32. Move Well Kajira
“You made me yield, Master,” Mena said as we lay together on the wide couch, the leash on her collar still attached to the metal slave ring.
“Yield? What is yield?” I asked, not familiar with the new word.
(Mena6 by Capoeira33 DeviantArt)
“My body yielded to you; I could not control it. You made my body respond and react in a way that I have never known. Before today, I never imagined such a feeling was possible. I have never felt anything like that, I don’t know what to think,” she said.“It was enjoyable, yes?” I asked. She didn’t say anything. I repeated myself, “Mena, it was enjoyable, yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “It was so enjoyable that I am afraid.”
“Afraid?” I asked, not understanding how she would be afraid of enjoying sex.
“Yes, I am afraid that I will grow to like it, love it even, and how it might change me.” I let it go that she did not address me as Master, twice now, as she was a new slave and had been through a lot. I knew I couldn’t continue to let her address me improperly.
“But you had Free Companion. I not understand, you laid with him, yes?” I asked, confused.
“Yes, but not like this, my body never yielded to him. He did not make me feel this way.”
“It not feel good with him?” I asked.
“It felt good, but nothing like this. It never became a flood of such intense pleasure. I thought I could keep myself from letting go, not giving in to the building sensations, not allowing you the power to make me yield. And then the euphoria afterwards, I am ashamed,” she said. I was beginning to understand that she never had an orgasm before and that she had tried to suppress it! I was astonished. Why would a woman suppress something so natural, something so feminine, a core characteristic of her womanhood?
“You never had, had, release?” I asked, struggling for a word for orgasm.
“Maybe once or twice with my companion it felt really good, but I could never let him know. He would have been very disappointed; Free Women can be enslaved for demonstrating such passion and desire. Remember Lady Temione, at the hearing? She was a natural slave and lost her freedom. I have been overwhelmed by everything that has happened to me, and in my moment of weakness, I gave in briefly, and you made my body yield. It won’t happen again,” she said, sounding confident.
“It won’t happen again, Master,” I said with emphasis, propping myself up on the couch to look at her face.
“It won’t happen again, Master,” she said with a little less confidence.
“It will happen again. Often. Slaves not allowed to deny release. I not allow you to deny release. You will allow your body to yield to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she said meekly, not meeting my gaze.
“Besides, you move well,” I said.
“Move well? I didn’t move at all. You took me from behind as my neck was tied to the ring. I don’t move well!” she exclaimed.
“Master?” I said, now sitting up fully on the couch.
“Yes Master, I am sorry Master. I don’t move well Master!” Maybe during the throes of passion, she was not aware that her body had moved, pushing herself towards me, meeting my thrusts.
“You moved and you moved well. You will move well every time. Do you understand?” I asked.
“Yes Master,” she whispered. I laid back down next to her and thought about a phrase that she used, one that I had heard often, “natural slave”. What is a natural slave? The way I was understanding it, a natural slave was a woman who responded to sexual stimuli in a positive way, a provocative way that encouraged men to proceed. But don’t all women respond this way when stimulated? Isn’t a woman’s arousal something natural and primitive, that can’t be controlled? Can a woman stop her body from becoming heated and wet? Wasn’t this reaction instilled eons ago, when men carried captured women back to their caves? A woman’s reaction to the danger of men, is to become sexually aroused, appealing to her male captor, that he might accept her and spare her life. Countless women have experienced this primordial reaction, which has been in place since the dawn of time, significantly promoting the propagation of the human race. If all women have this reaction, are all women natural slaves? Most Gorean men think so, and I began agree with them.
So, the term “natural slave” must have been something that Free Women invented, to distinguish themselves from their sisters in bondage. If women who were natural slaves are to be legally enslaved, then the only thing keeping all Gorean women from the collar and brand, is for them to insist they are not capable of arousal, desire and passion, that they are not “natural slaves”. I thought this to be absurd and as I drifted into sleep, I wondered why it was tolerated.
I woke a couple hours later to relieve myself. Coming back to the couch, I looked down on the naked woman I now owned and I began to stir, wanting her again. She lay on her back, sound asleep, and I crept onto the couch, crouching myself between her legs. I used my knees to slowly spread her legs apart. She woke when I touched her nipple, which I held onto, feeling it stiffen. I bent over and put the nipple in my mouth, sucking on it. She moaned. Then I went to the other nipple, and put it into my mouth, feeling it enlarge on my tongue. I went to her neck and kissed it lightly, before kissing my way up to her earlobe, which I put into my mouth.
She was fully awake now, and her breathing started to pick up. I put my right hand down to her mound. My finger traced the cleft of her opening, and found that it was wet. Surprisingly wet, for the small amount of time that passed since I had awakened her. I mounted her slowly, easing into my full length before backing out to start in again. She moaned some more. After several slow thrusts I began to quicken my pace and I said to her, “move well kajira.” And she did.
I woke up later and noticed Mena, sitting up and slightly bent over, examining her fresh brand. She straightened up as soon as she saw that I was awake. I remembered that the slaver had told me to keep her hands restrained so that she could not irritate the brand as it was healing. I got off the couch and put clothes on. I untied the leash from the slave ring on the couch but left it attached to her collar. I told her to get off of the couch and to kneel on the floor. She knelt, but her posture was poor, her knees almost touching each other.
“When I say kneel, you kneel in nadu unless I say other type of kneel, you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she replied.
“Lesha,” I said.
“Lesha?” she asked. Surely she knew what lesha meant? She had owned Dira, her house slave, the ‘gift’ from her Free Companion Marden.
“Yes, lesha is command. Put hands together behind back and lift chin for to put leash on collar,” I instructed. She assumed this position and I went behind her, taking her wrists and with distinctive clicks, I locked on slave bracelets. “Master?” she asked. I ignored her and reached for the leash, attached to her collar and said, “Crawl.” I led her with the leash a few steps and tied the looped end to the slave ring at the foot of the couch.
“I go get breakfast. Leave leash tied.” I said, thinking that she could probably untie the leash, even with her hands fastened behind her back.
“Yes, Master,” she replied.
I left the apartment and locked the door. It could still be unlocked from the inside, but if Mena were to go, it would be as a collared slave with her hands locked behind her back. And she would be nude, unless she managed to put on some of my clothes, which was a very unlikely possibility with the severe limits imposed on the use of her hands. Before finding breakfast, I went to a slave goods store in my neighborhood. There were already items that I was needing; one was clothing for Mena. I planned to keep her naked as much as possible, so that she would get used to her new status, and I also enjoyed looking at her. But she would need something to wear if she were to go outside in public places.
I wasn’t gone long from the apartment, maybe an ahn. When I entered, I saw Mena standing next to the chamber pot in the curtained, corner area of the apartment. She looked at me and said nothing. I noticed the leash between her breasts, hanging from her collar. I was not happy that she had disobeyed my command to leave the leash attached to the couch.
“This place is a sty. I can’t live here. I can’t be with someone who is poor,” she blurted out. I ignored her, shutting the door, and then walked to the counter, where I placed the things I had just bought.
“Come her and kneel,” I said in a firm voice. She hesitated for a brief moment and then came and knelt before me in nadu. It was not a very good nadu, but it was the best one she had displayed so far. With my foot I nudged her knees wider, to where they should be. She looked up at me and I picked up the slave whip from the counter.
“Please Master, I am sorry, I will obey. Please don’t hurt me Master!” she said and then began to cry.
“Mena, I am not poor. Slaves not choose masters or where they live. I own you now and you obey or be punished.”
“Yes Master, I will obey,” she cried.
“You untied leash from couch.”
“I am sorry Master, I had to pee,” she replied.
“You disobey. You pee when I allow.”
“Yes Master, I am sorry, I will obey,” she pleaded. I knew that I should probably whip her for disobeying me but I found it hard to hit a crying woman. She seemed sincere when she said she was sorry and would obey. I put the whip back on the counter. Later today I would hang it and the slave switch on the wall in a prominent place. I picked up a fruit pastry that I had brought home.
“Is Mena hungry?” I asked.
“Yes Master.” I broke off a small piece of the pastry and put it to her lips. She looked up at me with a tear stained face, and then took the morsel into her mouth. I hand fed her slowly and when she finished the last piece, she said, “Thank you Master, that was delicious.”
“Lick clean fingers,” I said. She hesitated and then began to lick the sugary crumbs from my fingers, cleaning them. “Good,” I said.
I started a fire in the small fireplace that was inset into the wall. I put a pail of water on the boiling hook. The water usually took a while to get hot. I went to the counter and picked up the slave papers that were given to me yesterday. I was very curious about what was written on them. I took the papers and sat on the couch and then told Mena to kneel on the floor beside me. Her hands were still back braceleted and I did not want her to touch these papers, fearing what she might do to them. I held the first page in front of her face where she could read it and told her to read it to me.
“In a public hearing before Magistrate Julian Lepidus, the Free Woman, Filomena Viducia Barbietia, Scribe of Argentum, was found guilty of breach of contract and convicted of wartime treason before being sentenced to execution, or submission to slavery, her choice. Filomena Viducia Barbieta chose submission to slavery.
Filomena was publicly marked as a slave in the presence of the magistrate with the standard Gorean kef, that was branded into her left thigh. She has creamy white skin, blemish free, save for very minor freckling. She has auburn hair, blue eyes and a full complement of fine healthy teeth.”
Filomena went on to read about the size of her nose and ears and how they were measured. The space between her eyes was measured. Her neck length and circumference were measured and a collar size determined. Her lips were described as full. She kept reading and I stopped her when she got to the description of her breasts and nipples, which were measured, along with the details of their shape. I didn’t understand the Gorean measurement for breast size. I found her breasts to be exquisite, firm, upright and perky. I would have guessed them to be an American bra cup size “C”. I had stopped her reading twice now, taking advantage of this opportunity for her to teach me each Gorean word that I did not know, of which there were many.
She continued to read about her upper, and lower arm measurements, wrist size and ringlet size to be used to encircle them. Each finger had been measured and noted, not just length but thickness as well. Fingerprints were placed on the papers in this area. Her skin blushed as she continued to read about the measurements for her waist, hips and the color of her reddish pubic hair. Every part of her legs were measured and noted, including ankle ringlet size. Her feet were measured, to include the details of her toes and toe prints had been taken and placed on the paper. I was amazed at the amount of detail and the sophistication that had been applied to documenting this woman’s physical features!
She stopped reading aloud, and glanced quickly up at me before looking back at the papers.
“Mena, read it to me,” I said.
“I, I can’t. It is too humiliating!”
“You address me as Master!” I said as I got up from the couch and went to the counter. Temus, from the Desneti slaving house, had told me that the slave switch can be very effective for correcting behavior. He said it had advantages over the whip. It was easier to carry and faster to wield, along with enabling more accurate strikes, especially in the hands of an inexperienced master. He said it can be very painful, but without the heavy blow of a whip, it was not devastating. Whip devastation can be overwhelming he said, sometimes causing the slave to lose concentration during training, with abject fear overcoming comprehension and focus, before the slave’s mind slipped into a deep submissive state of resignation and acceptance. He informed me that many slave trainers favored the use of the slave switch over the whip, using the switch for persuasion and the whip for punishment. He assured me that the sight of the switch was just as motivating for a slave as the sight of the whip.
I had never used a switch. I picked the switch up from the counter. It was light in my hand. As I walked towards her, she said, “Please Master, I will obey, I will read!” I swung the switch, striking the outside of her left breast, making a vicious little noise. She shrieked, and bent over, attempting to hide her chest from me. I struck her back which was now bowed and exposed to me, her cuffed hands below. She shrieked again.
“Mena, lift your head and do not move,” I said. She lifted her head, bringing her chest back up. She looked at me, her eyes wide and pleading. “Do not move, do you understand?”
“Yes Master,” she said. I lightly struck her left breast again, and her body jerked but remained kneeling upright with her head up. She began to cry and I let her. “I am sorry Master, I will do anything, please don’t whip me. I beg mercy Master, I don’t know how to be a slave,” she cried, tears streaming down her face and landing on her chest. Her left breast now had thin red lines where the switch had made contact. Her nipples looked like they were stiffened, which I noted with curiosity. I waited until her crying subsided and sat on the couch where she had been kneeling beside it. I held her slave papers in front of her and said, “Continue.”
Mena began to read slowly and with a low timid voice, “The slave has been opened to men and her opening was measured to a depth of five and eight-tenths horts. The slave demonstrated immediate and pronounced physical responses to the slightest sexual stimulations applied, approaching climax very quickly. Rapid onset of slave oil was noted with observable moisture appearing as droplets. After this onset, the slave yielded to climax within three ehn when the stimulation area was moved and the intensity marginally increased. The stimulation areas are very sensitive and responsive. This slave displays extreme sexual vitality with the highest levels of measurable slave heat.” As she read the words describing herself, Mena’s creamy white skin blushed in pink blotches all over her body.
I reached down and put my hand between her legs. Without having to use my fingers to probe, I felt that her crotch was wet. “Slave oil,” I said, mostly to myself. “You are aroused from reading?” I asked.
“No Master, of course not,” she said looking at the floor.
“Look at me. You are wet. Your body not lie,” I said showing her the moisture on my hand. My body couldn’t lie either, the thought of her becoming aroused from reading about her own sexual assessment excited me. Seeing her pointed nipples, blushing skin and switch marks on her breast made me aroused. I wondered why I had waited so long to purchase a woman, I should have bought a kajira my first day on Gor!
I stood up from the couch and put the slave papers on the counter. I took my clothes off and went to the couch and laid down on my back. I was fully aroused. I told Mena to come up on the couch with me.
“Master, my hands,” she said.
“You not need hands to stand up and get on couch. Come up here and ride your Master,” I said. She did not respond as she stood up and carefully, one knee at a time, got up on the couch and facing away, straddled me. I positioned myself at her opening and said, “Move well kajira.”
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