Agents Of Gor: Part 6 free porn video

Agents of Gor: Part 6 Two Girls are Prepared to Serve in a Paga Tavern by Albedo This is a fan-fiction set in the world of the Gor novels. All rights to the characters and situations of the Gor universe belong to John Norman. This work is written without his express permission. This story is explicitly not to be reposted on any pay sites. The author, Albedo, authorizes the readers to archive it themselves. No other dissemination without the author's permission, please. He can be contacted via his gmail account, albedo404. What Has Gone Before: Armand of Tellus is an Earth-born agent of the secretive Priest-Kings of Gor. He has delivered a female captive, Lila Fischer, a courier agent of the enemy Kurii, to the Sardar, the Priest-Kings home, for interrogation. The Priest-Kings mind-reading machine backfired when Armand attempted to prise some secrets from Lila's brain, and now Armand is trapped in Lila's body, and Lila is now in possession of Armand's body. Lila has taken Armand chained in sirik to a paga hall, where they meet with Lady Serressa. She has tried to buy Armand-in-Lila, and then attacked him with a knife when Lila-in-Armand refused her request. Lila foils the attempted killing and takes Serressa as a slave temporarily as punishment. On their return to Armand's quarters, the two slaves are bathed and then secured for the night. Armand-in-Lila has to listen as Lila exercises her Master's rights over the girl named Lilianne, the temporary slave in the furs. Frustrated and losing hope, he feels strange thoughts welling up from somewhere deep inside him. Is this traitor body affecting his mind? After intense slave training, Armand collapses and experiences visions of his former existence as a man. Further revelations indicate he is perhaps close to regaining his true male body, but it is by no means certain to happen. On the way to the bathhouse, Lila proves to Armand she is fitting into male Gorean society much too well for his liking, and then Armand himself is accosted by a mysterious stranger, an agent for the Kurii. Is this another deadly threat or perhaps an opportunity that might lead to escape from the collar and the restoration of his true body? -------------------------------------------------------- The procession arrived at the entrance to Tisoch's tavern with Lilianne leading the coffle as First Girl, her hair still damp. Armand had less trouble negotiating the tavern steps this time as he was not in sirik, ankles chained, for which he was a little thankful. Being trapped in the wrong body, being the wrong sex, being a kajira meant he had to take what comfort he could in any improvement in his situation and not being ankle-cuffed could be considered an improvement, however minor in stature. Lila-in-Armand swung open the door and led the two braceleted girls inside. The tavern was quiet with only a few customers at the benches and a bare handful of paga girls moving around carrying flasks and cups. Lila-in-Armand looked around for Tisoch but he was not to be seen. Lila gestured and Lilianne and Armand knelt obediently beside her in nadu while Lila leaned back against the wall, arms crossed in a very masculine manner. As they waited, a couple of paga slaves glanced their way. Armand-in-Lila was somewhat discomfited to realise they were looking mainly at Lila-in-Armand, the male figure in Warrior red, not at Serressa and himself, the two female collared slaves at Lila's feet. Priorities, he supposed. A paga tavern's kajirae had little interest in a Master's slaves after all, but a Master in the tavern was someone they could be, would be expected to serve in the course of their duties. The reminder of Armand-in-Lila's current worth as a member of Gorean society was deeply depressing. ***How do kajirae stand it?*** he thought to himself. He glanced sideways at Lilianne. She had been born and brought up on Gor with the knowledge from an early age that as a female she could be made slave, kajira, at almost any time. True she was a free Woman, a Free Companion of a Warrior but there had to be that niggling doubt, that fear in the night that it could all change and she could wake one morning in a collar, as a true slave... The sleeping-room "games" she had played with Glathius, her Companion, the roleplaying of Master and kajira was a sign of her concern, a sign she probably had refused to recognise even as she took part in the games. Had she enjoyed it, had she relished it? Maybe, even as she recoiled from the idea of the games becoming reality, the collar locked around her neck a permanent adjunct to her existence and not a play-toy to be removed when the dawn broke. Yet most kajirae seemed contented with their lot, it seemed. Even girls abducted from Earth to be slaves on Gor usually grew into the role of submissive kajirae, learning to accept their position in Gorean society without the lifetime of conditioning and social learning Gorean-born females experienced as they grew up. Well, Armand-in-Lila mused, he was a girl from Earth himself right now. He hadn't grown up as a girl on Earth though which rather complicated matters in his somewhat unique case. What worried him most was that he could see himself accepting his current position, not without a struggle perhaps but he knew that many Earth-born kajirae held out for long periods, resisting their enslavement and determined not to succumb. Sadly for them, Gorean males were very good at dominating women and making them slaves. They had a lot of practice at it, and many of them particularly enjoyed the challenge of turning a wilful female ignorant of Gorean culture into an obedient Gorean kajira. Lila, in particular, seemed to be taking too much pleasure in the manner she was treating him. She seemed to positively delight in emphasising his change of sex as well as his change in social status, especially in front of strangers. Lila risked exposure almost willingly in order to do so, he mused -- in similar circumstances he himself would have taken great pains to avoid the faintest possibility of being exposed. Maybe that was why he had been, even in his own male body, an indifferent Gorean Master and why Lila revelled in it. Gor was not a place for the weak of heart and the risk-averse, after all. The fate of the timid and fearful on Gor was often death or slavery. Somehow Gor had contrived to deliver him into this condition, chained, female, enslaved to a more adventurous soul. A gentle tug on his collar's leash chain brought him out of his reverie and he automatically rose to his feet along with Lilianne. Tisoch the tavern owner had appeared from a curtained doorway at the back of the hall, wiping his hands on a towel. He spoke to one of his girls and swatted her butt to hurry her on her way, then he caught sight of Lila making her way towards him, her leashed slaves following obediently behind her. "Armand!" the man roared, tossing the towel onto a bench as he clasped Lila's arm forearm to forearm, the common greeting of male equals on Gor. "Tisoch." Lila nodded. "I've brought the slave for your use tonight, as I promised." He motioned Lilianne forward, unclipping her leash chain and the second linking chain that led to Armand's own collar. "You, nadu." she instructed Armand who knelt again as he had been trained, open-legged, the translucent White Silk between his legs concealing little. "My thanks, Warrior." he rumbled. Lila pushed Lilianne forward another pace to stand before her new Master. Tisoch looked his newest slave over carefully. "Hmmm," he muttered as he walked around the stationary figure of Lilianne. Only her eyes tracked his progress; she had not been given permission to move. In fact even moving her eyes was a breach of slave etiquette but neither Master corrected this minor infraction on her part. "She cleans up well, hah?" Tisoch grasped her back-braceleted wrists and lifted them, causing her to bend over in discomfort. "Keys?" Lila-in-Armand handed over the small bracelet key and Tisoch unlocked the bracelets and handed them back to Lila. "The collar is yours, Tisoch. Thank you for the loan." said Lila, handing over the slightly larger collar key. Lilianne rubbed her wrists discreetly as she straightened up. Tisoch swiftly bound her hands together in front of her, palm to palm with a piece of binding fibre he took from his pouch leaving a goodly length of cord dangling from the firm knots. Gorean Masters are particular about who owns the restraints used on their personal property but they are often generous if another Master is in need of a temporary loan. Sometimes at the induction of a new slave the Master might not have essential items such as a collar readily to hand. Such had been the situation a day earlier at the unexpected induction of the Free Woman Serressa into the ranks of the kajirae in this very hall. In cases like this the Master of the new slave might buy a collar from a bystander, or borrow one until he could make proper arrangements. Occasionally an impecunious Master might trade his new girl's first favours as a full payment for the collar. Slavers as a caste, it should be noted, are never without the tools of their trade, carrying assorted restraints in pouches in their distinctive blue-and-yellow cloaks along with a spare collar or two. Who knows when some caste business might need to be transacted? Customers and merchandise can often be found in the oddest places and at the most unlikely times, as many careless ex-Free Women had found to their cost over the years. Tisoch lifted Lilianne's tied wrists over her head and back behind her neck and in a second had secured them to her collar with the extra fibre, trapping her folded arms high on either side of her face. She looked startled at the speed of his movements but by the time she was aware of his intentions she was helplessly secured. A Master allowing a slave to resist being bound was widely regarded as evidence of sloppiness on his part. Armand-in-Lila was surprised how alluring he found Lilianne's enforced pose was. It lifted her breasts while emphasising her vulnerability. Her expression of open-mouthed surprise only added to her desirability. Again he felt himself question his mental reactions given the temporary feminine domicile of his male spirit, but despite the strictures and tribulations of the past few days he was still certain of his innate masculinity and the vision of the Red Silk girl forcibly posed before him was not to be denied. "You want the silks back, Warrior?" Tisoch's stubby fingers rested on the slipknot securing the cord around Lilianne's slim waist. One quick tug and she would be naked except for her bonds. Her hip twitched at his touch but she was sufficiently aware of her current status not to otherwise protest or attempt to move away. "A gift, Tisoch, if you wish them." Lila gestured down at Armand kneeling at her feet, in his own White Silk. "I have only this other slave to bear them back to my quarters for me and I fear someone might make a mistake in that case. I doubt they would suit me either, White or Red." Tisoch roared with laughter at Lila's jest. "True, Warrior, true. No-one would think so, although they would suit the little one here very well. She has the air of a Red slave about her." Armand flushed at the man's words. "Well Tisoch, you are expert in these matters so I will take your word for it. In the short time she and I have been together we have come to an understanding of who is the Master and who is the slave. That's not to say there wasn't some confusion to begin with but I think it has been resolved for good." Lila looked down. "Eh, *girl*?" Armand-in-Lila could do nothing but nod. He still had to play the submissive Kajira especially in front of other Gorean males, but he had a shrewd idea that Lila was not truly fooled by his act. All he could hope for was that it would stay being an act until he could reverse the mind transfer process and return to his proper body. But when would that be? Tisoch turned to Lilianne and looked at her again, this time full on with the look of her Master, her new owner. She trembled, fearing him now. He tilted his head, then reached into his pouch and pulled out a waxy red crayon, a slave lipstick perhaps. Tisoch didn't apply it to Lilianne's lips though, but used it to inscribe a letter of the Gorean alphabet on the smooth flesh of her left breast. "This will mark her as a punishment girl for the night." he said as he pocketed the crayon. Lilianne bit her lip at his words but dared not say anything or break her position. Girls marked out for punishment were often treated roughly, even by Gorean standards. In an encampment or a common area such a mark meant she was fair game for any man until her owner erased the mark and so ended the punishment. Sometimes a Master would bring a disobedient girl to a tavern and mark her so, knowing the drunken patrons would treat her as they treated the paga girls belonging to the tavern. The threat of selling the girl to a paga tavern afterwards would cause her to redouble her efforts to please her Master once she had experienced even a single night serving at the tables and in the alcoves. "What did you say her name was, Warrior?" Tisoch's eyes did not leave his new slave's flesh as he spoke. "I named her Lilianne." As Tisoch's property now, that name no longer applied to her of course. Her Free Woman name, Serressa, was withheld from her until that time in the future when she would be released from her temporary slavery. For now she stood a slave, forcibly posed, bound and nameless. Armand felt a pang of sympathy for her, somehow. He blinked, puzzled at the stray thought. Why would he feel sorry for the Gorean she-devil that had tried to slit his throat only a day before in this very tavern? "Would you grant me another gift, Warrior?" murmured Tisoch. "That name suits her. She's got the untutored arrogance of an Earth-slave about her." "Of course, Tisoch." Lila nodded. "After all it is nothing, just a name for a worthless slave." "Very well girl, your name is Lilianne." She was named. It was the same collection of syllables as before, but it was a new name nevertheless because it was granted her by her new Master. It was a fine distinction, true, but many aspects of the relationship of Master and slave on Gor rested on fine distinctions. She trembled again, slightly, almost unnoticeably to Armand's eyes but the two Masters did not miss it. "Hum," said Tisoch, rubbing his bearded chin. He moved close to the slave Lilianne as if to examine her features more closely, then pointed to a corner of the hall. "Look, girl." As she turned her head reflexively to follow his gesture, his other hand dipped between her legs. "Impressive." said Tisoch as Lilianne shuddered, open-mouthed, too shocked to utter a word. His hand held her in place, his thumb circling on her mons as her hips squirmed from side to side. His hand moved again, upwards and inwards and she lifted onto her toes as she gave a cut-off yelp. He held her there for a heartbeat more then let her go. He took pity on her before she buckled helplessly to the floor and ordered "Nadu." Her descent into the kneeling pose was limp and clumsy as she gasped for breath; Kajira-in-Lila's first shocked thought was that she might have been switched for it. As Armand-in-Lila he had been switched by her earlier in the day for similar cluumsiness. Armand-in-Lila's second thought was to wonder what his body, his female slave body would do if it was put to the same test of a Master's touch. Would his mind surrender to the sensation or could he resist it? He wouldn't know until the touch came, if it ever came... he wrenched his mind off that track of thought. Don't. Want. To. Go. There. For a second, the slave Lilianne glared up at her Master, the tavern-keeper Tisoch, furious at his audacity, at his foul abuse of her body. She pulled at her bonds for a moment causing her collar to move on her throat, and that was possibly what saved her from a whipping or worse as she felt the steel symbol of her slavery press against her throat where it had lain, unobtrusively and almost unnoticed for the length of the previous day. Her bound arms relaxed, her lips closed with the unspoken words trapped behind them and she settled back down on her folded legs, posing as a slave should before Masters, in nadu. Tisoch rubbed his fingers together, then sniffed them. "Hah, I am a fool. I marked her for punishment because she disturbed the peace of my fine tavern yester-eve, but my nose tells me I could have sold her first use tonight for a silver piece and half a silver for the second, perchance." He wiped his hand on his paga-spotted tunic. "I am a poor businessman, Warrior. I will be penniless soon, all my girls sold to peasants to pull bosk-ploughs and the paga makers dunning me for bills unpaid, but tavern-keeping was my father's trade and his father's before him so what was I to do?" The gold rings on Tisoch's fingers belied his claims of incipient poverty as Lila-in-Armand laughed. "I could have told you what she was like if you had asked, friend Tisoch." She shrugged, and pointed downwards. "In compensation, can I loan you this other girl for the night?" Armand's heart skipped a beat as he looked up at the two figures towering above him. "What, this White-Silk..." Tisoch exclaimed. "No, just a loan, to help with the serving in the hall here." Armand's panic evaporated slightly. "Well, but..." Tisoch took a bit more notice of Armand-in-Lila kneeling between them, measuring his female form with a practiced eye. Lila reached down and tapped his elbow, bringing him to his feet automatically. Tisoch raised his eyebrows as he watched Armand-in-Lila move. "Hum, she holds herself different from last night, somehow." He tilted his head and squinted at Armand with the experienced eye of the keeper of a paga tavern, a Gorean Master who by necessity possessed many slaves though they had to be of a certain type to perform a useful role in his establishment. Armand kept his eyes pointed firmly downwards. "A bit more kajira in her blood than before, perhaps? You've trained her somewhat, anyway, and it seems to have taken quickly, a good sign, a good sign." He squinted down the length of Armand-in-Lila's body. "Legs, ankles... Is she trained to dance, Warrior?" inquired Tisoch. Lila looked surprised. "Dance? How did..." She shrugged. "I know that she used to dance when she was on Earth but that was some time ago." "Slave dance? On Earth?" Tisoch rumbled, his eyes never leaving Armand's borrowed body. "Oh! No, Tisoch, not slave dance. She was taught another kind of dancing, the sort that a Free Woman might learn if they learned any kind at all. It is very demanding though, very hard work." "Hum, well whatever it was it's left her conditioned like a dancer. The muscles in the legs, the tendons... Ach, if I only still had Arvenna but I sold her to a Torvaldsman two moons ago and she was the only dancer in my tavern. I could have shown you what to look for." He slapped his hands together. "Hah! If I still had Arvenna I could have used her to train your girl here as a dancer, make her worth ten times what you'd get for her even as White Silk! Ah well." Armand shivered. As Armand of Tellus, before he came to the Sardar and suffered this unjust change of circumstance, he had seen a slave girl dance in a paga tavern only once; it was not a sight for the faint of heart. Any girl who danced in a paga tavern would not be White Silk for long, could not be White Silk after the first time she danced in the circle before men, belled and silked, collared and chained. He had watched, dry-mouthed, heart pounding, a nameless girl dance in a nameless paga tavern in the nameless city he had stayed in when he had first come to Gor, to take his father's place in the affairs of Priest-Kings. The girl's lascivious dancing had been a memorable performance but it had been brief, cut short; the girl had danced for less than five minutes before she was carried from the circle to an alcove, squirming on the shoulder of a burly ruffian who left behind him a golden tarn coin in the sand, the purchase price of five ordinary Red Silk slaves at auction. As Armand had staggered drunkenly back to his quarters that night accompanied by his trainers and teachers, his only regret was that he had not been quicker on his feet or in his thoughts, that he had not been the one to leave behind a golden tarn coin in the sand... "Look up, girl." Tisoch's voice intruded into Armand's memories, and he obeyed automatically. "With your permission, Warrior?" Lila nodded and Tisoch pointed across the hall. Armand flinched, thinking Tisoch was attempting the same distraction as when he had slave-touched Lilianne, but he simply said "Walk over there girl, turn and come back." Armand did as he was told, puzzled at the strange command. "Hmm, she's not very..." Tisoch looked pained. "Ah, begging your pardon Warrior, but she's not a tavern girl. She doesn't walk right, more like a man unlikely as that seems. I thought when you said she was trained as a dancer, she would..." He waved his hands. "But even with an ordinary tavern girl, there's a sway in the hips, a lifting of the heels that puts a spring in the step..." Lila laughed. "Ha! I knew it!" Tisoch raised an eyebrow as Lila went on. "On Earth, there are tavern girls too and..." "I was told there aren't slaves on Earth." rumbled Tisoch. "Well, the girls aren't slaves, not as such. They work for tavern-keepers, for pay. Their job is to serve, well, something like paga, and they walk the same way, but they have special shoes they wear to force them to move that way. They have high heels..." She stopped at Tisoch's blank disbelieving stare. "Ah, don't worry about it, Tisoch. It was just that I was somewhat involved in the tavern business at one time on Earth myself and I know what you mean. It's just amusing to me that the two worlds have the same requirement for serving wenches." She tapped Armand-in-Lila's left shoulder twice and he descended down into nadu again. "As for this girl here, well I wasn't planning to gift her to you permanently but a bit of extra training never hurt a girl's prospects. She's White Silk, as you said, so we'd have to take some precautions but that's something a bit of steel and a lock can take care of, hey?" "I suppose..." Tisoch brightened. "Besides, it's a novelty, a White Silk girl serving in my tavern." He slapped his thigh. "And my father said I'd never make a good tavern-keeper, but in all his years *he* never had a White Silk girl serving for him!" Tisoch gestured to a passing tavern girl, who quickly knelt before him. "Take this girl to the far alcove and position her there." The girl leapt to her feet and gestured to Lilianne to follow her. She stood and went with the girl, casting one despairing glance back at her former Master, her hands still bound awkwardly behind her head. Armand-in-Lila watched her go with mixed feelings; she was in for a hard night and she was his deadly enemy, if badly mistaken about the precise nature of the target of her wrath. He could still feel some sympathy for her but he pulled his thoughts back to what he faced himself tonight. How much could he endure, how much could his alter-ego, Kajira-in-Lila shield him from? The chaos of a paga tavern was new to both of them, at least from the viewpoint of a female slave. He tried bringing Kajira-in-Lila to the fore but she didn't want to take over somehow. He sighed mentally; it looked like he would have to be "on duty" tonight, to conserve Kajira-in-Lila for the times he needed to put on a show specifically for Lila-in-Armand. This was like walking a tightrope, he thought to himself. He couldn't let himself sink too far into the background for fear he'd never find his way out again, but he didn't think he could cope with being a kajira himself all the time. There was also the danger of Kajira-in-Lila taking over completely if he found being in the background too comfortable, and that way lay madness and the death of self. What would be left would be a living, breathing girl, a true kajira with nothing of Armand in its mentality. He needed to find a way out, and soon. Tisoch picked up his handcloth from the table and gestured to Lila-in-Armand to follow him as he turned away. "Bring your little bird over here and we'll see what we can do about letting her walk out of here White Silk in the morning." Lila followed Tisoch and Armand found himself automatically heeling the male figure, as a well-trained kajira heeled her Master. ***More and more...*** As Tisoch and Armand entered a curtained-off room there were feminine squeals followed by the sounds of a meaty hand striking soft flesh. Armand-in-Lila ducked through the gap in the curtain somewhat awkwardly as his hands were still cuffed behind his back, to discover he was in high school heaven. High school boy's heaven, at least. ***The girl's locker room***, he thought as he looked around at the seemingly endless hordes of near-naked girls bustling around as Tisoch and Armand tried to push their way through them. ***And it's full of cheerleaders!*** On second thought it was more like a showgirl's dressing room backstage in Vegas, with large mirrors facing low tables covered with assorted pots and jars and small heaps of cheap jewellery scattered here and there. Pole racks held clothing, brightly coloured and, given they were for kajirae to wear in front of the tavern's customers, almost certainly of a revealing cut and skimpy coverture. "Vella! Where are you, you lazy slut? Vella!" Tisoch's bass roar was almost swamped by the chatter and squeals of the girls as they milled around the two stationary male figures. Again Armand noticed some of them glancing at his former male self with appraising eyes. He couldn't recall such behaviour by kajirae when he had been in that body; was it something new, or was it simply because he was observing it from outside? Or was it because Lila-in-Armand was more worthy of a kajira's interest than Armand-in-Armand had ever been? A tall blonde girl appeared from the crowd, hurriedly clipping her hair back with a comb as she approached the two male figures. She wore a short-hemmed pink tunic made from some satiny kind of material, slashed deeply between her breasts and secured around her waist with a length of binding fibre. It was not quite as revealing as the scanty outfits the other girls in the room were dressing themselves in, although like all slave outfits her neck and collar were clearly visible at all times. The hemline also made sure the brand on her thigh was similarly visible to any Master's glance. Armand reflected sourly that being White Silk he was currently wearing less than any of the other girls present although the sight of so many branded thighs sent a thrill of apprehension through him. He fervently hoped Lila's odd consideration of his current body's condition meant she had no plans to have it branded. It was unlikely she would want it done *after* they returned to their proper bodies after all, so if she had it done it would be before, so it would be he that would suffer the pain and shock of... he shuddered. Best not to think about it. The other slaves made way for the blonde girl, confirming Armand's suspicion she was the tavern's First Girl, in charge of the other slaves under Tisoch's orders. She knelt gracefully before her Master but looked directly up into his face in a distinctly disrespectful manner. "You bellowed, Master?" she inquired in a sweet voice. "Vella you worthless piece of---" Tisoch's face was going red as Lila-in-Armand turned away, obviously trying hard not to laugh while Armand-in-Lila gaped at her very un-kajira-like words. "Master! I'm not worthless!" she interrupted, pretending to wipe away a tear. "I'm worth every tarsk-bit you paid for me. All three of them!" She looked pensive for a moment, head tilted and a finger posed theatrically at her lips. "Or was it four? Or two..." The sniggers from the audience were getting more and more audible. "I know, Master! I'm sure you still have the receipt for my sale somewhere in that bosk-trampled mess you call an office. If you can find it I'll read it out to you since I know you have problems with big words like tarsk. And bit." The other girls had formed a wide circle around the two combatants, and Armand saw a few of them trading something, small beads or the like. Realisation dawned -- wagers of some kind were being paid off. Kajirae weren't permitted to possess money, especially not in premises like a paga tavern, but groups of girls would usually find something to trade for favours or treats like pastries, a currency of sorts. Tisoch shook his fists as he roared once again. "I'll cut your head off, you foul witch-demon! False kajira! I'll roast your corpse and sell it at a tarsk-bit a slice to my customers, everyone who's ever had the misfortune to get paga spilled on them by you and I'll make a fortune! I'll use the money to buy ten new girls, every one of them better than you ever were and..." While Tisoch ranted Vella buffed her nails unconcernedly then started cleaning one ear out with a pinky finger, her head tilted in an exaggerated manner. When Tisoch stopped abruptly she suddenly snapped back into an attentive pose, still in nadu. He swung his big hand at her head in what should have been a resounding slap. Vella never flinched and the would-be slap turned into a rough pat on the top of her head. "This useless lump of disrespectful female flesh is my First Girl, friend Armand. Her name's Vella, as you probably guessed. I'll put your girl in her hands for tonight." Vella glanced over at Armand-in-Lila, giving him a quick interrogative up-and-down and missing nothing before returning her gaze back to Tisoch's face. Now she was the embodiment of kajira obedience, her comic act in abeyance for the moment. The other girls moved off chattering, busying themselves in preparation for their work tonight. Tisoch beckoned to Armand. "Here girl." Armand hurried over to the two male figures, pushing past some of the mostly-naked girls as he did so. In another life, in another time that experience would have been quite pleasant. Right now apprehension and fear negated the experience. He knelt in nadu before the male figures automatically without being prompted. Vella stood beside him now, First Girl over him for the night. "Right Vella, this is..." Tisoch looked confused for a second. "Curses, Armand! What do you call this slut?" Lila-in-Armand smiled that dreaded smile again. "Point, friend Tisoch. I've never had to call her anything but 'you' since we became acquainted. She's not really been worth a name before now." Armand's heart sank. It was a mark of his position, even with the lowliest rank of slave, that he hadn't been given a name. Even Lilianne the temporary slave had a name... "Well, just for tonight, to make things easier for you and Vella here, I'll give her a name." She rested a finger on his forehead, tilting his head up so their eyes met. "Your name is... Amanda." Armand blinked as his heart sank. Another stupid joke by that damned Lila! He blinked again, tears coming unbidden to his eyes at the shock and disappointment. "Look, she's so happy at having a name at last!" Lila ruffled Armand's hair as she might have petted a dog. "Who knows, my little talender, if you behave yourself and work really had tonight I may let you keep it. How does that sound, *girl*?" Her fingers dug into his scalp a little. It wasn't painful but it reminded Armand where he was and who he was, and he nodded slightly. Lila released her grip. "Good. Now to business, Tisoch. We need to get this delicate flower prepared for her, ah, experiences tonight. Some precautions are in order. Steel and a padlock, I think I said earlier?" Tisoch nodded, looking down at Armand. "This is a paga tavern, friend Armand, and she's White Silk. Good steel and a better lock, if you want her in the same condition by dawn." "Oh, I do." Lila rested a hand on her sword-hilt. "And I think Amanda here wants that even more than I do, don't you my girl?" Armand-in-Lila could only nod again. Oh, yes, please. A *good* lock. Tisoch's tavern was well-stocked with items suitable for a kajira to wear especially when it came to harsh unyielding metal that required a key to remove but it seemed there was little demand for chastity belts for some reason. After ransacking a cupboard or two Tisoch reappeared with a handful of hinged metal straps which, Armand realised with a sinking feeling, were what he was going to be wearing all night whether he wanted to or not. Tisoch offered the chastity belt to Lila who as Armand's owner was the obvious one to put it on him but she demurred with a wave of her hands. "Please do the honours for me if you would, Tisoch. I'll watch an expert and learn how to do it next time." The tavern keeper looked down at the apparatus in his big hands. "Hah. I'm no expert with these things. White Silk girls and taverns don't go together very often." Lila smiled. "Well, I've no experience with such items at all, and Amanda here has even less. Haven't you, girl?" Lila shrugged. "Well, after tonight we'll both have learned a new skill. Isn't that nice?" Armand stared at the floor, unable to look Lila in the face. "Considering the alternative, I'd call it a win-win if I were in your place." She laughed again as Armand's hands clenched behind his back. "Win-win?" inquired Tisoch. "It's an Earth expression. It means there is no bad outcome for both of us." Lila shrugged. "Amanda here remains White Silk tonight and tomorrow I will still own a White Silk slave." He paused. "For now." Armand's heart sank at her words; as Master she was in charge and she would be the one that would decide when this body he was trapped in suffered its irrevocable change of status, when he would forever after wear Red Silk. He had to escape before that happened, return to his rightful body. He had to! "Right, girl. Stand still." said Tisoch when he had finally untangled the belt's various parts. "Warrior, if you would remove her Silks?" "That is one skill I have mastered, friend Tisoch." As Lila pulled the silks from between his legs Armand bit his lip; the slow friction caused him to feel what he shouldn't be able to feel and it was very disconcerting. "She's all yours, Master Tisoch." Lila said as she stepped back and folded the transparent white cloth into a scandalously compact bundle. She sniffed it, raising her eyebrows and causing Armand's skin to flare scarlet in embarrassment again before depositing it in her belt pouch. ***Dammit, she can't help herself, can she? *** As Tisoch clasped the cold metal straps around Armand-in-Lila's narrow waist the sudden chill caused him to suck in his gut. Tisoch raised a bushy eyebrow at the White Silk girl's visible reaction to the contact but carried on trying to make it fit. It seemed to be a somewhat small for Armand-in-Lila's figure, but it was likely the only belt of its kind in the entire tavern and so Tisoch would make it fit regardless; the girl's flesh would be made to conform to the steel just as a kajira's will was compelled to conform to her Master's wishes. "By the Priest-Kings, friend Armand, these curst things are more trouble than they're worth." He pushed and twisted at the metal bands, shaking Armand-in-Lila from side to side as he tried to fit the wait-belt's hasp over its companion staple located in the small of Armand's back. "Lift your arms girl, they're in the curst way." he muttered. Armand obeyed Tisoch as best he could. "Ah, got it." There was a click as the hasp finally slid over the staple and Armand settled back on his feet again. His relief was short-lived though as Tisoch bent down and pulled the belt's crotch strap abruptly up between his legs, the dull edges scraping the soft flesh of the insides of his thighs in a decidedly unwelcome manner. The tugging and pulling that followed as Tisoch attempted to seat the hinged strap's own hasp over the locking staple was even more disconcerting and unpleasant to Armand than the fitting of the waist belt a few moments earlier, as the strap's cold metal was brought into firm contact with membranes and tissues he was not prepared to acknowledge that he possessed up to that time. There could be no doubt now; he was physically female where it really counted. Lila and Tisoch's girls were watching this entertainment with some amusement and Armand could feel his face growing as red as Tisoch's but with embarrassment rather than effort. It seemed from the girl's whispers that a tavern girl being belted to protect her from the desires of customers was not something that happened very often. "Hold still, girl... Ah. Got it." There was a final skin- friction and then Tisoch snapped a padlock in place; at least he was expert at performing that common operation thought Armand as he caught his balance again. Lila freed Armand's back-braceleted hands at Tisoch's request, but it was only a momentary freedom as his wrists were quickly re-braceleted in a way that would permit him to serve effectively in the paga tavern. Normal tavern serving-bracelets were usually connected by a foot or more of chain. They were not used to restrain the girl per se but to act as a constant reminder to her of her status, as slave, without preventing her performing her duties. Armand's chaining was different, what with Lila's somewhat puzzling desire to prevent Armand-in-Lila being able to reach his groin with his hands, even now that he was secured in the protective steel belt. To this end each bracelet was connected to a short chain no more than a foot long which was attached to his collar via a locking clip. This limited his hands reach to the area of his navel and no further but he could hold a tray and carry a bowl or jug without hindrance. Armand still didn't know why Lila was so insistent on limiting his ability to touch himself; she didn't seem that prudish given her activities with the slave Lilianne in the furs the night before, but this was her body he now occupied. Women, he'd never understand them, he thought. He squirmed again in the belt's inflexible grip. Hell, even being so female that a damn chastity belt fitted him was no assistance in understanding how women worked. Tisoch looked around at the mass of female flesh surging around him. "VELLA! Vella, you..." The blonde-haired First Girl appeared at his side, apparently from nowhere. "Master?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes. "Vella... Ach. Sometimes, girl you-" He shook his head. "Here she is. Get her ready for the floor." He raised an eyebrow at Lila-in-Armand who had been watching the evolutions with that damnable half-smirk she affected when Armand-in-Lila was being treated by others as the kajira he outwardly seemed to be. Lila stepped forward and Vella automatically went into nadu before her. This brought another smile to Lila's face. "This girl, Amanda, she cannot speak." Lila explained. Vella glanced up at Armand for an instant before returning her attention to the Master standing before her. "Her silence is the work of the Priest-Kings. Keep a watch on her when she is on the taver floor. If she gets into trouble she cannot call out for help. Understood?" Vella nodded. "If she falls in with ruffians who mishandle her find myself or Tisoch and tell us, let us deal with it." "This girl understands, Master." She nodded, then at Lila's gesture she leapt to her feet again and took Armand by the elbow. "Come on, Amanda. Let's get you ready for work." Armand squirmed uncomfortably on the bench before the mirror, a clicking noise coming from behind him. It was a good padlock, a really good padlock according to Tisoch, Priest-King designed and manufactured. It couldn't be picked or broken by any human agency, and the only key that could open it was tucked away safely in Lila's belt-pouch. It wasn't the lock that was causing Armand's discomfort. He squirmed again and the padlock behind his back clicked again as it struck the metal belt it secured snugly around his waist. The belt wasn't of Priest-King manufacture though, just fine Gorean steel, the work of good Gorean craftsmen, made to fit the female form. The wearer's comfort came a long way behind its efficiency at doing its job. "Try and keep as upright as you can when you're serving tonight, Amanda." Vella was standing over her at the bench. She poked a slim finger between Armand's belt and waist. Armand grimaced. "Yes, it's tight, too tight but it's only for tonight. OK?" The English word caused Armand's eyebrows to rise. Was Vella Earthborn? Some English words had become common in the Gorean language, and "OK" was one of them, but the contamination was regarded by proper Goreans as somewhat crude and indicative of lower-caste speech. Slaves were normally required to speak quite formally to their Masters, emphasising the differences in their positions in society. How slaves spoke to each other away from their Masters was probably quite different. He had a sudden mental image of a dedicated Gorean sociologist (if such a thing existed) infiltrating the world of kajiras, using Misk's damned mind-swapping machine to go undercover as a slave girl to investigate their "secrets" and almost laughed. Vella picked up a comb and began working on Armand-in-Lila's heavy tresses, tugging and pulling at the tangles left over from the rough towelling of Armand's long hair by the male slave at the baths. "Deary me, what a mess." She prattled on as she gradually brought the chaos under control, switching to a brush once his hair was sufficiently untangled. Eyes closed, Armand found himself luxuriating in the soft strokes of the brush on his scalp, relaxing in a way that suddenly made him realise just how wrought and tense he had been since the mind switch, what, two days ago? He had lost track, in the madness and mental confusion since then. He opened his eyes and looked again at the mirror, at the girl-figure seated there, chained and collared, wearing a ridiculous metal belt around her hips and groin. How strange she looked! He sniggered at the vision, somehow distanced from his circumstances, his reality. Vella smiled, meeting his eyes in the mirror, resting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "There, that's better, isn't it?" She reached past Armand, her breasts brushing familiarly on his arm as she picked up some wooden hair-combs from the bench. She busied herself with Armand's hair for a few more seconds, pulling and fluffing before she stepped back, hands on hips. "How does that look then?" Armand looked critically at the girl in the mirror. Suddenly she looked very feminine, her glossy brunette hair tumbling down in curvy waves over her bare shoulders, pulled away from her face by two dark-coloured carved wooden combs seated at her temples. "It's the best I can do in a hurry." Vella apologised as Armand turned his head from side to side, vaguely recollecting the ornate hairstyle Lila, the original Lila had worn when she was in the tarn bag being flown to the Sardar, soon after her capture by agents of the Priest-Kings. Then she had been a Free Woman, her hair dressed in an elaborate manner, probably by a personal body-slave. The complex arrangement of plaits, coils and ribbons had not survived the rigours of the trip. Vella's hard work had not restored the original pattern but that was to be expected. A Free Woman's hairstyle was not appropriate to a kajira, especially that of a girl preparing to work in a paga tavern. A Master wanted to see a girl's hair move as she moved. Vella was First Girl at a paga tavern after all so she had dressed Armand-in-Lila's hair as she would for any other girl who worked there, in a manner a Master would appreciate. "Paint and powder next." Vella picked up tray with some pots and small brushes and set to work on Armand's face. "I'll tone it down a bit, since you're White Silk." she muttered as she turned his head from side to side, staring at his skin. She smeared some colour onto a finger and wiped it on his eyelid. He reflexively reached to rub at the irritation but Vella smacked his hand. "No, don't touch. Let me do it. Makeup for a paga girl is not what you're used to, the light's different and the customers are... well, you'll find out." Vella's gentle touches and brushstrokes on his face were strangely calming and reassuring in a way Armand found difficult to comprehend. He went with the flow instead, closing his eyes again and allowing her to work unhindered in a curiously submissive manner. A small male part of his mind suggested he should object to this or at least feel awkward about having cosmetics applied to his features but he had zoned out in an odd way. He hadn't felt this relaxed for what seemed an eternity. "Purse your lips, right." He felt waxy coldness rub across his lips, back and forth then touches with the corner of a cloth. He opened his eyes as Vella sat back on the bench beside him. The girl in the mirror looked different again, solid blue colour on her eyelids making her dark eyes look somehow bigger, dusky powder emphasising her cheekbones, her lips a flushed pink. His tongue licked experimentally over the waxy substance, tasting the strange coating until Armand saw how it looked in the mirror, suddenly thrilled by the vision in a way he couldn't quantify. It was... what, sexy? His eyes widened as Lila-in-Armand's reflection suddenly appeared behind him, pulling her hand from her belt-pouch. "Nice work Vella." Lila grasped Armand's chin in one hand and turned his face to study it closely. "Hmmm. Vella, you got more of that lipstick?" Lila didn't wait for a reply but suddenly kissed him, hard. He froze in shock for a second, trying to pull back from the rough pressure but restrained by Lila's hand under his chin. He made the fatal mistake of opening his mouth to utter a protest, totally forgetting his enforced voicelessness. Lila's tongue was immediately in his mouth, pressing against his own. In shock he brought up his hands to push her away but Lila was too quick, capturing his wrist chains in one big hand while the other went behind his head, locking it in place as Lila continued her invasion. Armand could do nothing but squirm ineffectually on the bench as their tongues writhed together. Horrifyingly it felt good in a strange way, in a way he didn't want it to, an unfamiliar heat flaring in his groin but still... When Lila broke away Armand was left quivering from the experience, gape-mouthed with a trail of spittle running from a corner of his mouth, his heart pounding in his ears. Uncomprehending, he saw Lila lick her own lips where pink smudges of colour adhered, transferred from his own lips during the kiss. "Forgot how that felt." she said to Armand in a low voice. "Been a while, well two days. Seems like forever somehow." She laughed. "Felt good. Reminded me just how talented I, well you, were. I must do something about that. Oh, one last thing." She fumbled in her pouch and withdrew Armand's White Silks then proceeded to tie the fine material to his collar with a scarf knot. "That should clue in any of the customers who can't understand why you're wearing a chastity belt." she explained, turning Armand back to face the mirror. Distracted by the sight of the chained female slave and the faintly fragranced White Silks tied to her collar just under her nose, he failed to notice Lila's hand moving in her pouch as another strange thrill ran through his body. He blinked, unable to comprehend the faint thoughts of lust and arousal going through his head. Lila-in-Armand spoke to Vella. "Fix her lipstick up again, there's a good girl." Vella nodded. "See you in the tavern, Amanda." She blew him a kiss and left as he sat frozen before the mirror. Vella's touch caused him to jerk suddenly but she persevered, reapplying his smeared lipstick, wiping the spittle on his chin and blotting the moisture that had smeared the makeup around his eyes. "Bastard," Vella hissed as she worked. The word was English, confirming his initial hunch that Vella was an Earth girl, abducted from her home and smuggled to Gor in one of the Priest-King's flying-saucer-like spacecraft, just one of many girls who disappeared mysteriously each year on Earth. Armand raised his eyebrows at the vehemence of her outburst. She shrugged and smiled consolingly. "We're here and we have to make the best of it. No way home, no way to escape." She touched her own collar. "Not while we're wearing these things, not while they're watching. They're too damn good at keeping girls like us as slaves." She shrugged. "Tisoch's not too bad as Masters go. I can get round him when I need to, and the rest of it I can cope with." She looked to the door. "Your Master though, he's a nasty piece of work. I can't read him at all. He likes humiliating you, likes the power trip of being in charge, likes reminding you just where you stand." Armand nodded. Vella had Lila-in-Armand down to a tee. "You're new to the collar?" Armand nodded again. "Earth girl, right?" Armand laughed silently and shook his head. Vella looked surprised. "You're not? I could have sworn --" Armand nodded, suddenly aware that he might be able to get Vella to understand what had happened, that he was really Armand in Lila's body. His heart sank though as he realised she was only a slave. Even if he could persuade her that his impossible story was true, that the apparently-female slave before her wasn't mad and delusional when she claimed to be a man, what could she do about it? His shoulders slumped. "Never mind Amanda. Maybe he'll sell you to a better Master in time." Vella said in what she intended to be a comforting tone. Armand didn't feel the sentiment was any sort of comfort -- he wanted to be a Master again, not remain a kajira to be bought and sold by Masters. Besides he couldn't see Lila ever letting him go, not alive anyway. She couldn't risk her secret getting out. Their destinies were bound together as securely as the Gorean chains locked on a kajira. He stared down at his braceleted wrists. A kajira like himself. "Right!" Vella clapped her hands. "Let's get you dressed." Dressed? Armand stared at himself in the mirror; it was sobering to suddenly realise he was almost naked and it seemed a totally normal state of affairs, but it was only since he had become, to all intents and purposes, a kajira that being naked and obviously female was the norm. It had only taken two days locked in a collar, trapped in this body for the novelty of showing so much skin to the world to wear off. But dressed? What did Vella mean by dressed? He glanced around, but Vella had disappeared from sight behind the other girls. Armand had a sudden sense of loss and abandonment which was only assuaged when she reappeared with a bundle of clothing and held it out to him. "Tada! You can wear this." It was... his heart sank. He was going to be dressed as a cheerleader. His expression of stunned amazement broke through Vella's peppy enthusiasm and she quickly explained. "I know, I know, it's cheezy but..." her fingers fretted the cloth, a blue and white striped skirt and matching top with a Gorean letter picked out in gold braid -- the first letter of the name "Tisoch", he realised abruptly. "It's just something I came up with, to stop me going insane here. I was in the school squad back... back home, and we won trophies and stuff, and I, I sort of wanted to..." she stopped, her eyes moist. Armand reached out, as far as his chains would permit, and gripped Vella's hands in consolation. She sniffed hard. "Vella is First Girl. Vella doesn't cry." she said, breaking free of his touch and smiling again. "Were you ever a cheerleader yourself?" she asked as she urged Armand onto his feet. Armand could only shake his head. "Oh well, don't worry. This is just for the look of things. You don't have to do the splits or wave pom-poms around. Here, step in." She held his elbow as he stepped into the skirt and then she pulled it up over his encumbered hips. She snapped the waistband closed; it sat higher up than he expected, being more used to male pants which rode a lot lower on male hips. The skirt concealed the metal horror locked around his waist, but only just as he checked his reflection in the mirror. This was Gor after all and the skirt was a slave costume, designed to conceal little from a Master's gaze. The top was not as much of a problem as he had expected, what with his hands chained the way they were; it was correspondingly brief with no shoulder straps. Vella called it a "bustier" as she wrapped it around Armand's chest. The word rang a bell in his memory, of one of his girlfrends (Alicia?) wearing something similar in black lace under a semi-formal topless gown for a classy dinner event. He had been in a rented tux looking somewhat shabby beside her studied elegance. The one thing he did recall was the amazing cleavage that the bustier thing gave her, and the fun he had later taking it off her... he glanced down as Vella worked behind him at the fastenings. Yep, this thing was worthy of being called a bustier all right. He had gotten used to having breasts, used to them being there and getting in the way on occasion, swaying when he moved, even bouncing up and down when he was being hurried on the end of a leash. The top just made them, well, stand out in public. There was a lot of breast and not much top on view but again it was what Masters wanted, he surmised. Vella came round and gazed on her handiwork with a practiced eye. "Needs a bit of adjusting, Mandy. Just be careful, it's only held on by snaps back there and if you strain it too hard it'll pop right off. Masters!" Armand stared at her then down at the pink alien blobs trapped in the blue and white hammocks in front of him. He raised his hands tentatively and manoeuvered the soft lumps of flesh into slightly more comfortable positions, trying to balance them by eye. It was not something he was expert at but after two or threee iterations he raised an eyebrow in inquiry to Vella, who nodded. "That'll do." Vella rummaged around on the tabletop while Armand turned experimentally in front of the mirror; the skirt flared up just as much as he thought it would and his boobs stayed in place, barely. It wasn't a real cheerleader's outfit but a porno-shoot costume, showing lots more skin than anything a high school would permit. No underwear normally, not for a slave on Gor, but today he was a exception to the rule thanks to Tisoch's toy cupboard and Priest-King engineering. He made a devout wish that the belt would do its job and he would leave the tavern tonight in the same virginal condition he had entered it but he knew that it was not guaranteed. A paga tavern was not a polite salon de conversation, it was a place of drinking and wenching, for Masters who did not care for their lewd advances to the girls around them to be rebuffed. The best he could hope for was that the belt would dissuade any casual attempts to penetrate him and slow down any determined types until Lila-in-Armand could rescue him, that is if she didn't think it would be funnier to let them succeed. Her sense of humour was, well, something he was finding hard to cope with even given what he had to deal with as a female kajira. Vella held up a glass stopper as Armand turned again to face her. "Here, hold still." She wiped the cold glass down either side of Armand's neck, clinking it against his collar. She dunked the stopper back into a tall-necked bottle as a strong aroma filled his nostrils. Perfume, a slave perfume in all likelihood, strong and earthy, animal. Fragrances for Free Women were more delicate he knew, faint floral scents which were deliberately nothing like those worn by slaves. It was said that some Free Women would wear shameful slave perfumes in secret; there were tales of members of the Caste of Slavers who could detect the faintest traces of such forbidden perfumes on an otherwise- upstanding exemplar of Free Womanhood. The Slaver would then provide the Free Woman with the change of status her choice of perfume indicated she truly desired, usually against her express wishes. After she was stripped, collared and enslaved (and gagged if she continued to protest her enslavement too vocally) she would be able to indulge her choice of fragrances to her heart's content as a kajira. She might, at that point wish to change her mind, to repent of her indulgences but it would be to no avail. Slavery was a wide portal through which very few kajirae returned. Vella pulled the stopper out of the jar again and quickly wiped the wet glass down between Armand's bulging breasts. The aroma intensified to the point where Armand truly feared the idea of being in the presence of men. They would, they would...It was even having an effect on his battered male psyche, he realised as he looked at Vella, noticing as if for the first time how desirable she looked. He shook his head, eyes closed trying to drive the thought from his mind. "A bit strong for you? Sorry, but it'll wear off some. It's cheap stuff and doesn't hold up well, but it masks the smell of sweat and paga a bit." Vella wrinkled her nose. "There will be worse later -- watch where you step, girl. Piss and puke are the least of it, sometimes. Masters!" That word seemed to serve Vella well as an expletive, possibly because it sounded almost the same as "bastards". Vella tilted her head, examining Armand-in-Lila's outfit, makeup and hair with the practiced eye of an experienced First Girl. "Hmmm, that'll do. Don't bother with jewellry tonight, you don't need it and it would make you stand out." She clapped her hands. "Right, let's go." She led Armand to the centre of the room where he was joined by three other slaves wearing cheerleader outfits identical to the one he wore. They looked at him with some puzzlement. "This is Amanda. She's belongs to Tisoch's Warrior friend. She's going to be working with us tonight. She can't speak because of Priest-King sorcery." Vella explained to the subdued crowd of kajirae who surrounded them. "Why is she Team Vella?" asked one of the non-uniformed girls, casting a distinctly unfriendly look at Armand. "She's wearing my uniform because I decided she should, Kishi. I won't be on the team tonight, so don't go thinking she's done you out of a place. You will have to work a lot harder than you did last night to get on the team." She turned, glaring at the rest of the girls. "Remember, Team Vella is *earned*." The other cheerleaders looked smug at her words. It seemed the outfits were prizes for girls who performed their duties well, a special treat. Smart First Girls knew that punishing girls under their control was only one part of maintaining discipline. An ability to recognise and reward good behaviour was just as important, and it seemed that Vella had come up with the idea of Cheerleader Team Vella to encourage her subordinates to work diligently in the tavern. It was a clever strategem, he had to admit even if he was now dressed as a member of Team Vella himself. Somehow it didn't seem like much of a reward to him though. "Right Amanda, come over here." Vella guided Armand into place with the other cheerleaders standing in a circle around her with the other girls crowding in outside. She clapped her hands four times, marking a beat. "Who's the Master we love most?" she called out in a sing-song voice. "TISOCH! TISOCH!" replied the girls around them as the cheerleaders pumped their fists in time to the words. Armand followed suit as best he could with his chained hands. "What's the tavern we serve best?" "TISOCH! TISOCH!" "T"! "I"! "S"! "O"! "C"! "H"! Vella's voice sang out loud and clear as she turned, arms raised in the centre of the room. "TISOCH! TISOCH! TISOCH!" All the girls jumped on the last repetition, waving their arms. Armand found himself jumping with them, somehow tuned into the mass hysteria that had filled the girls around him. As he landed his belt dug hard into his hips, reminding him that it was still there. *Ouch*. The excited babble of voices around him was cut short as Vella clapped her hands for attention. Her voice rose in a long glide. "Iiiiiiit's SHOWTIME!"