Agents of Gor Part 7 5 Second Interlude
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Agents Of Gor: Part 8.5 - Third Interlude free porn video
Agents of Gor: Part 8.5 - Third interlude
Some Girls Consider the Meaning of Silks before they Sleep.
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.
The evening of service in Tisoch's paga tavern is finally over and some
girls prepare to sleep but not before they think on the events of the day
and what the future holds for them.
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Vella turned slightly in her collar, short-chained to the girl-ring at
the bottom of the bed platform where the Warrior Armand of Tellus slept.
***Weird bas-Master*** she thought to herself. Jikka, one of her
lieutenants among the cohort of kajirae she stood First Girl over had
informed her this Armand guy had taken the punishment girl to an alcove
less than a couple of hours ago yet he seemed surprised when he failed to
get an instant erection with Vella so soon after his recent exertions.
It's like he was new to taking a girl but a Master, a Warrior like him so
inexperienced? She sniggered at the thought. She could have brought him
to attention, it's not like she hadn't done it often enough for the
drink-sodden animals she served nightly on the tavern floor but he had
rejected her attempts to arouse him with her mouth and fingers, simply
stroking her hair and kissing her on the lips before ordering her to lie
on the furs to be secured for the night. Time to sleep, she thought to
herself. The Tellusian, or was it Tellurian? She had no idea where on Gor
the city of Tellus was located, it wasn't a familiar placename like Cos
or Ar, anyway this b- Master was sure to want her in the morning when his
batteries were recharged and it wouldn't pay to disappoint a close friend
of Tisoch's.
As for that girl of his, that Amanda... poor kid, she thought to herself,
even though she's older than I am it's like she was born yesterday. She
had been paralysed with fear and doubt earlier in the evening, and in the
cell, well! She'd needed a list of instructions practically! Every girl
old enough to have tits has fingered herself lots of times after all,
haven't they? Still, Mandy was settled down now and if her Master brought
her to the tavern again she'd be easier to deal with next time, easier to
control like the other kajirae under her hand as First Girl.
She turned back, nestling into the soft furs and closed her eyes, one
last vagrant thought drifting though her mind -- why had Armand of Tellus
insisted she, an experienced veteran of the tavern's alcoves should wear
these ridiculous White Silks for the night?
In the tavern's kitchen the slave Kresca lay not on soft furs but on
prickly rush matting, collar-chained with a thin rep-cloth blanket
covering her like the other drudges and pot-and-kettle girls who worked
in the back rooms of the tavern. Tisoch's grown son had chosen a kitchen
girl to take to his quarters for the night but Kresca was not the one he
had ever selected all the time she had worked here. No loss to him, or
her for that matter. She considered the puzzle of her new Master,
Armand... a strange one, she decided, even for an Earthman; she had heard
him speaking in that Earthian tongue and the transparent ruse of naming
his home city "Tellus", well...
He laughed a lot, too much, and the way he treated Amanda, the White-Silk
brunette, was odd too. Abuse she could understand, she had been beaten
enough herself in the past and she'd surely be beaten again in the
future, but ridicule? He was out to break her, Kresca mused, the girl's
spirit was being crushed to be remade anew but in that manner? Why? She
considered herself an expert in reforming inanimate dross into vital
flesh that sold for hard coin, tarn disks of pure gold but what sort of
unnatural starting material would she have to be working with for that
kind of treatment to succeed? Girls were simple creatures at the core and
responded to the punishment-and-reward cycle of slave training quite
predictably. If the nameless girl was a man, maybe ridicule would be a
way of breaking her spirit on the way to remaking her but Kresca had laid
knowledgeable hands on the girl in question and she was definitely female
in body. But there were a few women who thought themselves men in spirit,
she reminded herself. Was this girl one of that sort? Hmmm...
Regardless, she had been given the task of turning this peculiar piece of
dross into a dancer and it looked like she'd have to work around her
Master's own intentions to achieve her goal. That she would succeed was
not in doubt in her mind, she had been presented with worse in the past
and she had rarely failed. And she enjoyed it, the glory of seeing men
fight with steel over one of her girls dancing in the sand circle before
them and knowing that they would never have noticed the same girl passing
them in the street half a year before. The girl whose name had been
Amanda, she had the body for it like she was born to be a slave dancer
but her mind, her attitude, her almost-masculine pride, and that strange
outburst from her in the changing room when she was ungagged... she was
going to be trouble. Kresca smiled, not something she did when anyone was
watching nowadays, not since the moment she had been collared. The
troublesome ones were often the most fun.
She turned over to sleep on her undamaged side, her collar chain making a
long-familiar metallic slithering noise on the hard stone flags, one hand
still holding the red silks the puzzling Earthman had handed to her when
he had come to the kitchens earlier. Strange Master...
The Free Woman Serressa, currently the kajira named Lilianne lay among
the other kajirae of Tisoch's tavern secured in a slave cage, dozing
under the effects of a soporific administered earlier to alleviate the
spikes of pain from her badly bruised arms. In her drug-fevered dreams
she relived the evening she as a Free Woman had worn red silks and a
collar and danced before her Companion, Glathius in the privacy of their
sleeping quarters, their slave attendants banished for the night, and how
he had toyed with the key to her collar as she moved before him as if he
was thinking that he might not free her from its degrading embrace when
the night was over, that in the morning the slave attendants would enter
the chamber to find their former Mistress chained on the furs at the
bottom of the bed platform as a common slave like them, her red silks
disarrayed. Her breath came short as her fingertips touched the collar
locked truly around her throat by Armand of Tellus while her other hand
went to her groin as if to seek the sensation of silks there and in the
wild dream her beloved Glathius was suddenly the Warrior Armand and she
watched dry-mouthed as he dropped the collar key into his pouch with that
twisted smile he so often displayed and... she shuddered open-mouthed in
the darkness of the slave cage, her hand moving unconsciously as she
fervently dreamed of things forbidden to Free Women and experienced truly
only by their more fortunate collared and branded sisters under the hands
of Men.
Miracle
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