serve to increase my propensity to perform well and devotedly, to the best of my efforts.

I supposed that this might be true.

In a way, no doubt, they were gently teasing me, giving me a name that was perhaps mildly amusing to them, and furthermore, one that served to me as a continual reminder that I was on probation, as it were. That my status at the tavern was somewhat precarious, and far from assured or permanent.

I knew of course, that I was going to be subject to assessments and so on, and that such reckonings would focus on the twin aspects of my attitude and my 'slave-heat'; my appearance having been evaluated as conforming to the minimum standards of acceptability.

I knew also that these appraisals, the times and duration of which were necessarily unknown to me, would have a great deal of bearing on my potential fate, whether that should be one of utter submission, obedience, and service, or merely one comprising, indeed, 'sleen meat'.

It was still too early to say, of course, which would appertain, although both Lady Draca, my Mistress, and Tupp, my Lord and Overseer, had let me know that, in both their opinions, the likelihood was rather towards the latter eventuality, unless I improved significantly and speedily in my services and abilities.

I was used to being teased, as are many pretty girls such as I, and considered that I was a fairly 'good sport' about such things as nicknames, and such. 

I had protested laughingly at the college on finding that I had gained the nickname of 'Ten'. I knew of course that a part of it had been a veiled comment on my perceived vanity, and the care that I took with my appearance and figure. It had, doubtless, indicated that I was viewed as somewhat unattainable, a little distant, and aloof. Of course, it had also been a rather flattering description of my body, but that was by the by.

This seemed a little beyond good-natured ribbing of that sort. 

I think that there is a difference between finding that one is, by some, on occasions called 'Ten', and that one is to be known henceforth to all and sundry as 'Sleenmeat'.

'Ten' is, of course, just a number, and in its way, I suppose, degrading enough. 

I recalled that in the pens I had been 'beast 13', and although I had not liked that numerary appellation, there had at least been the mitigation that the girls, formerly Chloe and Siri, in the adjacent cages, had been named as beasts 12, and 14, respectively.

Now, however, it seemed that some of the girls here in the Juicy Pudding had been accorded names such as 'Tela', which although rather short and exotic, compared with, say, 'Amanda Felicity Charrington', were at least recognisably feminine, and pretty.

I, on the other hand, had been named 'Sleenmeat', which, as far as I could see, had little, if any, feminine aspect or context.

I know it has been famously said that a rose would smell as sweet under any name, but I can assure the reader from my own personal experience that one's self-esteem, as it were, is decidedly different when one is named, for instance, 'Amanda Felicity Charrington', and when one is named, say, 'Sleenmeat'.

Tela had gone, walking off with her head in the air. Every step a thing of grace and elegance. I recalled what the slaver had said about grace and deportment when awarding me my mark of five out of ten for appearance. 

Tela had not thought it necessary to say goodbye or take her leave. But then, I thought rather bitterly, she was a dancing girl, and obviously far superior to a barbarian work-slave. 

I continued my arduous labours filling the water bucket.

No further girls came into the little courtyard in the two further intervals whilst I was working there, although there was more noise about the place, and I sometimes felt that I was being watched. Once or twice I heard suppressed giggling from behind a door, and another time fancied that I heard a distinct call of "Sleenmeat!", followed by laughter.

Needless to say, I ignored all such provocations and bent to my work.

It was late now, and the noise from the tavern had got louder. Although not spotlessly clean, the state of the scullery was much better than it had been. Some of the stains would need a lot more than water and elbow grease to remove. I had not been able to clean all of the walls. Only that up to the level that I could reach, stretching up, although in places my Lord and Overseer had helped me climb upon shelving and so on, so that I could reach higher. He did not seem to mind helping me in this way.




A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 03



Both myself and the apron were filthy. My hair, I knew, was matted with grease. I was grateful that it had been tied back, even though this had exhibited my pierced ears and hoop earrings.

I heard exotic music wafting into the scullery as I worked on my hands and knees. I had originally finished the floor hours ago, but my Lord and Overseer,had decided that it needed another clean. He was right, I suppose, as grime and grease that I had cleaned from the walls and surfaces had, subsequent to the initiial cleaning, collected there. I suspect that it would have been better to have started on the walls and surfaces and finished with the floor, but it was evident enough that my Lord and Overseer knew little about the finer arts of cleaning.

I was about halfway through this second cleaning of the floor. My knees were raw. 

I was terribly weary.

It seemed that every muscle in my body ached.

Lady Draca, my Mistress, entered the room and looked around.

"Haven't you finished in here yet?" she grumbled, "It shouldn't take all day, and the floor is still grimy!"

I had hoped that my accumulated efforts might have solicited more praise.

My Lord and Overseer shrugged.

"She is barbarian," he said, "They don't know how to work. She is worse that the last work slave."

She looked at him. 

"I sincerely hope not, Tupp, and it's cleaner than when you were doing it. But she can finish it tomorrow."

I felt a surge of gratitude at her words. Not only had she compared my efforts favourably to those of my Lord and Overseer, she had given me permission to stop for the day.

I ceased cleaning, and knelt, making sure that my knees were pressed closely together.

"Thank you, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I said, "I am about ready for bed." 

I was exhausted and was certainly looking forward to some rest. I had never worked so hard for a day in my life, I was utterly spent and exhausted, and knew that I was ready, desperately ready, for bed and sleep.

She looked at me, crossly.

"I hope that that is true, earth-slut, for your sake. Get her cleaned up, Tupp, she is in a filthy state."

"Yes, Mistress," said Tupp,

"And be quick about it, there is a customer calling for a barbarian slut to serve him in the alcoves".

I gasped. I wondered why a customer would make such a stipulation. My heart sank as the implications of it began to sink in.

My assessment was apparently commencing, and, in addition, my first test would come when I was utterly spent and exhausted from a day's cleaning and pumping.

"Come along, Sleenmeat," said my Lord and Overseer, as he took my dangling leash and led me off to the preparation rooms, "let's try and get you presentable to please the Free.".

"Yes, my Lord and Overseer," I said, numbly.

Lady Draca, my Mistress, laughed. 

"My Lord and Overseer, Tupp?" she grinned, "You little rascal. I give you a hort and you take a pasang. Still a good job on getting the place cleaned up a bit at last."

"Thank you, Mistress." said my Lord and Overseer.

"You make a better Overseer than you do a cleaner," she remarked.

"Yes, Mistress," replied my Lord and Overseer. He did not seem too sorry to hear this.

It would seem that the first of my assessments pertaining to my attitude and my 'slave-heat' was imminent.

Every muscle in my body ached. 

I was terribly weary.

I wondered if these mitigating circumstances would be taken into account with regard to my eventual mark.

I somewhat doubted that they would.

I whimpered softly as my Lord and Overseer led me away, stumbling, to be prepared to please the Free. 

My belly felt as if it were full of butterflies.



A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 04



It took quite a while to get me adequately presentable to serve in the tavern of Lady Draca, my Mistress.

Tupp, my Lord and Overseer took me to a room containing a small tub of water. He had me stand in it, with my arms placed in my hair, then dipped a soft brush on the end of a long handle into the tub. and scrubbed me down, effectively as if I were livestock, or similar. The water was neither clean nor warm, and I was obviously not the first to be cleaned by it. However, the brush was reasonably effective, and whilst it hurt me a little as he roughly scrubbed, it seemed designed not to scratch or punish my body any more than was necessary to achieve an efficient cleansing. 

With the worst of the grime and grease removed from me by these means, he took a sponge-like cloth and wiped me further. He applied the sponge efficiently; there seemed no intent on his part beyond the need to get me cleaned efficiently and quickly, despite the embarrassing intimacy attendant upon certain portions of the operation. 

As a slave, no doubt his main purpose was to do his Mistress's bidding. I recalled that he had not tried to take advantage of me during the cleaning of the scullery, aside, perhaps, from a little unnecessary touching whilst he was helping me up onto the counters, so that I could clean higher on the walls.

My vanity was, if I am honest, somewhat piqued that he had done so little in this regard. After all, he was an ugly misshapen dwarf, and I was a beautiful blonde barbarian slave girl, effectively delivered into his clutches and at his mercy, as it were, yet he had not pressed his advantage home.

I wondered if he were somehow deficient in such natural urges. I concluded that this must almost certainly be the case, as to how else explain his lack of interest in my curves.

Getting my skin clean of the sweat and the dirt that had accrued on my body was not too difficult, with my Lord and Overseer's careful ministrations, but my hair proved a somewhat tougher nut to crack. My Lord and Overseer had me put my head into the water of the bucket, and then scrubbed and washed lengthily, but it was still greasier than it would normally be, and the lack of shampoo, conditioner, or similar products, meant that it was essentially simply rinsed, and only the worst of the grime removed. 

I was initially aghast at the primitiveness of the cleaning facilities, but I had to admit that, with hard work, most of the effects of the range of expensive cleansing, conditioning, and moisturizing products that I normally used, could essentially be replicated. Too, the cleansing of my body served to wake me up a little. I could still feel various aches and strains, of course, from my arduous day's labour, but I was at least a little refreshed from the water, and the scrubbing down.

The brute work done, my Lord and Overseer fetched Lady Draca, my Mistress, who looked me over, tutted and grumbled about how filthy I had got myself, and then applied cosmetics to me.

These were not subtle, and were obviously designed to mask any residual effects from my hard day's work; perfumes that disguised any residual stench of grease, and some unguent for my face and hands.

Eventually, Lady Draca, my Mistress, seemed more or less satisfied that I was suitable to go onto the floor of the 'Juicy Pudding'. She handed me a scrap of yellow material.

"Put it on," she commanded.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I said, delightedly.

I was so glad that I was to be permitted a garment as I served! 

I eagerly pulled it on over my head. 

My joy was somewhat subdued once I had done this, and became cognizant of the garment's extent, or rather, lack of it.

I had never been averse to donning short mini-dresses on earth. I recalled, in particular, the little canary yellow number that I sometimes wore to go clubbing and such. That dress I had considered scandalously short and daring, and perhaps in earth terms that was indeed the case. Despite this, I had always felt a thrilling mixture of fear and exhilaration whilst wearing it, and loved to watch male heads turn in my direction whenever I went out in public with it on, sleeveless, plunging at my neck, tight on my hips, and very high upon my thighs, barely concealing my rear. 

However, the so-called dress that I was exhibited in now, whilst in colour not entirely dissimilar to that garment that I had previously worn on earth, was several crucial inches shorter at the hem, and did not really properly cover me at all where it really mattered, so to speak. 

Furthermore, whereas on earth I was afforded the luxury of matching my little dress up with lingerie and accessories, here there was evidently to be no such opportunity. I recalled the frisson of excitement that used to bubble up within my belly as I debated what colour panties to wear, knowing that, from time to time, when I was executing a dance move for instance, or an unexpected gust of wind caught the hem, that a glimpse of underwear might be presented to any casual bystander. 

Would I be daring enough to wear red or green, that would contrast so strongly with the canary yellow, and be so striking? Or should I perhaps go for black, more conservative, yet the more likely to show through the thin fabric of the dress? Or perhaps a matching yellow, an element of camouflage. I knew that certain girls, some of them celebrities, would, on occasion, go out in short dresses without wearing anything underneath at all, but that was something I could barely even think about. I was not that sort of girl, by any stretch of the imagination. 

In the end, I usually went for white, a relatively demure contrast to the garishness of the canary yellow of my outer garment, and perhaps a concession to my innermost inhibitions. 

With the current outfit that I had been permitted to wear, despite the extreme, and rather impractical shortness of the hemline, it was obvious that no such considerations would be afforded me. I was 'on show', as it were, more than the most brazen of those celebrity starlets, and I blushed pink as I realised the implications of this. 

It might have been better had I not worn anything at all, as the presence of such a dress half-clothing my body would lead instantly to the inference that, although the wherewithal to clothe me was available, it had not been deemed necessary or desirable to do so to any practical extent. The garment seemed, therefore, more of a cruel joke at my expense, a constant reminder of my status, than any sort of functional habiliment.

There was some writing on the front of it, in black, contrasting strongly with the overall colour. 

I could not read it, of course.

My Mistress went behind me, and I felt cuffs put on both my wrists and snapped shut. I pulled on them a little, ineffectually. 

It seemed that my hands were to be bound behind me, linked by about three inches of thin, yet obdurate, chain

My Mistress came back round to the front of me and looked me over.

"You'll do," she said, "I can still smell the kitchen on you, even through all the perfume, but your customer smells worse, so it shouldn't matter."

I suppose that these words were meant as an encouragement and a reassurance to me, but I felt the butterflies in my tummy stronger than ever. I was to be sent out, my private intimacies essentially uncovered, to be groped and pawed at by drunks, and, furthermore, my hands were now confined helplessly behind my back.

I swallowed hard, trying to think of ways to postpone my forthcoming fate.

"May I be permitted a question, Lady Draca, my Mistress?" I asked.

"Go on," she said, not pleasantly.

"Why have my hands been secured?" I asked.

"Customer preference," she said, "besides, it will keep you out of mischief."

I considered this rather unhelpful answer and thought of another question.

"What does it say on my dress?" I asked.

"It says 'I am a worthless, illiterate, barbarian. Whip me if I ask any more questions'," she replied.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Thank you, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I answered, quickly. It would seem that her patience with my inquisitions was ended. 

Nevertheless, there did not seem sufficient lettering on my garment to account for the words that Lady Draca, my Mistress had informed me were inscribed thereupon. There were only four groupings of symbols, which I surmised would comprise four words. The first two were in larger type than the second two, which were beneath. 

It seemed unlikely that just these four words could convey my Mistress's expression, which seemed somewhat lengthier, but I perceived that it would be foolish of me to pursue the matter further at that time. How I wished that I could read and write, and wondered when I might be taught to do so.

"Any more questions, sleenmeat?" asked Lady Draca, my Mistress.

"No, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied, softly.

Lady Draca, my Mistress, took up my leash, and led me through a door and along a passageway. I heard the noise growing louder, and soon we were through another door and onto the tavern floor of the 'Juicy Pudding'. 

Inside the room the scene was chaotic. 

It was much bigger than I had expected, and hard to grasp for someone like myself, so unfamiliar to it all. I could see men lounging around, sipping from bowls. Some were in groups talking, others were on their own. Some were hunched over boards of playing pieces. There was music, from a small group of musicians. Some of the men watched a gorgeous girl, dancing provocatively in a pit of sand. I realised with a start that it was Tela, she that had taken some of the water which I had, earlier, with much effort, pumped up from the ground, and then splashed it casually on her skin, as part of her ablutions.

She had appeared beautiful to me then, but now, as she danced and writhed in the sand of the pit next to the musicians, she appeared even more so. She no longer had on the little garment that she had worn in the courtyard. 

She danced nude. 

I could scarcely take my eyes off her. Her choreography was lewd and scandalous, and yet her movements, at one level so earthy and bawdy, were carried out with the exquisite grace and beauty of a prima ballerina. She was marvellous, yet danced naked and perspiring in a pit of sand before leering, drinking, men.

A hand grabbed my ankle.

"Oh!" I gasped.

It did not let go.

"C'mere, you little beauty," slurred a man, greasy, bald, and drunk, "Let's go to the alcoves."

I thought I might fall as the hand pulled my ankle.

"She is reserved for now," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "Let me call another slut for you, Sir,"

"Lita!" she called.

A beautiful blonde girl, clad in a similar garment to my own, looked up. She was carrying a tray.

"Serve swiftly, and then over here," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, pointing out the man sprawled on the floor, he that clutched my ankle.

"Yes, Mistress," said the beautiful blonde, meekly.

"I want this one," he said petulantly, still holding my limb.

"She is barbarian," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "Lita will serve you better. I will send this one over to you later."

He grumbled a bit, but, at any rate, let go of my leg.

We proceeded across the room. Lady Draca, my Mistress, pulling me by my leash. I looked about, nervously. There were men everywhere, at low tables, or sprawled on cushions, all drinking from small bowls. There were also many girls, mostly rushing about, all clad much as I, in tiny yellow garments. Besides Tela, I noticed two other girls dancing in pits of sand.

A hand clutched my bottom, so exposed by the inadequate garment, and tightened its grip on my soft flesh.

"Nice ass, slut." said a gruff voice.

I reddened. The hand still gripped me, hurting me, as the fingers pinched the tender skin of my left rear cheek.

"What do you say, slave?" asked Lady Draca, my Mistress, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Th..thank you, Master." I stammered out, "A slavegirl is grateful to be found pleasing, Master."

I had been taught that this was the correct sort of thing to stay in such circumstances. On earth I would probably have slapped the man, and looked to call a policeman, but here it was apparently de rigueur that I thank the man for his brusque compliment concerning my posterior.

At any rate, I was grateful in a way to know that my rear was being favorably reviewed by at least one of the clientele of the 'Juicy Pudding'. Although it might have been regarded as somewhat demeaning, it was also, after a fashion, reassuring. 

I was, in a way, thankful to the man for his blunt, but presumably sincere, compliment.

"A barbarian," he said, no doubt having established this from my accent, "Where did you find this little blonde slut, Draca?"

"Oh, scampering about, you know," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, rather cagily, I thought.

"Have her bring me paga," he said, sternly, "I enjoy breaking in barbarians, and my whip hand needs some practice."

"I'm afraid that this one is reserved for the time being, Sir." replied Lady Draca, my Mistress, "But I am sure that there will be time to break her in fully later. In the meantime I will summon Fina for you."

"Fina," she called, "Over here! Hurry it up!"

A beautiful long-legged brunette looked up from where she was collecting bowls, and scampered over.

"Alright, Draca," said the man, smiling, "I can wait. Fina will do for now. But don't forget. I like to use my whip on fresh meat"

He released his grip on my bottom, but then I felt a hard spank on my left buttock, not unlike that which I had had to endure in the street earlier.

"Serve with fire, slut," he said, "but keep your belly hot for me.".

"Yes, Master," I whimpered, "Thank you, Master."

I felt a little perturbed at what Lady Draca, my Mistress, had said to him, in their conversation.

It would seem that I was already 'booked in' , as it were, for two further 'sessions' with Masters in the tavern, after the one that she was conducting me to now. Furthermore, one of the men had said that he was going to 'break me in',as if I might be nothing more than an unruly colt, a piece of livestock to be domesticated and brought to heel, as it were, by the whip. 

He had, in addition, referred to me as 'fresh meat'. 

I suspected that such a 'breaking in' might not be overly pleasant. 

We moved on. and without being accosted further reached a row of curtains, spaced every five feet or so. Lady Draca, my Mistress, pulled at one of these drapes. Behind it was a small alcove, the width of the curtain, and about four feet in height. It went back about eight feet. It was lit, dimly, by a lantern attached to a bracket. 

Within I could make out the form of a large man, slumped against the far wall.

"Kneel, slave girl," said Lady Draca, my Mistress.

I knelt, with difficulty, my hands confined, wondering how I should position my knees. I had been beaten before for parting my knees in the presence of Lady Draca, my Mistress, and she still held my leash. However, there were men present, including one facing me in the small alcove.

There are men present, I thought. 

I pushed my knees apart, as far as they would go. 

I would risk the displeasure of Lady Draca, my Mistress. She did not seem to notice my decision.

"In you go, blondie, and serve with fire. And I better hear good reports," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, as she pushed me, still on my knees, into the tiny room.

I tumbled inside, my balance set askew by the unfamiliarity of having my hands braceleted behind my back. I regained a kneeling position, and inched forward, towards the man at the far end, awkwardly, half crouching, half kneeling, making my way to him as best I could.

The alcove was bare save for some furs on the floor, and various implements on the walls. These were mainly whips, and cuffs and manacles and so forth. 

The large man sipped from a bowl.

He regarded me, rather tipsily.

"You the barbarian slut?" he asked, his voice somewhat slurred.

"Yes, Master," I said, "I am she."

I supposed this to be true, at any rate. The balance of evidence seemed to indicate thus.

He grunted, vaguely approvingly.

"A blonde," he said, "with pierced ears. C'mere little barbarian."

I inched forward further, closer to him. 

My belly churned.

"Hurry," he said, grabbing my leash, and using it to pull me towards him, "and get sucking." 

"Yes, Master," I said, obediently.

I kneeled to him and placed my lips to his breeches, pressing them devotedly to the bulge I found there.

"Today," he said, sarcastically.

I used my teeth to pull at the drawstring of his breeches, undoing the bow of the knot, and then my lips and tongue to loosen the remaining small knot. 

I was proud that I could achieve this, it being something that I had learnt in my training. It was one of the few things that I had been good at. My tongue skills had even merited praise on my assessment, in that they had apparently shown a small degree of promise.

I loosened the man's breeches further, nuzzling and pushing, freeing his manhood from the encumbering restraints of his lower clothing.

His organ sprang free, already somewhat tumescent.

I parted my lips, and pressed my tongue against the tip of him.

I knew that I must please him, fully, or face the possibility of becoming meat for carnivorous beasts.

I parted my lips further, and took him inside my mouth. I could taste the saltiness and maleness of him on my tongue.

I began to move my head back and forth, pleasuring him intimately.

He grunted again, and wound my hair about his fist, so that he could more fully control the rhythm of my ministrations, and adjust the pacing of such to his pleasure and convenience.

I took him into my mouth, fully, and felt him at the back of my throat. I tried not to spasm or choke. 

I must please him fully or face being cut up as meat for carnivorous beasts. 

I opened my mouth widely, painfully. 

I knew that the merest touch of my teeth on him could be severely punished.

Such things, it must be said, tend to improve one's attention to the technical aspects and details of the performance of such tasks.

I licked and sucked at him devotedly, my eyes sometimes daring to look up at him, adequately submissive, I hoped, and pleasing to him. He did not seem to notice much, concentrating more on the bowl in his left hand, sipping from it, whilst his right hand controlled my hair, and the rhythm of my pleasuring of him.

I slurped and gurgled as I worked on his organ. He seemed more interested in his drink than in me. I could guess, from the smell of him, his sweat and so forth, and the lack of focus in his grey eyes, that it was not his first bowl, by any means.

After a bit, he apparently finished sipping from the bowl, and placed it on the floor, then narrowed his eyes, as if in concentration. 

Unsteadily, he placed his other hand also in my long blonde hair, wrapped tightly and hurting me. I was pulled back and forth, desperate in my attempts to please him, now that he, his drink finished, controlling me with both hands, and was evidently more intent on the task at hand.

He had grown inside my mouth, and it was all that I could do now to accommodate him therein, and breathe. It became increasingly difficult for me to do so as he swelled further.

He was now pulling my head back and forth very quickly, hurting my neck, so swiftly did he manipulate me. I sensed that he was nearing his climax, and I slurped and sucked as best I could, desperate to provoke him swiftly to orgasm, and thus to mitigate the length of my ordeal.

He was using my head as little more than a vessel for his pleasure, shaking it painfully. I wished that I had my arms free, so that I could use my hands to stimulate him also, but I knew that it was not to be.




A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 04



I could scarcely breathe, so much now did he fill my throat. I gasped for air. If he did not climax soon I might soon expire from lack of breath.

I wondered why Lady Draca, my Mistress had insisted that my arms were so tied, thus handicapping me in the pleasure that I could provide. 

I realised that it was probably so that he did not expect too much; and as such could almost be viewed as a kindness. I could use my mouth and tongue, which had been given the most favorable reviews in my assessment, and she perhaps considered that my service was more likely to regarded as tolerable, with allowances hopefully being made for my manual incapacity. 

Thus, in a way, perhaps, it had been done to make it less likely that I be beaten or worse. I suppose also, that I had been given to this customer who seemed rather drunk, and not permitted to serve the two who had groped and pawed me on the way to the alcove.

They had seemed less drunk than this man, and perhaps Lady Draca, my Mistress, had decided that I was not up to the pleasuring of such men, and that such duties should be left to the Litas and Finas of this world for now, until the men became more intoxicated, and perhaps prepared to tolerate a girl less skilled in the arts of intimacy, such as myself. One that, indeed, had been awarded a mark of only one out of ten for 'slave heat' in her assessment.

Any such thoughts were interrupted as, with a lustful cry, the man suddenly jerked my head back and began to ejaculate his fluids of pleasure into my throat.

The copiousness of his fluids took me by surprise, and I was unable to keep him in my mouth, inadvertently releasing his member from between my lips, and being splashed upon my face and hair.

I had not expected such a virile ejaculation, and, quickly, put my lips around the man again, so that I could take the remainder of his flow into my throat.

This was neater of course, and I knew that it would not do to make a mess, or despoil my garment, and besides, I had not been fed since my arrival at the tavern, and we were instructed that such nourishment, that of a man's love juices, were often the best that we should hope for with regard to our sustenance.

At any rate, I wished that I had been able to swallow more of it. I could feel it already coagulating upon my face, and I found that I was unable to open my right eye, no doubt the result of some drops of his pleasure juice having spurted there whilst he was out of my mouth.

I was frightened that I might be punished, due to my failure in swallowing all of his squirting fluid, yet he did not seem particularly annoyed. In fact, I suspect that he hardly noticed my negligence in this regard, so intoxicated with drink was he.

I began to lick gently at his manhood, cleaning him, assuming that once I had completed this humble task my assignment would be complete. To my surprise and consternation however, he turned me onto my back, and laid over me, his arms at my shoulders holding me down.

I realised what he had in mind. 

What stamina the drunken beast had!

He had only just discharged one generous consignment of his semen into my mouth and onto my face, yet now he seemed ready 'to go again'. In my new position, essentially trapped beneath him, I could smell, strongly, the drink on his breath. 

He pushed himself into my yielding flesh. I moaned a little, responding to my intimate penetration. I looked at him through the one eye that I could still open, and arched my back a little, to ease his passage into my intimacies.

He grunted, and began to move back and forth on me.

I felt him, not fully swollen, inside me, and I wrapped my legs around him trying to pull him further into me. 

I sensed, unnervingly, another loss of focus in the brute that was upon me, and I licked at his chest, all that I could do really, given the position that I was in, and the fact that my arms were trapped behind my back.

He briefly seemed to recall what he was about, and thrust into my body a few more times, but then stopped altogether. I heard a grunt, and then what could only be interpreted as a snore.

The brute had fallen asleep!

I whimpered, trapped as I was beneath him. His head slumped, and I realised that it was going to be difficult to awaken him from what seemed to be the advent of a drunken stupor.

I whispered plaintively, "Master, wake up," but knew that such whisperings were unlikely to have much effect. I tugged a little at his chest-hair, pulling at it with my teeth, hoping that I might get him back to his senses, but to no avail.

He had become insensate whilst in copulation with me. I could feel him soften and shrink within me. Trapped, exhausted and tired as I was, beneath him, he much heavier than me, I could not dislodge him from his harbourage. I could scarcely move, my breasts flattened against his now supine form.

I felt tears form in my eyes. I had so wanted to please him, and had been so glad when I realised that he wished for further pleasures from me beyond those of my lips and tongue. Now I found, with a sinking heart, that I was trapped in the little alcove until he awoke, or someone came in to check on us. 

I did not know the procedure in such circumstances. Should I call out, hoping that Lady Draca, my Mistress, or someone else might come and rescue me from my predicament?

I thought that she would be angry if I did this. I simply lay beneath the snoring brute that slumbered, enveloping me in his drunken embrace.

I could hear the faint sounds of pleasure in the alcoves on either side of the one in which I lay, and the noise of the tavern, the shouting and ribaldry, and the music of the players.

I lay there for a long time, I did not know how long.

I felt my own exhaustion overwhelm me, but was unable to sleep, given the circumstances.

The alcoves on either side eventually quietened, the shouts of the tavern became louder for a while, there were protestations as of men being asked to leave. Then the music stopped, and the tavern grew quiet.

Suddenly the curtain was pulled.

The customer that I had been sent to please snored loudly.

"What is going on in here?" asked Lady Draca, my Mistress, not patiently.

I did not know how to answer her.

I suspected that she would not be overly pleased at this latest happenstance.



A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 05



I stood alone in the small room, nervously listening for the footsteps of my Mistress.

I felt very apprehensive, somewhat akin to a naughty schoolgirl awaiting her Headmistress's appearance to decide upon measures of discipline appropriate to a wayward pupil. I thought back to my days at the expensive European finishing school that I had attended. I had always been a 'good girl', and not often found myself in hot water, so the prospect of standing, anticipating whatever punishment was to be meted out, was still a novel one for me.

Yes, I thought, that is all that is in prospect; just a curt admonishment and a peremptory command to do better in future. Just as if I were nothing more than a naughty schoolgirl. I tried to convince myself that this was the case, and that I had nothing greatly to fear.

However, my current circumstances were that I was barefoot, my hands bound behind me, wearing only a collar and a tiny yellow garment, too short to adequately cover me, my face strewn with dried male sexual discharge, to the extent that I could not fully open one of my eyes.

I felt it unlikely that a schoolgirl, however naughty, would find herself in such a predicament, no matter how wayward she had been.

I wondered what might happen to me.

It could hardly be said to be my fault that my customer had fallen asleep whilst taking his pleasures upon me. After all, I had seemingly pleased him adequately enough with my lips and tongue. Indeed, pleased him to the extent that he had released those sticky juices currently sprinkled liberally upon my face and hair. Surely, it was hardly my to my own detriment then, that drunk as he undoubtedly was, he had endeavoured upon a further session of pleasure upon my body, this time to find his stamina somewhat short of the task in hand.

I rehearsed these arguments in my head, with the intention of using them in mitigation against my Mistress's presumed disapprobation. Part of me thought that this would be somewhat unwise, and that however unfair the position in which I found myself, my most piteous protests would count for little, if anything, in the overall judgment of my Mistress. This part of me, perhaps the more submissive part, concluded that I should be better off simply accepting any sanctions that might be applied to me, rather than perhaps risking an escalation of the situation by protesting its inequity.

However, in prospect, I suspected, were not the petty retributions that might be due an errant schoolgirl. I had been told that perceived infractions could lead to amercements up to and including being cut up and fed to ravenous beasts. Indeed, I had been given a name that reflected the potentialities of this particular outcome. Surely then, I owed it to myself to protest my case to the uttermost? 

I shivered again, torn between these alternate possibilities. I had to make my own case. I had to try to point out the injustice of it all. I was a woman of earth. I could not let them simply extirpate me without at least protesting my innocence in the matter.

I heard footfall, and the door behind me opened. 

I did not turn about, but remained looking ahead, trying to conceal my apprehension as my Mistress and Tupp came round before me.

My Mistress regarded me, then pointed downwards.

Immediately I knelt, with as much grace as I could muster, given that my hands were bound behind me. I was again faced with the dilemma of whether to split my knees, or keep them together. I decided, in deference to my Mistress, not to part them, assuming that Tupp, who was, after all, only a slave like myself, did not of himself justify that my legs be divaricated.

I put my head down, staring at the slippers of my Mistress. 

"So, Sleenmeat," she said, "What have you to say for yourself?"

I swallowed hard. 

I had imagined, earlier, that my Mistress would have laid out the case against me, leaving me to decide whether or not to contest it. Now she had, it seemed, decided to allow me to make my own case. I had to be brave and protest my innocence; not allow my accusers to simply presume me at fault.

"I am sorry, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I said, "I beg forgiveness for my failure, Lady Draca my Mistress."

I trembled, my eyes down. My courage had failed me, and rather than putting forth any evidence in my own defence, I had simply thrown myself upon my Mistress's mercy. I had not possessed sufficient fortitude to do otherwise.

There was silence, save for Tupp's heavy breathing.

"I see, so you freely admit that your efforts in pleasing your customer were so inadequate that he fell asleep?"

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"Why did you not wake him, so that you might attempt to strive try to please him in a more worthwhile manner than simply serving as his mattress?"

"I tried, Lady Draca, my Mistress, but I could not. He seemed extremely tired, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

I had wanted to say 'drunk', and at least make a small point in my own defence, but again I did not have the temerity to do so.

"How did you try?"

"I bit the hairs of his chest, Lady Draca, my Mistress, and wriggled as best I could beneath him, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

It did not sound much, I had to admit to myself.

"You wriggled a bit, did you?" she said, "Did you not consider kicking him, or biting his ear? Do you not know that you are meant to please the customer quickly, and then return to the floor to serve others? There were at least two other Masters awaiting your reappearance, and we are always short of alcoves. There were customers kept waiting because of you."

Her words seemed so unfair. How could I bite his ear? I could not reach him, trapped as I was under his much heavier body. And kicking or biting a Master did not seem like the behaviour of a slave.

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Please forgive me, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

I heard her sigh, impatiently.

I trembled, looking at the floor.

"Well, Tupp, what do you think we should do with her? It seems that she is not up to serving in the alcoves."

"Her cleaning also left much to be desired," said the malevolent voice of the misshapen dwarf.

I gasped. How unwarranted was that accusation, after all my work in the scullery! 

"A lot of barbarians are worthless when they first start out, of course. Remember the last work slave," he continued.

I was grateful to my Lord and Overseer at least for the words 'when they first start out'. It implied perhaps that there might be a future for me, and that I might be permitted a chance to try to get better.

"Yes, but she is already on her last chance," said the other, "She was sent to us because she failed in her training. It seems that she is basically useless."

I was unable to stifle a sob.

"Well," said Tupp, "the fluids on her body show that she was pleasing, at least for a while. Perhaps other uses might be found for her."

I was desperately grateful to him for making this point on my behalf.

"Hmm...well... I suppose we should try to think of other uses. I suppose the sex fluids on her face mean something, but we obviously can't trust her in the alcoves. I will have to think about it."

I was thankful then for the dried discharge splattering my face. Ironically it was there, of course, because of my ineptitude, because I had been shocked when the Master had suddenly and copiously spurted his seed, and had, in my clumsiness, let him briefly escape my mouth. Had I been more accomplished, I would likely have succeeded in swallowing all of his seed, and there would have been no outward evidence that I had afforded him pleasure. 

"You hear that, Sleenmeat? Tupp and the cum on your face have saved you for the time being. Are you grateful?"

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Thank you, Lady Draca my Mistress," I said. 

I suppose that I was grateful that I was not to be fed to ravenous animals, at least for the time being.

"We will try to think of something else for you to do, but in the meantime, there is the matter of your punishment."

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Thank you, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

It would seem that I was still going to be punished, despite it being established that I had to some extent fulfilled my purpose and pleased the Master assigned to me.

"Very well. Firstly, I think that you have shown that you are beneath all the other slaves here in ability and worth. Thusly, from now on, you are to address all slaves as 'Master' or 'Mistress'. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress. Thank you, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"Secondly, you have shown yourself unworthy of being kept here, so henceforth you can no longer expect to have us provide your needs. Do you understand me?"

I did not really comprehend what she meant. I shook my head slightly, and murmured as softly as I could, "N-not really, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"Well, I am not wasting any more of my money on you. To begin with, I am not prepared to provide you with clothing. Unclothe her, Tupp."

The dwarf untied the disrobing loop of my tiny sleeveless dress, and it fell to the floor leaving me nude apart from the collar about my neck.

"You will no longer be fed or watered, but will have to fend for yourself in the matter of such provisions."

"Y-yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I stammered.

Being nude was bad enough, but how was I meant to fend for myself? Was I going to have to steal food? Or simply starve slowly to death? I wondered what I was supposed to do.

"And you will no longer have the privilege of living under my shelter. From now on, when you are not working, you will be chained outside in all weathers."

I gasped. 

"Finally, when the tavern opens tonight, I will personally punish you in front of the staff and customers, to make an example of you"

I wept.

"Take her and chain her out in the yard, Tupp."

"You do not want her cleaning again today?" asked Tupp, with a hint of disappointment in his voice, I thought.

"No," she said, "Take the worthless beast from my sight and put her in one of the beast cages, That might teach her her place a bit. I will see you later for your punishment, Sleenmeat," she said, "In the meantime, enjoy the pleasures of your new home, as you will no longer be permitted to live under my roof."

I was conducted from her presence by my Lord, Overseer, and now, additionally, Master.

I was taken out into the yard, that which contained the pump, that from which I had spent much of my first day laboriously drawing water.

He took me to the cage of that great grunting beast that had frightened me on the first occasion that I had ventured out into the yard. He opened the door thereto, and thrust me inside, despite my sobbing protestations.

"Enjoy your new home, slut," he said, "Watch out for your roommate though, he don't like sharing his cage much."

I struggled to my knees and went to the bars.

"Please, Master," I wept, "Put me in the other cage!"

I knew that the other cage contained the birds, somewhat like pigeons, and was in a much cleaner state.

"Foolish barbarian. They would probably peck you to pieces. You are safer in here."

"Yes, Master," I wept.

It seemed that I was to share a cage with the giant grunting beast. The cage was about nine feet by six feet, and about four feet in height. It seemed hardly large enough for the beast on its own, let alone with me also added to its contents. Too, the cage was far from pristine, and smelt. There were bars around all sides, some muddied and so on. The floor was covered in planks, on which had been piled dirty straw. I looked around apprehensively. The beast was glowering at me, as if caught between surprise and hostility, that it should suddenly find a companion in its cage.

I cowered against the bars, wondering if it would attack me. It was similar to a huge, hairy, wild boar, with large fangs pointing upwards from its lower jaw. It was large enough, I thought, to crush me if it so desired. Given the dimensions of the cage, even pressing my nude body to the bars so that I was the furthest possible distance from it, I was only about two or three feet from those horrendous tusks. It could gore me in an instant.

It grunted, somewhat irritably, but went back to feeding from the trough on its side of the cage. It was, at least at present, docile.

I remained close against the bars, and put my legs under me into a sitting position. Given the dimensions of the cage, I could not, in any case, stand upright. The beast seemed content to gorge from its trough. I supposed that it was being fattened up for slaughter. It seemed to ignore me as it fed, and my fear began to subside. The sun came through the bars of the roof, and I tried to get in a comfortable enough position leaning against the bars to fall asleep. Given the state of the straw on the floor, I did not want to sleep on it, plus doing so might have brought me closer to the beast, and increased my risk of being crushed by it. Yet I was so tired.

The worst aspects were the smell, which was still in my nostrils, the various insects that were flying about the cage, no doubt attracted by the contents therein, and tiny scurrying beasts that I now discovered infesting the straw. 

Despite the conditions I must have dozed off, because I was awakened by the poking of a stick into my arm. I saw there outside the bars Tela and another girl, blonde and blue-eyed, like myself. 

"Hello, Sleenmeat," said Tela, who of course had been the one that had poked me, "What are you doing in there?"

"I...I...the Mistress decided to put me in here," I stammered.

"Oh," she said, and I thought that she was suppressing a smirk, "Have you been put in there to mate with Heracles?"

"H-Heracles?" I stammered.

She smiled sweetly, "Your cage-mate. I think you would make a good match. So long as he didn't fall asleep of course."

I blushed, furiously. It seemed that she was well acquainted with what had occurred. I looked down not wanting to answer her.

The other girl spoke, "You are probably lucky, I do not think he is in rutting season at the moment. He will be docile if he has enough to eat."

"Perhaps," said Tela, a little crossly, I thought.

"I expect Mistress will let you out soon," said the other.

I heard Tela sigh.

"Alright Tuka, thank you, I was talking to the barbarian."

"Yes, Tela," said Tuka.

"So are you comfortable in there?" asked Tela.

"Not particularly," I answered, "Do you think Mistress will soon let me out?" 

I addressed this latter to the other girl, who seemed more sympathetic to my plight.

I felt another poke with the stick.

"Remember to call us 'Mistress', Sleenmeat," said Tela, "Otherwise you will be punished."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied quietly. It seemed that Tela was well informed on the structure of my various punishments. I wondered again what made her so hostile to me.

"I hear that Mistress is planning a new name for you," said Tela.

"Yes, Mistress?" I asked. I thought it would be good to have a new name. "Yes," said Tela, "You will be known as Sleeping-Furs."

She laughed, no doubt pleased with her joke. I saw the other girl laugh also, but more so as if she thought it best to do as Tela did, rather than through any particular malice.

"It will be as Lady Draca, my Mistress, decides, Mistress," I replied, quietly.

In truth I did not mind the potential new name too much. I was quite aware of the reference, which I suppose on earth would translate to something like 'Mattress', specifically a name implying that I was something for sleeping on, but it was preferable, I felt, to Sleenmeat. I wondered whether this was indeed Lady Draca, my Mistress's intention, or whether it was simply Tela teasing me a little. In any case, she, seeing that I was not greatly hurt me with this reference, simply poked me again with the stick.

"I have to go and practice my new routine," she said, "And it smells too much here. Good luck, Sleeping Furs."

"Thank you, Mistress," I replied, simply. It seemed like most of her type, if she couldn't hurt she soon got fed up with trying. 

The other blonde girl stayed behind.

"Don't worry too much about Tela," she said, "She can be unpleasant, but she won't dare to hurt you."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

"I am Tuka," said the girl, "I come from the north. Do you come from the north?"

"Not really," I said. I suppose, I did come from the north, but north on another planet. I did not think that was what Tuka was asking, "I am a barbarian."

"Oh," said Tuka, "I thought something like that, from your accent."

"Oh," I said, "Thank you. Are you a dancer too?"

"No," said Tuka, "Just a paga slut, I hope to be trained as a dancer some day though, how about you? Is it true that a Master fell asleep in the alcoves using you?"

"Yes," I sighed a little, "But he was very drunk."

"Still," said Tuka, "It doesn't look very good on the tavern does it? Don't they teach you to please men in Barbarian Land?"

I reflected on this.

"No," I answered, "No. They don't really."

"Oh dear," answered Tuka, "And yet they pierce your ears?"

"Yes," I said. I wanted to change the conversation. Tuka seemed friendly enough, but her questioning was annoying. 

"May I ask you what the writing says on your dress?" I queried.

She looked pleased.

"Well," she said, "I cannot read, of course. but I have been told that it says...errr..." 

Here she thought a bit.

"Yes," she went on, "The top line says 'Juicy Pudding'."

As she said this, her hand pointed at the symbols higher on her dress.

"And the bottom line says 'One serving'. It is clever isn't it? It could mean One Serving at the Juicy Pudding, or it could just mean 'One Serving Of Juicy Pudding. Lady Draca thought of it, I think. All the dresses are the same, though she has said she might get some new ones if we do well. She is very kind."

I smiled a little. Such had not been my experience. At least I now knew what it said on the dress, although I did not think the information was particularly useful, as it turned out. Especially I had been told that I would no longer be permitted clothing. Still, I had shown myself that I could glean information when I wanted to.

"Thank you, Tuka," I said, "I had asked Lady Draca and she hadn't told me."

The blonde's face darkened a bit. "Oh, then you shouldn't have asked me," she said, "The Mistress did not want you to know. Now I will get into trouble if she finds out I told you. You tricked me."

"Don't worry, Tuka," I replied, "I won't tell her."

The other scowled.

"I think you are meant to call me 'Mistress'," she said, less pleasantly.

"Yes, Mistress," I answered.

She went away. She had been friendly, but now it seemed that I had alienated her with my stupid behaviour. Why had I felt the need to tell her that Lady Draca had not divulged the information regarding the dress? I had been so foolish.

I watched Tuka disappear into the house. She was blonde and blue eyed, certainly, but whereas my figure was well-proportioned, hers was spectacular. I did not doubt that she would well please the tavern's guests in the alcoves. She was incredibly beautiful and voluptuous, and yet had referred to herself, routinely it seemed, as a 'paga slut'.

I wondered whether I would be able to get back into her good books. It would be nice to have a friend on this planet, I thought.

Heracles grunted loudly. I was pleased that Tuka had told me that it was not rutting season.

My eyes looked over at the contents of his trough. They were disgusting. Yet, I was so very hungry.

I contemplated trying to feed from the trough. 

I was hungry and the contents looked disgusting, and no doubt Heracles had already rooted through them for the best bits.

My tummy rumbled.

I looked into the trough. The contents were indeed revolting, but I saw what looked like a half eaten vegetable, similar to a turnip, at my end of the trough.




A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 05



My tummy rumbled once more.

I was so hungry.

I knelt lower so that my mouth might approach the trough. The item must be edible at least, I surmised, else it would not be in the trough.

I reached down further so that my mouth was now inches from the trough and the coherent vegetable floating in the surrounding mush.

I noticed there were marks on it, as if it had already been chewed a little, but then dropped or discarded in the trough. I retched a little at the implications of this, but I was so hungry.

I dropped closer to the item. 

I needed food, I knew, and Lady Draca, my Mistress, had earlier informed me that she would no longer feel it contingent upon her to feed and clothe me. I had to 'fend for myself'.

My lips reached out for the vegetable. I was almost touching it. It would be so good to eat something.

Suddenly there was a deafening and hostile squeal in my ear, and a snout pushed me forcibly away from the trough. I whimpered, and found myself pressed back against the bars.

I could be crushed in an instant.

To my relief, Heracles did not crush me, but went to the trough and took the piece of vegetable into his own mouth, chewing it ruminatively.

I could only look on enviously. It would seem that such choice morsels from the trough were not to be mine to sample, at least if Heracles had a say in the matter.

My tummy rumbled once more.

Dejectedly I put my head once more against the bars and tried to doze, listening to the slurping noises of Heracles as the beast consumed the vegetable matter which it chosen to deprive me of. 

I must have fallen asleep once more.

I felt a poke.

It was Lady Draca, my Mistress, and Hupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master.

"Come," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "It is time for your punishment to begin."

Tupp opened the cage door and pulled me out and put a leash upon me.

I wondered what further they had in mind for me.

It seemed that indeed, I had far more to fear than might a 'naughty schoolgirl'.



A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 06



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. 




A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 06



I should have been mortified and shamed by this, I knew, and yet, with the slave-biscuit coursing through my veins I was helplessly aroused, yielding to my submissive ecstasies every few minutes, and at his least touches. I had lost count of the number of times I had found myself out of control, writhing nude as I pleasured the Masters gathered around the dance pit.

I felt him spurt in my mouth. Desperately, assiduously, I swallowed his discharge, feeling the salty tang of it in my throat. He was by no means the first man that I had pleasured so that evening.

Having swallowed him, I began to clean him. I whimpered, as I lost control of myself again. I heard him laugh.

"Does it excite you, just to clean me, slut?" he asked.

I could not speak, my mouth full of his softening organ, but I whimpered once, trying not to break off from my task.

He laughed again, then pulled me by the hair away away from him, and, without looking, flung my leash to the man on his left, as if I were nothing more than a dirty rag.

"Your turn again, Targon," he said.

He whom had been referred to as Targon caught the thrown leash, and pulled it to him. Thus I found myself hauled to the lap of another man, apparently one that I had serviced previously. I swiftly put my lips and teeth and tongue to work, undoing his belt and buttons.

He grunted. I felt my hips shudder uncontrollably once more. Why did such usage excite me so? I recalled the slave-biscuit, and realised my dilemma. 

If I did not admit to eating the tavern's weekly supply of slave-biscuit, I would likely be thought of as nothing but the wanton slut that I presently appeared to be. However, if I admitted it, I could be severely punished as a thief. I could not even know the punishments that might be administered to a slave who had done what I had done. 

Yet I did not want to be regarded as a the type of girl that utterly lost control of herself as she was spanked, or as she was thrown nude from man to man in a circle, pleasuring them in turn with her lips and tongue as they watched the gyrations of another. 

I was not that sort of girl, I knew that at least.

"Steady, little slut," said he, who I now knew as Targon.

The other laughed.

"She is a hot little number," he said.

"She spasms at the slightest touch," said Targon.

He touched me, intimately, as if to prove this, and I, unable to prevent myself, called out again, my voice hoarse and inarticulate, my hips shuddering.

I heard laughter. and then felt my hair pulled, pulling me away from his groin.

"Does Draca not permit you to serve in the alcoves, slut?"

He regarded me quizzically.

I shook my head, negatively, frightened. 

Lady Draca, my Mistress had announced after my spanking that I was to be used exclusively at the dance pit.

"A pity," he remarked, "Still, you can service me adequately here for now."

"Watch her," said the other, "that she not leak on your tunic."

"If she does, she can clean it up herself, well enough, can't you?" he said.

"Yes, Master," I replied, humbly, barely able to speak. I felt myself on fire, the slave-biscuit coursing in my veins, every beat of my heart pumping more of it into me, turning me into an utterly uncontrolled slut.

"Do you want me to touch you again?" he asked, as if unknowing of my answer.

"Please, Master, I beg it," I whispered hoarsely.

"Then do so," he replied.

"I beg your touch, Master, I beg it!" I besought him, then bucked and writhed as he consented to merely brush his finger between my legs, even this light caress sending bolts of electricity through my yielding flesh.

"More...please, Master, more," I begged. I wanted him inside me desperately, I could feel myself pulsating, trying to pull his finger into me.

"It is not yours to command, slut," he said, a harder edge to his voice.

"N..no, Master, p...please forgive me Master," I managed to stammer out desperately.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"S..suckslut, if it pleases Master," I replied.

He pulled me, by the hair, back over his organ.

"Lick, Suckslut," he commanded.

I parted my lips, obediently, and bent to serve his pleasure, trying to steel myself against further yieldings of my body.

****

"What do they call you?" asked the man.

"S...suckslut, Master," I replied, finding it difficult to even recall my own name, as I strived to retain my composure. 

I could feel the effects of the slave-biscuit in me now, fully. I recalled Lady Draca's comments that it would overwhelm the small brain of one such as myself, and likely send me into madness. My brain indeed felt like mush, I could think of nothing except pleasing the men in the circle around the dance pit, and desperately hoping that they might deign to acknowledge me, even by as little as a touch.

I was on my third or fourth circuit of the pit now, I thought. I did not know if the men were the same as the first time round, or different.

"An appropriate name," he said. "Yet your accent marks you as barbarian."

"Y..yes, Master," I replied. I did not want to talk. I could hardly recall the words of my new language. All I wanted to do was please him, and feel him inside me.

"Are all barbarians as wild as you?" he asked. 

"I...I do not know, Master, " I whimpered, "L...let me please you, Master, " I begged.

"Can you read what is written on your belly?" he asked.

"N..no, Master," I said. I could feel myself close to yielding again. I had long since lost count of the number of times this had happened.

"Have you been told what it says?" he asked.

"Y...es, Master...ooohh." I whimpered.

"What does it say?" he asked.

I desperately tried to remember what it said. "I...it says, 'I suck', Master," I managed to say.

He smiled.

"Then do so," he said, "swiftly"

My hips shuddered uncontrollably at his words. I bent to pleasure him, placing myself so that his hands might more easily seek out the folds of my intimacies.

***

I felt myself tossed to my back.

"I think she is spent," said a man.

"She is still juicing," pointed out another.

"The tavern is about to close for the night," I heard the voice of Lady Draca, my Mistress, "What did you think of the barbarian?"

"She proved an adequate suckslut," said a male voice.

"Her belly has certainly been well nourished by us tonight," said one.

"She will not need slave gruel for a good while," commented another.

There was laughter. It was true that I had swallowed many helpings of the Masters' sex fluids.

My head was upon the sand of the dance pit as I lay, utterly spent. I could feel discharge upon my chin, where I had been unable to swallow it. 

I had ingested so much. Now, with the slice of slave-biscuit deep in my belly.

I looked up, to see Tela above me. She glowered down at me.

"Slut," she hissed, "Utter, utter slut."

She had of course watched me all night, whilst she danced. Although I had been placed at the pit so that the men might be pleasured by me whilst regarding her, I suspect that occasionally, although no match for the dancer, in my degradation, I had occasionally become the show. 

I suspected that this would have annoyed one so proud as Tela.

I closed my eyes and moaned, arching my back, unable to stop myself spilling over once more. How I wished that my hands were not tied behind me. 

***

I was barely conscious, but felt myself being half dragged, half led, back to my accommodation, that of the cage I shared with Heracles, by Tupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master.

"Please use me, Master!" I sobbed, "I beg it, Master!"

I was desperate for the sensation of a Master inside me, even one such as Tupp.

"Not tonight, Suckslut." he said, "I still have work to do,"

He placed me within the cage. Heracles stirred from his slumber and grunted.

The dwarf pulled my leash through the bars of the cage, and then had me put my bare feet through the bars so that they were outside the cage. He tied the leash around them. It was an uncomfortable position, but one that ensured that I could not move from the bars.

He grinned. "This is in case you might be tempted to bother Heracles in the night," he said, "He needs his beauty sleep, as do you."

I moaned at his inference. Surely, even in my present state of arousal, such a thing would not have crossed my mind? However, I recalled the words of my Mistress, that the slave-biscuit could cause madness in the small brain of a slavegirl.

I whimpered as I saw Tupp make his way back into the tavern.

I cried imploringly after him, and then as he closed the door onto the yard, put my head against the bars and wept with frustration.

I wondered how long the effects of the slave-biscuit might last and whether I would retain my sanity.



A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 07



On awakening, I found myself to be stiff and aching from my uncomfortable position, tied as I was to the bars of the cage. 

Thankfully, at least, it seemed that the virtually uncontrollable desires that had assailed my body subsequent to my ingestion of the slice of slave-biscuit had predominantly diminished.

I reflected upon the events of the previous evening, and the manner in which I had conducted myself.

I moaned with shame and apprehension. 

My plight was exacerbated, of course, by the regrettable circumstance that no-one but myself knew that I had purportedly consumed enough slave-biscuit to last all of the slavegirls in the tavern for a week. As far as any neutral eyewitness could ascertain, I had simply behaved in a mien befitting a wanton slut. The sort of girl who squirmed and juiced at the slightest provocation, even whilst ostensibly undergoing punishment. 

I knew, at least, that I was not that sort of girl. 

But I also knew, now, that it might be difficult for me to convince others of that assertion. In fact, it would seem, that the only course by which I might do so would be to admit that I were a thief. 

Such an averment would, of course, bring its own perils.

I mused what might be considered appropriate redress in this milieu for a slavegirl admitting theft. On my own planet, I knew, some cultures penalised theft with mutilation, such as the loss of a hand. My offence had not been great, that of a single slice of slave-biscuit, together with some associated crumbs, but I did not know the monetary value of such a commodity. Besides, as I had been informed on several occasions, one such as I might be cut up into animal feed due to even slight infractions such as that of being unpleasing.

Indeed, for a previous offence of allowing a customer to go to sleep whilst I was servicing him, I had been deprived of food, clothing, and shelter for an indefinite period, and, in addition, had had a public spanking administered to me. I quivered at the memory. To my own surprise, I found myself feeling rather 'hot and bothered' by the mere recall of being stretched over my Mistress' lap. I recalled her paddle bringing painful retribution on my vulnerable, upturned ass in front of the assembled, jeering, patrons and slaves of The Juicy Pudding tavern.

I moaned softly, trying to put such thoughts from myself.

They were, no doubt, the last remnants of the effects of the slave-biscuit. 

Behind me I could hear the snuffling of Heracles as he rooted about in his trough. I recalled that I had been tied in place against the bars so that I not be tempted to intrude upon his beauty sleep. Had my condition been thought sufficiently depraved to have rendered such a precaution necessary?

At least, it would seem, that contrary to the prognostications of Lady Draca, my Mistress, I had retained my sanity. Indeed it seemed that the effects of the slave-biscuit had largely subsided, except, perhaps, for a faint gnawing of shame and embarrassment in the pit of my stomach, and the perverse sensations when I recalled my public punishment.

I leant my head against the bars and sobbed a little at my imbroglio. I was not particularly hungry at that moment, but felt terribly thirsty. I saw Tuka coming across the yard.,towards the cage that I shared with Heracles.

"Greetings, Tuka" I said, softly. 

She smiled, not unkindly.

"You are still to call me Mistress, I think," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, "Please forgive me, Mistress. Greetings, Mistress."

"Greetings, Suckslut" she answered, pleasantly, "And how are you this morning?"

"Well, enough, Mistress," I said. I felt myself blush a little. There had been a certain element of insinuation in her question.

"You have made Tela cross," she said.

I felt frightened at this disclosure. I looked at her quizzically.

"She was telling the whole slave-kennel that you are a total slut. She said that you distracted her patrons while she was performing."

I felt tears prick my eyes.

"She has always hated me, Mistress" I said, "Since I first came here."

Tuka laughed.

"She hates everyone to some extent," she said, "She is a bitch. But yes, you, most of all, now, I think."

I looked up from my tethered position, tears in my eyes.

"But why, Mistress?" I begged, "I have done nothing to hurt her."

Tuka smiled. How beautiful she was, I thought.

"Do you not know?" she asked.

"No," I added. Beautiful, yes, but there was also a hint of spitefulness about her, whether purposed or accidental. She enjoyed, for example, teasing and withholding information. That I could see. In time, I would find that this was true of many or even most slavegirls. Our rivalries might seem petty to Masters, but they are there, nonetheless, never far from the surface.

Tuka went on, "It is because you are a barbarian. It was a barbarian horde that pillaged Tela's village, captured her and sold her into slavery. She used to be free."

"Oh," I said, "I see."

"It was two years ago," said Tuka. She named then Tela's village, which I, of course, had never heard of. 

"Were you involved in the attack?" she asked, her beautiful eyes questioning..

I smiled. Beautiful, perhaps, but also rather simple and naive.

"Of course not, Mistress, " I answered, offended, "I am not that sort of barbarian."

"What do you mean?" asked Tuka, her brow furrowed a little.

"I was not involved in pillaging and so on. I am from earth."

Tuka looked at me patiently.

"A barbarian is a barbarian," she said, "All of you are ignorant and uncivilised. It does not really matter whereabouts in the wastelands you come from."

She smiled at me, patronisingly, as if explaining a simple truth to a child.

I felt a pang of further realisation as to my status on this world. As far as Tuka, and, presumably the other Goreans were concerned, I was not a sophisticated girl from a superior planet brought low by slavery, but essentially a savage, of the type that pillaged villages.

"Do you think that I am ignorant and uncivilised, Mistress?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

"You were uncivilised last night," grinned Tuka, "At least that is what Tela said in the slave kennels"

I felt myself blush and looked away biting my lip. I wanted to explain to Tuka about the slave- biscuit, but knew, instinctively, that I could not trust her with such a confidence. I suspect that once Tuka knew, it would be all over the slave-kennels immediately.

"Please tell Tela that I mean her no harm, Mistress, " I said, "and that I was not involved in the attack on her village."

The beautiful blonde nodded, and gave me her kind smile. 

"I might do, Suckslut," she said, "But watch out for her all the same."

She walked back across the yard, and smiled back at me as she went inside.

I was once again alone in the yard, except for my cagemate, snuffling in his trough as usual. I thought about the information that Tuka had divulged. 

I had realised already that I had angered Tela last night. I recalled her hissing at me that I was an utter, utter slut. I had hoped that her anger might subside, but it seemed that it had not, and along with the matter that she considered me complicit in the pillaging of her home, I realised that I would need to be very wary of her. 

Hopefully Tuka telling her that I had nothing to do with this occurrence might help, but I suspected that it would not. At the end of the day though, Tela was still only a slave, and, I thought, her vengeance must therefore be limited. After all, she was subject to the same punishments and sanctions as myself, and as property, any damage to another slave perpetrated by such as she would be harshly regarded.

Such apprehensions filled my mind until I saw Tupp waddling across the Yard. He grinned at me through the bars.

"How are you this morning, Suckslut?" he asked, "Calmed down a bit?"

I could see the amusement in his eyes. No doubt I blushed.

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I replied, in a whisper.

"Come," he said, "Mistress wants to see you."

He began untying me from the uncomfortable position that I was in, and I gratefully stretched my limbs. His hands were deft at the knots, and soon he had my leash and was escorting me across the little yard. 

I wondered what Lady Draca. my Mistress, wished to see me about, but knew that it would be no use asking Tupp. I regarded him as he pulled me along. How ugly he was, how misshapen and disgusting, and yet I recalled that last night I had been begging or his merest touch. 

I shuddered. The effects of the slave biscuit had been strong. Already I had incurred the wrath of Tela because of them, and, I suspected too, that Tupp might now think differently of me than before.

I was taken to the same small room and told to wait. This time there was no cake of slave biscuit on the table. Soon, I heard the footfall of Lady Draca, my Mistress and then she stood before me, her eyes stern.

"Well," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Mistress?" I replied, questioningly. I was surprised at her instant question and did not know how to answer it. 

"Don't come the innocent, Suckslut," she said, "I mean what got into you last night? We practically had to hose you down."

I swallowed, hard.

"I..I do not know, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied, "I...I just got a little carried away, I suppose."

She looked at me, eyebrows lifted a little.

"Carried away," she said, "I see. Well whatever it was, hotcake, it is what I will be expecting from you every night from now on, understand me? It seems that I have found some sort of use for your worthless set of curves. I might even think about feeding you again, though with the amount of cum you swallowed last night, I doubt you're too hungry just yet."

I felt a tear roll down my left cheek. It was true that I was not particularly hungry. I wondered as to the nutritional value of the substances that I had swallowed the previous day, both the slave biscuit and the semen. I had not previously been particularly curious as to the nutritional and calorific content of semen, but now it seemed that it might henceforth be a rather important component of my diet.

"I am very thirsty, though, Lady Draca, my Mistress. It would be good to have some water, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

Whatever the calorific content of the semen, it had been very salty, and I had not drunk since last night.

"Very well, honeypot," said Lady Draca, "Tupp! Fetch our little barbarian novelty act some water from the well."

Tupp went off grumbling.

"Now," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "Are you ready for an encore tonight? I've been thinking about what turned you from a cold, prissy little bitch that sent the Masters to sleep, to the lascivious whore that went four times around the dance pit sucking off everything in sight. I think it is pretty obvious, sugar-tart."

I shuddered. Did she know about the slave biscuit? I looked at her but said nothing. I felt my tummy churn apprehensively.

"It was the public punishment, " she went on, " A lot of apparently frigid slaves seem to get turned on by it, and it seems you're one of them, little Miss Butter-wouldn't melt-in-her-mouth. In the business we call slaves like you pain-sluts. So tonight we will ramp it up a notch and give you a public whipping before you get out onto the floor."

I was aghast.

"Oh no...no...please, Lady Draca, my Mistress. I beg of you, no."

I did not know if I could bear a public whipping. I wondered, however, that I felt a little bit of moisture between my legs at the very thought of it. The effects of the slave biscuit were obviously still there.

"Then, " continued Lady Draca, " to keep you on your toes, as it were, I'll set you a target of getting five times round the pit before we close for the night. If you don't make it, then we'll put you out in the public stocks the next day. Understand me, beast?"

I did not know what I was to do. I knew that, without the slave-biscuit, I would probably struggle to make it once round the dance pit, let alone the five times demanded. And besides this, I was to be punished routinely, under the belief that it was public punishment, rather than the potently aphrodisiac slave-biscuit, that had turned me, for one night at least, into a helpless, eager slut.

It came home to me fully that I was faced with the dilemma of being considered a slut or a thief. I reflected how terrible it would be to be regarded by all and sundry as an utter, utter, slut, as Tela now thought me. 

Whatever the consequences, I decided that I must "come clean" and confess to the theft of the slave biscuit.

Tupp came back at that moment, and handed me water in a tin. I took it gratefully, and looked hopefully at Lady Draca, my Mistress. It would not do for me to slake my desperate thirst without her permission.

She nodded to me.

"You may drink, Suckslut," she said, kindly.

I drank, the water revived me a little, and steeled me to my course of action. Honesty would be the best policy. I had always been taught this at school, yet had previously taken little account of it, generally finding that lies were forgiven me, even when I was caught in such falsehoods, as long as they were accompanied by a fluttering of my eyelids and a few tears. 

I doubted that would be the case here, but whatever the consequences, surely it would be preferable to being punished and then finding myself expected to perform as an utter slut? 

I had made my decision. I was not that sort of girl. I would rather be known as a thief than a slut.

"It...it was not the punishment, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I said, falteringly, "It...it was the slave biscuit."

She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"You only had a crumb, cupcake," she said, archly, "It would not have produced that sort of reaction."

I felt my throat constrict. I licked my lips and looked down at the floor.

"I had a whole slice, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I mumbled, apologetically.

"What, barbarian slut?" asked Lady Draca, my Mistress, "Speak up, I can't hear you."

"I had a whole slice, " Lady Draca, my Mistress, I said more clearly, "Please forgive me, Lady Draca, my Mistress. I beg your forgiveness, Lady Draca, my Mistress."

"So you are a thief, hmm?" said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "You stole slave biscuit from me?"

"Yes, Lady Draca, my Mistress," I replied, numbly. I had resolved upon my course, no matter the consequences. I would be regarded as a thief, with all that might bring down upon my head, but at least I would not be a regarded as a slut.

Lady Draca, my Mistress, laughed.

"There, Tupp," she said, "A whole slice, she says. I think I win the bet."

I heard Tupp laugh, almost dementedly.

"Yes, Mistress," he said, "You did."

Lady Draca, my Mistress looked at me fixedly.

"Thurnus," she called, "Did you hear that? You may come through now"

I wondered at this.

"You stupid little barbarian whore," she said, more quietly, yet vindictively.

"Yes, Mistress," I said, "Please forgive me, Mistress."

"For taking a slice of slave biscuit?" said Lady Draca, my Mistress.

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

"There is, " said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "No such thing as slave biscuit."

I gasped, shocked. What could she mean? I had eaten a slice. It had turned me, temporarily at least, into an uncontrollable whore; an utter, utter, slut.

"Mistress?" I asked.

"What you stole," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, emphasising the last word, "Was simple animal feed. Something that we add to Heracles diet to fatten him up quickly."

I swallowed, hard.

"But...but my behaviour, Mistress. How different I was."

"It was the public punishment, whore. Thinking that you had consumed a week's supply of aphrodisiac allowed you to circumvent your inherent inhibitions, but it was all you out there by the dance-pit, sweetie. As you will find tonight, after your whipping."

"Oh no...," I gasped, frightened, "No!" 

I found myself speaking in English.

Thurnus, he from the slave house, entered the room. He did not look pleased. He was armed, I noticed, with a sword. I realised that he looked to be a formidable warrior.

"Ah," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, triumph in her eyes, "Did you hear her admission from the surveillance chamber, Thurnus? I have won our bet, I think."

Thurnus merely glowered. 

"You see, Suckslut," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "you have behaved as I predicted, not as Thurnus thought. It would seem that I know slavegirls better than the head of a mighty slavehouse."

I hung my head, despondently. I had lost Thurnus a bet,. No doubt he had said that I would not steal the slave-biscuit.

"I am sorry, Master," I mumbled, numbly, "I was so hungry, Master, please forgive me for taking the slave-biscuit, Master."

"Stupid little whore," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "We both knew that you would steal the animal cake. This room can be seen from an adjacent surveillance and we watched you take it. The bet was whether you would admit to it or not. Thurnus thought that you would not admit to it. He thought that you would rather be thought a slut than a thief, but I knew that a stuck-up little cold fish like you would prefer to be thought a thief."

I hung my head.

"In the event," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "It turns out that you are both. Aren't you?"

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

"What are you?" she asked, "Say it."

"I am a slut and a thief," I said, softly.

"Indeed you are, Suckslut," said Lady Draca, "And now you are my slut and thief, as I won the bet. Your ownership is my reward for winning it."

She smiled triumphantly.

I thought on this. It was true, I suppose. I had thought that the choice before me had been to decide whether I would rather be thought of as a slut or a thief, but now, it would seem, I had shown myself to be both. 

I realised that they had had rich sport from me in their wager.

Thurnus still glowered. He did not seem particularly happy to have lost the bet.

"Thank you for coming today, Thurnus, and thank you for the slave. We can sign the transfer of ownership papers later."

"No," said Thurnus, "No. I do not think that will be happening."

Now it was Lady Draca's turn to glower.

"What do you mean?" she said, aloofly, "You lost the bet."

"I do not think so," said Thurnus, "I am taking the slut back to the slave house with me." I noticed that his hand was on the hilt of his sword. 

"But that is not what we agreed," said Lady Draca, my Mistress, "If the slut had not confessed to the crime, you would take her back, and have free paga for a week, but as she has confessed, I get to keep her."

"I am taking her back," said Thurnus, pulling his sword menacingly a little of the way out of its scabbard. "Who is going to stop me, Draca? Your pet dwarf?"

I had seen that there seemed to be no guards employed in Lady Draca's business. Perhaps she considered them an unnecessary expense - another mouth to feed.

"Do not do this, Thurnus," implored Lady Draca, "We have always had a good business relationship have we not? Do not put it to an end over this slut."

"I have had a good offer on her from a bigger tavern, its owner was here last night" said Thurnus, "Here, slavegirl."

He beckoned to me. Without demur I went to him and knelt before him, my knees widely split. He was a man, and had given me an order 

He took my leash.

"I have contacts," said Lady Draca, "You will regret this, Thurnus."

"I do not think so," said Thurnus, "Come, slut."

He placed a hood on my head, then tugged on my leash. I followed him blindly, barefoot, hooded, nude, hands braceleted behind me. I was very frightened. 

We went through the streets. I heard the noises. Felt the fresh air on my bareness. Smelt the sometimes noxious street smells. My feet felt mud and such beneath me.




A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 07



When my hood was taken off I found myself back in the slave house, once more in the pens, the room of cages. Another had my leash.

I was led to an empty cage. There were other slaves in adjacent cages.

I assumed that they were the new shipment, who had replaced my former cagemates. The shipment that I had been removed to make room for. I wondered why there was now an empty cage. Perhaps the shipment had been smaller than expected, or one of the girls had already been traded, or disposed of in some other fashion.

It did not really matter. 

I wept.

A girl spoke to me. I did not know the language she used. It might have been Spanish or Italian. I did not answer her.

I was a slut, an utter, utter slut, and, besides, a self-confessed thief. 

I went to my side, and curled up small. I wondered whether Lady Draca did in fact have contacts, or whether she had been bluffing.

I lay there for a long time, on the straw, ignoring the questions of the girls in the adjacent cages, whether I could understand them or not. I recalled how I had once surmised that anything would be better than the slave pits. Now, I was less sure.

I was sure that Lady Draca would be angry. Yet it would seem, that in her desires to cut the costs of her tavern she had not felt it necessary to employ guards. I suspected that she now might regret this business model.

I was fearful too, that now, it seemed that after my performance of the night before, I was in demand, to some extent amongst other taverns, and, indeed, Thurnus had had an offer from one of them for me.

I suspected that they would seek to utilise me in the same way as Lady Draca; as an adjunct to their dance pit. I wondered what price they had offered for me, and whether I would be able to 'live up to it', as it were.

I wondered at a future of being publicly punished, then let loose to suck men gathered round a dance pit, looking at another, a dancer. 

I wondered whether this were worse, or better, than the pits.

I do not know how long I laid there.

I heard a commotion, and armed men entered the pits. 

To my shock I saw that Lady Draca and Thurnus were with them.

"That is her," said Lady Draca, pointing at me.

"Open the door, Thurnus," said one of the armed men.

Thurnus did not look best pleased, but nonetheless the door to my cage was opened. Another of the armed men dragged me out.

One of the armed men addressed me, as if speaking from a memorised statement.

"I am Marcellus of the Office of the Praetor." he announced. "You are under slave-arrest for the theft of provisions from The Juicy Pudding Tavern. Your guilt or otherwise will be ascertained under torture. The statutory penalty for this offence, if guilt is thus established, is death."

It would seem that Lady Draca did indeed have contacts, as she had claimed.



A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 08



I dangled from the manacles, my toes touching the cement floor. My arms, stretched above me in chains, ached terribly. 

The sun was hot on my nude body. 

There were welts on my legs. 

A board, with marks on the front that I presumed to be writing, was at my belly, attached to a length of coarse twine that went about my collared neck. 

I watched the comings and goings in the street. 

I wondered what was to become of me.

Following my arrest in the Pens of the Slavehouse of Thurnus, I had been conducted along the streets of the city. 

I had been once more gagged and hooded, my hands cuffed behind me, pulled along by a leash attached to my collar. The distance that we had traversed had been considerably further than that between the slave house and the Juicy Pudding tavern. 

I had been in the custody of Marellus, of the Office of the Praetor, and two other armed guards. The pace that they had demanded of me had been punishing. 

It had been all that I could do to stumble along behind them, leashed, braceleted, and hooded as I was. Once, I had lost my footing, and sprawled in the mud. I had felt a sharp point, such as that of a sword, painful against my bare skin.

"To your feet, thieving slavegirl, quickly," had hissed a male voice. I had scrambled to my feet swiftly, and resumed my progress. 

Once I had heard the hiss of a switch, and then a bite of pain on my ass.

"Faster, pilfering slut," had commanded a voice; the same, I thought, as he who had previously commanded me to my feet. 

Evidently he had considered my pace insufficient, and had seen fit to punish me, as he might a beast. Thus exhorted to greater speed, I had tried to move faster through the muddy thoroughfare.

I had heard shouts, and the calls of vendors. It would seem that we were near a market.

"Nice ass," said a voice, "Is she for sale?"

I had felt a touch, uninvited, on my body. I shuddered, helplessly.

"She is a thief," came the gruff reply, "We are taking her into custody."

"She is hot though," pointed out the other, "See her squirm."

I had felt the touch increase in its degree of intimacy. I had whimpered softly, into my gag. I felt a jerk on my leash, as I was pulled along.

"She was a tavern slut, and stole from her Mistress," said the gruff voice.

I had almost slipped, but narrowly retained my footing. The hand left my body. I had felt a slap, hard, on my bottom. I gasped incoherently into my gag, hurt.

"Then be sure to teach the worthless little bitch a lesson!" had said the voice.

"Don't worry," had come the reply, "We will. Come, hot little crook."

I had felt a tug on my leash and scurried to prevent it becoming taut.

There had been few other altercations as we had made our way through the city. Evidently the sight of a nude girl being bundled along by three armed guards was not one to particularly provoke audible comment, although I was unable to ascertain whether there had been any visual appraisal of my peregrination.

Eventually, my bare feet had felt hard flooring beneath them, and the hood was removed from me. I had found myself standing before a desk, where a bored-looking, seated man read from a scroll.

"You are the slave named Suckslut?" had asked the seated man, dispassionately.

I nodded my head. I was still gagged.

"Answer audibly, slut," he commanded, "You are familiar with gag speech?"

I recalled my training. One whimper for yes, two whimpers for no. I whimpered once.

"Good," he replied. "You are the slut named Suckslut, initially registered at the House of Thurnus, as Beast 13, a pierced-ear, barbarian, red-silk?"

I had whimpered, once. I had been terribly frightened. How long ago it seemed that I had been named as simply Beast 13. Since then, of course, I had also been named Flower, Sleenmeat, and currently Suckslut, but it would seem that only my original 'Pen name' and my current name were of legal significance. 

Obviously, Amanda Felicity Charrington, my former name on my original planet was of no relevance now.

"You are accused of theft from the Lady Draca, proprietor of the Juicy Pudding tavern. How do you plead? One whimper for guilty, two for not guilty."

I felt tears prick my eyes. 

I could barely register the consequences attendant upon this stark choice. 

I had heard it said at the slave house that the statutory penalty for a slave for theft was death. 

I must surely fight such a sentence. And yet, also, of course, I had, in actuality, taken the slice of animal cake, intended to supplement the feed of Heracles. 

Thus I was, nominally at least, guilty, and had, additionally, admitted this guilt, in my admission to Lady Draca, my mistress. 

Tupp, her slave, and Thurnus, who had apparently been listening in an adjacent chamber, were also witnesses of my statement of culpability. 

Yet, surely, this was a paltry infraction to justify capital punishment? There had, after all, been several mitigating circumstances. 

I had been desperately hungry, and had been left alone with the sustenance. What is more, the situation had been engineered by Lady Draca, my Mistress, with the express purpose of luring me into taking the food, thus setting up her bet with Thurnus, as to whether I would admit to being a slut, or a thief.

Yet I was not being afforded any opportunity to point out these extenuations. I was simply being presented with the choice of pleading guilty, or not guilty. 

And if I was to plead guilty, I was apparently to be put to death!

I whimpered twice.

"Well, well," said the man, "Not guilty, hmm? So we will need to go to the trouble of having a trial of your pretty ass. So be it, and until then, you will be put on public display. That body is too gorgeous to be locked away in the slave-cell during the day."

Thus it was that I found myself hanging by my arms. stretched, toes barely touching the cement, hot, on public display before any that might pass by the street outside the Praetor's Office.

My wrists were contained within manacles, attached to a chain that was in turn attached to a hook above me. My feet were also secured by manacles, and an additional chain, about a foot long, that passed through a ring on the cement flooring of the platform upon which I was, to all intents and purposes, being exhibited. 

There was a stick tied to a post adjacent to me, and this, I had discovered to my dismay, functioned to allow any that might so desire to physically admonish me. 

Several had taken that opportunity, stinging my legs, and leaving welts. 

I was still gagged.

A man came to stand before me. He regarded the board which depended from my neck. He looked me up and down, slowly, taking his time. I blushed, under such candid appraisal.

"So, my pretty," he said, "You are a thief and a liar. Do you know the penalty for naughty little slavegirls that lie and steal?"

I whimpered plaintively. He grinned.

"You will have to hope then that you are acquitted," he said, and laughed, lightly.

I looked at him, helplessly. I felt his right hand on my left thigh. It moved higher.

I squirmed, hanging from the ropes.

His hand began to move between my legs.

I bucked in the ropes.

"Steady, little slut," he said, but did not desist in his intimate palpations.

I moaned into the gag, feeling drool run down my chin, and a trickle of moisture upon my thigh.

"My, you are a hot one," he said. "What a waste of sweet slave-flesh"

I closed my eyes and pressed my legs together tightly, moaning softly. I could feel drool drip onto my breasts, and fluid seep onto my inner thigh.

"Turn about," he demanded, peremptorily.

With difficulty, on tiptoes, I turned myself so that I was facing away from him, my face to the wall of the Praetor's building.

Swish! Crack!

I squealed as I felt a lash of pain across my bare ass.

He must have taken the switch that hung beside me, and spanked me, once, hard, on my bottom.

"Turn back," he commanded.

I did so, tears now mingling with the drool, dripping down from my face. The punishment had been short, and, I suppose, insignificant, but nonetheless, my bottom stung terribly, and I could not, of course, rub it to assuage the spreading pain.

He had also aroused me, and evidence of this arousal was upon my inner thigh. Now he simply moved off along the street.

I watched him go, miserably. How my bottom stung.

I was surprised by a sudden flurry of movement, as several guards emerged from the Praetor's office and ran past me, down towards the docks. Their demeanour suggested a matter of some urgency. 

I looked to see them go. How handsome they were, all of them muscular and well-built, in their short tunics. They carried links of chain, heavy, and wound about.

I whimpered and moaned softly into my gag, watching them go. I wondered what it should be like, to serve such as they in the alcoves of a tavern.

Then I gasped.

From the direction that the guards had ran I could see Tuka. 

She knelt as they went past her, striking a provocative pose, knees wide, her palms upwards on her thighs. They ignored her and she got to her feet, looked after them, and once they were out of sight resumed her progress up the hill, coming towards me.

She was dressed in her tiny yellow tavern garment, far too short for her, with black writing on it. I knew that the writing, roughly translated to 'One serving of Juicy Pudding'.

How scandalous to walk along a public street, wearing so little, and proclaiming such a message. However, Tuka seemed little concerned. Her gait was graceful and lissome as she moved, swaying her shapely hips. 

She stood before me.

"Greetings, Suckslut," she said, affably.

Gagged as I was, I could not reply. 

"Whimper twice to signify 'Greetings, Mistress'", she said.

I whimpered twice. She smiled.

"You are the talk of the tavern, " she said, "Lady Draca is furious with you, and Tela is saying that you are to be killed. You barbarians are always trouble."

She imparted this information without rancour or drama. It seemed as if she regarded it as of little import that some were saying that I was to be killed.

I looked at her, frightened.

"Lady Draca has freed Tupp, and employed a mercenary guard, called, Epictetus. He is dreamy," she said. 

I could see her face suffuse with pleasure at the very thought of this guard called Epictetus.

"But Tela has warned me off him," she pouted, "She says that he will not want a blonde, and says that if she sees me anywhere near him she will scratch out my northern blue eyes."

She looked at me further, as if recalling that she was still talking to me, rather than about Epictetus.

"I hope you will be alright, Suckslut," she went on, "Do you know what it says on the board round your neck?"

I shook my head.

She looked at me, not particularly pleasantly.

"Indicate your answer audibly," she said.

I whimpered, twice.

She smiled, ingratiatingly, "Would you like to know what it says?" she asked.

I whimpered, once. I was, of course, desperate to learn what it said.

"Do you recall when I was kind enough to tell you what it said on your garment?" she asked me.

I whimpered, once.

"And yet you had already asked Lady Draca, and she had not told you?"

I put my head down. I recalled that Tuka had been cross, when she had realised that I had used her to obtain information that Lady Draca had not wished to impart to me.

"Well?" questioned Tuka.

I whimpered, softly, once.

"Good," went on Tuka, "So you can understand then, why I will not tell you."

I whimpered once, miserably. I had hardly recalled the encounter, but it was evident now that Tuka still recalled it, and keenly.

I looked at her imploringly. I could see that despite her affirmation to the contrary, she was dying to impart the information. 

I moaned, beseechingly into my gag.

Tuka looked at me, and smiled kindly. I could sense that, unlike Tela, she found it hard to maintain a harsh demeanour for very long.

"I will tell you," she said, "So long as you promise me that no free have forbidden it. Agreed?"

I whimpered, softly, once.

"So," she said, "Have the Free forbidden this?"

I whimpered twice. This was true as far as I knew.

"Very well," she said, "It says 'I am a Liar and a Thief. Punish me.' Did you plead 'Not Guilty'?"

I whimpered once.

"I see," she said, "That is why then. That was rather foolish, even for a barbarian. Now you are also a liar, because you have gone against the word of a free person."

I felt miserable. It would seem that, essentially, my guilt had already been determined, and now, additionally, for having the temerity to deny that I was a thief, I had been further demarcated a liar. 

I was now, therefore, a liar, a thief, and a slut, although apparently arraigned only on the first two descriptions.

"I wish you well, Suckslut," said Tuka, "But you are in rather a pickle."

She moved away, and I watched her go, realising that I was, indeed, in rather a pickle.

Another man came and stood before me. He seemed vaguely familiar.

"There you are," he said, smiling broadly, "I thought that they might decide to put you on public display."

I looked at him dumbly. I was not sure who he was.

"Do you not recall me?" he asked.

I whimpered twice.

He grinned. "Well, I suppose it must be hard to keep track of us all," he said, as if amused, "I was one of those you sucked off around the dance pit at the Juicy Pudding last night. You were like a thing possessed. I even put an offer on you with Thurnus."

I wondered whether this was the tavern-keeper that Thurnus had said had convinced him to negate the bet with Lady Draca, and take me back to the slave house.

"A shame. I'd have paid a decent price to have a hot little barbarian suckslut like you serving in my tavern. Although they say you are useless in the alcoves, despite those pretty pierced ears. Ah well, looks like it won't happen now. My patrons wouldn't want a lying thief serving them. Luckily, they say that sleen are less discriminating."

He laughed a little, as if at his own joke, and then moved away, shaking his head. I was thankful that he had not chosen to punish me with the switch provided for the purpose.

I pulled weakly at the manacles, trying to get my arms into as comfortable position as possible. The muscular pain in my arms and legs as I hung in the awkward, stretching, position, contrasted with the suffusing, stinging pain of my bottom from my various switchings.

I wondered what time it might be. The shadows seemed to be growing longer. It must at least be afternoon. I recalled that the the guard had said that I should be displayed during the day. I wondered whether I should also be displayed here at night. 

There was a hub-bub once more, and I could see the guards now coming up the hill from the docks. 

This time there were many others with them. I could see passers-by turning to watch. As they neared I could see that the first two guards were pulling a chain. On this chain were attached manacles at intervals of about a yard, and at each manacle was secured a man. They did not seem to be resisting greatly. They were dressed in the flimsiest of rags. 

Some were, to all intents and purposes, naked. They were dishevelled, with beards and long hair, in most cases, blond. People in the street were jeering at them. I saw that there were about thirty of them. At the end of the chain were other guards. One or two more were marching beside them. The chain itself was a coffle, used for transporting slaves.

The coffle came past me and disappeared into the Praetor's Office. I could smell them as they went past. There was a strong salt tang of the sea about them. Many of them regarded me, leeringly, as they went past. One made an obscene gesture with his tongue. There were grunts and cries, and sexual noises. 

As a slavegirl in a large city, one gets used to, and accepts, such leers, gestures, and sounds from men that one encounters. 

Particularly, I suppose, when one is nude, hanging from a chain, on public display, as was I.

I wondered who the men were, and why they had been taken into custody. I was thankful, at least, that they were under the firm control of guards, and on a chain. 

I felt a sharp pain on my right shin. I whelped and looked to see who had delivered it. For the first instant it seemed that no-one was there, but then I looked down, to see the face of Tupp, my former Lord, Overseer, and Master looking up at me, annoyed. 

"Interested in your fellow barbarians, are you, slut?"

I did not know how to reply, so answered only with a plaintive moan into my gag.

He seemed little placated by this, but before he could answer another man arrived, and in a rather unnecessary way I thought, ruffled the hair of the tiny man and said "Ho, Tupp! Congratulations on your freedom"

The dwarf seemed to gain little satisfaction from the greeting, "Ho, Polybius," he replied rather shortly.

"Hmm," said Polybius, "You don't seem very happy about it, you miserable ruffian. We will miss your cheery face around the Juicy Pudding!"

"Yes," said Tupp, "I dare say. Do you know any other posts going? It is all very well being free, but it would be better to be a slave with regular employment, I think."

"You are never thankful for anything," said Polybius, "Should you not be grateful for your freedom? And here you are skulking about the Praetor's Office. I don't think you have the build to be a Guard, at any rate."

"No," said Tupp, "I had a good post at Draca's, and she treated me well enough. Now she has employed some great buffoon of a guard, and I have to make my own way."

"Well, you'll find something. Be thankful you are not like those poor wretches they just brought in."

"Who were they?" grumbled Tupp.

"They are the galley slaves of the ship "North Wind"," he said, "Barbarians from the north, most of them, I think. Maximus, the ship's owner, has not paid his taxes, and they have been taken into custody until he does so. Bit tough on them, but I dare say it is no worse to be in jail than rowing a ship under the lash. Perhaps you could see Maximus about a rowing job."

Polybius laughed at his own joke, but Tupp did not seem amused.

"You are a barrel maker are you not?" he asked, "Do you not have a job for a willing worker?"

Polybius laughed. "Much as I would love to see your cheery face every day, my little friend," he said, "I do not think you would make much of a barrel maker."

Tupp scowled.

"I wish you well, Tupp," he said, as he went on his way, "and congratulations once more on your freedom!"

Tupp looked up at me, angrily.

"It is your fault that I am now without employment, slut," he said, "All you barbarians are bad news. Turn about."

On my toes I turned, facing the wall of the court building. 

I heard a swish through the air, then a lash of pain on the back of my leg. I moaned into my gag. 

Swish! Crack!

Another line of pain, on my other leg.

Swish! Crack!

Once more, on the first leg that Tupp had hit.

Swish! Crack!

For the next while, the malevolent, misshapen dwarf contented himself with my punishment. 

Sometimes he would hit me fiercely several times in a row; at other times he would pause, and I might begin to hope that he had let me be and moved on, when another swish through the air followed by an explosion of sharp pain, would inform me otherwise. 

His area of attack was from halfway up my thighs, which was, I suppose, as high as he could easily reach, down my legs, and included also the soles of my bare feet. 

After a while I was sobbing uncontrollably, and moaning in agony, my legs and feet one blur of pain, close to passing out.

After what seemed an age, the dwarf seemed to tire of his cruel amusement.




A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 08



I heard his voice from behind me.

"I might bring a box next time," he said, "So I can reach your ass."

I sobbed and moaned.

"You will stay facing the wall," he said, "so we don't have to see your lying, thieving face Understand?."

I put my forehead against the wall, and whimpered once.

I felt another hiss of the switch.

"Yes, what?" he said.

I did not know what to do. I did not know how to say "Yes, Master" in gag speech. I whimpered three times. This seemed to placate him - at any rate he did not hit me again. 

"Better," he said, "You seem to have some understanding at least of how a slave should behave. It is a shame that you are also a lying, thieving, slut. You might have made a decent coin girl, with the right Master and training. Ah well, too late for you now."

I heard nothing further, and remained facing the wall. I could no longer see what was going on in the street, my view limited to the cement plaster of the surface.

I wondered how long I might be hung there. 

Occasionally someone would administer a slash or two of the switch to me, but in general I was left alone, ignored. There was nothing for me to do but listen carefully, in case I heard the switch being taken up, or muse upon my likely fate.

I wondered why Tupp had been so cross with me. Surely he had, in some ways, me to thank for his manumission. After all, had it not been for Thurnus' actions, on response to me losing his bet for him, Lady Draca would not have freed the dwarf and replaced him with a mercenary guard. I wondered, however, what other employment might be available to such as Tupp in this harsh society. I doubted whether there were provision for those out of work, benefits provided by the state or such, and yet, how wonderful it must be, to be, like Tupp, free. 

For a slave, such as myself, Tupp's attitude to freedom seemed curmudgeonly at best.

The light was now slipping away. A shadow gradually crept up the wall. It grew colder, as I dangled from the chains. The streets sounded quieter.

Eventually, I heard the movement of someone behind me, and someone undoing the locks on my manacles.

It was a guard from the Praetor's house.

I sagged to the floor, and he scooped me up into his arms. 

I doubted whether I could walk after the depredations of the day. 

He carried me inside and placed me upon a table. The gag was removed from me.

"Th-thank you, Master," I tried to say, but the pain in my jaw was such that all that emanated from me was an incoherent mumble.

He did not seem intent on punishing me, but removed the manacles from my wrists and ankles.

"Your trial has been set for tomorrow morning, little thief," he said, not unkindly, "As you will no doubt be found guilty this is likely your last night. It should be an exciting one for a little slut like you, at least," he said.

I regarded him, quizically, as he scooped me up once more and carried me down some stairs.

"Where...where are you taking me, Master?" I managed to say, each syllable still sending a wrenching pain into my jaw.

"To the slave cell, of course, little thief, where else would we put you for the night?" he said.

I gasped, relieved. It would be unpleasant, no doubt, to be locked up, but it was a relief after the rigours of being on public display.

"Here we are," said the guard.

We had arrived at a place in the stone floor of the cellar where there was a grating in the floor. It was about ten feet by ten feet. From the grating emanated a smell, that of men, combined with the salty tang of the sea. The smell was familiar to me. 

I heard grunts and cries, as of men, sexual noises.The guard put me down, at the edge of the grating, and, still holding my arm with one hand, went to some keys at his belt.

Worried I asked "Where are you going to put me, Master?"

"In the slave cell, of course," he replied, "Where else would a slave be put?"

The cell was crammed with men, all looking up through the grating. They leered at me, I tried to look away, and desperately turned to the guard.

"But it is already occupied," I said fearfully, "Is there not a private cell?"

He laughed, "Slaves don't get private cells," he said, "We put all of you in together, though it will be quite a crush tonight, the cell is only made for six, and you will make thirty-one! Still, it should ensure that your last night is memorable, not that you'll have long to remember it!"

He began to undo the grating. The men were about three feet below it. As one they were looking up at me. Some were licking their lips. Others made sexual noises.

"No," I wept, in English, "No!"

I tried to break away from him, but his grip on my arm was secure. 

His other hand gripped my other arm, and he propelled me forcefully towards the grating.

"Come little thief," he said, "You were a tavern slut, I believe, so this should be meat and drink for you. These poor men will not have had a woman for months, and it is their owner's fault they are in here, not theirs, so they deserve a bit of a treat." 

I felt nothing beneath my feet, and his hands left my arms.

I dropped into the cell, and was immediately clutched, then engulfed in the sea of galley slaves. I tried to scream, but my voice was swiftly stifled as something entered my mouth. 

Hands were all over my body, groping my bare flesh.

I heard the clang of the grating closing above my head.

"There, lads," I heard the guard say, "Enjoy!"

There was a ragged roar of appreciation from my new cellmates as they scrapped and pulled at one another, each striving to be the first to enter one of my holes.



A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 09



For the first while all was chaos in the tiny cell.

It seemed that I might be torn limb from limb, such was the ferocity of the galley slaves as they pulled me hither and thither, eager to use me.

I was entered variously.

The member rammed Into my mouth made it difficult for me to breathe, whilst my two lower holes were also swiftly penetrated. However, as the mass of brawny galley slaves wrestled one with another, those that had invaded me seemed to be forcibly pulled away, new assailants of my flesh attempting to take their places in my orifices.

As my mouth was briefly vacated in the melee I screamed, abjectly. I was being pawed, mauled, scratched, but so were the galley slaves, as their fellows tried to supplant them in me.

After a few moments, one of the slaves, perhaps of higher caste, or simply larger and more powerful than the rest, commanded order, and was, perhaps with some recognition that the prevailing carnal anarchy was of little benefit to anyone, obeyed.

He directed one slave to the floor, he on the end of the chain, and then I was placed above him, so that he could utilize my rear hole. Four slaves were then assigned to each of my wrists and ankles, so that I was upon the floor spread-eagled, and penetrated from behind. Then one slave knelt so that he could place his organ in my mouth, one close behind him, so that he could use my breasts to stimulate him, and one took my sex, all three kneeling over me. 

Others, perhaps reluctantly, must await their turn, but knew at least that, when it did come, they would not be swiftly jostled and obstructed by their fellows. The order was essentially dictated by their position on the coffle chain that still bound them together, so that they were able to monitor, to some extent, whose turn it was to pleasure themselves with me, and in what place, and thus make sure that all of them were eventually able to gain access to my body.

Although I was able to simultaneously serve the three men kneeling upon me, and the one below, I also found that those holding my wrists expected me to further administer to them with my hands, and even those holding my ankles seemed to find some pleasure from me, such were their needs. 

Even amongst those who had to wait their turn for a while, there were several, I saw, that were reduced to pleasuring themselves with their own hands, but the majority were able to await their own turn on me.

In this manner, for what seemed an eternity, in the dim light and stench of the crowded slave cell I serviced the galley slaves. 

The most difficult aspects were trying not to choke, and hoping desperately that the brute in my mouth did not tumesce sufficiently to block my air intake, or at least erupted swiftly after gaining his full size, this in addition to accommodating the various rhythms of those using me front and back.

To my surprise and shame, despite the brutal treatment, I was not slow to begin bucking and writhing, my cries stifled by the male member filling my mouth.

Soon, the man at my sex had spurted his seed inside my well lubricated sex, and was swiftly supplanted by another..Each time the slave beneath me was superseded there was, for me, a brief respite, as all had to wait until a new slave was placed in position underneath my body.

The fellows beneath me did not seem too hurried, content to exploit my rear hole in a fairly leisurely manner. I was thankful for this, as I was unused to being penetrated in this ignominious way, but the pain was not as awful as it might have been.

Even so, I wondered how long I might survive such fierce use, as the second batch of men ejaculated variously into my orifices, once more to be replaced by their appetent successors.

I found myself induced to repeated sexual climax, my incoherent moanings and desperate writhing soliciting amusement amongst those using me and watching on. 

I began to feel that I was drifting from consciousness, but a sharp slap on my body ensured that once more I was able to give my multiple partners some sufficient measure of my attention.

Presumably, I was able to service them all in this manner, as after a while the fellow under me spoke, and their uses of me began to grow less frenzied. At times there were only one or two using me at a time, and they were able to place me in new positions as it suited them.

It was utterly dark in the cell now. I could feel that I was absolutely drenched in their discharges. I wondered what kind of a sight I would make in the light of day and even this thought was enough to set me moaning and squirming. 

How far I had come, I thought, from the girl who had been assessed at a mere one out of ten for her slave heat. 

What would Thurnus would think of me now, his pierced eared barbarian being fiercely used, attempting to satisfy the urges of a whole crew of sex-deprived galley slaves? 

What would Lady Draca make of the girl that she had dismissed as unfit to serve in the alcoves of the Juicy Pudding?

Although it was now impossible to see anything, I was still being used, albeit not with the fierceness attendant upon my earlier ravishings. Now that my cellmates had all had me at least once, I felt them now taking longer to satisfy themselves, and more thoroughly using my various holes as they became available for use.

Eventually they were happy to pass me around from man to man, and although there was still occasionally some expressions of impatience, and attempts to double up in the usage of me, things were generally calmer. 

From the snoring sounds, some of the men had even managed to find enough space in the tiny cell in which to sleep, although unlike the infamous occasion in the alcove of the Juicy Pudding, plenty remained awake to use my body in every way possible.

Despite my own exhaustion,no such somnolence was permitted to me, of course, as the demands placed upon my body, although less than previously, were continuous and rigorous.

Such was my lassitude however, that even though my body was in continuous use, I found myself flitting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes I was brought from this state swiftly, by a cuff or slap, at other times it seemed that it had not been noticed, and I might awaken to find a new man on top of me. 

As light began to seep back into the cell. I realised that I had spent the entire night in congress, as it were.

Most of the men were asleep now, and only a few were still taking their turns with me, as the dim light in the cell increased.

Guards came down the steps and barked instructions. It would seem that the owner of the Northern Wind had settled his affairs with the governors of the City, and the slaves were being sent back to the boat.

They did not seem particularly happy with this arrangement, but had little choice as the guards opened the hatch and pulled the coffle chain, and they gradually were pulled up from the sunken cell.

Several bid me farewell with sexual noises and gestures as they went on their way, and then the grating was once more closed, and I found myself alone in the cell. 

How grateful I felt, and how luxurious it seemed, to be able to curl up nude on the filthy straw of a sunken cell. 

I was terribly sore. 

My limbs ached, and i knew that I would ache for a long time. Despite this, I must have fallen asleep almost immediately, as when I was once more awoken the light in the cell was much greater.

A guard was there above me, and he beckoned me to the grating of the cell. Despite my aching limbs and soreness, I immediately complied, and he pulled me easily up to the floor of the room above.

Instinctively I knelt before him, knees wide, arms on my thighs, palms upwards. He regarded me, looking me over.

"What a state you are in, slavegirl, you are a disgrace," he sneered.

I said nothing to this, although it seemed to me rather an unfair assertion, given that it was on the order of the guards that I had been subjected to the rigours of sharing the slave cell with my thirty ravenous cellmates.

"It is time for your trial. I would have thought that you would have wished to present yourself before the court in a somewhat more decorous state, but it is your own choice."

I rather doubted this, although I suppose i could, in hindsight, have used the interval between the galley slaves and my own removal from the cell to attempt to clean myself up a little. However, in the event, I had been too tired for this possibility to have even entered my head.

I followed him along corridors, until we came to a large door, outside of which several people were waiting. No-one else was nude, and several sneers were directed to me, regarding my general state of attire and filthiness.

One of the men had a scroll, and asked the guard who brought men "Is this the slave Suckslut?"

"Aye," confirmed my guard.

"Good," he said, she is the last of this batch. He is getting through them quickly. Ready her, and make sure she is gagged."

"Of course," said the Guard.

After a short while the door opened and a number of people came out. Some were smiling, some were not. There was also one other gagged, nude, girl, that I presumed to also be a slave. She was crying bitterly.

We went into the courtroom.

There was a sort of platform that, I suppose, served as a dock.

We were lined up in a row.

On a dais looking down at us was a stern man. He seemed vaguely bored, as if what was taking place was of little import.

"Is this all of the next batch?" he asked.

"Aye," said a guard.

The judge, as I assumed him to be from his demeanour, read from a scroll.

"Step forward Antiphon," he commanded.

One of our number stepped forward.

"You are charged with littering the highway by allowing your animal to foul the Main Square. How do you plead?"

"Guilty," said he who I assumed to be Antiphon.

"Fined three copper pieces," said the judge, then, "Step forward Geminus,"

Another stepped forward.

"You are charged with providing short measure of bread in the market place, by adulterating said bread with other substances. How do you plead?"

"Guilty," said he who I assumed to be Geminus.

"Fined four copper pieces," said the judge, then, "Step forward, Suckslut."

Nervously, I stepped forward.

"How did she get in that state?" asked the judge, "She is covered in sex discharge."

"There were galley slaves in the slave cell last night," said the guard who had brought me in, as if this explained everything.

"Harrumph! Well, next time wash the slave," said the judge, "She dirties the courtroom, and I can smell her stink from here."

There was some laughter, rather sycophantic I thought. The judge regarded his scroll, and read from it in a manner even more offhand and disinterested than the cases of Antiphon and Geminus.

"You are charged with stealing animal fodder from your Mistress," he intoned, "How do you plead? Whimper once for guilty, twice for not guilty."

Nervously I whimpered twice.

The judge regarded me over the scroll.

"Once for guilty, twice for not guilty," he said again.

I quailed fearfully, but once more managed to whimper twice.

"Very well," said the judge, "You are thus a liar as well as a thief. You are to be branded as such, and then sold for animal fodder, the proceeds to go to the state."

I managed a murmur of protest into my gag.

"Step forward, Thymaridas," said the judge.

Another stepped forward, as the judge read his scroll.

"You are charged with selling sul paga to a minor," said the judge, "How do you plead?"

"Guilty," said Thymaridas.

"Fined two copper pieces," said the judge, "We will have a short break before the next batch are brought in, in order for the dock to be cleaned from the stench of the slavegirl.

"Yes, Lord," said one of the guards.

It seemed that my trial was over. I was too numb almost to think.

I had thought to have had at least a chance to explain the circumstances surrounding my arrest, but I suppose I should have known that when I had been gagged before entering the court, that this was unlikely to be the case.

We were marched out of the court, Antiphon, Geminas, Thymaridas, and myself. 

We had all been convicted of our crimes, but whereas they had each been fined amounts of copper coins, it seemed that I was to be branded as a thief and liar, and then to be sold off for sleen meat.

****

I had been branded before of course. 

A mark, like a flower, had been seared into my flesh at the slave house of Thurnus.

Thusly, I had some inkling of what to expect, but it is, nonetheless, difficult to convey the pain of it.

At the slave house I had thought that whatever my fate, it plainly could be no worse than the pens.

I had been informed that my left buttock was to be branded with the first letter of the word 'thief'.

I felt the heat of the brand on my ass before the searing pain and the crackle as the mark was burnt into me, indelibly. I had been given a stick of a soft substance, a little like rubber, such that I could bite into, and not risk biting off my tongue. I wondered why I was being afforded this kindness when I was subsequentlly going to be sold off for animal fodder, but I suppose that they were keen to minimise the mess and did not want blood on the floor.

I cannot adequately describe the pain. I would say that it was, perhaps, slightly less than my first branding, as I was, at least, aware of how bad it was going to be. However, it seemed that the brand was larger than the flower burnt into my leg, and the curvature of my ass meant that it was deeper. 

At any rate, I must have lost consciousness, because I was brought back to reality with a dousing of water.

I could hardly believe the pain in my left buttock. 

I had been informed that my right buttock was to be branded with the first letter of the word 'liar'.

Again I felt the heat first before the searing pain. 

Again I lost consciousness.

****

I hung from the chains.

A man stood before me, with a guard.

I had been informed that he was a wigmaker.

He shook his head.

"No," he said, "We simply don't have any call for blonde hair at the moment. I can shave her if you want, but you will have to pay me, I'm not going to do it for free."

The guard looked doubtful.

"There must be some rich old hag who would like a head of thick blonde hair," he commented.

"Not nowadays," said the wigmaker, "It is considered barbarian hair. Auburn is all the rage. I would give you a good price for that, or even brunette, but no, I can't take it. You might try the rope-maker."

He shook his head sadly.

"We are not going to pay you to take off her hair," said the guard.

I felt absurdly grateful for this.

****

The man regarded me doubtfully, and stroked his chin. He went around behind me, and I felt him tug at my hair.

"Not very long, is it?" he said.

"She is a barbarian," said the guard, "Their slaves do not generally have long hair, apparently."

"Primitive fools. Let it grow for a month or two," said the rope-maker, "and ask me again. It's healthy and thick, but not long enough to make a decent length of rope, and would be far too much work to link together."

"I see," said the guard.

****

The man's hands were at my belly, touching and feeling me. He wore a tunic, considerably besmeared with blood. I squirmed a little, hanging in my ropes, my tiptoes on the ground.

"She is scrawny," he said, "No fat on her at all."

He pawed me further. 

I had been assessed on previous occasions of course, but this time I was being evaluated solely for my worth as meat.

"Her ass is nicely rounded, at least," commented the guard, hopefully, "A nice morsel for sleen to get their teeth into."

The butcher looked doubtful. 

"I don't think there is enough to make a decent meal for the sleen," he said, "By the time we transport her, shave her hair off, get her certified disease-free, debone her and so on, we're losing out."

"How much do you think, then?" queried the guard, impatiently.

"Give me a copper coin and I'll take her off your hands."

"No," said the guard, "We are not authorised to do that, we need to get a price for her."

"Then I can't help you," said the butcher, "Fatten her up and ask me again."

The guard sighed.

"I see," he said.

The butcher left, and I dangled in front of the guard.

"It would seem, my dear," said the guard, "That you are utterly worthless. What are we to do with you?"

"Might I not be permitted to serve in a tavern, Master?" I asked, hopefully.

"You'd like that, slut, I have no doubt," he said, with a grin, "But you are a liar and a thief. Your ass now proclaims that fact to the world. No tavern would touch you. Plus, of course, you have been sentenced to be used as animal fodder. That is how fair justice works, my dear."

"I'll take her off your hands," said a voice.

At first it seemed that the voice came from nowhere, but on looking down I saw a familiar face.

"Indeed?" questioned the guard, "And who might you be?"

"I am Tupp," said Tupp, "I will take her off your hands for nothing if you like."

"And use her for animal fodder?" asked the guard.

"Perhaps," said Tupp.

The guard looked unconvinced.

"You would take her for nothing?" he queried.

"Aye," said Tupp.

"If I made her over to you, and she was found alive in the City, you know that you would also be punished for harbouring a convicted thief?"

"Of course," said Tupp.

"So you are not thinking of trying to keep her?" asked the guard.

"I will of course obey the law of the City," said Tupp.

"I will check with the Praetor," said the guard.

****

Tupp, who could not write, signed his mark to the document. Apparently, it guaranteed that he would see to it that I would be slaughtered for animal fodder.

The Praetor handed me over to him.

"Remember the conditions, dwarf," he said, "We know her, and her ass has been double-branded. If she is found alive in the City, you will also be punished."

"Of course, good Sir," said Tupp, somewhat obsequiously, "I would not dream of going against the fair covenants of the City."

"Very well," said the Praetor, "Then I accordingly hand over this slave..." he consulted a document, "Formerly Beast 13 of the slavehouse of Thurnus, and currently named Suckslut, to Tupp, a free man of no fixed abode. On condition that he turns her into animal fodder, or," he looked knowingly at Tupp I thought, "that she is not further seen or heard of in this City."

"I give my solemn word as a free man, as well as my mark," said Tupp.

****

We walked downhill towards the port. I on a leash, behind my Lord, Overseer, and Master.

He carried a switch.

I was numb with fear.

"You will have me butchered?" I quavered, fearfullly.

"I dare say so, in time," said Tupp, "When I grow weary of you. In the meantime, I intend to wring every last droplet of effort and profit and slave juice from your worthless body. Thanks to you, I am penniless, and without a home, so I will use you to make my way in the world. By the time I have got my worth out of you, my lying, thieving, pointless barbarian slut, you will beg to be animal feed."

I rather doubted this, but did not comment upon his assertion.

"What if we are caught within the City? The Praetor said that he would punish us both."

"I have booked us upon a galley, which is sailing today, for the north."

"At the port?"

Tupp turned and swished his switch, it hissed and caught me on the thigh. I yelped.

"Of course at the port, you stupid slut, where did you think it would be? In future you will ask my permission before asking a question, and I believe that I have instructed you previously as to the correct form in which to address me."

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




A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 09



"The captain has agreed to accept your free use amongst the crew as fare for my own passage," said Tupp. "He seemed quite interested. They do not get many slavegirls upon the galleys."

"May I be permitted to ask a question, my Lord, Overseer, and Master?" I asked.

"On this occasion," said my Lord, Overseer, and Master," But do not make a habit of it."

"I will not, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, softly, "May I be permitted to know the name of the galley upon which we will be travelling, my Lord, Overseer, and Master?"

"Aye," he said, "You may. It is called the Northern Wind."

I shuddered.

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

"Perhaps I will volunteer you to take your turn at the oars," said my Lord, Overseer, and Master, chortling a little.

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

I wondered if he knew that the entire crew of galley slaves had pleasured themselves upon my aching, juicing body the previous night. 

I suspected that he did.

"And I will henceforth rename you 'Worthless'", said my Lord, Overseer, and Master.

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

I wondered whether it were preferable to be termed Worthless, rather than Suckslut, or Sleenmeat, or Flower. 

I suppose that each name has its merits and demerits. 

"I will have my revenge on you for forcing me to leave my post at the Juicy Pudding, Worthless. I will ensure that you are put forward for every low task. You will empty the bilge and the latrines, you will scrub the deck, you will service the crew. In short you will suffer as the liar, thief, and slut that you have been shown to be. And when we get to the north I will really show you what being a slave is all about."

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

"I think that I will have you carry me the rest of the way to the ship, Worthless. Crouch down."

I crouched down, and my Lord, Overseer, and Master. climbed upon my back.

"Up," he said, and accompanied his command with a lash of his switch.

We proceeded downhill towards the port, he on my back.

"When we get to the north," he said, "I think I will have you write your story down. Perhaps it will bring in a few pennies."

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, a little breathless from the exertion. He was small, but not a light burden, by any means, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

I considered what was in store for me.

I had thought that, whatever my fate, it could be no worse than labouring in the pens.

I had for sure, come into the possession of a private Master, and for this, I suppose, a slavegirl should always be grateful. 

Many slavegirls will, of course, writhe and squirm and juice in their cages at the mere thought of being owned by a private Master.

The private Master, in my case, blamed and hated me for having lost his former employment, and had vowed to gain his revenge upon me by squeezing every last droplet of effort and profit and slave juice from my worthless body. 

The fact that I was a liar and a thief was emblazoned irrevocably upon my ass. Should I not please perfectly, I could be instantly turned over to the authorities, a fugitive from justice, specified thus by the marks burnt into my flesh.

I had once thought that, whatever my fate, it could be no worse than labouring in the pens.

It seemed possible, as I left the City of my first enslavement, and embarked forth to labour upon my new planet under my first private Lord, Overseer, and Master, that I now knew better.

Here I end my narrative, written at the command of my Lord, Overseer, and Master.