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 10/21/18-10/27/18

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ebediyetO
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PostSubject: 10/21/18-10/27/18   Sun Oct 21, 2018 9:56 am

10.21.2018
10:26:45


serving blackwine to Jarl Thunderbolt



~ Jarl Thunderbolt enters and sits at the table on the bench ebediyet as she is kneeling wiping the table off...this was her last before going to bed...they say their greetings and he tells her he is having to pull night duty...in a soft tone she asks him if there is anything she could get for him to make his night more pleasurable before she retires for the night...he requests some blackwine sweet and creamy ...she nods places her hand on his left shoulder to stand and repeats his request..."yes Jarl blackwine sweet as girls smile and creamy as her complexion"

~~ebediyet rises gracefully...looking at him with a twinkling glance as her silken blonde hair brushes across his arm...then turns to make her way to the kitchen deposits the cleaning rep in the laundry and washes her hands drying them off then rises on her toes...flexing to reach a certain cup she spies for him...having the picture of a black oared ship in a busy port painted on the sides the white sails seemed to gleam in the firelight...this is the one she smiles gleefully

~~lays a small white tea cloth on the counter...measuring a tef of the precious black wine grounds in the palm of her hand...then places it on the cloth which she ties into a small ball by the corners...dropping this into the cup...she tips a pot of steaming water into the cup...watching as the swirling water draws small dark fingers of the rich brown drink and its aroma into the air on wisps of steam

~~taking the little bag of grounds from the cup....she places it on a tray...with three small spoons...small dishes of white and yellow sugar...and a little pitcher of bosk cream...and makes her way with the tray to Jarl Thunderbolts side...kneels on the bench again on his left side...setting the tray on the table...and takes a spoonful of each sugar...each with its own spoon...dropping it delicately into the rich drink...before adding a dollop of the cream...stirring it with the third spoon...watching it marble into the color of the blackwine

~~ebediyet raises the cup over her head and stretches her arms out...bowing...and speaking softly....“Jarl your blackwine sweet and creamy as you requested...ebediyet hopes you find it refreshing and warming to your senses and keeps you awake for the midnight shift”...he removes the cup from her soft hands....to which she replaces them to her thighs and he takes a big sip then smiles tells her it is just right that the blackwine will do the trick

~~then he dismisses her commanding her to get to bed...harta...she thanks him and wishes him a good evening...then rises taking the tray with the serving supplies to the kitchen as the kitchen wench is doing dishes she places them to the counter on her right gives her a smile and a good night the rushes quickly climbs the stairs to her Jarls chambers...locking the ankle shackle to her right leg then covers up with the small blanket at the right of her Jarl's being quite not to awaken him and drifts to sleep with a broad smile on her face




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The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 10/21/18-10/27/18   Mon Oct 22, 2018 10:11 am

10.22.2018
10:11:21

spiced honey Mead..Tarsh sandwich she serves her Jarl before he leaves on his trip





~~pushing the knees up...enjoying the cool air caress the bare skin while walking to her Jarl...following the line of duty as it were...kneeling upon the bench on his right side with kneels wide open...exposing the heat of His property as He liked....knowing what He will ask for...before even His words were uttered “May your girl serve you before you leave on your trip my Jarl?”

~~he looks upon his property and in a deep note belts out "you may bring Me spiced honey Mead...with a bit of tarsk meat on fresh Sa tarna bread"...even eyes peered at her Jarl...igniting her heat to almost drip with His dominance so near. “yes my Jarl Mead warm with spice and honey...Tarsk on Sa tarna bread” her voice sure...light within the air and he pops her rump as she stands

~~jumps as the pop moved within her...as His property sprang to legs...carrying his girl to the kitchen her mind bathing in the smells as she washes her hands and dries them..to her delight...collecting a tray allowing herself the freedom to wiggle her rounded rump in a dance like movement...enjoying the soft texture of bread held in her hands preparing the slices

~~bobbing her rump back and forth...dancing...and humming a tune...her eyes moving...searching for the plate...grabbing the item for the bread to nestle on...closing her eyes...taking a deep breath... the aroma of tarsk making her mouth water....shaking her head...wild golden wings of locks moving about her face...snapping herself from her aroma induced dream...her Jarl watches her as she serves Him...proud that she has passed yet another hurdle on her way to find her slavery more deeply

~~jumping back...clinking her toes with her steps...placing the tarsk upon the pan to warm...attending to her Jarls horn..her fingers caress the bosk carving upon the side...pouring the warm mead...spice and honey within...tucking the horn between His property’s breast cheekily...taking the plate...his girl returns to His right side

~~nestling herself real close...kneeling so the knees brushes against His leg daringly as they
lowered...with a wink...lifts the horn from between her breasts as the plate was placed down before Him extended arms offered the horn her blue eyes lowered “my Jarl your girl brings to you  Mead warmly spiced and with honey....accompanied by tarsk on sa tarna bread may it satisfy your thirst and hunger needs before you leave...your girl will truly miss you”...she awaits the weight of the her from her hands to His

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PostSubject: Re: 10/21/18-10/27/18   Tue Oct 23, 2018 11:27 am

10.23.2018
10:52:46

the Verr wash





~~s the suns colors painted the early morning skies ebediyet crawls out of her furs....giving a long stretch of her lean body...and rubbing her eyes to clear the sandman’s dust...she yawns with a cute mewl and looks out of the window of her Jarl's Chambers the skies clear and the warmth of the day appeared to be promising and a smile purled on soft pink lips...the last of the night fire in the hearth was nothing more then charcoal and ash...a spindle of smoke taking its last breaths...upon the furs she sat brushing her long light locks and twisting it up in a knot with the use of section of her tattered cloth

~~washing her face with cool water from the fountain...savoring the fresh feeling...tapping the silver rivulets from her features and giving a refreshed breath...and her eyes opened wide her nose crinkles slightly seeing that familiar chipped clay bowl labeled with ~~ebediyet~~ on its side....the lumpy gruel hardly an appetizing venture her tummy flopped with a burp of emptiness and she whimpered briefly.

~~bland wheat hues...clumped and lumped on a spoon…girl oft thought of it as a good hole filler in hovel walls...the slave inhaled deeply closing her eyes imagining something much more appetizing to appear in her bowl when the scent of ka-la-na berries ripe and round caught her attention...she kept her eyes closed and she followed the scent with her nose...letting it wiggle and draw in the air

~~she tripped over the ebony hued fur upon the stone floor...toppling over the edge of the bed to find her face buried in wimpy shaped pillows bleak of vulo feathers...she sputtered and growled as she forced herself up and to her knees....dainty fingers padding with a sensitive touch over the rock bars at the window and then opened her hazy blue orbs to see those plump berries that called for her to partake of them

~~he girl let her hand slip softly between the crisscrossed bar work and to the branches that dipped and rose in the controlling breeze....fingers milked the berries from the leaves and she drew them in to her...until she filled the well she had created in her pillow...a few stray pieces of fruit slipped past her now ruby lips and she sucked upon the succulent fruit until there was no more

~~a shiver ran through her and she placed her berries in a small vase covering it with another shredded piece of silk...knotting it tightly so not to let a single round morsel escape....her gruel was now more exciting to look forward to...dotted with crimson sweetness locked in the ball of each berry she sat at the hearth and lingered at her gruel bowl enjoying each spoonful she took in...filling her belly

~the verr and verr pens shall be cleaned! she heard his voice in her head...stern and assertive...but it did not an *ugh* of disgust she had heard from other Isle bonds...the bonds that were used to market shopping...deliveries arriving at large homes...and dispersed without delaymeat oft wrapped and parceled...eggs washed and cleaned...separated into cups and cartons, sometimes in baskets all ready to be prepared...it was amusing to see those girls...posh...and perfect preen themselves for the Jarls use and turn mossy green at a task that was more manual and functional

~~she opened the door and went downstairs she threw on her old work kirtle thread bear and shaped much like kite ties that curled about my calves in a sensual manner...girl dashed through the door and out into the sunlight eager to get about her days work....this day in particular the shed was not far and the verr pens somewhat farther in the compound of out houses and canvased storage areas...it was not girl’s first time in the area but her curiosity could not be tamed or restrained...she peeked where she could and gazed with amazement when the Free were tangled in their discussions and what appeared to be bargaining...open doors gave her vignettes of the lives of the people of Hunjer Island the she stored them like pictures in a black paper book...in the back of her mind

~~at the gate she paused, one foot upon the weather worn rail and her chin perched lightly on her folded arms on the top rail...first she admired the range...the shape of the land and then the colors of fall like a painting...with pockets of faint grays and arresting splotches of blue and red...she chuckled to herself, spying the small heard appearing around the edge of the barns. "simple...quick... thorough...will be done in no time at all"...she says

~~a dozen more bounded wildly around the barns corner bleating...doubling and tripling as the true amount of the herd presented itself...her finger lifted in an attempt to count heads...but the heads kept moving...she cussed ..she grew dizzy for an ehn or two...setting herself right...she pulled her kirtle tattered edges down over her hips and put on a determined face...the girl climbed the fence with ease and hopped down into the herd...undaunted by the numbers and the pushy attitude they presented

~~as if a swarm of bees...the four legged beasts engulf her...nudging and sniffing...nibbling at the flapping material about her bottom...she squeals and twists...tries to count from within…finding it impossible to do...ebediyet stomps her foot three times and the startles the throng of hairy creatures...now allowing her a bit of breathing room...“Alright now”...she said in a strong dominating voice..."all in a line…neat and tidy”


~~the verr began jockeying for position...curious and rude they parted between rears and poked heads out from under the necks of others trying to get a glimpse of this new animal among them... scratching her head...she could see this was not as simple as it appeared. Bosk seemed so much easier from this side of the fence....in an instant...she had formed a rough plan...one that would take some work...but might just work

The river ran with a strong and steady flow by midday the verr washing production had begun. Free Men in many colored tunics and flashy robes had formed a gallery of onlookers. The foreign tongues mingled with the local dialect and all was washed away by the work being done the girl had taken partitions of fencing used at the market for the holding stalls of kailla and tharlarion...the sheds had been lined with them and she put them to great use....throughout the morning she could be seen pulling and carrying the fence work across the verr grass...dredging deep lines in the ground as she put in motion...her idea

~~content the verr grazed and bleated...hopped and wandered in the pen...some even took a few ehn to watch as this grand construction began to emerge in the short distance....with the sun set high in the midday sky ebediyet had everything set...water pails on leather rope bobbed in the river waters... anchored beneath the water with large rocks...the length of the tether long enough to dip and use and yet not escape with the rivers currant...a soap station was nothing more then a widened set of fencing set like a diamond...a slave chain set to a pole which she had hammered into the soil...a steel latch at the end to hook to the harness of each beast...at the end of the line...was the emptied bosk pen...this she calculated could hold all the clean verr until she had groomed each one and set them to the clean verr pen

~~the Free Men could be heard chuckling ebediyet could see the glint of coin being passed about... betting is what she assumed as she let the first few verr through the gate and into the narrow passage she had created....wiping her brow with the swipe of her arm...she tapped the haunches of each verr lightly to get them down the path ebediyet was getting the hang of this verr thing she thought proudly...oO(Ain’t as bad as thought)...she grins big and sets the beasts through the deeper water of the river...she managed to build a make shift ledge for her to cross as the beasts entered the wash cycle of this great Verr wash she had built

~~the Free clapped and cheered as the first grouping had made it through the gauntlet and into the bosk pen...a larger grouping went second...soon the river carried great clouds of bubbly soap...grey to white it drifted down the water way...ebediyet soon became a cloud herself...brushes and lumps of soft soap...coated the hides of each animal as they passed through...her fingers arose and her locks tousled and knotted....incandescent bubbles popped as they clung to its grey and blackened clan...
she reached beneath the bellys finding them smooth...and soon as the animals came out wet...sheen to each coat she began to let her tension ebb away...enjoying the contact she had with her Jarl's verr...she began to spike their hair along their backs and twist the longer lengths of their tails in curly cues as she completed her work

~~soon pushing and shoving began as the bossy and the bold came down the line...three verr..a gold, a white and a spotted dashed for freedom...men and women both were seen holding their guts...as laughter rose and fell with each tumble...misstep and collision that occurred on the field of capture...ebediyet growled as her breast pulled from a mud pile came free with a suctioning sound...a pop announcing their freedom...her face half saturated with the caked muck...ebediyet hissed at them...hen snarled as the situation raised her ire and sent her on the attack

~~in the distance she very much looked like a black larl rising from the grasses...her shoulders high in her back and a bearing of the teeth...she raced to the left sliding and slipping in the slick wet mud cornering them all...she bent to snatch up a switch when the pop of the knot that held her kirtle in place broke her concentration...just long enough for the bleating bas…verr to escape her control once more...the kirtle dropped exposing her fully and without thought she bent to cover her bits and bobs... a blush racing to her cheeks a flame of embarrassment burnt upon her features...then she paused… straightening

~~taunting came for the growing onlookers...ogling from of the odd looking Jarls and hissing of contempt and disgust filled a girls ears...the sounds reminding there is no shame to be a bond,..naked collared and proud...ebediyets body straightened more...her shoulders rolled back and pushed her muck crested peaks forward...her chin lifted just that bit and her eyes were clear and glinted with pride...swiftly...a switch in both hands...her body caked and her form glistening in sweat she herded the verr back into line and the fence they broke through set sturdily back in place...she walked haughtily across the field to take up her place in the production line of cleanliness...speedily and thoroughly the girl bathed each verr until they sparkled by the time theyentered the large bosk pen

~~her muscles rose...refined under the tawny skin that could be seen under the layer of filth... weariness began to show upon her face as she dragged the last of the fencing the shed...struggling in the shadows the interior of the out building gave her...she paused her brow to her arm...she quietly began to sob...not because every inch of her body was ravaged from over use...not because her belly ached to be filled...not because her lips cracked from being parched...the bond sank into the dusting of straw upon the floor and pulled her knees to her chest...she was tired

~~her sniffles soon faded and the crowd had dissipated as the sun began to hug the landscape and deepen into the horizon...a few bits made or lost and laughter had filled that bit of sky for but a few hours...a small smile cheeped across her lips...as her tongue lapped over the shape...her hands soon busy once more as she took to cleaning the verr pens...pitching the hay and fodder into a wheel barrow toting it to the manure pile and dumping it...a task she was not unfamiliar with...one might say it looked as though she was comfortable if they had been paying attention..it took an ahn or two to make it just right...ebediyet had broken the hay and shaken it free covering the floor of the pen ankle deep the water troughs emptied and washed...she waited til last to refill them...a wooden pail shook like sand filled gourds...pellets of feed layering the bottom of the feed trough

~~the verr bleated and rustled more excited and pranced back and forth between each other like the inside of a busy beehive...they knew well the sound of food in that vessel....much like a bond girl knew the call of her Jarl...ebediyet escorted the clean verr...well groomed and hooves shiny...just as she had down with the bosk....she smiled and grinned to watch the younger verr jump and run with an awkward gait back to the pen. ..she closed the gate and latched it securely...giving it a double check before she turned to walk away...ebediyet looked to the ground and then to the sky in time to catch that last bit of light that lingered in dark blue skies...turning back she grinned as each and every beast donned a wooden bead and a color string that she had braided into their hair near the right ear...on each bead was a number...each different and unique...or she had a feeling that this particular task will not be one she will be set to just once...every animal should know its name

~~"Verr one...verr two...verr three...“...her voice dwindled off as she strolled down the worn cobblestone back to the Hold dark within and chilly....she took to the bathing pools and rid herself of the mud and stench of the Verr...she quickly deposited her soiled kirtle in the laundry and climbed the stairs to her Jarls Chambers locked her ankle

~~since her Jarl was away..the guards shut the door and the key called out the time of her confinement with a solid resounding click...ebediyet flopped upon the black fur that covered the stone floor sprawled almost her light snores soon sailed with a lithe measure and an even tempo into the night as she dreamed of her Jarl

_________________
The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 10/21/18-10/27/18   Wed Oct 24, 2018 4:49 pm

10.24.2018
17:15:15

Love Dance of the Newly
Collared Slave Girl



~~ebediyet wished to dance for her Jarl...she dressed herself in a red silk garment with slave bells on her wrists and ankles to please her Jarl she walks out of his Chambers and poses at the top of the stairs and nods to begin the music

~~the bluish night descends on the peaceful and serene Hold...amber torchlight flickers a hypnotic dance...atop the grand staircase stands the enchanted beauty...crimson fabric hugging feminine curves...mysteriously calm as she looks out into the distance

~~hidden within her heart pounds like the kaska drum beat building nearby...soft melodic chanting commences from ruby lips at the peak of the drums resonate beat...feet carrying her over the steps like soft billowing clouds on a fresh spring day

~~long wispy golden tresses tickling curve of an ample mound as it peeks out from the gossamer fabric...blue eyes gaze to the distant horizon...rhythmic tone having conquered so easily locks her within it grip...an ethereal figure takes shape before her

~~so strong and masculine in stature...his hushed whispers only heard within calling to her...gliding uncontrollably down the steps...soft jingling of wrist and ankle bells accentuating the cherry wave like fluidity of trickling satin over the wooden steps

~~cerulean Gorean moonlight casting delicate hue over the beauty...as the light comes from the windows unseen forces spinning their magic...the very slave heat that drives her...ignited and nurtured into a blazing inferno...fueled by that deep unyielding passion she craves and thirsts for

~~the fulfillment and the freedom that it has given...never to be ignored once tasted...it burns like an inferno within her belly...voluminous crimson silk draped enticingly over creamy flesh....turning from his steely gaze in a brief fleeting moment of denial

~~primal chants drowning out the sound of an impassioned heart and emphatic drums...losing sight of the rugged figure that watches on from his ethereal state...His stern hardened gaze piercing to the core from the back of her head

~~turning on tip toes...right arm extending up towards the heavens...spreading the red fabric like the wing of a bir... Left hand gliding up the smooth flesh of rounded tush...the soft tinkling of the copper coin bracelet harmoniously sweet

~~calm and collected on the outside...barely hiding the chaos and fire running rampant within her soul...building with each beat of the drum soon to explode in a restless fiery explosion of ecstatic joy  

~~the sweet fragrance of the potted desert verminium’s mixing with the smokey scent of the glowing torch...invigorating every inch of her...silken fabric ripped from her ample breasts...freeing them from the confines of the fabric

~~overtaken by her yearning and need...denial and regret no longer having a place in her heart...she dances for Him...Him that binds her in all ways...crimson silks billowing about her lush frame with every profound movement of her desire

~~no longer able to hold it back...turns to face him...sultry desire displayed on soft features of her face...back arching slightly...displaying proudly the iron ring about her neck and pert nipples on her chest...voice sweet and angelic as she sings for him

~~the melody raining over the nightly dew that washes over the wooden steps...poised on tip toes pushing herself closer to the impassioned Gorean moons in desperate need to be closer to him... intoxicating movements yearning to show him all that she is

~~hands begins to unwrap the flowing fabric from her rounded hips freeing her from its grip as they sway back and forth to the beat...anxiousness and excitement flowing through her veins basking in the lust and fulfillment of her slavery

~~deep red fabric whisking about ivory flesh as it brushes so teasingly over lithe frame as though it was his sweet burning caress fueling her flourishing soul...nothing to him hidden or unspoken....nothing held back all bared to him  

~~scarlet cloth waving back and forth over lower body like soothing waves of the thassa sea...rippling over the cool wooden steps...wind  from a near by window brushing a wild caress over flushed cheeks... mind locked on visions of him and the joy he invokes in pounding slave heart

~~ethereal figure reaching out tugging at the silken fabric...hands struggling to pull it back up over lithe body...an unknown force suddenly urging her to resist against him with all her might...low growls radiating from adorned throat

~~falls to knees, draped in the silken cloth as it pools on the ground...leaning back gazing up to his rugged figure...neck proudly on display...surrendering in total submission to him and the strength of his Mastery

~~her light eyes shimmering like droplets of morning dew gaze over him admiring that of his all-encompassing masculine form....breathing quick and rugged as the flames of her impassioned slave heart fills with adoration and devotion for him

~~lowers herself onto rounded tush...head tilted back,...rm lifted in a silent prayer to Odin that she be found worthy enough to remain his...to be able to fulfill her longing heart and wanton desire in serving him and him alone

~~crimson fabric flowing over the floor...silken waves teasing sun kissed flesh on velvet thighs and coltish legs...cupping an ample mound...thoughts of his rough strong hands flashing before caramel orbs a soft whimper mingles with the heated chants

~~rises to hands and knees...head lowered in respect...beginning to descend the wooden steps...heart racing with the realization that he grows nearer and nearer making her blood boil in heated need

~~with each hort of distance closed the struggle to not collapse before him grows....gaze shifting to the ground in a desperate attempt to assert her will in the chaos of her heart and the inferno burning out of control in her belly

~~reaching the base of the stairs head arching back...proudly and lustfully displaying the symbol of her joy and happiness...pleading with her sweet voice to continue to feel his power over her....his firm hand and glorious masculinity

~~too feel his caress on tender sensitive flesh...knees beginning to wobble and arms feeling like rubber....everything crashing over her like the slow heated crawl of molten lava as it devours and consumes the ground beneath it

~~collapsing mere horts from his boots...overwhelmed as despair washes over her...fear of failure to complete the distance...to complete her goal to be within a fingers reach of him...eyes closing as a single tear runs over a silken cheek

~~growling loudly at herself for wanting to give up so easily...reminding herself that nothing easily obtained is never worth having...bunches up the muscles in arms and legs...slithering along the ground upon her belly

~~pulling herself onto her hands...leaning against him...celebrating her inner victory and the relinquishment of winters icy grip and the birth of spring as life begins anew...a soft whisper barely heard upon the wind drifts up to him..."my Jarl ebediyet is yours...find your girl pleasing...find your ebediyet pleasing my Jarl"



Quote :
Love Dance of the Newly
Collared Slave Girl

I turned to the musicians. "Do you know," I asked, "the Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave Girl?"

"Port Kar's?" asked the leader of the musicians.

"Yes" I said.

"Of course," said he.

I had purchased more than marking and collars at the smithy.

"On your feet," boomed Thurnock to Thura, and she leaped frightened to her feet, standing ankle deep in the thick pile rug.

At a gesture from Clitus, Ula, too, leaped to her feet.

I put ankle rings on Midice, and then slave bracelets. And tore from her the bit of silk she wore. She looked at me with terror.

I lifted her to her feet, and stood before her.

"Play," I told the musicians.

The Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave Girl has many variations, in the different cities of Gor, but the common theme is that the girl dances her joy that she will soon lie in the arms of a strong master.

The musicians began to play, and to the clappings and cries of Thurnock and Clitus, Thura and Ula danced before them.

"Dance," said I to Midice.

In terror the dark-haired girl, lithe, tears in her eyes, she so marvelously legged, lifted her wrists.

Now again Midice danced, her ankles in delicious proximity and wrists lifted again together back to back above her head, palms out. But this time her ankles were not as though chained, nor her wrists as though braceleted; rather they were truly chained and braceleted; she wore the linked ankle rings, the three-linked slave bracelets of a Gorean master; and I did not think she would now conclude her dance by spitting upon me and whirling away.

She trembled. "Find me pleasing," she begged.

"Do not afflict her so," said Telima to me.

"Go to the kitchen," said I, "Kettle Slave."

Telima turned and, in the stained tunic of rep-cloth, left the room, as she had been commanded.

The music grew more wild.

"Where now," I demanded of Midice, "is your insolence, your contempt!"

"Be kind!" she cried. "Be kind to Midice!"

The music grew even more wild.

And then Ula, boldly before Clitus, tore from her own body the silk she wore and danced, her arms extended to him.

He leaped to his feet and carried her from the room.

I laughed.

Then Thura, to my amazement, though a rence girl, dancing, revealed herself similarly to the great Thurnock, he only of the peasants, and he, with a great laugh, swept her from her feet and carried her from the room.

"Do I dance for my life?" begged Midice.

I drew the Gorean blade. "Yes," I said, "you do."

And she danced superbly for me, every fiber of her beautiful body straining to please me, her eyes, each instant, pleading. trying to read in mine her fate. At last, when she could dance no more, she fell at my feet, and put her head to my sandals.

"Find me pleasing," she begged. "Find me pleasing, my Master!"

I had had my sport.

Raiders of Gor, pgs. 115-117



_________________
The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 10/21/18-10/27/18   Thu Oct 25, 2018 2:39 pm

10.25.2018
15:30:54



The Captive (a story)

~~while ebediyet awaits her Jarl to return from his works down at the docks she and the other bonds  get ready for the evenings dinner serve bathing primping to make sure they are perfectly alluring for their Jarl and Free men...as she combs nancy's hair ebediyet tells a story...she starts

"The girl curled up on the hard rough cut, stone floor, miserable and terrified. Where was she? Who were these people? Why was she being treated this way?

She was naked.. a heavy black metal band was fastened around her throat, a the-captiveheavy chain ran from it to a wrought iron ring embedded in the floor.

She was in a cell. Stone walls surrounded her on three sides, the end wall with a small inset of wire, with bars at the front of her small space, looking across a hallway to where a table stood with some benches around it.. the flames from the wall sconces flickered and showed the shadows of what seemed to be die strewn over the table.

Suddenly she heard heavy footfalls echo from several directions.. then deep male voices spoke in an alien tongue. The intent of the words seemed clear though, as if they greeted each other.. she tensed as three tall, broad-shouldered and incredibly well muscled men walked into view.. her heart pounded painfully.

Panic flooded her senses as her eyes took in their barbaric leather garb, the long broad swords which hung from scabbards fastened around their hips.. they looked medieval! They were the most threatening looking men she had ever seen, but there was something more about them too. Some kind of allure, like a real animal magnetism. She groaned miserably, confusion spun in her mind as she realised she felt aroused towards to them.

“How can it be?” she asked herself, “its impossible! i don’t know them, they terrify me! “

Suddenly they stopped their conversation, and as one, turned towards her. Mortified she realized she had spoken out loud. She shrunk back against the wall, her back pressed against it as legs bent to bring knees up to her chest, arms wrapped about legs to hug them close to her body, her chin perched on her knees, her eyes watched as they strode to the bars of her cell.

They smiled. Well, more leered. Their lips were curved upwards to show large ivory teeth, their eyes glittered with unconcealed lust. One man coarsely put his hand on his crotch, cupped himself and jerked his hips forward, while he made an obviously coarse comment to his comrades, who burst into raucous laughter. She cringed, his meaning not lost on her, even though she couldn’t understand a word that he said.

The man in the middle, he with long dark hair swept back in a low ponytail with a leather tie, pointed a thick, long index finger towards her.. and then slowly turned his hand so that it faced palm upwards, and crooked his finger, he beckoned her with the universal sign for ‘come here’. She shook her head no. The other man, shouted angrily and clapped his hands together twice, loudly, and pointed to the floor in her cell just before where they stood at the bars. He had short cropped hair, of a light sun bleached blonde colour and a fair complexion smattered with many freckles and the deepest blue piercing eyes. Frightened, she shook her head again. The other man, the one who had cupped his crotch walked away to the side out of view, then returned. In his hand he held a long leather whip.. he uncoiled it.. placed his hand through the bars of the cage, the whip in it, then, with a flick of his wrist the braided leather leapt forward and stretched out to lick painfully on the exposed flesh of her rounded buttock of her outside flank.

She yelled! Tears formed in grey eyes, shock registered on her face as she rubbed the red welt that already rose and burned her tender flesh. He growled and lifted the whip again in threat. Then the black-haired man beckoned her again with his index finger, his lips pressed thinly together. The blondish haired man again pointed to the stone floor of her cell before where they stood.

Miserably, she crawled to them. She shook violently, unable to disguise or calm her terror. She stopped about two feet away from the bars. The man with the whip growled again and flicked it against the stones just near her knees. She jumped and moved closer. Then the dark-haired man beckoned again with his finger. Her tears started to fall as she reluctantly crawled right to the bars, kneeled upwards, so close that her knees touched the iron where it met the floor, her nipples brushed the roughly worked poles of the bars. She drew her knees together, her hands folded over her chest to cover her bare breasts.

Suddenly the blondish man’s hand darted through the bars, grabbed both her wrists and pulled them away from her body. The man with the whip tucked it into his belt, then took some binding fibre from his belt.. he quickly wound it around both her wrists, then she was drawn up to her feet with a squeal of protest as her arms felt like they would be ripped from their sockets. They pulled her arms over her head and then twisted the binding fibre over the rail that ran horizontal to the vertical bars, to secure her as she stood with hands tied above her, her naked body stretched out pressed to the bars, her feet pivoted on tip toe.

“Nooooooo… Noooooo” she cried as their hands suddenly reach for her.. one squeezed her breast and twisted her nipple cruelly. Another forced his hand between her legs to cup her sweet mound, his booted foot reached through the bars to kick her feet apart. The man with the whip now on his belt reach through to land a sharp slap to her buttock, then grab it and squeeze it, then slap it again.

Terror filled her. She gasped for air. What had happened? How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was being awakened in the middle of the night by a noise in her apartment. Thinking it was her cat up to mischief, she’d got out of bed to investigate. Knowing her small apartment so well she had not turned on the lights. As soon as she stepped into her lounge room she saw the shape of a large man outlined by the moonlight which streamed in through the windows. She opened her mouth to scream, then felt a thick wad pressed into her mouth from behind, as another thick cloth with a cloying scent was smothered against her nostrils. She struggled vainly, then blackness overcame her. Only to awake to this current nightmare.

They laughed as they spoke to her. She had no clue what they said. Suddenly she heard another voice. A female one. Soft and despondent in the still dark night. “They want you to show your eagerness to please them as a female sex slave. It will go badly for you if you don’t.” She twisted around in an attempt to follow the direction of the voice. One of the guards turned and yelled down the corridor. The other girl cried out in their rough language in response, then never spoke again. The dark-haired man pulled his hand from between her legs, then slapped her face hard. Then laughed again as he lifted the same hand to his nose and sniffed it, then licked it and murmured appreciatively.

With horror she realized she could smell her sex in the air, and a wetness of her face. She wailed in misery. No! No! How could it be? Surely she couldn’t respond to these brutes? But she was. She felt sick inside as the truth of this knowledge filled her, tears streamed down her face as she begged them over and over. “Please, please.. nooo.. nooo”.

It was obvious from their derisive laughter that they understood the nature of her pleas, but didn’t care. They pointed to her and exclaimed loudly, “kajira, kajira!”

She had no idea what that word meant, she was almost terrified to find out. Then suddenly the blondish brute grabbed her hair, twisted it around his hand, turned her head to face him, and pulled her head to the bars, her face wedged painfully between them, as he stuffed his thick chubby forefinger and middle finger lewdly into her mouth, then held her head still as his fingers pumped in and out between her stretched lips.

The other two men laughed, the dark-haired man then grabbed a breast in each hand to yank her torso to the bars, breasts pulled between them. His knees bent as his right hand held her breast upwards to his lips as his teeth closed around her nipple and clamped it hard, then his lips sealed to her flesh as he sucked it into his mouth in feverish delight. She squealed as the blood ran to the surface of her delicate flesh, as he marked her. His left hand squeezed and pumped cruelly at her other breast; he milked her as if she was some form of animal.

She sobbed in misery, then seeing a movement from the third man, her eyes darted towards him, she shrieked.. then kicked and struggled with all her might to get free. The other two men paused to laugh, then slapped her face, her breasts, they started again, her protests ignored as they held her even tighter.

The man with the whip laughed, he went to an unlit sconce on the wall.. and lifted the cover, to dip and coat the leather covered wooden handle of his whip with the tharlarion oil that the lamp contained. Then settled the cover again and walked back to her.. the whip’s tail coiled around his wrist, his hand held the handle where it met the sinuous length. The dark haired man sucked noisily on her nipple, then bit it hard as he kicked her legs wide again. The blonde man shook her head roughly in his grasp, the action bashed her cheek bones against the two metal bars wedged harshly on either side of her face. Both of them made menacing warning sounds. The third man put his left hand between her legs.. his fingers pushed between her folds to force them open, then ruthlessly put the end of the handle to her slit and pressed it upwards slowly. She groaned in misery and pain. Humiliation caused the blood to rise to her cheeks and turned them a hot red crimson. Her body held well by strong unrelenting men, who would not show her any mercy. Her mind spiralled. How could this happen to her?

Then her eyes flared wide as a surge of pain broke her reverie, the whip handle forced deep inside her body’s cavity as it slowly moved in and out. The leather rubbed her soft tender flesh raw as it grazed her inner walls ruthlessly, the oil of the tharlarion stung abused flesh, and barely helped lubricate the whip. Then, the worst horror of all. The betrayal of her own body.

Her eyes blinked, it seemed they had tormented her for hours, but she knew it was only about twenty minutes, then slowly she noticed a subtle change come over her. Her sounds changed. Instead of the groans of pain, she recognized the moans of lust. Instead of her body being sucked cruelly to the oiled leather whip handle, the whip handle plunged smoothly in and out of her slave oiled sex. Her pelvis thrust and gyrated to meet the tempo of the man who wielded the whip. Her lips squeezed tighter around the fingers of the blondish brute. She sobbed softly as her spine curved to press her breasts harder against the dark-haired man’s mouth and hand.

“slut!! slut!!! “ her mind cried. She couldn’t help herself, her body started to rock with erotic frenzy, her feet lifted to stand on the base horizontal bar of the cell which raised her higher so that she could lever herself more and thrust harder and faster. She was mortified, but she couldn’t stop. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her mind. Something had let loose all the torrid dreams, the shameful fantasies locked in the deep, dark recesses of her mind. She could no longer pretend or hide her most sinful desires. She squirmed and writhed, a helpless female in the hands of three strong, relentless men.

She wanted to please them!! She could feel a promise of ecstasy and she wanted to taste it, to devour it fully, and to be devoured by it. Suddenly, she jerked.. then let out a cry of mingled surprise, shame and need… her body twitched in spasm against the bars, her sex rammed itself deeply onto the whip handle.. her mouth sucked hard at the fingers within it.. her nipple tingled and breast swelled within the warm wet mouth which suckled it so ferociously.

The men suddenly stopped. They pulled themselves away from her as they stepped back from the bars, the whip handle now tucked back into the man’s belt; her juices dripped from it down the leather of his breeches. They laughed, in avid delight as they witnessed her body dance its submission convulsively before them. Her juices ran down her legs to spill to the rough cut stones.. large breasts jiggled, round ass wobbled, her body turned left then right against the bars as she spun from well-bound wrists.

Then as she slowly stilled.. she looked to them in horror.. a sob of humiliation torn from her throat as she saw that they had just stepped back and watched her as she had yielded helplessly before them, they slapped each other on the back as if in congratulations.. then repeated again that curious word.

“kajira! kajira!”

Their laughter echoed off the hard cold walls as they left her there in torment, and returned to their game of dice."


~~ending her story she ties a light blue ribbon to the ends of the braids that adorn nancy's raven hair rising from her knees ebediyet looks in the mirror making sure she looks presentable for her Jarl...puts some plumb lip balm on her lips that bring a shine to them...she prims her hair with the palm of her hand then quickly hartas to the kitchen to get her Jarl dinner

_________________
The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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PostSubject: Re: 10/21/18-10/27/18   Fri Oct 26, 2018 2:20 pm

10.26.2018
14:44:27

hauling water to the bath house





~~grabbing the empty pails...ebediyet hums as she makes her way to the river...stepping in the water knee deep and filling the pails with fresh water....she turns and heads to the bath house...humming lightly...until the weight of the pails and the steepness of the hill begins to make it difficult to take a proper breath

~~as she struggles to take a proper breath she feels the muscles in her arms begin to burn and beads of sweat start to form on her forehead....putting her head down and willing her body to keep going... she begins to feel the handles of the pail dig into her fingers....pushing her legs to make it up to the bath house she breaths a deep breath as she reaches the platform outside the door of the Free women’s bathhouse

~Moving to set one pail down she opens the door with her free hand and carries the full pail into the bath house before returning to grab the other and bring it in as well...breathing deep, wiping the sweat from her brow and stretching her back she prepares herself for the next trip


~~deciding that it might be easier to make two trips instead of one she enters the Free men’s bathhouse and finds an empty pail there....making her way back down the hill she enters the river as before, filling the pail...and then turning to return up the hill with the pail in one hand

~~less than half way up the weight of the pail begins to cause an ache in her arms...she tries switching arms and makes it a bit further before that arm also begins to ache...moving the pail to her front...she grabs the handle with both hands and trudges up the hill

~~the bump of her thighs against the pail causes some of the water to spill out of the sides...she makes it to the flat surface and breathes a sigh of relief at being off the hill....entering the Free man’s bathhouse...she sets the full pail down and sighs deeply again as the grabs the empty one and prepares for her final trip

~~heading down the hill and letting the pail swing in her hand...as she is too tired to carry it properly...ebediyet enters the water again enjoying the cool refreshing feel of the water and wished that the pails felt as weightless in her arms as her body feels in the water

~~Filling the pail she leaves out the water and makes her trip back up the hill....holding the handle of the pail in two hands...allowing the body of the pail to rest against her stomach...and taking her time to make it up the hill

~~pausing on occasion to catch her breath and rest her weary arms and legs...making it back to the door of the Men’s bath house...she enters...places the pail on the floor...and leaves the now full pails there ready for use

~~she hartas to the river one last time sheads her clothes as she hits the bank..then welcome the cool water on her frame...she wades around the water for a good bit then floats relaxing her arms and legs for the heavy trot up the hill to the bath house did a number on them

~~after some time she exits the water and sundries the dress in her kirtle and boots...heds back to the Hold to prepare dinner for her Jarl and the rest...picking a few fall flowers on her way...enter the Hold through the kitchen door plucks up a vase and arranges the flowers in then washes her hands
take the flowers and puts them on her Jarls table to be seen upon his arrival for dinner

_________________
The female slave, sometimes considered nothing, supposedly, is yet in actuality, valued commonly more highly than even gold, which in turn, is often valued for its capacity to buy such women, to bring them into chains."
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