Paga Diaries (33)

 33.  Kajira Care

I could smell her and it wasn’t pleasant.  Mena was beside me, awake but lying still on her side.  Nude.   When was the last time she had bathed?  She was scrubbed at the slaving house before her release to me, but this washing was only a cursory removal of the grime from the street abuse of the gauntlet after her sentencing. Her hair had not been washed and it was a mess of tangled braids, stray locks, the remnants of a ruined elaborate hair tress. After the reading of Mena’s slave papers and my command for her to “move well kajira” on the couch, I languished and felt like taking a brief nap.  But, I couldn’t have a good nap with that smell so close.  I had put her to use now three times since bringing her home to my one room insula apartment. 

The pail of water I had put on over the fire earlier had been steaming for a while now and the small fire was dying down.  I got off the couch and rolled up her slave papers, putting them away.  I added wood to the smoldering coals in the fireplace and replaced the hot pail of water with another full pail to heat.  I retrieved the key for the bracelets that kept her hands behind her back.  After removing the cuffs and telling her to stand up, I led her to the corner area of the apartment that had a cheap curtain.  There was a drain on the floor in this corner and sometimes I used this area to bathe myself with a rag between visits to a bath house.  I really missed living without running water and reminded myself that I needed to find a place that had full indoor plumbing.  Mirus had it in his mansion of a house and I knew I could easily afford a better apartment than this one. 

I brought over the pot of hot water and sat it on the floor next to the drain.  I handed Mena a cake of shampoo that I had bought earlier. I told her to wash her hair using the hot water.  I enjoyed watching her lather her long auburn hair and then bend over to use the bucket to rinse, observing the trails of soapy water course down the curves of her dirty body.  Her hair was really long, longer than any hair I had seen on paga slaves.  I liked seeing how her wet hair clung to different parts of her body as she moved while she washed.  I wondered if her hair was too long.  Maintaining hair that long must be a chore.  

I told her to proceed with bathing herself and then watched her use a clean washcloth.  I was becoming aroused, commanding a woman to clean herself and then watching her comply was very erotic.  I was pleased to notice that she spent extra effort cleaning her love mound.  She was thorough with her bathing, taking her time to clean her whole body, including the black soles of her feet.  She rinsed the soap suds from her body and still standing,  looked at me, finished.  “Thank you Master,” she said, and looked at the drain, dirty water coursing its way there. 

I brought over the second pail of  hot water. I walked over and stood next to her, telling her that she would now wash me.  I handed her a fresh cloth and she lathered it up.  She was surprisingly gentle with the cloth and slowly applied soap on me and around my privates.  She was timid and shy, not knowing if she should touch my now erect member.  I grabbed her hand that held the washcloth and guided her onto me, encouraging her to continue on her own, cleaning me fully.  I was tempted to put her to use again. 

Since arriving on Gor, my libido had increased tremendously.  Having easy access to collared naked tavern sluts certainly was a factor for this increase, but I think the fresh food of a healthy diet and clean Gorean air also made a difference.   Being physically age regressed almost thirty years was also certainly part of having a higher sex drive, but owning a woman and having her always available is an immeasurable boost to libido. 

I only had one towel and I thought about handing it to Mena. Then I thought that this was the former Rykart, reacting to a woman needing a towel; the Gorean Rykart as master, should use it first.  Mena, standing near the drain, watched me get the towel and looked at it with want.  I walked over to her and she very slightly reached her right hand out.  

“Dry me off,” I said.  She looked at me, briefly confused and said, “Yes Master.”  I would need to buy more towels, especially if she ever really needed to dry her hair. She took the towel and gently applied it to my shoulder, drying me with it. She dried the rest of my body except for my genitals, which she was avoiding again.  Her eyes were drawn to my erection, which had been present now for many minutes; it was not going away.   She looked at me with apprehension, as if she did not know what to do.  I nodded.  She gingerly put the towel at the base of my member, and slowly began to dab it dry.  She looked at me for approval and I nodded again for her to continue drying.

She was slow and when she stopped, she nervously stepped to my side, trying not to look at me or my member.  “Good,” I said and took the towel from her.  “Display position,” I said.

 She looked at me and quietly said, “I am sorry Master, I don’t know that position either.”

“Put hands behind head. Spread legs,” and she moved into this position.  “Good, that is display.”

Her wet body was shivering now.  “Display, with back to fire,” I said, pointing to a spot next to the inset fireplace.  She placed her back to the fire, with her hands behind her head and I slowly went to her side with the towel.  Her legs were not spread wide enough, and I said, “Spread legs.”  She spread her legs a little more and from her left side, I began to dry her with the damp towel.  My stiff shaft bobbing around as I moved, it’s presence awkward as I tried to dry her body. 

I dried her shoulders and exposed armpits, then her back, before moving to her firm breasts with erect nipples.  I gingerly dabbed the towel on her sensitive cradle and nether areas.  She remained steady in her position as I bent over and dried her hips.  Her brand was very red and swollen, she had avoided washing it, and I could see some oily remnant of the salve that was applied at the slaving house.  I moved the towel down her left leg, wiping water as I went, then proceeding to the other side.

***

When I went to the slave store yesterday, I had tried to think of everything I would need to secure, maintain and provide for Mena.  I knew there would be no way I would know everything I needed.  I had asked the shop attendant to give me things for a new slave.  He laid out various items, most of which I bought.  I did not see soap, and he told me to go down the street to another store that had such things.  In the soap store, I again said I had a new slave that needed bathing.  I was surprised by the variety of soaps, oils, lotions, shampoo cakes and creams.  I couldn’t decide, overwhelmed by choices, so I said, ‘best ones”, pointing at things.  The Free Woman attendant, behind her veils, smiled with her eyes.  She placed a comb and hair brush in my growing pile of items.  

On her store countertop she opened a large wooden box filled with small items that I didn’t recognize.  She asked, “Cosmetics?”  I didn’t understand the word and looked stupid, before saying, “I not know what it is.”  She took one of the small items from the box and showed me that it was a brush for applying makeup to eyelashes. I waved her off and she asked, “No?”  I shook my head no.  She picked up a small ceramic vial and dipped her finger inside, pulling out a tiny dab of red. “For lips,” she said.  

I  recalled the many kajira I had seen in taverns, bathhouses and everywhere else.  They all wore makeup.  Many times, I thought, too much makeup, especially the dancers.  Lina and Penny both wore makeup.  Did Mena need makeup?  She was very attractive and I desired her greatly, so far without makeup.  I said to the attendant, “No cosmetic,” struggling with the new word.

She opened a second wooden box on the counter and asked, “Slave perfume?”  I looked stupid again, and without waiting for me to ask, she opened a small glass vial, briefly held it to her veiled nose, and then offered it to me with her gloved hand.  I put the vial to my nose and smiled.  The perfume was very nice.  It would be very pleasant to have Mena wear this.  I said, “Yes.”  I wondered why the attendant called it ‘slave’ perfume.  Was there a different perfume for Free Women, did they wear perfume?  If they did, how would anyone smell it under all the excessive layers of robes and garments?  I spent a lot more money in the soap store than I did in the slave store. 

***

She was still shivering, even though she was mostly dry now.  I had her kneel in nadu before me, her back to the fire. Her hair was wet and would take a long while to dry.  The towel was too damp now and there was no way that it would dry her mass of wet hair.  It needed to be combed. I could feel heat from the fire on my legs, warming me, hoping that it was warming her too.  I hung the towel on the curtain rod where we had bathed.  I looked at her kneeling by the fire, her hair dripping on the floor.  Her eyes were cast down, choosing not to look at me.

“Lesha,” I said and wondered if she would recall this position from earlier.  She looked up and then placed her hands behind her back.  She turned her head to the side away from me.  “Wrist cross,” I said. “Yes Master,” she said and crossed her wrists.  I put the slave bracelets back on her. 

I sat on the couch and had her kneel with her back towards me.  She was getting a little better with the width I wanted when spreading her knees whenever she knelt.  Her hair fell below her waist.  It was beautiful auburn hair, slightly curled even wet, but it was too long.  Sitting behind her, I applied the new comb to her wet hair.  It was very knotted.  I had to put the comb at the ends of her hair to work out knots from the bottom up.  I was impressed with the quality of the shampoo and what must have included some sort of conditioner that enabled minimal detangling efforts.  Even so, it took me half an ahn to comb through all of her hair. 

Her hair smelled really good and my desire for her had not diminished while I combed it.  I enjoyed combing her hair.  I thought of it as my hair as I separated it into three main strands and wove it into a thick wet braid.  I enjoyed holding the braid, feeling the power of control I had.  Who needs a collar and leash when there is a strong rope to grab and own?

As long as it was, and as much as I enjoyed holding the end of the braid in my hand, her hair was too long.  I picked up my dagger that was on the couch next to me and silently removed it from its small wooden sheath.  With my left hand I gripped the braid tight, while I placed the dagger underneath the braid and started to cut upwards. 

“Master?”

“Be silent, do not move,” I commanded.

“Master! What are you doing?” she asked of me, working behind her back.

“Be silent, do not move,” I repeated, running the sharp blade through the auburn rope.

“Master, please don’t cut my hair!” she cried.

“I need whip, slave?” I asked, just as the final strands separated, completing my cut around the middle of her back.  

“No Master!” she said and continued to cry.  I had cut off at least ten horts.  It was still long, but much better.  I would try out this length for a bit before determining if more cutting was needed.  I tied the end of the cut braid, keeping the strands together.  I returned the dagger to its sheath and placed it on the couch.  

I picked up a glass vial and opened it, putting a tiny drop on my finger.  I gently rubbed an oily drop on both sides of her neck, below her ear and above her collar.  “Perfume, Master?” she asked.  I didn’t answer but rubbed tiny drops around each of her stiffened nipples.  “Slave perfume, Master?” she asked again.

“Yes, you are kajira,” I replied, putting the vial on the couch. 

“Yes Master,” she whispered.

I had been aroused for quite a while now, and with her kneeling before me on the couch, I really wanted her again.  I was very tempted to begin training on the use of her mouth to pleasure me, but I was nervous.  Had she ever had a man in her mouth?  I wondered if it was too soon; she was a slave very new to the collar and I knew her free spirit was not fully broken, despite her first intense day and her dread of the whip.  She was nowhere near full acceptance of her new position as my property and what it meant to obey without hesitation.  I did not feel it was time to risk having her teeth around my most sensitive organ.  That time would come, but as much as I wanted it, it was not now. 

I remembered that she did not wash her brand site.  She had avoided it.  It needed to be washed and fresh healing salve applied.  I went to the last heated pail and put my hands into the water, which was still warm.  I lathered my hands with soap and knelt next to Mena.  “Do not move,” I said.  “Yes Master,” she whispered.  I very slowly put a soapy palm over the raw brand.  She flinched even though I had barely touched her.  But she remained kneeling, her hands still secured behind her back.  I pressed my sudsy palm delicately onto the wound.  It was warm. As smooth as I possibly could, without any pressure, I moved my fingers over the brand, letting the soap clean away the old oily salve, and other filth sticking to it.  

I cupped my hand in some pail water and used it to rinse the wash.  Soapy water ran off of her thigh onto the floor next to the fire.  I stood and found a clean undershirt in my laundry basket and folded it into a ball.  Ever so slightly, I touched the brand, gently dabbing it dry. Mena remained quiet and still.

I dipped two fingers into the salve jar and pulled out a tiny amount.  Trying to minimally touch the wound, I  gingerly applied the oily salve, covering the brand site.  I have heard Gorean men say that a brand makes a woman more attractive.  I don’t think they meant a fresh brand, this one looked angry, and beauty was not what came to my mind when I looked at it.  I couldn’t imagine what it felt like now, and the intense pain created when it was burned in.  My erection had completely disappeared.

***

Arizona Wanderer's Comments on the Illustration

I was able to create my own image for this chapter using the generator on Deviant Art called DreamUp.  10 free prompts are offered.  Each prompt renders three versions.   In about 20 minutes I got a couple decent images, but frustratingly, none of them reflected every detail that I requested in my prompts.  With each prompt, I refined my request, hoping for accuracy.  My tenth prompt requested: “Beautiful, naked, auburn haired, blue eyed woman with thin plain steel band around neck, crawling on all fours. Seen from the left side with ‘k’ brand on left thigh.  Small fireplace with fire, behind woman in dark room.”  One of the three versions from this prompt had toes on her left hand.  Another one had a brand on the collarbone and a frontal view versus the side view.  The best image, the one I used for this chapter, was decent, even though the brand was not on the left side.