Paga Diaries (31)

 

31.  Slave Rape
Tenrik stood next to Dario and Dira locked in a passionate embrace before a crowd chanting "Dira! Dira! Dira!" and pounding Gorean applause.  He separated the couple, putting his left arm over Dira's naked shoulders and collarless neck and his right arm over Dario's shoulder.  The crowd, stunned, grew quiet.

 

"I am Tenrik Vitellius, owner of the Players of the Western Hills. My new slave Dira..."  There were scattered shouts for Dira at the mention of her name.  "...my friend, the thespian Dario ..."  Someone yelled out, "The best actor in Argentum!" and a chorus of "Aye's".  "...and his company, the Players of Western Hills, will put on a free show in the public square at ten ahn tomorrow,” Tenrik yelled.  Murmurs ran through the crowd, which began to disperse, excited now to tell their friends about the incredible free show and what they had seen today. .

Dira waved and blew kisses and Dario waved and bowed until the last of the crowd had left.

"Could I take leave tomorrow?" Dario said to Atticus.

"No need! The whole cohort will be at the public square, protecting the Players of Western Hills and their debut performance! Didn't 'The Ubara's Dilemma' end with a capture dance?" Atticus laughed.  Dario’s mouth gaped.

"Tenrik has promoted you from apprentice to master Player. You will play the role of the Ubar! And Dira the Ubara!" Atticus continued.

"The Ubar and Ubara are the main roles,” Dario said incredulously.

"Tenrik will have the Player and slave who normally play those roles coach you and Dira tonight in his mansion in Western Hills.  I'm sure you and Dira will perform admirably,” Atticus said.

"Will the commander of the cohort be there?" Dario asked apprehensively.

"The rest of his cohort will be!" Atticus laughed.  Dario blanched.

“I’m sure your father will be eager to see his son’s debut after being acclaimed ‘the best actor in Argentum,’” Atticus chuckled as Dario cringed.

Tenrik, his right arm around Dira's left shoulder, said, "Dario, go tell Dirk he has been hired to escort us to my estate and tell him of Dira's arrangement." 

"Yes, Sir," Dario said and went off.  I walked with Tenrik and Dira to the waiting room.

A slaver from the house approached me and asked, “Master Rykart?” 

“Yes.”

“I am Temus. Do you have time to go over the house assessment and recommendations for your new slave?”

“Yes,” I said and we talked for ten ehn.

“Be sure to keep her hands back-braceleted for several days, so that she does not irritate the brand while it begins to heal. I applied healing salve on the brand; reapply it daily until it is all gone. Avoid striking the brand site for two months," Temus instructed me.  After being advised by Temus, I purchased from the house a collar, leash, handcuffs (or slave bracelets as Gorean’s call them), anklet with chain (to secure her at night), gag, hood, five-bladed slave whip, and a slave switch.  It seemed like a good start, and I put the items in a burlap sack. 

The slaving house had taken her physical measurements, recording them on the slave papers that would be registered officially after being signed by the Magistrate.  For some reason, I was not allowed to be present during the “measuring” but I was told that the process was very thorough, documenting every conceivable feature of my kajira’s body, including breast size, neck, wrist, and ankle ring sizes.  A measure of her response, or slave heat, to something called the “slaver’s caress” was conducted and noted.  Temus told me that she assessed well in this category and that this was to be expected with auburn haired women.  

I had been asked if I wanted to have “slave wine” administered to my kajira.  Not knowing what it was, Temus explained that this was a liquid contraception that she would be forced to drink and that it would last a very long time, requiring another liquid, “second wine”, a reversal agent, to restore conception fertility.  Filomena had told Temus that she had already drank “the noble wine of a Free Woman” which was basically the same thing, only sweetened.  Temus recommended she be given slave wine anyway, to make sure.  I agreed to this recommendation.  I was not interested in impregnating my new kajira. 

During the measuring and processing, Atticus and I talked.  He was here to witness the private branding and collaring of the former Lady Temione, one of the final steps making her enslavement official, after her measurements and paperwork were signed by the Magistrate.  Atticus had strongly suggested that I pay to have my new kajira professionally trained as a pleasure slave, in this house or even better, he whispered, the House of Diamandis.  In addition to training as a pleasure slave, the Houses offered specialty training in dancing, singing, massaging, etc., which he thought I could afford, saying that it would be worth every tarsk after she finished, eager to return to her master and serve. 

“You may not know Rykart, the training of a slave girl, like the training of an animal, tends to be a grueling task, requiring patience, time, good judgement and sternness,” Atticus said.

“I understand. This first slave. I wait long time. I always want train slave. I not come for sword training for few days,” I replied.

“Good for you, I have enjoyed training new slaves myself. I hope she gives you great pleasure. Come back to the guard station and resume training whenever you want,” Atticus, said, smiling.

Temus gave me the signed, completed slave papers for Filomena.  He told me that a copy of these papers would be filed in the Cylinder of Records, a city administrative building.  A door opened and Dirk brought her out and made her kneel before me.  She was naked.  Her auburn tresses were matted.  Dried tears streaked her face.  She was semi-apathetic. Her back was a burst of red streaks.  The kef brand on her left thigh was angry and red.  Her hands were tied behind her with a cheap cord and she was leashed.  Dirk brought her half a pace in front of me and removed his leash.

"Kneel, slave!" He ordered.  She stumbled, hesitated and knelt.  Her kneel was poor, with her knees barely spread.

“Rykart, see you at sword practice,” he said.

“Good bye, Dirk,” He joined Dira, Dario and Tenrik.  They went out the door to Tenrik’s home.

“If you change your mind about training, we will take her anytime. It’s been a pleasure dealing with you, Master Rykart. Please call on me if you need anything,” Temus said looking down at my slave and shaking his head.

“I wish you well,” I replied.  We clasped right forearms and he left.

When he left, Filomena looked up at Atticus with piteous eyes and whispered plaintively. "Please Captain, not him, he is a barbarian, this isn’t right. There has been a mistake, I don’t deserve this.” 

Atticus looked at me briefly and then with the back of his right hand, slapped her face hard, leaving an angry red splotch on her tear-stained creamy right cheek.  Then he said in a loud commanding voice, “Do you remember what the Magistrate said? He said it twice; you are to address Free Men as Master!  Do you understand?” 

“Yes Master, I am sorry Master,” she said quickly, with tears in her eyes. 

“Remember Rykart, sternness! You must be stern, without hesitation. It is very important, especially in her initial stages of training,” he said.  He looked down at her and said, “Though he is a barbarian, he is a Free Man.  He bought you legally at auction and he is now your master. Do you understand?” Atticus said.

“Yes Master!” She sobbed.

“Kiss his feet,” he commanded.  I felt her lips on my sandaled foot.  “Both of them, slave,” he said.  I had never had a woman kiss my feet before, and it was a strange intoxicating feeling.

“I wish you well Rykart,” he said, and then left the room to return to the public square and oversee the impalement of Marcus Piero.  I was ready and excited to take my kajira home.

I took the leash from the sack and looped it around her neck, clasping it to itself.  She was naked and her back was still red from the whipping prior to her enslavement.  Her shoulder and left breast now had fresh red marks too, indications that she had been struck during her assessment. Her hands were tied behind her back with a cheap cord.

I told her to stand and she struggled to her feet.  I moved the leash to my left hand and checked the draw of my sword on the back of my left shoulder blade.  I had noticed on the streets that most slaves heel their masters on their left side away from the sword hand. 

I gazed at my new purchase, my leash around her neck.  She looked down, not meeting my gaze, still not used to being openly regarded as an unclothed object, even after the gauntlet.  Her feet were dainty and well formed.  Her legs and thighs were slim and shapely.  Her fresh brand was angry and swollen.  Her crotch was a fine auburn mat.  She had what I thought was some extra weight on her still shapely ass.  Her abdomen was flat.  Her American "C" cup breasts were firm.  She had delicate shoulders.  Her uncollared neck was slim and elegant.  She had full size lips.  Her serious blue eyes contrasted with her creamy white skin and her auburn hair.  Her coiffed hair was a mess, matted with skewed pieces fallen astray. 

"Heel me," I said and adjusted the grip of my left hand on her leash.

“Yes Master,” she said.  I walked on the tiled floor to the door of the service entrance and we left the House of Cornelius Desneti.  I could hardly believe I was going home with a new kajira!  I had anticipated this day and it finally arrived.  I would be a stern Gorean master and train this slave to be a proper kajira.  While we walked back to my apartment, passersby in the street made comments which I tried to ignore.  I heard, "Fresh meat," "red head" and "slut."  Filomena shrank slightly from the lustful gazes of men admiring her body.

Two Free Women yelled at me.  One saying, “Naked slut! Where is her collar?” and the other saying, "You should clothe a slave in public! No one wants to see that!”  I kept walking, my hand holding her leash as she followed behind me, her head looking down, deeply humiliated.

We passed three teenage boys.  “Fire crotch!” One, fourteen year old, yelled.  Other men complimented her curves.

 “Enjoy!” one said.  I nodded and continued walking.  I sensed she pulled her shoulders together and pulled her chin down, deeply ashamed and unable to cover herself with her hands tied behind her back.  Finally, we arrived at my apartment building. 

I unlocked the door and entered the apartment; she hesitated a second, not wanting to follow me.  I pulled on her leash, the first time today.  She entered and looked around the room, her face expressionless.  I closed the door and went to the small counter with the faucetless sink and set down the sack of slave accessories.  I removed all of the items from the sack and placed them on the counter.  I picked up the whip and turned to face her. Her face was no longer expressionless. Her eyes were now wide with concern, fear perhaps.

“Kneel,” I said.  She slowly went to her knees, one knee at time, and with her legs together, knelt in a high tower position.  I went behind her, unfastened the leash from her neck and removed the cord that had kept her hands behind her back on our walk home. 

“Nadu,” I said.  She looked up at me briefly and sat on her ankles.

“Spread knees,” I said.

“Wider,” I said, after she barely moved her knees.  Her knees were not wide enough, not even close to how I had seen numerous paga slaves kneel in nadu.  I crouched down before her and used the end of the whip handle to push her knees wider, to where they should be.  She would not look at me.

“Hand on thigh,” I said, motioning with my own hand, a palm down position on my thigh.  I did not know the word for palm. She complied.

“This is nadu,” I said.

“I want see your hair. Let hair down,” I said.  Timidly, she put her hands to her hair, and began to loosen the tresses.  I let her continue as I went to the counter, put the leash on the counter and picked up the collar.  It was a simple collar, a steel band of metal with a small metal ring attached to the front and a lock on the back.  I opened the lock and removed the key, putting it on the counter. 

I went back and stood before her, placing the whip over my right shoulder, holding on to it.  In my left hand I held the unlocked collar.  Her long beautiful auburn hair, curly from being released from the tresses, cascaded down her back.

“Submit to me. Say, ‘I am your slave Master,’” I said. 

“What? I, I already submitted. I have been branded!”  I brought the whip down hard on her left shoulder and across her back.  Additional red streaks soon appeared on her creamy white skin. She had tried to raise her hands up and block the lashing, but the whip had been too quick.  I stepped to the side a bit and immediately delivered a second strike.  She curled herself into a ball on the floor and covered her head with her hands.

“I submit, I am a slave, mercy, please, I will do anything!” She screamed.  I did not strike again.

“Nadu,” I simply said. When she was kneeling again, in nadu, with her palms on her thighs, I stepped in front of her.  Again, I used the whip handle to push her knees wider.

“Submit to me. Say, ‘I am your slave, Master,’” I said.

“I submit to you, I am your slave, Master,” she said quickly.

“Collaring position,” I said.  

“I am sorry, I don’t know many slave positions, Master.”  She bent her head towards me.

“No, with hands, lift hair from neck,” I instructed.  She gathered her hair in both hands and lifted it away, exposing her slender neck to me.  I bent over and put the collar around her neck, hearing the metallic click of the lock engaging. 

“You now wear my collar. I own you. I name you Mena,” I said.

“Please no Master, please let me keep my name!" She cried desperately.

"You nameless slave. You own nothing. You own no name. I own name,” I said.  She sobbed.

“Your name is Mena now. You answer to Mena or get punishment. You will obey. Do you understand?” I asked her.

“Yes Master.”

“Mena, take collar off,” I said.  She briefly glanced up at me, a confused look, and then put her hands to the steel that had been locked around her neck, feeling it for the first time.  She tried to pull apart the lock, but gave up quickly.

“Mena, take collar off,” I said again.

“I cannot take it off Master, it is locked,” she replied.

“Yes, you can not take it off. Law requires you wear it. Crawl up on couch and get on all fours.”

“Yes Master,” she said and got up on the couch, on all fours.  Her ample breasts hung from her horizontal torso.  Her long beautiful curly auburn hair hung from her head to the couch.  The kef on her left thigh was an angry red.  The steel collar contrasted with her pale white skin.  I went to the side of the couch and grabbed her collar, my fingers wrapped around the steel band.  I pulled on it slightly so that she could truly feel it for the first time, moving her neck and head in directions that I controlled.  With my right hand on her collar, my left hand brushed over her dirty hair and then I felt along her flank, continuing on to stop on her rump.  I then cupped a full breast, hefting it in my palm as it hung down from her body.  She tried to move away, but my right hand, still holding her collar, kept her in place.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting to know my property. When you address me, you say Master. When you ask me, you say Master at end. Do you understand?” I said, as I increased my grip on her collar, twisting it on her neck a bit.

“Yes Master,” she answered.

“Do not move,” I said, as I went to the counter and brought back the leash.  The leash was a thin but sturdy rope with a looped handle and a metal clasp on the end.  I clasped the leash to the ring on the front of her collar, and then tied the other end to a metal slave ring on the couch. 

“Spread legs more,” I said, and then I resumed my caressing of her flanks.  Her cream colored skin was soft and silky.  I looked at her nipples as they stiffened.  Her skin was becoming flushed.  I put a hand on her ass, slightly squeezing a cheek.  I did the same to the other cheek. Then I moved my hand around to her belly, feeling its small swell.  She was slightly overweight but her curves were very attractive and I was fully aroused.  I put my hands on her mound, running my fingers through the soft bush of fine, tightly curled hair.  She tensed up.

“Relax,” I said, in an effort to calm her, which was probably impossible.  

I then went back to touching her breasts, fondling them gently.  I rolled her erect nipples in my fingers, making them stiffen even more.  Her breathing quickened.  I had been aroused several times today and I was in need.  I took two steps from the couch and removed my clothes. Remaining on all fours, she turned her head to watch me and noticed how ready I was for what was coming next.  I stepped back to the couch. 

“I don’t want this Master. Please don’t do this,” she begged.  I ignored her and put a hand on her ass again, gently parting her cheek.  With my other hand, I put a finger on her most intimate spot, it was wet.  She moved her hips away.

“Please don’t Master,” she said.

I put my hands on her hips and eased them slowly back to me.

“Don’t move Mena. You understand, or I need whip?” I said.

“I understand, Master,” she replied.  I placed my finger back on the wetness.  I then gently pushed in, a hort perhaps.  I was surprised how wet she was!  I pushed further until my finger was buried.  She moaned.  I moved my finger slightly inside of her before slowly withdrawing it.  I then put it back in and started very slowly to slide it in and out, over and over.  She moaned again, louder this time.

“What are you doing Master?” she asked in a husky voice.  I ignored her and continued.

I then got on the couch behind her and gripped her hips.  Very slowly I brought them to me, my tip now at her moist entrance.  I penetrated her slightly, and then eased my full length into her, staying there for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation.

“Oh!” she said, and then as I began to pull back, “I don’t want this, Master, not like this, not like an animal. This is rape,” she said.

To be honest, I hadn’t really thought of rape on Gor until hearing of Temi’s ordeal at the hearing and then again when Mena brought it up now.  I had probably raped dozens of women in paga taverns, but it didn’t seem like rape at the time because they seemed so willing. They are probably trained to act willing, and not just willing but alluring.  My first time with Lina, she was not willing.  I was filled with lust and need; I raped her.  I didn’t think of it then either.  She was a slave who had been commanded by her master to serve me.  Lina never seemed to hold it against me afterwards, or show any animosity.  In fact, she had begged use at the party.

But Mena was right, this was rape.  But is it wrong when the woman is a slave whose bodily responses are preparing for and enticing penetration?  Mena’s moans, pointed nipples and wetness, were not discouraging me to stop what I was doing.  She was my property, my slave, and I wasn’t about to stop using her body for my pleasure because she didn’t agree to it.  During her sentencing, she had chosen slavery over death.  Certainly she knew what men would do to their new female slaves?

I continued to guide her hips, controlling the speed of our intercourse, gradually increasing the pace.  Her breathing increased as her moans became louder.  I let go of her hips and she continued the motion on her own, meeting my thrusts.  I reached out and took a handful of her beautiful long auburn hair, pulling her head back.  She quickened the motion with her hips and I could tell that she was getting close to release. 

“Do you want me to stop raping you slave?” I asked.

“Ahh, oooh, waw, what?” She replied.

“Do you want me to stop raping you?” I repeated, and grabbed her hips, stopping her motions after I had withdrawn from being deep inside. 

“No, please don’t stop!" She cried.  I slapped her ass hard and said, “Address me as Master!”

“Please don’t stop, Master!” she begged.  I re-entered and began to guide her hips again, pulling and pushing her.  She quickly began to move on her own again, regaining her previous pace.  She raised her head and yelled out, climaxing, before slowing to a stop.  I was very close myself, so I told her, “Don’t stop, slave, keep moving, please your Master!”  Her hips started to move again and I clutched them tight as I came to an intense, built-up release. 

I positioned her so that we lay on the couch, side by side, her back to my stomach, my arm around her and our racing hearts winding down as we enjoyed the moment of post-coital bliss.  I smiled to myself, thinking that I didn’t have to crawl out of some tavern alcove and stumble home in the dark.  I am home, with a new slave in my arms.