The Paga Diaries (45)

 45.  Choices
I looked down at my naked collared kajira, her body shaking in fear, the five bladed leather whip offered to me in her outstretched hands.  The trembling of her breasts caught my attention.  I didn’t want to whip her; she had acted on impulse, thinking that she could save my life by destroying the dangerous scrolls.  But she had tricked me, creating a distraction and seizing its brief moment to toss the scrolls into the fire.  

Should I put the whip to her, punishing her for trying to save my life?  I felt that I had to do something about her disobedient behavior but I didn’t know what.  I sipped my paga struggling in contemplation, seeking a solution to my conflicted thoughts.
She was beautiful and beholding the sight of her before me in submission, awaiting my discipline was intoxicating.  I wanted to put her to use, taking pleasure instead of inflicting pain.  But that would show weakness, avoiding my duty to provide the strict environment that she obviously needed as a new slave.  I needed to be strict, continuing to demonstrate my ownership of her, until she completely accepted her new status as my right less property.  I finished the paga, and took the whip from her patiently waiting hands.
“Kneel to whip,” I said, and her body shook as she quickly placed her head to the floor, raised her hips, and exposed the bow of her back by crossing her arms around her belly with her fingers gripping her sides.  I stood up behind her.  She screamed when the lash of the whip struck her back.

“Please Master, this slave knows she was wrong!” she cried out. “This slave is sorry. This slave will do anything to please her Master. Anything, anything but the whip, please Master!”
“You do not choose, you will do anything anyway. Slaves do not bargain their punishment, slaves accept their master’s judgement.”
“I accept your judgement, Master. The whip is unbearable, please, anything else.” She sobbed.  I struck her again and she screamed.  I watched a red blotch on her back begin to appear.
“What you tried, saving me, is thoughtful, caring, but was something Free Woman does. You are not free, you must be disciplined, reminded. I want give you reward for your concern, but torn by need to punish you. I choose what is next and I decide to give you choice.”
“What choice Master?” she said, with a glimmer of hope in her voice. 
“I give you choice to offer yourself, submitting to me another way. Choice that will help you understand I own you completely.  I own every part of your body and how you move, talk and behave.”
‘Yes Master, I will submit in any way to prove I have accepted that you own me completely. What must I do?” she asked.
“At Mirus’s house, he told you all holes of kajira are owned and available for men’s pleasure. He told you beg me take use of your ass.  He said you would enjoy. I do not know if you will enjoy, but it will make you feel owned.”
I have never had an affinity for anal sex, finding an abundance of pleasure from the use of the rest of a woman’s body.  This act was to be symbolic, the taking and owning of the last part of her body.  My intent was not to inflict pain, even though it would, but rather for her to feel me inside of her most intimate place, dominating her, cementing my authority over her, conditioning her to act as a slave and not as a Free Woman.
She looked up at me comprehending what I had said, remaining silent for a bit before softly saying, “Master, you are offering me the choice to be whipped or ass raped?”
“I reward you with choice because of what you did earlier, protecting me. But way you did was wrong. Maybe to be firm Master, one that Mena respects, I whip you and take use of your ass? Maybe giving choice is mistake.”
“Please don’t whip me Master. This slave begs to feel her Masters cock in her ass, reminding her that it does not belong to her, that it belongs to her Master. I beg slave rape of my ass, Master!”
“Kiss the whip,” I said, putting it to her lips, and I looked into her eyes as she tenderly kissed the leather blades. “I spare whip today. Now, go put penis gag on, fetch dummy cock and switch, and return to me ass up, head down.”  I planned to fill all of her openings simultaneously, thinking that sensation would surely convince her that she was no longer free and must obey me as a slave.
Afterwards, we lay on the couch, both of us sweating and exhausted. Her back was to me and I had my arm around her, my hand cupping a breast. To my astonishment, she had climaxed at least twice, once while I played with the dummy cock, getting it wet in her oil before penetrating her backside, opening her up for my pleasure.
“Master, this slave is sorry for acting as though free. This slave is fully owned, sore, and feels the weight of her collar, is marked with the brand and is kept naked. There is no more need for the whip or switch; you will never need it again. Mena knows she is your slave and must behave as one. The Free Woman is no more. This slave begs that the whip and switch be tossed out in favor of slave rape. Slave rape is a good punishment, a very effective reminder.”
“Whip will remain on hook on wall,” I said.
“Yes Master,” she whispered.
***
I rented us a nice room on the fourth floor in a luxury manor called the Tickling Curlies.  The upscale building was large and expensive, located in the Titus Park quarter of the city.  There was a paga tavern on the ground floor as well as a bath house. Our room had running water and a balcony with a view of the river.  I felt safe here, doubting that anyone looking for me would think of this place.  I needed time to think about what to do next and the apartment was not safe.  There were only three people who knew of my residence in the small insula, the man in the Organization who had arranged my tenancy, and Trem and Penny.  I had to assume that Penny would now tell her master Lenious of my address if she hadn’t done so long ago.
I kept mulling over my options and determining the best one for survival.  Not wanting to admit the best option was to do what I did best, embark on a wander, I also considered other possibilities.  I didn’t want to leave, I had been having the time of my life in this city, meeting new friends, sampling paga and purchasing a kajira.  Clearly, leaving town was the logical choice.  But how would I leave and where would I go?  Steal Risto and fly away?  It seemed many cities required official permission, papers, to enter and stay.  Certainly there had to be cities that allowed people to come and go freely?  Cities like Ar perhaps, the city everyone talked about with wonderment and respect?  Maybe small villages were a better option?  Were small villages welcoming to barbarian strangers?  I didn’t have the confidence I had on Earth, of simply wandering from one place to another with a pistol in my pocket.  I really missed my magnum ‘heater’ and the protection that it provided.
Maybe there was safety in numbers, staying here to blend in with the large population of Argentum, moving to a different quarter and starting over, keeping to myself with the money I had.  Impulsive actions had not served me well, and I wanted to make an unrushed informed decision.  I went to see Trem.
“Do you know cities where permission is not required to enter and stay?” I asked him in his tarncot office.
“Sure. Port Kar on the Thassa. Schendi in the south on the Thassa. Venna I think. Some of the smaller cities on the Vosk River. The Tahari desert has small cities that that don’t require permission. And then, the inhospitable Barrens regions.”
“Thassa?” I asked.
“The mighty Thassa, the sea, on the coast many pasangs klim of here. Are you thinking of travelling?”
“Yes, travelling. I have no Home Stone or official paper to travel. Before, you spoke of buying Risto for me after war. Where can I buy tarn now? I can pay high price for one.” I said.
“Now? Did something happen, why now?”
“I made mistake, make trouble for me. I not want trouble for you. Maybe best if I leave soon.” I replied.
“Rykart, when we first met, and you interfered in the alley, thinking you were saving my life, a bond was created between us. I owe you, and if you are in trouble I am going to help. You have helped me. What happened?”
“I know you would help me. This is big, and best thing may be to leave city. I not want you to know too much in case they go to you to get me.” I said.
“Who is they?” he asked.
“I made mistake and came across scrolls. Scrolls made by spy. Mena is terrified, tried to burn them to protect me. I not want tell you too much, put you in danger too.”
“Mena’s idea isn’t bad, burning the scrolls has merit. But if the spy is looking for you, he won’t know the scrolls have been destroyed and will probably try to kill you to keep you silent, and kill Mena too. You need to leave your apartment immediately. Come stay up here in the tarncot while we figure out what to do,” he said.
“Thank you Trem. I already have room in Titus Park quarter, not want them to come to you.”
“They will probably use sleen to track you and they will find your place in Titus Park quick. But they can’t get into the tarncot. They may watch me, looking for you, if they know we are friends. Getting a tarn is risky and suspicious right now, especially for a barbarian. And flying into a city alone on tarnback can be dangerous. Port Kar doesn’t require paperwork but it is a pirate town, lawless. Have you sold Mena yet?”
“No.” I said.  Selling her had not entered my mind, but it made survival sense.
“My friend, I can see that you do not want to sell her. You get attached to kajirae quickly it seems,” he said with a smile. “She probably protected you and was also thinking of protecting herself. If she is captured, she knows that torture is common when interrogating slaves.”
“Mena told me about sleen and tracking. She cleaned apartment and no trace was left. We used a lot of perfume in whole room to cover scent. Then went to public fountain to wash off perfume before going to room in Titus Park.”
“Mena is smart and the perfume might work. Sleen are exceptional trackers. I still think it is best for you to sell her and stay in the tarncot until you decide what to do next.”
“Should I tell Mirus?” I asked.
“I know Mirus is your friend and has done a lot for you, but I would not trust him with this news. There is much you do not know about Mirus. I am indebted to him in a way that is hard for you to understand. I do not owe him money. I owe him information; information that I obtain from the tarncot. I cannot speak of it, and you must not speak of it either, to anyone.
“Normally I am not one to go and trust the authorities, and I do not trust Julian Lepidus, the Magistrate. Perhaps Atticus, he seems to have honor, but you know him better than I. Or, I could fly you out, either on a dung run where passage could be arranged on a river barge. I could also fly you further out to a village, but long flights out of the city are getting harder with the war going on. I try to avoid talk of the war, and it is best not to speak of it because the war is not going as well as they say; it will not be over soon. If I fly you to a village, you could find yourself inadvertently involved in the action. Flying you out long distance to a village would best be done during the activity of the next tarn race, if it is not cancelled.”
What if scrolls would help city win war? Spying should be reported, no?” I asked.
“Your Home Stone is not in Argentum. You do not have a Home Stone and you owe nothing to this city. Are you willing to risk your life, hoping that the authorities believe your story when you give them the scrolls?”
“Argentum has been good to me. It seems like right thing to give scrolls to help. But I understand what you say, my life is in danger. I not know what to do, which is best option. Much to think about,” I said.
“Wanting to protect the city and do what you feel is right is very admirable, but dangerous. I can sell Mena for you if you want, fastest way would be in a tavern. It would be very difficult for someone to find her in a random tavern, if anyone bothered to look for her separately from you. You don’t seem to be in need of getting back the money you spent on her.”
I didn’t say anything, overwhelmed by all of the options now before me.
“Paga?” Trem asked, his hand offering me a drink from his desk flask.