La Kajira–Tale of a Gorean Slave

Posted in: Role Play

She was wandering, alone in a strange land. She had no idea how she got there and could only remember bits and pieces of who she was or where she came from. All she knew was she didn’t think she’d ever have dressed herself the way she was at that moment.

She looked down at her clothes, or rather the lack of them–bits of transparent silk hanging precariously from her breasts and hips, held in place only by a thin wire tied to her back. She looked around the busy cobblestone street. There were men dressed as medieval warriors and some women dressed in something that she automatically compared to the Arabian Nights, even though she could not quite place the reference to it. It was yet another part of the puzzle. And there were others dressed much like her, kneeling with their thighs spread wide and some with no clothes on at all. They all seemed either resigned to their circumstance or rejoicing in it. She was somewhere in between.

On one hand, she found herself getting wet at the thought of all these men seeing her nearly naked body with lust in their eyes, yet, there was a nagging thought in her mind that she had never had thoughts like this before in her life.

What was this place? It certainly wasn’t the quiet English village she had lived in, not unless she had been time warped 400 years into the past. She supposed she could have been. Stranger things had happened or so some of the newspapers would have one believe.

She stopped at that thought. Newspapers? How could she remember the name of something yet not place what it would mean? For she had no idea of what some of her thoughts meant.

She shook her head as if to clear it of thoughts she didn’t understand and then her attention was drawn to the noise from the tavern. She saw four or five men spilling out of its doors, swords drawn, blood spilling from two of them. She gasped as she saw their twitching dying bodies sprawled out in the tavern’s doorway.

As she moved closer to the tavern door, she realized the two dead men were dressed in dark clothing, as if to be like shadows in the night. The men standing over the bodies were wearing brightly colored red and gold garb, their chests emblazoned with a crest whose design was the same as that of the flag at the tavern’s doorway.

A crowd was quickly gathering around her as word spread of the killings. She was jostled and shoved aside by a foul smelling man seeking a better view. She struggled to stand up again only to be shoved back down with an angry exclamation in a language she could not understand. As she moved again, the man put a booted leg on her back holding her where she lay, face thrust into the dusty cobblestones of the street. After a few moments, the man moved on having gained a better observation point.

She got up and brushed the dirt off her body, her diaphanous silky clothes torn and hanging from her full, shapely breasts no longer providing even a hint of cover to her nudity. Just then, more men came rushing to the tavern, these clothed in the same red and gold garb of the ones in the doorway. “Must be guards of the city” she thought to herself, suddenly even the big swords they carried making sense.

One of them noticed her and grabbing her roughly by her arm, shoved her forward towards the tavern, shouting “paga!”. When she didn’t move, he shoved her again towards the tavern and repeated “paga!”. She turned then and stared at the man, her confusion apparent in her face. The man then peered closer at her face and her hair. She was by no means a breathtaking beauty but she had a nice heart shaped face, emerald eyes that were nearly hidden with long bangs, a small straight nose and full red lips made just for kissing. He turned her around and grabbed her short hair. She cried out in pain and he turned her around to face him again.

He spoke then, in heavily accented and almost guttural English “Do you speak English?” Her amazement showed in her face, as she quickly replied with a barrage of questions for the man, “Yes, yes. I am English, where am I? What is this place? Why am I dressed like this? Who are those men? Who are you?”

The man smiled slightly. “You are not on Earth. This place is called Gor. You are dressed as you are because you are a woman with no means of your own here. Those men and I are warriors and guards of this city, the City of Turia.”

The girl looked up at the man, yes he had answered her questions, but she still had no real answers and her confusion showed on her face. Meekly she asked, “When can I go back home?” The warrior stared at her with a pained expression for what seemed a very long time before responding curtly. “Never, girl. Come with me, you will learn your new city and role.”

He grabbed her by her arm and taking her to the side of the tavern, pushed her against the wall. He fished for something in his tunic and pulled it out. Before she realized what was happening, he had taken the thing and snapped it around her neck. He then turned her around to face the wall and locked it, pocketing the key. Quickly he turned her around again and attached a chain to it and yanked on it, bringing her inches away from him.

Suddenly she realized what had happened. She was collared and leashed like one would leash a pet dog in her native England. She strained against it, trying to pull away. The warrior just laughed and pulled her even closer and commanded, “Kneel, beast”. When she didn’t move, he pushed her down and repeated. “Kneel, if you want to live!” She knelt awkwardly, keeping her knees together, touching the ground. The man walked around and roughly shoved his boot between her thighs and spread them wide. “Now, put your hands on your thighs and say “La Kajira” beast.”

She looked up then, “what does that mean and why are you calling me beast? I am a human being just like you” she countered.

Ignoring her, he shoved his boot against her thighs again, making her wince with pain and then bent down and ripped the remaining shreds of the silk covering her breasts before grabbing a nipple and pinching it.

“Ouch” she yelped, glaring at him. He cuffed her across her mouth in reply. “Say the words beast, say La Kajira.”

Realizing that she was likely to get hurt more if she didn’t say those words, she finally whispered “la kajira”. Louder, he barked.

Anger flashed in her emerald eyes as she looked up defiantly. “La Kajira” she spoke. Nodding and apparently satisfied, he grabbed her leash and pulled her further away from the tavern.

He yanked her, making her follow him until they reached another building. Shoving the wooden door open, he dragged her behind him into a circular room. She could see lush cushions thrown about the room as well as a strong wooden post with a hook and chain attached to it in one corner of the room. In another corner, she spotted a small cage, like those that might hold a monkey or such animal in a zoo.

There was a sheer curtain separating the room at the far end, behind which she could see some tan colored fur rugs. Before she could figure out their purpose, he parted the curtain and shoved her roughly to them. She fell on the surprisingly soft fur blankets, face first. He bent down to her then, stripping her remaining garment. He turned her around and put a booted foot on her belly, ensuring she couldn’t move as he stripped off his tunic and unbuttoned his pants. He swiftly removed his boot from her stomach and lowered his sleek body onto the blanket. Before she could even think of moving, he lay on top of her, pulling her arms over her head and holding them there with one strong hand while parting her thighs with one knee.

She gasped at her predicament. She lay helplessly exposed to a stranger who was obviously about to take her by force. Somehow, though, it didn’t bother her as much as it should have. She felt her ni
pples getting hard and a wetness gathering in her groin. She moaned as he pinched first o
ne hardened nipple and then the other. He rolled her luscious, full breasts in his big hand, causing her head to move from side to side with wanting.

His hand slowly traveled lower, resting for a moment on her belly button, one finger circling it, teasing it before moving lower to the triangle between her parted thighs. She gasped as she felt his hand touch her where no man’s hand had touched before. Slowly, like parting the petals of a rose, he parted her other lips and stroked her, one finger gently entering her innermost being.

She tensed, her body going rigid and then slowly relaxed as a wave of sheer pleasure washed over her. His finger was working a magic on her and she responded by bucking her hips to meet his finger. His thumb was working a magic of its own on her pleasure center, gently rubbing it in tiny circles, driving her mad. When her body was writhing and twisting under his ministrations, he suddenly removed his finger from the hot center of her being.

She moaned at the removal, wanting more of the pleasurable feeling. A moment later, she felt a hardness enter her, longer and wider than His finger. It moved slowly inside her, inch by inch, claiming her most private place as His. She gasped at the intrusion but felt it to be right. She moved her hips in tune with the rhythm of His thrusting. Soon, she was moaning in pleasure, wanting, needing a release she had never contemplated.

She met His thrusts with those of her own, completing a ritual dance that was their own. The pain of His invasion soon forgotten and replaced with a need for a release that only He could give her. She cried out then, “help me, release me, fulfill me. You make me feel what I have never felt before. “

He spoke in His guttural language then, words she couldn’t understand, but knew instinctively that He too felt the strange magic between them. He thrust deeper and faster into the core of her being, crying out at last as He released His seed into her. Feeling herself filling up with His release, she suddenly felt her body stiffen and her womb contracting into little rhythmitc pulses as her own release came.

Exhausted, she lay under him, no thoughts of escape on her mind. He rolled over then, his back on the sleeping fur, his arms still holding her tightly against his chest. He grabbed her collar and brought her lips to his and forcing her lips open, thrust his tongue roughly in her mouth as he took a deep kiss from her.

He spoke to her then. “You are lucky girl, that I found you. Others would have been less gentle with you. Especially the two who lay dead at the entrance of the tavern.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes silently begging. “You may speak, beast” he told her in his strangely accented English. She wetted her lips, her pink tongue making small circles over her lips before she asked him “Who are they? Why would they want me? I don’t even know who I am. What could they have done to me that would’ve been worse than what you just did?” She cringed as she spoke, realizing that in this unknown land, it may earn her a beating if it suited the man even though he’d told her to speak.

He laughed then, as he saw her fear. “Yes, now you understand. You are nothing. You are my slave, my property, my beast. Yet, I do not wish to mar your beauty with the whip unless you disobey me and you deserve it. Those men were outlaws, thieves, out to steal Turian women and slave girls. They would have taken you, had their way with you and then killed you for not being pleasing enough. Do you wish to die little one?” When she shook her head no, he went on, “They may have also used you to set a trap for me or others like me, men who know of Urth, your planet. Men who speak your language. Men who do not wish for war to ravage the land and the great cities of Gor to be plundered and fall into ruins.” He fell silent for a while, just holding her in his arms. She sighed, it felt good to be held by strong arms, but she was confused, bewildered and still had no memory of herself other than the ones in this strange land.

“What is your name girl?” He asked suddenly. Startled, she looked up to his blue eyes. “I-I don’t remember my name.” she stuttered. “What is yours?” she asked. “My name is on your collar for the men to know who owns you. You may call me Master. I shall call you tiarna as your short golden hair surrounds your face like a small crown adorning your beauty.”

“Tiarna” she whispered her new name. He smiled then. “Yes, tiarna, my pleasure slave you shall see to all my needs. Tonight you shall serve me with your body. Tomorrow you shall start your training and the learn the ways of my household.”

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