What follows is something written by a friend of mine over on discord. We will hopefully be working on more Gor content on this blog. Anyways here it goes.
The kajirae danced with a flowing sensualism that inhabited both passionate abandon and expert control. The hips slid and glided beneath taught, writhing stomachs. One’s eyes were drawn up the torso to the slave’s naked breasts, bobbing ornaments upon her perspiring chest. A slink of the shoulders would bring your gaze to her arms, which beckoned and pushed and moved through space like breath. A hand would be brought up to push up a sweep of her hair, or across another kajira’s waist. And if a man was bold, or lonely, he could look upon her inscrutable face. Aloof, inviting, completely vulnerable yet on a different plane. Degraded and exalted. A goddess for hourly sale.
Perhaps it was the wine, but there was one girl in particular I could not take my eyes off of. She had neck length curly black hair and reddish brown skin. She wore, like the other slaves, nothing more than a collar, bracelets, a thin, long scarlet silk loincloth and bells on her feet. Her features were striking, with a distinctive bridged nose and long facial lines running from her cheek bones to her jaw. Maybe she had noticed me staring, and wanted to make a sale for her master. I noticed the smallest hint of a smile and she turned her back to me and began winding her body down to the floor, barely looking over her shoulder in my direction.
I stepped closer.
“Have I caught your eye?” she murmured.
My heart was racing. I nodded.
“I had hoped so. Mine were on you since you came into this tent.”
For a moment I almost believed her. There was something so magnetic to her, almost familiar, like I had known her in another life.
“One tarsk to be my master,” she said, tilting her head, body still lightly moving to the music, “for an ahn.”
The desire and shame was too much. “Jesus christ,” I whispered to myself.
She fell out of rhythm for a moment, her eyes suddenly meeting mine in an earnestness she had not shown before.
“Rent me,” she said, in perfect English.
“What are the odds?” I laughed, bringing the paga to my lips. It felt good to be able to speak fluently.
“Insane. Insanity,” Rosa said as I passed the paga to her. We were more relaxed around each other, able to drop whatever roles we were playing. She took a sip.
“To be fair,” she said, “you’re not the only human I’ve talked to here. Actually, one of the other girls at my last tavern was from Earth, but I think she was Chinese or something. But from New York? Brooklyn? I mean god dam.”
“How did you end up here?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” she said casually. “Something like ten years ago I got blackout drunk at a friend’s birthday party. Whoever, took me home… took me here.”
“Damn. Were you scared?”
She gave a sarcastic grin. “Waking up on another planet, naked, in chains, told you were gonna be branded and sold as a ‘pleasure slave?’ Nah, not frightening in the least.”
“Alright, alright,” I blushed, “Are you ok? Can I help you somehow?”
“Not at all,” she smiled, and looked into my eyes, “You’ve been really sweet.”
“Have you thought about home at all?”
“This is home. Gor’s my home. I barely remember Bedstuy,” she sounded almost wistful, and then chuckled. “Except Bedford Ave. Is it still poppin?”
I chuckled. “No, no it isn’t,” I said.
“Hard to believe I remembered it. Dang, Will! You’re bringing all these old memories back.”
“You wouldn’t recognize it,” I tried to picture Rosa walking down the street in tight jeans and headphones, any other pretty girl trying to catch the train.
“Do you like Gor? Do you ever think about home?” she asked playfully.
“I’m going back. Somehow. I need to get home.”
“To that city? I’d rather be a coin girl.” We laughed and drank more paga.
I reclined in the warm, dimly lit tent, on the silk pillows. The hypnotic music of the musicians played in the distance, with the sound of insects, swaying as the paga’s warmth emanated from my stomach to the rest of my slowing body. “This… this is nice,” I looked at her with happiness and ease.
She seemed pleased and began sliding and crawling closer to me on the silk.
“I can make it even nicer,” she brought her face into my neck.
I stopped her.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” I said.
“How would you like me, Master?” she asked, still submissive and sensual.
“No, you don’t need to sleep with me.”
“You paid for it, didn’t you?” another wet kiss.
“But it’s not right. It wouldn’t be consensual.”
She pulled her head back a bit and looked at me with an amused curiousness.
“How long have you been on Gor?” she asked, incredulously.
“Not sure, maybe six months.”
She let a little laugh.
“Then I definitely want to do this,” she said, moving toward me again, “I don’t think I even remember what it’s like to be fucked gently.”
“No, no,” I withdrew again. I gave a nervous excuse. “I have a girlfriend… well, sort of.”
“Ohhh, I see,” she said, leaning back, “Is she back in NY?”
“No,” I said, “she’s here.”
“Hmmm,” she said, slightly concerned. “Where is she now? Hidden somewhere?”
“No… um… she was taken.”
Rosa winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry, baby,” she cooed, stroking my shoulder.
“I’m going to save her, and we’re getting off this planet,” I stared at the ceiling.
“When is she going to be auctioned?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, try to get her out before the she’s branded,” she said carefully.
“Of course but, even if I don’t, I mean,” I felt my stomach tighten, “There’s gonna be more healing than just scars.”
“I meant to say… slavery is different on Gor. It can change people,” she was quiet, “Change women.”
I took many deep, long gulps of paga, trying to block out the thought of what traumas were being inflicted on my friend. I exhaled, and belched, and my gaze hazily went to the kef branded on Rosa’s thigh. Almost instinctually I reached down and ran my hand over the smooth raised scar tissue. She let out a breathy sigh at my touch and stretched her back over over my lap. I began running his hands over Rosa’s body, her stomach and legs and arms. She began writhing slowly, her eyes closed. Her nipples stiffened on her bare breasts that I didn’t dare touch. As long as I kept my hands off them, my drunken thoughts reasoned, and did not push aside that light translucent loincloth, then it was alright.
“I wish I could save you too,” I slurred.
“No, go save your girl, hero. I’m fine here.”
“No. You…” I couldn’t find the words.
“I’m a kajira, and a whore, and a woman. All day I read, and play, and eat, and run. At night I dance and hear tales and make love. My life is beautiful.”
I laid back, my head swimming and heavy. Rosa slid up next to me and wrapped her arm and leg over my body, radiating warmth.
“You could be sold, killed…” I said.
“Death and misfortune happen on Earth, too.”
“But there… we at least control our destinies,” I could barely get it out.
Rosa kissed me on the cheek as my eyelids fell. She whispered into my ear with hot breath and affection.
“Barbarian or Gorean, you free people are naive. You think because you can own others you somehow own yourselves,” Rosa said softly as my mind slid into unconscious slumber, “We slaves know we are leaves in the wind.”
I heard only the music and her whisper.
She said, “It’s funny to us that you, in this universe, believe you have any control at all.”