Agents of Gor Part 8 5 Third Interlude
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Agents Of Gor: Part 7.5 - Second Interlude free porn video
Agents of Gor: Part 7.5 - Second Interlude
A Girl Reflects on her Night of Service 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. A mind-reading machine of the Priest-Kings backfired when
Armand attempted to prise secrets from Lila's brain, and now his mind is
trapped in Lila's female body while Lila physically controls Armand's
male body.
After some adventures Armand-in-Lila and the temporary slave Lilianne,
previously the free Woman Serressa have served as paga slaves in
Tisoch's tavern in very different circumstances. Late that evening one
of them considers their recent experiences and re-evaluates her
understanding of the social structures she has been raised in.
--------------------------------------------------------
Lady Seressa, Free Companion of the Warrior Glathius, servant of the
Priest-Kings and currently a temporary paga slave bearing the name of
Lilianne folded over in exhaustion at the alcove's entrance as her
previous customer adjusted his robe and weaved off unsteadily towards
the paga tables. She hadn't realised, she couldn't have imagined... The
game of Master and Kajira Glathius and she had played in the privacy of
their quarters had been just that, a game. She had thought him powerful
and domineering as he took her in the modality of a slave, a Red Silk
girl. He had been rough, thoughtless in his handling of her and she had
hated him for it even as the experience secretly and shamefully thrilled
her. But now she knew the truth, that he had been kindness incarnate,
considerate and solicitious of her welfare compared to the realities of
what a real Red Silk girl was exposed to on a nightly basis in a tavern
such as Tisoch's.
The lipsticked glyph on her left breast, the first letter of the Gorean
word for "punishment" was smeared now from sweat and rough handling but
tonight she had seen other girls, the tavern's regular paga slaves
treated the same way she had been. This was what Masters did, she
realised now. Glathius had been her Companion, not her Master. Her
beloved Glathius, she reflected sourly, had been a frequent visitor to
paga taverns like this, to drink with his friends, he said, to talk with
his subordinates. As a Free Woman she had not accompanied him, of
course; paga taverns were no fit place for women who were not slaves.
Now she knew that Glathius, her dear Companion had not come to such
places simply to drink with friends, to talk with subordinates. Had he
used this actual alcove she herself had been so rudely thrust into six,
no eight times already this neverending night? Had he grabbed that
skimpily dressed collared girl over there hurrying between the serving
area and the tables, taken her into the darkness and the furs within
and...
She twisted her upper body, trying to ease the strain on her shoulders
from the strap bindings running from elbows to wrists imprisoning her
arms behind her back. She wasn't used to such restrictions, of course.
Even Glathius had been considerate in his own way when he chained or
bound her, and of course the games came to an end when the sun rose and
before the house slaves came to minister to their morning needs. A
Master had bound her like this, with no consideration for her feelings,
swiftly and efficiently (the speed of his movements had frightened her
almost more than the act itself -- she was being bound by a Master
practiced at his art, not a lover). After he had enjoyed her flesh he
had left her that way, still bound and not caring for her ongoing
discomfort. Glathius had always unbound her of course but here, now, it
was not Glathius who was...
A figure stopped before her, causing her heart to pound. Another Master
to abuse and degrade her, so soon after the previous one? No, it was the
nameless girl dressed in some form of brief blue and white slave
costume, her previous Master's other slave -- no, not a true slave yet,
unbranded but his captive and currently held by him in the modality of a
slave, wearing a collar identical to the one she wore irremovably around
her own neck. She took a morsel of comfort from the knowledge that in
the morning, may it come in an instant! she herself would no longer be
the slave of Tisoch, that hated collar around her own neck would be
removed and she would be once again the Free Woman Serressa whereas this
piece of gutter filth would be slave forever, trapped within that collar
that suited her so well. In her heart though, a worm gnawed at her
confidence -- at this time, in this place she was slave too, a true
slave by the laws and traditions of Gor. Her return to the status of
Free Woman was not an automatic right, it was something her Master would
have to explicitly grant her. What if... what if Tisoch and Armand of
Tellus decided she too was to be held as a slave forever, a true Kajira?
They could claim that she had not paid for her sins sufficiently, she
was not remorseful enough for her crime of trying to kill another's
slave even though Armand wouldn't sell the worthless she-sleen to her
for the sake of justice... The nameless one had gone off, she noticed.
Finished gloating at the lowly predicament of her betters, she presumed.
Never mind, little one, she promised herself. I'll deal with you later.
Next time I won't fail. She rolled her jaw to try and relieve the strain
from her exertions in the tavern's alcove earlier, feeling the dried
residue on her cheeks pull at the skin. She had been well-used and the
night was not over yet. But it will be over! It can't go on forever,
there would be an end, she assured herself, but the worm of self-doubt
was still there...
The stupid girl was coming back, holding a jug and some rags. She
stopped and knelt gracefully before Serressa even with her hands chained
and encumbered by her burden, in a Tower Slave pose with her knees
together, her brief pleated skirt lying neatly on her thighs. At least
my training of the girl hasn't gone to waste, she thought. Would that
achievement satisfy Armand and Tisoch, would it tip the balance and
ensure her freedom in the morning? Or maybe she had done too good a job.
Perhaps Armand would want to keep her as his First Girl to train this
one further, to train other slaves -- Armand of Tellus was a true Master
and she could not envisage him only ever having a single slave, no she
didn't want to think about it. Even worse, Tisoch could decide to keep
her as a paga girl, to serve at the tables and in the alcoves forever...
The nameless one poured some water onto the rags and then gently wiped
Serressa's face. She pulled back in surprise then stopped as she felt
the stickiness on her cheeks disappear. The damp cloth on her sweat-
dappled forehead was cool and refreshing as the girl continued her
ministrations somewhat clumsily, but of course her hands were not free.
It had puzzled Serressa, the way Armand had kept this girl chained and
restrained. He was a Master though and needed no excuse other than to
desire it be that way. The girl was still White Silk and Serressa's own
experiences in the furs with Armand of Tellus proved that there must be
a good reason for him to desire the nameless slave's status to remain
that way.
The girl gestured towards Serressa's groin and it took her a moment to
realise the slave was offering to wipe away the copious stains drying on
the inside of her thighs. She nodded and the girl bent down to minister
to her Nemesis, her chained hands limiting her movements. Serressa
sighed as the damp cloth gently stroked her abused labia while she could
only look at the girl's hair, held in combs at her temples, the tiny
lock of her collar just visible through her hair at the back of her
slender neck. Serressa moved on her knees to let the girl reach further,
as she would to allow one of her body-slaves to wash her in her own
rooms, but there she was a Free Woman and here, in a paga tavern,
collared and marked as a punishment girl, arms bound tautly behind her
back she was only being washed at the whim of a lowly slave, the
consideration of one kajira for a sister in bondage. Her reverie was
interrupted as the girl, eyes wide made an interrogative noise behind
her mouth-gaping gag. She held up the rag for Serressa's inspection and
her own eyes hardened at the sight of bloody smears on the wet rag.
"One or two of the Masters tonight," she explained throatily, "demanded
more of me than my Companion, Glathius ever did." She squirmed at the
memory of the tearing pains accompanying the thrusts when it had
happened the first time. She had screamed in agony until the man behind
her cuffed her to sobbing silence. The second man to abuse her so had
gagged her before he started, perhaps being wiser or more experienced
than the first man in such matters. The girl nodded in sympathy, then
went behind Sarressa. She felt the girl wipe the abused areas with damp
cloths and she sighed in relief as the pain abated somewhat. When the
girl reappeared before her and descended back into Tower she noticed for
the first time that under her tiny skirt the girl wore a steel belt
between her legs, tightly securing her crotch. Sarressa had heard of
such things but had never seen one before, or (naturally) worn one. It
seemed the girl's Master truly prized her White Silk status. Part of her
desired the harsh protection of such a device; it would have prevented
much of the abuse her poor body had suffered this night but the Free
Woman that she had been and would be again recoiled at the thought of
such a slave device being locked on her own body, with another, a Master
holding the key to it. Still...
The girl lifted the jug towards Serressa's lips, offering her a drink.
She almost accepted it before realising where she was and what she was,
at least for the night. Slaves did not drink from containers that
Masters might drink from. She might be beaten for doing so. In that
moment she realised just how thoroughly she herself had become immersed
in the modality of a slave, and in such a short period of time too...
"No, girl." She said huskily, her throat dry and tight. "Use your hand."
The girl's eyes widened, then she nodded, making a slight sound behind
her gag. Another puzzle Serressa couldn't figure out; somehow Armand
could make his slave mute at a whim. She doubted it was simply training
or a command as the girl was obviously only recently a slave and didn't
seem to have the innate self-control to maintain silence under only a
Master's word. Armand had mentioned something about a Nest gag, a
product of the Sardar but she had taken no real notice of his words
then. So the slave could be silenced by the magic of the Priest-Kings
somehow, yet for her service in Tisoch's paga tavern he had allowed her
her voice back and then gagged her thoroughly. Why? Another mystery best
answered by the thought that that was what he desired and so that was
what he had done. Odd...
She sipped greedily at the handful of water the girl offered to her, and
the second one and the third. She might have taken a fourth handful but
another figure joined them, male this time. She looked up into a bleary
bearded face, a Warrior by his tunic, unsteady on his legs.
"So you're..." the man belched, his breath thick with paga fumes,
"you're th' Free W'm'n?" The nameless one had scooted back out of the
man's way with the water jug and the rags, moving her knees apart into
the open nadu position all kajirae instinctively adopted when kneeling
before Masters. Serressa followed suit; she too was a slave, at least
for the moment and she had no wish to be whipped again. The drunken
Master swayed and reached out a hand to steady himself on the nameless
girl's head, then glanced at her. "Oh, you. You b'long to tha' Warrior,
ya? Good man, goo'...Warrior. Y... Y're Wh... White Silk, an' inna
virgin' basket... Don' wan' you." He turned his attention back to
Serressa. "I. Wan' The. Free. Woman." he said in the distinct manner of
speech drunkards often employed. Serressa knew it was time to get back
to work.
"Master, this girl is not a Free Woman," said the kajira Lilianne,
bowing her head and letting her long hair sweep the man's sandals as she
had been instructed by a previous Master earlier that night. "She is
your slave for the night." The man beamed at her words. "S'right." he
said, then gulped. "B'back right 'way. Don' run 'way." He gulped again,
then bent over a wide-mouthed brass pot positioned conveniently to one
side of the alcove's entrance. As retching noises echoed from the metal
container the nameless girl ros to her feet, again with some grace she
noted with approval. Lilianne nodded to the gagged slave.
"I wish you well, Second Girl." she said. The girl looked surprised over
the wide strap of her gag but she made a muffled noise and nodded back.
The retching sounds stopped and a strong male hand grasped Serressa's
upper arm above the elbow straps and lifted her to her feet. "Righ',
slave. To th' furs with ya." As she was pushed into the alcove she saw
the nameless one turn away, and for a moment, even given what she knew
lay ahead for herself, the slave girl Lilianne in the hours to come, she
felt a pang of sympathy for the fate of the nameless one, the true slave
of Armand of Tellus, for what she would endure as a Kajira in the years
and centuries to come.
Later, much later as the lamps in the paga tavern were dimmed and the
customers had either left or were asleep at the benches, the Warrior
known as Armand of Tellus came to Lilianne as she knelt leaning against
the wall, exhausted, the punishment glyph on her left breast now
indecipherable from sweat and friction. She went into the alcove with
him and he laid her down on the furs. He was polite and kind, he did not
abuse her in deed or in word but he took her as a Master took a slave
and in the ecstacy that followed, a ecstacy so different from her times
in the furs with Glathius, she felt the heart-worm of doubt, of shame
once more, and she resolved that she would rather die than be a true
slave ever. Ever.
And she knew that she lied.
Cathalina
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