Paga Diaries (39)

 39. Every Breath You Take

Pain exploded in my left ear as I was knocked to the ground and began to see stars, my consciousness fading.  Somehow, I did not pass out and a sweaty hand reached down to help me get up.  I heard men snickering about my lack of focus.  I sat on a wood bench in the shade to recover and wipe off the sand that was crusted on my body where it had hit the ground.  I had overextended a thrust, exposing myself and becoming unbalanced after being blocked.  Mercifully, Dirk had hit me with the flat of his wooden training sword.

“Too much time with that firecrotch has dulled your mettle!” Dirk said and laughed.  I heard other Guardsmen say things in jest, but I was too woozy to understand them or respond.  I let them laugh and have their fun.

When I had finally returned to the city guardhouse this morning after my absence, the Guardsmen I knew were happy to see me but full of remarks.  Harod asked, “Has the former Lady trained her barbarian pet to fetch her slippers?” “Looks like the traitor finally let you leave the house,” said Mirin. Ren asked, “Have you seen her ankles yet?”  I heard someone ask if her rug matched her curtains and someone else asked how many veils I had bought for her.

After two ahn of sword training with the Guardsmen, I was exhausted.  It had been rough and I had been beat repeatedly by my sparring partners.  I told Breg that I was leaving and he said, “You just got here, it would be best if you trained at least half a day. The Captain will be here around noon, he asked yesterday if you had returned.”

“I need paga now, more than training. My head is pounding. I am going to use bath,” I said.

“Your ear is split and bleeding. Have the medic attend to it before the bath.”

The medic cleaned me up and applied some healing salve.  He then looked into my eyes, and had me do some balance and coordination tests.  I think he was checking for a concussion.  Finally, he told me I was okay, to take it easy, but that I should not drink paga.  I knew the paga part of the advice was going to be difficult to follow.

After using the oil and strigil to scrape the sand and grime from my body, I slipped into the hot bath and tried to relax.  My head wasn’t feeling any better.  I was ready for many cups of paga and some time on the couch.

“Tal Rykart, I have been wondering about you and when you might return. Is she kissing your feet or have you gotten good at chaste kisses?” Atticus said as her entered the bathhouse, his huge body looming large over the tub. I didn’t know what a ‘chaste’ kiss was, but he was smiling at his joke.

“She kisses my feet to ask to speak,” I replied.

“Good, sounds like you are doing well. I hope you are not sparing the whip?”

“I use whip and slave switch. Had a problem with her asking many questions, found out questions are unbecoming,” I said.

“Yes very unbecoming, they must stop immediately. There is a Gorean saying, ‘Free Women are a riddle and the answer is the collar.’ Whip her at times for no other reason than that you can. It is good for slaves to be reminded that they are under discipline.”

“Yes, she has learned no more questions,” I said. 

“Sergeant Breg told me the boys were rough on you today, with both the sword and tongue.”

“Yes, a little rough, had to quit early,” I said.

“Stay with it Rykart, your training has just progressed through the fundamental stage. Further training will build on this foundation. I hope to see you back soon.”

I left the bath and the guardhouse soon after, thinking I would stop by and see Dimos, the lumberyard overseer.  I had not seen him since before my impulse bidding and purchase of Mena at the auction.  I didn’t want him to think I had given up the sawyer work I had been doing part time.  I turned the last street corner before getting to the lumberyard and saw Mirus and Tereus exiting the yard gate.

“Tal,” I said to both of them.

“Tal, Rykart. Dimos said he hadn’t seen you in a while and was wondering if you had given up the work. I told him you probably got distracted or something and that you wouldn’t quit without notice. You look good, how have you been?” Mirus asked.  Tereus did not return my greeting and I doubted that I looked good, my headache was miserable.

“I bought kajira at auction. Been very busy training her,” I said.

“Great to hear you finally have your own kajira. You know I would have gone with you. Which house auction did you attend?”

“No house. Auction of Magistrate at public hearing. I bid without thinking. She is beautiful. I meant to have you help me at auctions,” I said.

“Did you buy a Free Woman enslaved by the Magistrate?”

“Yes, she is Scribe to teach me Gorean,” I said.

“Was a Scribe, slaves have no caste. Rykart, you are full of surprises! You have taken on a serious responsibility. How are things going, how many times have you used the whip?” he asked.

“Many times whip and slave switch,” I said.

“You are becoming more Gorean every day. The next thing for you is to choose a caste. We should talk about your choices. Come over for dinner, the day after tomorrow at the thirteenth ahn. Bring your new kajira, I’m curious to see what you bought and how far along her training is. And bring her slave papers too.”

“Thank you, I will come,” I said. I went into the lumberyard and talked to Dimos, apologizing for not telling him about my absence and that I would return to work soon. The sawyer work was good for building muscle but I was becoming bored with it and I didn’t know how much longer I would volunteer.  I didn’t need the interaction with the other workers to learn Gorean now that I had Mena.

After leaving the lumberyard, I stopped in a tavern and ate some verr stew.  I also had a couple pagas.  I decided not to use the serving slut, who was included with the price of paga.  I left the tavern thinking that was the first time I had passed on an alcove session.  Maybe I did have a concussion?  I went home and didn’t say much to Mena, giving her a bowl of gruel that she didn’t finish.  I went to the couch instead of making her finish her meal.

***

I woke early the next morning feeling much better.  Mena lay next to me, her ankle chained to the slave ring. The side of my head was sore, but the debilitating headache was gone.  There is a special feeling one gets when waking up next to a beautiful naked woman in a collar, her ankle chained to your bed.  I was enjoying this feeling every morning, the novelty not wearing off.  I thought of the advice from Trakkar’s slave manual regarding oral training.  He recommended that the slave should attempt to please her master this way every morning.  I thought this was good advice and that I would initiate this routine at least until Mena’s skills rivaled those of paga sluts.

I reached over and fondled her breast, waking her up.  “Good morning Mena,” I said, looking into her sleepy eyes.

“Good morning Master. This slave doesn’t  want you to think she is disobeying you Master, but may a question be asked, please?”

She asked me about the cut on my ear and how it happened.  We lay on the couch as I told her about my periodic sword training with the city guard.  She had wondered about my apparent familiarity with the Guardsmen after the auction and ensuing gauntlet.  I did not tell her about Atticus showing me the jail and my witnessing of the scene she made in her cell, or that it was his suggestion that I attend the auction to witness Gorean justice.

“Master this slave doesn’t want to appear unbecoming, but there are so many things she would love to know about you. Is it okay to know what you did on Earth, if you have children, how you came to Gor, why you don’t work, how you know the Magistrate? Also, your favorite foods, foods you don’t like, favorite drinks. The better this slave knows you, the better she will be able to please you,” she said smiling. She had a nice smile and it was good to see it.

“It is okay for you to know things about me. We will talk more, but not now. You need to have training routine, starting with morning part. Sit up, put your hand on me, down there, feel me,” I said.

She sat up and hesitated briefly before slowly putting her hand on my flaccid penis. She gave me a questioning look.

“Hold it, feel it grow,” I encouraged.  I felt her fingers encircle my soft limp member which began to respond quickly to her touch.  It soon stiffened and she gripped it gently.  I told her to stroke it and her curled fingers slowly began to move up and down.

“It is throbbing Master,” she said with excitement, her smile expanding.  I was guessing that this was the first time that she had held a hard cock.

“Kiss it,” I told her.  I felt her lips lightly kiss the tip, then the unmistakable feeling of the moist tip of her tongue.  “Pleasure me with your mouth,” I said, and felt her lips slide along my shaft as she took me into her mouth.  Her bright blue eyes looked up at me as she began to slowly bob her head.  This was a great way to start the day.

Eventually I got up from the furs, satiated for the moment.  I was hungry, not having had dinner the night before.  I told Mena to kneel in nadu in front of the large, new, wood framed mirror which I leaned against the couch.  I instructed her to look at herself in the mirror, focusing on perfecting her pose, presenting herself submissively, pleasing to the eyes of her master.  I told her to remain in nadu in front of the mirror until I returned.

I left the apartment to get breakfast and do some shopping.  I was not gone long and when I returned, going through the door, I was pleased to see Mena still kneeling in front of the mirror.  She shifted, appearing uncomfortable, and looked up at me longingly, as if she wanted to speak.  She could not come to my feet as her ankle was still chained to the couch ring, restricting her range.  I placed my goods on counter and then went to the couch, sitting next to the mirror.  I knew she wanted to speak and I was pleased that she had not spoken without permission.

“Stand up Mena,” I said.  I assumed her legs were cramping from being immobile in nadu for a long ahn, though I doubted she had stayed in position the entire time I was gone.

“Yes Master, thank you Master.”

“When you kneel for long periods and muscle get stiff, use slow movement to ease discomfort. Not pleasing to see you jerk. Be graceful when need to shift. Use mirror to watch your movement and make better,” I said.

“Yes Master.”

“Go back to nadu in front of mirror and look at yourself,” I said.

I got my kalika and brought it to the couch, sitting next to the heavy mirror again. She looked at me for a moment before returning her gaze to the mirror.

I hadn’t played in a while.  I strummed the strings to warm up a bit, playing some chords.  I then played a song, singing in English:

Every breath you take

And every move you make

Every bond you break

I’ll be watching you

Every single day

And every word you say

Every game you play

Every night you stay

I’ll be watching you

Oh, can’t you see

You belong to me?

How my poor heart aches

With every step you take?

Every move you make

And every vow you break

Every smile you fake

Every claim you stake

I’ll be watching you

Mena was not looking into the mirror any more, but staring at me as I sang.  When I stopped, she crawled to my feet and began kissing them, seeking permission to speak.  I let her kiss and lick for a couple ehn, enjoying the feeling, another delight that comes with kajira ownership.

“You may speak,” I said.

“You have a pleasant singing voice Master, and I am astounded with how well you play kalika. The tone was strange, exotic . You must have come to Gor some time ago. Please forgive this slave for asking another question Master, what language where you singing and what was the song about?”

“I have not been on Gor long, kalika is like guitar, that I played on Earth. My language is English. Song is about watching everything someone does,” I said.

“Like watching me, Master? Is it a song about slaves and ownership?”

“Yes, like watching you, owning you,” I said.

“This slave wishes she knew the words. Do you know any Gorean songs, Master?”

“I wish I did. Hard to learn, where to go,” I said, remembering the band at Mirus’s party and Doron, the kalika player.  I wish I knew how to contact them.

“Ask players in tea houses. And taverns, Master?”

“Yes, I will. Now is time for you slave paces practice. You go to position when I say. In front of mirror, look into it, to get better form,” I said, getting off the couch to get the slave switch.  I had watched with fascination when slaves in taverns and other places complied with their master’s commands that they had obviously been trained to learn.  There seemed to be common commands that all slaves knew, and I wanted to know them all, as well as Mena.  Some of them I had taught her and some of them she already knew.  I wondered if she had learned some of these positions during her assessment in the slaving house.

“Belly,” I said and she moved to lay prone, with her forehead touching the floor and her hands palm down next to her head.

“Display,” I said next.  The chain on her ankle rattled as she stood up with her feet shoulder width apart.  She laced her fingers behind her head, moved her elbows back lifting her breasts and kept her head up, but eyes lowered.

“Bara,” I said.

“Master, please forgive this slave, she does not know this position.”

“Like ‘Belly’ position, but with ankles cross and hands cross behind back for binding,” I instructed.  She went to this new position and her ankle chain rattled again.  I thought about removing it, but figured it was good to remind her of my absolute control over her body.

“Hair,” I said next and she started to question, but I cut her off.  “Stand and come to me. Bend and place head at my waist. Hair hang down for my grasp.”  When she assumed this position, I grasped her hair, pulling her head close. She gasped and stumbled, her head now at my waist, my hands controlling her.  I had remembered seeing Dirk, the City Guardsman put her in this position after he had removed her from the wooden stock after her whipping before the auction.  Leashes are a great way to dominate and control a woman.  But using your hand to grasp a full head of hair at the back of the neck was ultimate and empowering.  It is a physical and intimate feeling of absolute control with the ability to direct her in great detail, with instantaneous response and compliance.  How many eons before collars, leashes and ropes, had men controlled women with hands in their hair?

 “This is Hair,” I said.

“Yes Master!”

“Kneel to whip,” I said.

“Mercy Master, please don’t whip this slave. This slave begs to please.”

“Kneel to whip is position, Mena. It is good you beg to please, but as slave, you will feel whip again. You will go to this position when I command. Start with kneel, forehead to floor. Raise hips high. Cross arms across belly, fingers grip sides,” I said.  I used the switch to spread her knees wider.  “Good. You are trying to learn and it pleases me. We will practice these every day,” I said encouraging her.

“Next is Sula. Lay on back with legs spread. Arms at sides. Lift one knee for view,” I said, and she complied.

“Sula-ki from Sula. Sula-ki is lift both knees so feet flat on floor. Raise hips slowly up and down, offering yourself,” I instructed.  I watched her as she moved her hips, her patch of red hair enticing me for use.  I was becoming aroused, but stayed focused on continuing with the position progressions.

“All fours,” I said and with the rattle of the chain, she went to her hands and knees.

“Head to floor and ass up. Knees wide. I do not know name for this position. Do you?” I asked.

“No Master.”

“It will be ‘All Fours’ for now. Very pleasing,” I said.

“Yes Master. Thank you, Master.”

“I heard Free Women are taught as girls the ‘Submission’ position. This position may save life if woman captured. Do you know ‘Submission?’”

“Yes Master.”

“Submission,” I commanded.  From All Fours, she lifted her head and brought her arms back, sitting on her heels in a kneel.  She lowered her head, lifting and extending her arms out in front of her with crossed wrists.

“I submit myself,” she said.

I was pleased with this pose, and wondered what feelings Free Women felt when they were taught it.

Now that she knew the positions I wanted her to learn, it was time for the slave paces to begin.  I called out one position after another, starting slow and increasing the speed between commands.

“Belly. Display. Bara. Hair. Kneel to the whip. Sula, Sula-ki. All Fours,” I demanded, watching her go from one position to another in front of the mirror.  The ankle chain rattling was now constant and she began to sweat.

I held the switch but did not use it.  Today, the positions were new and she would get a pass from being struck.  Tomorrow the slave switch would emphasize corrections.