from his perspective

He rises silently in the misty dawn … sees her kneeling, waiting, a small fire lit and a cup of warm water cradled in her hands. He nods and she moves closer and presses the cup to her bare belly, between her abused breasts and finally to her cracked and broken lips, split by the force of blows she has received. Head bowed, arms extended, she offers Him the cup. As he drinks he ponders the problem kneeling so gracefully before him, her nude body goose fleshed and shivering. “Ahhhh,” he sighs, he decision made, wise or not, he will take her with him. She notes the change in His eyes and presses her lips to the ground in front of Him. Swiftly turns and packs his gear, throws dirt over the fire to extinguish it and finally, at his nod, slips the tattered remains of her camisk over her naked body. They begin the trek high into the mountains to his camp.

The first night he stops at a panther camp. He is receives a warm welcome. Although He belongs to the black caste His mother was a panther. The women replace her tattered camisk with clean furs and footwear and she knows she can stay with them if she wishes. She smiles shyly as they treat her kindly, feeding her and indicating she can have her collar removed if she wishes.

A pretty blonde sits by her and runs her fingers around the steel, indicates she was once a slave too placing her own hands around her neck and says “kolar”. She feels unable to decide as her eyes follow Him around the camp. Later, she takes the soap given her and walks to the nearby stream and carefully washes. Her long hair feels clean for the first time in weeks.

He sees her standing deep in the cool water, her face uplifted to the three moons. Wet hair streaming down her back, the dark bruises marring her perfect skin hidden by the silvery light. Cat silent, he moves into the water, places his warm arms around her waist. She sighs, a lost sound that catches in her throat. He feels her body relax, and until that moment he did not realise how he longed to feel her pressing against him. She is small and her head tucks beneath his chin. They stand lost in the moment, senses heightened by the eroticism of their first embrace. Skin cooled by the water and the evening air contrasting with the heat generated by their touch. The soft sounds: the slow moving water and tiny scurrying animals, reach their ears. He craves her taste, slowly turns her fragile body in his arms. Moonlight plays over the gentle curves of high cheeks bones and full lips. Mouths touch and meld, lift and press. He savours the sweetness and deepens the kiss, exploring as her mouth blossoms beneath His.

Their tongues play, and the passion rises. The kiss becomes fiercer, stronger and he holds her crushed against his chest. Soft moans and gasps punctuate their frantic efforts to become one, her small body moves against his, her hips rocking, delicate hands wrapped around his neck. He moves his hands down the sweet curve of her spine to her rounded butt and grasps firmly, lifts her so she can wrap her sleek legs around his waist. He feels her hotness against his cool bare belly. He lift his head and looks at her face, beautiful in its passion, her eyelids closed long lashed fanning over her flushed cheeks.

“Jett, jettie!” They hear the voice calling, the magical spell is broken and he slowly lowers her. The stream laps around her flushed and heated body, cooling her blood. He takes her small hand in his and draws her from the water, he stands on the grassy bank and turns her to face him, presses a brief hard kiss on her lips. His eyes glow golden in the moonlight, “I leave at dawn,” He says. He pulls on the dark clothing of his caste and disappears into the deep evening shadows.

Escape

Our training begins as city slaves and as a girl acquires skills the quality and quantity her food improves. I am still on a simple diet, my only covering a tattered camisk. I fight every command and receive frequent kicks for slowness. The casual flick of the whip, harsh commands gradually grind me down. I know I am reaching the limits of my endurance … and yet something continues to drive me on to defiance. I know my death is near, the head slaver derives pleasure from breaking my defences day by day. But he will soon tire of this new toy and a quick movement of his wrist, knife held securely, and my life-blood will spill like rich red wine upon the stones. In moments of sanity, I wonder what drives me to resist the inevitable. And then I recall the moments on the cross when I felt my blood heat and my skin flush … and I shrink from my sexual arousal in the moments of violence and exposure. I cannot accept that of my self and so beyond reason I resist.

The next few days saw us examined and processed ready for sale by the city.

It is late in the day while I am with the physician about to be weighed and measured, when loud shouts and the noise of fighting has everyone running outside. For once I am not chained or caged and I see my chance of escape. I hear the word “assassin” and cries of dismay. I quickly move to the door and I see the body of a merchant known for his cruelty to captured panthers lifeless on the ground. I detect a movement in my peripheral vision, a figure moving stealthily from the market place.

In the confusion following the assassination I see my chance. Barely daring to breathe, every sense on high alert, I grasp a last desperate attempt at escaping my fate as a slave.

Slipping out the door and hiding in the lengthening shadows, I follow the rapidly disappearing figure. Fear sent adrenalin surging through my body, giving the strength to carry on past normal endurance. Death will be my fate if I fail. My steps take me past the market and into the back streets finally thorough a hidden passage in the walls of the city.

The cool grass, beneath my feet muffles the sounds I make as I follow as far back as I can, each step taking me further from the horror of my last week.

“Ahhh” breath knocked from my abused body, mouth covered, back roughly pressed against a tree, Struggling against approaching blackness overtaking my consciousness I gaze upwards into compelling catlike eyes, glowing golden in the darkness. And I am lost …
my fate sealed.

He gazes into bright jade eyes raised to his; fear was evident but also defiance and strength. Her heart pounds so fast he feels the beat against his bare chest. He moves his eyes over a face bruised and dirty, down over limbs marred by the whip.
He notes the way she holds her body, the rough bark of the tree he held her against was causing her pain but no cry came from her mouth as he removes his hand. She breathes in deep and waits, stoicism in every line of her body.
A swift blade to the throat? That would be the most merciful rather than return her to the city where she would be punished before certain death.

“Please, take a girl with you,” my bruised lips form the words in halting Gorean, revealing my Earth origins. I holds out my hands as if to relieve him of his burdens. He nods, and moves off, swiftly I follow, knowing it is keep up with him or die. My whole body aches and limbs tremble with adrenalin but I push  my  small body past endurance, doggedly shadowing my saviour.

Through the dusk he melts into the shadows challenging myability to keep pace. His yellow cat’s eyes giving him an advantage. As I begin to flag, my body weakened by the weeks of poor food and beatings, the adrenalin rush dying, leaving me with only my intense desire to LIVE driving me on. I notice his pace has slowed, and my  heart swells with emotion for the first kindness I have known since I  was snatched from my planet.

At last he stops, glances over his shoulder and I knows without a word being spoken it is my  job to fetch dry wood to light a small fire. He kills a small animal and I place it in the coals to bake.  I had refilled the water skin while he hunted. As the food cooks, I  try to ignore the cramps in my belly, I concentrates on kneeling nadu, knees wide, back straight, I use yoga breathing techniques to distance myself from the pain emanating from every part of my fragile body. He notes the effort I  makes to mask the pain. He nods

While collecting water earlier, I bathed my badly bruised and beaten body in the ice-cold waters. Now I kneel naked before him, my torn camisk washed and drying by the small fire. I knows his eyes look at me  without desire, merely noting the marks of the casual touch of the whip, and the imprint of fist and boot.  Shudders wrack my slender form without volition, a combination of cold, hunger and extreme exhaustion, but still my shoulders are straight and my eyes down turned deferentially.

He reaches into a sack and removes bread and cheese, motioning for me to prepare his meal. He notes my  training as I  pour and serve his drink, head down arms extended, I speak, voice husky, “A girl hopes the food and drink meet Master’s needs and a girl has been pleasing.” He eats, I sit and wait, no sign in my posture, gaze or movements that I  am near to starvation, the definition of my muscles and lack of fat on my body signs of my privations. He pushes the scraps of his meal to me  and nods. I eat.

Tiny bites of food and small sips of water, I  chew carefully, making the small meal last. Then, exhausted, I curl up in a fetal position and sleep.

He looks at the small animal he has now become responsible for and wonders why. But then his eyes are drawn to the beauty of her small body. Not even the bruises and whips marks can hide the the delicate lines and innate strength. He recalls her courage and endurance and decides to let her live another day.

trapped?

The clatter of heavy boots on the cobbled street, the ominous clink of metal and leather armour as the wooden door was pushed open had all eight women on their knees before the harsh order “Nadu “ issued from the Master Slaver mouth.

In a flurry, the body of the poor dead girl was dragged from the room and slave girls quickly erased the smeared blood, urine and vomit from the floor. Grabbing me by my hair, he raised me up from my kneeling position and scanned my bruised and bleeding body. On Earth I had been proud of my looks, my rich auburn hair and creamy skin that tanned easily but here where beautiful kajirae vie for masters I knew my fate was in the balance.

He flung me from him, barking an order to the men with him. Grasping me by my arms I was lashed to the wooden cross my arms and legs splayed.

“Ahh,” I cried as sharp splinters entered the flesh of my back and buttocks. My arms and shoulders burned with pain and I struggled to breath. I knew I would not last long strung up in this way, a slow and painful death by suffocation.

The brute of a slaver approached, me whip in hand, he raised it to my lips and holding my eyes with his, he made it clear what he expected. Moistening my dry lips, I pressed them to the harsh leather. Thus kissing the instrument of my own torture. Tears ran down my cheeks making wet tracks in the dust and blood smears. My cruel tormentor ran the quirt down my bare chest between my breasts to my belly, circled my quivering muscles, slid it down one leg and then, with a sudden movement, thrust it between my legs.

“Please Master,” I begged, jade green eyes swimming with tears.

Laughing he eased the pressure a little, and to my shame I felt my hips move to rub my self against the rough leather. His sharp eyes did not miss the tiny movement and he smiled, petted my cheek with his other hand and stepped back so that I might be released.

Falling to my knees despite the rush of feeling to my legs and arms, I crawled to him and placed my lips on his dusty boot and kissed. His lip curled with satisfaction. Indicating an empty kennel with his whip I scrambled across the room and sat in “bracelets” pose. While the door clanged shut in my face.

Thus ended my first day in the kennels.

Lying curled up on the mat in my cell that night , my cheeks burned with shame, as I reviewed all that had happened since we arrived in the city. By now I was familiar with the Gorean view on the natural order of things, especially the hierarchy of male and female. Their entrenched belief that a woman cannot fully be herself unless she totally surrenders to a male was foreign to my post-feminist view of the world and I rejected it fiercely.

However, the thoughts that kept me awake were not of the gnawing hunger in my belly, the pain of my bruises or even fear of the future. No, my thoughts turned again and again to those fleeting moments when I felt the gaze of men on my naked helpless body. So openly displayed by the leather tethers on my wrists and ankles that my femininity was bared completely. It did not matter that they were unimpressed by my bruised, dirty appearance. I was concerned by MY reaction … those moments when my blood was heated and I could not prevent the telling action of my hips.

I was not a virgin. In fact at the age of 23 not many girls on Earth would be. However, I did not consider myself to have a very high sex drive and was just as happy when a date with my boyfriend ended without sex as with it. I was not happy to be reconsidering my views on the place of men and women in the world and especially not comfortable with my stirring passions. I vowed to find a way off this god awful planet and return to a world where I was in control of my life and body, and unsettling passions did not keep me lying aching for … for what?

Finally my tired brain shut down and I fell into a troubled sleep.

Kennelled

Kennelled!

The room in which I lay had metal cages around each wall containing women much as a dog kennel would on earth. High windows let in light and air. The floor was paved with large stone flags. Other than the central post to which I was chained, there was no other furniture. The bare starkness contrasted with the beauty and colour of the marketplace in the city.

Trembling fingers traced around the collar but it was quickly evident there would be no removing the collar without the key. The dull pounding in my head had blinded me to the noises coming from the cages but the longer I sat and took stock of my surroundings the more I became aware of the plight of the other women captured. Their moans and piteous cries filled the air.

They were all naked and collared; some attempting to cover their breasts by sitting with knees draw up to their chests and arms wrapped tightly around them. Others lay curled in the foetal position with blank eyes. Bolder girls, who had clearly accepted their fate, knelt in the required position, resting on their heels, knees wide backs straight palm facing up.

By the time I had scanned the room my eyes had fully focused and adjusted to the dim light. I moved gingerly, my entire body aching with the combination of scratches bruises and strained muscles from my journey and the beatings. Stretching out my limbs to ease the cramps from lying prone on the cold floor, my foot brushed against the flesh of another girl.

One look into her glassy eyes and I knew she felt no more pain. Her body showed evidence of sexual abuse, blood upon her spread thighs mixed with semen. A scream rose in my throat, and crying and gagging, vomit issuing from my mouth, I threw myself down and beat on the floor with clenched fists.

“Who treats women this way? What kind of society is this?” These questions and others spiralled through my mind. I had not realised I had vocalised these piteous rantings until a soft voice replied insistently.

‘Sister, sister be at peace.”

Raising my tear stained face, I looked around. A collared girl kneeling in her kennel, dressed in a short leather tunic, one breast exposed, softly entreated me to be calm.

“Be at peace,” she repeated. “ Accept your fate and you will know happiness and fulfilment unlike any you experienced before. A few weeks ago, I was like you Earth girl used to treating men with contempt and aimlessly searching for meaning in my life. Now I live to serve. Each day is a bright new challenge to me to perfect each movement of my body, each gesture and word for no other reason than to serve.” A radiant smile lit her face and her back straightened even more.

Horrified, I gestured to the broken, bleeding body of the girl, “How can you justify that?” I screamed, hysteria evident in the rising cadence of my tone. Hands dashed at my face and chest, attempting to wipe away the mingled snot, blood and vomit.

“It was an unfortunate result of her resistance, she refused to accept her fate and consequently had no value.”

Her calm face convinced me that she saw nothing wrong in the act that had left a girl lying in a mixture of blood and semen, throat slit, her life blood congealing rapidly beneath her.

“You are lucky you did not suffer a similar fate,” she continued. “ Wise up!” she stated, a hard note entering her voice. “ Survival is everything. Later you will see the beauty and balance in this world. But if you have life you have hope. Dead – all is lost to you.”

Shivering with shock, I crouched like a wounded animal licking its wounds. But my mind, played these words over an over and the instinct to survive that had kept me going for the last several days reasserted itself and kept me from falling into helpless despair.

Captured

My head reeled with the rush of sensation as I came to and sat up quickly, looking around in wonder. The sound of voices speaking in a tongue I did not know assailed me. Taking deep breaths to stave off a return to unconsciousness, my nose twitched at the unfamiliar, spicy scent of the air. Attempting to raise myself from my position on the cold stone floor, I felt the unfamiliar weight of the heavy chain around my neck.

Wait … a collar … chains…

Sinking back, my bare flesh shrank from contact with the floor. With horror I realised I was completely nude. My arms marred by purpling bruises, my breasts and belly dirty from being dragged protesting to the kennels. My mind rejected the word. “I am a woman,” I thought, “not a dog.”

As I had lain helpless, knocked unconscious by a savage blow to my head, a heavy metal collar had been locked around my neck. Attached to the collar was a length of black metal chain, falling between my exposed breasts and securing me to a wooden post set in the floor. I had seen other women chained in this manner in my brief time upon the planet Gor.

Captured by marauders and forced to travel to this planet, so like Earth and yet not. I struggled to comprehend how my life as a quiet studious university student in Melbourne, Australia could have been turned upside down so rapidly. As I sat up and gave my body time to adjust to the pain of a swelling lump on my cheek and the dull thud of a headache, brief flashes of recall passed through my mind.

First days

The strong feel of the arms of the man holding me close to his body, his unfamiliar accent grating to my ears as he commanded me to be still and quiet and accept my fate. “Still and quiet,” I repeated, as the cloth was pressed to my nose and lips. The sharp smell of the drug administered to me to stop my frantic attempts to avoid capture, stung my nose and reality faded as my limbs went limp.

My awaking under a strange sky lit by three moons, with the soft scented breeze cooling my cheeks, I lay puzzled, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible … I was somewhere other than Earth. I mentally categorised the sights and sounds as I tried to keep a grip on my sanity and prevent hysteria. I was in a wooden cart pulled by dark ugly beasts, moving slowly over rough ground. My wrists and ankles were tied together and I lay next to several other women, some still unconscious, others weeping and looking around in wild eyed-fear.

My mind quickly recalled the nightmare days filled with guttural commands, given by rough looking men, as we were transported to the nearest city. Women who were slow to obey were beaten with open hands and leather belts. We soon learned to kneel; backs straight, knees spread, hands open on our thighs, our eyes lowered deferentially to the ground.

I absorbed as much information as possible to assist me to break away from these marauders as soon as possible and attempt a return to Earth. I memorised the commands given and used my innate survival skills to avoid punishment and seek approval of my captives.

Our arrival in the coastal city gave me new insight into this new world. The fresh sea breeze, the bustling market place filled with goods and animals for sale. I could not help but be impressed by the untarnished health of this new world so contrasting to the ailing planet from which I had been snatched. My head swung around at the sound of haggling voices and my eyes rounded with astonishment. There on a wooden platform stood a beautiful but naked woman, her neck encircled by a metal collar. As I watched horrified, she pleaded with the encircling men to purchase her, displaying her body in a wanton manner; breasts thrust forward, hips swaying enticingly, as her musical voice entreated.

I struggled to grasp the reality of the situation, but as my eyes quickly scanned the scene, I saw other women similarly collared kneeling by the boots of men. In a nearby tavern naked women rushed to serve the patron, kneeling by their side and clearly offering themselves along with the proffered food or drink. Their squeals of pleasure as they were roughly seized and taken to hidden alcoves echoed dully in my astonished mind.

The cart stopped before a stone building. A woman waiting before the doorway knelt and greeted our captors. Speaking in English, she told us, she was in charge of the kennels housing the city slaves. “Kennels,” I whispered, thinking of the collared girls sold like animals. We were hustled off the cart, the ropes binding our ankles swiftly severed by sharp knives. Pushed roughly into the building, my eyes rapidly adjusting to the cool darkness, I began to feel a rising panic as I recognised my fate and all hope of escape receding once I was locked in the waiting cages.

Kicking out in the manner of the boxing classes I had taken at the gym on Earth I tried to escape. But as I reached the door and ran out into the street, one of the men grasped me by my hair and threw me to he ground. He kicked me in the ribs and, as I lay groaning, dragged me back into the kennels. I struggled frantically, fearing I was fighting for my life. The last image I recalled was of a leather encased fist moving rapidly towards my exposed face.

Greetings A/all

Wow! This girl has had such an exciting journey she would like to share it with you. *smiles* A warning, as this girl is a pleasure slave it may be a little HOT. * winks*

She eagerly awaits your comments.

“karissa”