Tales of Drysdale House (3) Veronika

 

Narrative of Kajira Juli, formerly Miss Julie Chen BA of San Francisco

The four she-urts knelt in a row in the Grand Salon of Drysdale House, my master’s San Francisco residence. They were waiting, more or less patiently to be paid. It was the last day my Master, through the housekeeper, Mrs Magruder, would be employing Kampus Kleaners to bring the state of the house, really a mansion, to one that she considered worthy of my Master’s stature. Kampus Kleaners did not know that these she-urts would be here. After the first two days, Mrs Magruder had been employing some of the girls directly, rather than through Kampus Kleaners, ‘providers of naughty maids and naked cleaners’.

She had informed the girls that only about half of their visits would be booked through their employer,

“and the others will be paid in cash. That way you can keep more of your earnings for yourselves. That would be nice, wouldn’t it.’

It was as I had heard her explaining to Master Patrick, a trick.

“We end up paying them less because we save the Kampus Kleaners commission, and Kampus Kleaners has less record of their being here. Of course, it also separates out the less scrupulous and more needy ones.”

Master nodded, adding, “Cheating an employer and stealing from them is grounds for enslavement under Luthan law.”

Master was Honorary Consul of the Grand Duchy of Lutha, which made the mansion subject to Luthan law, part of which still sanctioned female slavery.

 

It was during the evening after of the first day the original dozen of the Kampus Kleaners had come to Drysdale House that Mistress Magruder had told me about she-urts. I was sewing a new tunic, one of finer cloth than the burlap of my first attempt and she was sitting in her chair, seam ripper to hand, ready to rip out any stitches she did not consider good enough. As she sipped her tea, she explained.

“On Gor, so Master Willard told me, the poorer parts of the cities are overrun by poor women, Free Women, but poor who live by begging and stealing. They are a nuisance, and worse, an affront to Free Women, because they cannot, due to their poverty, cover themselves completely as befits as Free Woman. They have only sketchy veils, if they have them at all, and generally their hair is not covered. They will lie with men for scraps of food or drink. Generally low men, sailors and the like, or porters of goods around the town. Men who do not have even a spare tarsk bit for a coin girl, or can only afford to go to the Paga Tavern on paydays. Still, they are free, and so are infinitely above the likes of you, a slave. If they are caught stealing too often or become too much of a nuisance the guards will round them up and take them to the magistrates to be branded and collared. And good riddance.”

Mistress Magruder sniffed. She always sniffed about things of which she did not approve.

 

The she-urts knelt in nadu, a practice they had picked up from one of their number, Veronika, starting on their second day at Drysdale House. They were waiting for their money, which meant that they would wait that way until it pleased Master Patrick to pay them. She-urts are desperate for money. Master entered the room and looked them over. Their thighs were spread wide; a couple of thighs glistened.  They truly wanted to please. All had shaved themselves in the way that Master preferred; a tip passed on by Veronika. Of the original twelve who had started, these were the ones that were left. I had heard Master and Mistress Magruder talking as the she-urt numbers had dwindled as the needs of the House were less urgent. Some had been dropped for being too honest, they would not cheat their employer; some for not being quite as beautiful as Mistress Magruder thought was necessary; some had been too independent. A couple had been dropped because they had not conformed their grooming standards to Master’s preferences (he likes a nice, bushy landing strip).

One by one, Master had them, the she-urts stand, and receive their pay, in cash of course. He paid them in small bills, so he could count them out, and they could feel the weight of gratitude as each bill landed in their two out-stretched hands. Master nodded to Mistress Magruder to dismiss the four girls. One of them put up her hand. She was cunning, it raised the one breast and made them both jiggle. As a slave I have had to learn such tricks. It is strange that she-urts are above us slave girls, just because no one has bothered to collar them yet.

“Speak.” Master had not bothered to learn her name. That or had not bothered to use it.

“Mister Masters, could I speak to you in the Library? Privately, please.” She bounced a little on her toes to indicate eagerness. Of course, it also made her boobs jiggle. Little slut.

Master nodded. I was directed to lead the three other girls to the door and to help them get into their clothes. As we went towards the door, half their talk was envy of Veronika for being a slut, and half envy for getting a private meeting with Master. They did not talk to me, over the past ten days, they had divined that my status was low, lower than that of even a naked cleaner working her way through University by being a part time slut, the very definition of an urt-girl. Their clothes were kept in individual baskets in the service pantry by the dining room. The baskets were of wicker, just like the slave basket, like a dog basket, I slept in when I was being especially favored by Master. Strange that the baskets for slaves and free women were made from the same material, and likely came from the same place!

By now, each girl’s individual basket had her name on it. I thought that was strange. At first the baskets had no names, but later names appeared. Not all the girls got their names on a basket. The girls that did not, got the message that they were not favored and stopped coming. I had asked Mistress Magruder if I should remove the name tags from the last four baskets. She had smiled and told me to leave them for now.

“We may be seeing these girls again.”

 

I let the three girls out. As I closed the door, I heard one say, “the money is good, but something about that place gives me the creeps.”

 

I returned to the Grand Salon to collect Veronika to take her to Master’s Library. She was sitting down on one of the chairs. She was allowed to do that. She was free.

**

I had first encountered Veronika on her second day as a Kampus Kleaner. We were both working in the Library. I was vacuuming the Library and the private office that opened off it. Veronika was polishing the brass accessories that flanked the grand fireplace. The surround and mantle were of carved green marble that looked good against the dark carved wood of the paneling and of the bookshelves. The firebox and the projecting hearth were raised about a foot above the level of the floor, it made a nice place for a girl to perch while her Master worked.

Veronika was polishing the little shovel that was used to remove the ashes when the fire had died when Master entered the Library from the private office.  I was shocked and confused. How had he entered the office in the first place? I had just vacuumed the carpets in there and he had not been present. Yet the only entrance to that room was through the Library. Maybe I had missed him walking through the Library when my back was turned? At any rate, I immediately dropped to my knees, as a slave does when a free person enters a room. (I had been given a dispensation from so doing this for the she-urts by Mistress Magruder). I spread my legs wide and placed my hand on my thighs. Master crossed to the big desk under the side window and began writing on fine paper with his calligraphy pens. He is a fine writer.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed that the she-urt had also dropped to her knees and spread her thighs. How dare she! She was not a slave. She was stiff though, and was unsure what to do with her hands. Master looked up from his writing to dip his pen into the inkwell. He smiled at me, and then at the she-urt. She spread her thighs wider, making sure he got a good look at her pussy. Well I know a trick or two, learned from my friend Tiffany, the Frick’s dancing girl. Without making it obvious I was moving, I shifted my  body a little, my short tunic riding up over my thighs until I was fully exposed as well. Due to certain exercises, I was able to make sure I was fully open to Master’s view. Even she-urts find it difficult to complete with a trained kajira. Mrs Magruder stressed that point.

On Gor, only the very poor among men will condescend to fuck a she-urt. They are less inert than most free women, but only a kajira has the abandon that an owned and collared girl does. She must be pleasing. A she-urt must retain some restraint as she is a free woman. When Master lowered his eys to concentrate on his calligraphy, I noticed the she-urt touching herself, adjusting her lower lips to be more open. She seemed to be happy about kneeling in her position. I did not rise, I had not been given permission; she did not rise either, I assume she did not know how to do so gracefully.

So we knelt there until Master was finished. At length he arose, blotted his work and placed it in an manila folder. He arose, placed the folder under his arm. He tore up the blotting paper, and walked over the fireplace. He put the blotting paper on the logs that were laid ready for the next fire, so it would be consumed the next time the fire was lit. He patted the girl on the head, and told her that her back was too stiff. Then he left the room. When I arose, the she-urt did too.

“You did not need to do that,” I told her. “Only I need to do that because I belong to the house.”

I was going to say to Master Patrick, but at the last minute I realized that I should not say too much. I know I should not have spoken to a free person without being given permission but it was confusing when she was the naked one and I was in my tunic, and we were both doing cleaning duties, and both of us had been kneeling in nadu, our thighs spread wide and vulnerable.

“I don’t know what came over me. It suddenly seemed the thing to do. Mr Masters looked so tall and commanding, and when a girl is naked, she feels so vulnerable. Don’t you think so?”

“My name is Juli,” I told her. I had remembered that I was just a slave. I could not ask her what her name was.

“Hi, I’m Veronika, pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand.

I could not take her hand of course, so I made a sort of curtsey. She was a free woman after all. I smiled at her and went back to my work. That evening I talked to Mistress Magruder, in the hour or so we had after dinner, after I had cleaned up the kitchen and before Master called me for my evening duties. It was the time Mistress used for my instruction. She was very interested in what Veronika had done. I was given permission to gradually reveal more things about myself and my condition. After that day, I was more often assigned to work with Veronika. I do not believe it was in any way a coincidence. Sometimes we worked with other girls, in the evening Mistress Magruder would ask questions about the girls and their reactions.

Once Veronika and another girl asked about my collar. As Mrs Magruder had given permission I showed them how it was locked on me, and the engraving that read: Juli, slave property of Patrick Masters, return to Drysdale House.

They both acted shocked, but I do not believe that they were as upset as they pretended. By then, they must have had some idea that I was not a free maid. More girls, but not all started kneeling in nadu when Master Patrick was present. Some did not, and some did not expose themselves as widely. By observing me, the quicker ones picked up on the grooming standards that Master preferred, The Kleaners that did not were not asked back. This encouraged the others to be more conformant to Master’s preferences. Soon there were just four, Veronika included.

**

Now all the other Kleaners had left. Veronika was alone in the House with Master, Mistress Magruder and a collared girl. I led her towards the Library. When we entered, Master was behind the large ornate desk, with the stained glass of the side window behind him. Mistress Magruder sat in an armchair to the side.

I, of course knelt in nadu, I did this, even in front of Mrs Magruder, because she worked in a slaver’s house. It was so degrading and reminded me of my lowly status. Veronika, who didn’t know any better, knelt as well. She was less stiff now than she had been. She looked quite lovely. Her skin was very pale, a contrast to her black hair.

“Could I speak alone to you, sir?” She addressed Master.

“I would like Mrs Magruder here. Juli can stay; she is not important.”

“Oh.” She hesitated, then plunged on. “It is just that I wondered if you had any more work for me. I really need the money. I got in over my head to some bad people. I have finally been able to pay them off, but I have had little to eat, just lentils and beans for nearly a month. I took this job because I was desperate. I don’t know how I will pay my tuition or my room and board at the University. Life is so hard especially for a woman on her own.”

Master was not sympathetic. “But you wanted to be an independent woman, did you not? To be on your own, not reliant on a man, a modern woman, standing on your own two feet? Equal to men, taking on your own responsibilities?

Master stood up. It is hard for a woman on her knees to argue with a man who is standing, especially when he is dressed with care and she is naked. When she is naked, with her thighs spread wide and open, her breasts raised in offering to the man, as  a girl is in nadu; it is impossible. Veronika said nothing.

Master turned to me. “Juli, rise and remove your tunic.”

I rose, the tunic only went over one shoulder, and a quick pull on the knot securing the shoulder tie undid it. It fell off my shoulder and slid down my body, catching for a moment on my breasts. A quick movement released it and it fell to the floor, pooling around my feet. I stood, left foot advanced a little, my weight on my right foot.

“Behold, Juli. She belongs to me. Observe her beauty, revealed a man’s command. Here, in this House, because of International Law, female slavery is legal. It is as legal as it is natural for beautiful women to belong to men who can collar them. You feel this inside you. That is why you kneel, it is why you reveal yourself and your openness. You desire a protector. Someone who will free you from the burden of independence to the freedom of belonging to a Master. Someone to instruct you, to own you. You know this.”

Master looked at Veronika. She put her head down.

“No, no.  I want to be free. I am an independent woman. I own myself. I am not an animal to be owned. I am free.”

“An animal to be owned is exactly what you are, you can feel it deep inside you. For you, freedom lies in slavery. A hundred generations tell you that you belong in a collar, on your knees; or chained on your back in the furs, or bent over my desk for my pleasure. Your body tells you that. How can a few years of social conditioning defeat a hundred generations of evolution, of nature’s wisdom in your bones. Even now, though you claim to resist, you are physically sexually excited. You long to be like Juli, as your nature demands: a collared, naked, branded beast.”

Her head shot up. “Branded” Like an animal?”

I could understand her resistance and her slowness to realize what her body and her nature were telling her. I had been the same way until a moment of epiphany on the Banks of the Bighorn river.

(For Juli's moment of surrender see Banks of the Bighorn(28) )

Suddenly Master turned to me. He gave an order: “Brand!”

I half-knelt with my left thigh extended so that Veronika could see. The P that Master Patrick had burned into my flesh. Veronika gasped, covering her mouth.

“This is not a game, that Juli and I play, It is real. And it is natural. Give up your pretense of independence, of freedom. You are an intelligent woman. You can face facts. Your hunger tells you that you are not suited to freedom, your body tells you that you are destined for the collar. You crave it; you want it; you desire it. You hunger to be owned; to be possessed by a man; to be forced to yield. You want to be mastered, to be forced to yield, to be forced to be pleasing.

You can stay here, fulfill yourself as Juli is fulfilled. Beg to be a slave.”

The girl said nothing. She burst into tears. She covered her face. But she did not rise. Nor did she cover her breasts, or close her thighs. Naked and open, she struggled with herself as Master watched. Then she seemed to relax. All the tension left her. She put her hands down on her thighs.

“Yes, yes. I am a slave. I am your slave Master. Collar me, brand me, throw me to the floor and use me. I am yours.”

In that moment I was jealous of her. Master spoke to his slave.

“Those words, once spoken can never be taken back. You are a slave. You must always be pleasing, totally and captivatingly pleasing. You must obey all free people. Juli will take you to the kitchens and feed you slave gruel. In the morning you will be branded. Stand up and come here.”

Like an automaton, Veronika rose. Master snapped a collar around her throat, He turned her around, he ran his hands over her rear. It was a nice rear, not as nice as mine, but I am a dancer and exercise instructor. She was skinny, but she had not eaten much recently. Slave gruel, unflavored NutriGirl would fill out her curves.

Master took a rope from the desk. Master is good at knots. He tied her hands together behind her back. Evidently she would eat on her knees with her face in the bowl. The knots could not be untied until Master gave permission. One of the ends of the knot had a lot of free rope. Master ran the rope from her tied hands between her legs. He led it through the folds of her pussy. She shivered as he did so. He pulled it up her body, touching her as he went. The rope passed between  her breasts and he tied it to the ring at the front of her collar He passed the free end to me.

“Juli, take her to the kitchens and give her a full bowl of slave gruel. She needs filling out. Then tie her to the slave ring and leave her there while you go about your duties. You will be first girl, and this girl, for now we will call her Veronika will be under you.”

I led the slave girl Veronika away. I don’t think she realized until then that she didn’t even own her name, that she was now the slave Veronika. So I was first girl. I was not sure how I felt about that. On the one hand it was good to have someone to talk to, another slave. Yet I wanted to be Master’s only slave!

However, the decision was Master’s and there was someone to share the work, and a slave who could be given to visitors as part of the hospitality of Drysdale House. As I led her through the pantry to the stairs down to the kitchens, we passed her basket with her clothes in it. I wondered what would happen to those clothes.

 

**

After Juli led the new slave Veronika away, Mrs Magruder turned to Patrick Masters.

“I don’t think I have ever seen anyone talked into slavery before. Lots seized of course, but never talked into it.”

Patrick Masters permitted himself a small smile.

“I am a lawyer. Persuading people is part of what I do. Anyway it is easy to convince people to do what they deep down want to do anyway. Give her another big bowl of NutriGirl for dinner. She has been starving herself in her attempt to remain free and independent. Tomorrow morning, do not feed her. For two reasons, to remind her she is dependent on her owners for food and because she has her first ordeal ahead of her. She will feel the slave whip as is proper when she enters her Master’s house, then we will take her to the old stables and brand her. The common kef, I think. Then after that she will be put to use. Then and only then will she be fed from her Master’s hand.”

Mrs Magruder nodded.

“I will bundle up her clothes and save them. If she is ever sent to Gor, we will dress her again in that clothing. It raises the price for Barbarians if their earth clothes can be removed on the block.

One question though. Why only Veronika? Why not any of the other three we identified, or even some of the others?”

Masters replied.

“A good question. The answer is that here we do not have the resources of the Frick family in terms of people and existing slaves. It takes time to train these girls in their slavery. You have been instructing Juli, and now Veronika. Any more right now and you and I will be spread too thinly. We have their addresses, and their phone numbers, and emails. We can collect them when we are ready.

I don’t want to beg the Fricks right now for more resources; they will not respect an ally who can’t stand on their own feet. We will build ourselves up. It will be slow at first, but we will build Drysdale House into a first-rate operation.”