A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 08

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A girl is placed on public display.
4.6k words
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Part 8 of the 9 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 08/02/2014
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Mischiana
Mischiana
185 Followers

I dangled from the manacles, my toes touching the cement floor. My arms, stretched above me in chains, ached terribly.

The sun was hot on my nude body.

There were welts on my legs.

A board, with marks on the front that I presumed to be writing, was at my belly, attached to a length of coarse twine that went about my collared neck.

I watched the comings and goings in the street.

I wondered what was to become of me.

Following my arrest in the Pens of the Slavehouse of Thurnus, I had been conducted along the streets of the city.

I had been once more gagged and hooded, my hands cuffed behind me, pulled along by a leash attached to my collar. The distance that we had traversed had been considerably further than that between the slave house and the Juicy Pudding tavern.

I had been in the custody of Marellus, of the Office of the Praetor, and two other armed guards. The pace that they had demanded of me had been punishing.

It had been all that I could do to stumble along behind them, leashed, braceleted, and hooded as I was. Once, I had lost my footing, and sprawled in the mud. I had felt a sharp point, such as that of a sword, painful against my bare skin.

"To your feet, thieving slavegirl, quickly," had hissed a male voice. I had scrambled to my feet swiftly, and resumed my progress.

Once I had heard the hiss of a switch, and then a bite of pain on my ass.

"Faster, pilfering slut," had commanded a voice; the same, I thought, as he who had previously commanded me to my feet.

Evidently he had considered my pace insufficient, and had seen fit to punish me, as he might a beast. Thus exhorted to greater speed, I had tried to move faster through the muddy thoroughfare.

I had heard shouts, and the calls of vendors. It would seem that we were near a market.

"Nice ass," said a voice, "Is she for sale?"

I had felt a touch, uninvited, on my body. I shuddered, helplessly.

"She is a thief," came the gruff reply, "We are taking her into custody."

"She is hot though," pointed out the other, "See her squirm."

I had felt the touch increase in its degree of intimacy. I had whimpered softly, into my gag. I felt a jerk on my leash, as I was pulled along.

"She was a tavern slut, and stole from her Mistress," said the gruff voice.

I had almost slipped, but narrowly retained my footing. The hand left my body. I had felt a slap, hard, on my bottom. I gasped incoherently into my gag, hurt.

"Then be sure to teach the worthless little bitch a lesson!" had said the voice.

"Don't worry," had come the reply, "We will. Come, hot little crook."

I had felt a tug on my leash and scurried to prevent it becoming taut.

There had been few other altercations as we had made our way through the city. Evidently the sight of a nude girl being bundled along by three armed guards was not one to particularly provoke audible comment, although I was unable to ascertain whether there had been any visual appraisal of my peregrination.

Eventually, my bare feet had felt hard flooring beneath them, and the hood was removed from me. I had found myself standing before a desk, where a bored-looking, seated man read from a scroll.

"You are the slave named Suckslut?" had asked the seated man, dispassionately.

I nodded my head. I was still gagged.

"Answer audibly, slut," he commanded, "You are familiar with gag speech?"

I recalled my training. One whimper for yes, two whimpers for no. I whimpered once.

"Good," he replied. "You are the slut named Suckslut, initially registered at the House of Thurnus, as Beast 13, a pierced-ear, barbarian, red-silk?"

I had whimpered, once. I had been terribly frightened. How long ago it seemed that I had been named as simply Beast 13. Since then, of course, I had also been named Flower, Sleenmeat, and currently Suckslut, but it would seem that only my original 'Pen name' and my current name were of legal significance.

Obviously, Amanda Felicity Charrington, my former name on my original planet was of no relevance now.

"You are accused of theft from the Lady Draca, proprietor of the Juicy Pudding tavern. How do you plead? One whimper for guilty, two for not guilty."

I felt tears prick my eyes.

I could barely register the consequences attendant upon this stark choice.

I had heard it said at the slave house that the statutory penalty for a slave for theft was death.

I must surely fight such a sentence. And yet, also, of course, I had, in actuality, taken the slice of animal cake, intended to supplement the feed of Heracles.

Thus I was, nominally at least, guilty, and had, additionally, admitted this guilt, in my admission to Lady Draca, my mistress.

Tupp, her slave, and Thurnus, who had apparently been listening in an adjacent chamber, were also witnesses of my statement of culpability.

Yet, surely, this was a paltry infraction to justify capital punishment? There had, after all, been several mitigating circumstances.

I had been desperately hungry, and had been left alone with the sustenance. What is more, the situation had been engineered by Lady Draca, my Mistress, with the express purpose of luring me into taking the food, thus setting up her bet with Thurnus, as to whether I would admit to being a slut, or a thief.

Yet I was not being afforded any opportunity to point out these extenuations. I was simply being presented with the choice of pleading guilty, or not guilty.

And if I was to plead guilty, I was apparently to be put to death!

I whimpered twice.

"Well, well," said the man, "Not guilty, hmm? So we will need to go to the trouble of having a trial of your pretty ass. So be it, and until then, you will be put on public display. That body is too gorgeous to be locked away in the slave-cell during the day."

Thus it was that I found myself hanging by my arms. stretched, toes barely touching the cement, hot, on public display before any that might pass by the street outside the Praetor's Office.

My wrists were contained within manacles, attached to a chain that was in turn attached to a hook above me. My feet were also secured by manacles, and an additional chain, about a foot long, that passed through a ring on the cement flooring of the platform upon which I was, to all intents and purposes, being exhibited.

There was a stick tied to a post adjacent to me, and this, I had discovered to my dismay, functioned to allow any that might so desire to physically admonish me.

Several had taken that opportunity, stinging my legs, and leaving welts.

I was still gagged.

A man came to stand before me. He regarded the board which depended from my neck. He looked me up and down, slowly, taking his time. I blushed, under such candid appraisal.

"So, my pretty," he said, "You are a thief and a liar. Do you know the penalty for naughty little slavegirls that lie and steal?"

I whimpered plaintively. He grinned.

"You will have to hope then that you are acquitted," he said, and laughed, lightly.

I looked at him, helplessly. I felt his right hand on my left thigh. It moved higher.

I squirmed, hanging from the ropes.

His hand began to move between my legs.

I bucked in the ropes.

"Steady, little slut," he said, but did not desist in his intimate palpations.

I moaned into the gag, feeling drool run down my chin, and a trickle of moisture upon my thigh.

"My, you are a hot one," he said. "What a waste of sweet slave-flesh"

I closed my eyes and pressed my legs together tightly, moaning softly. I could feel drool drip onto my breasts, and fluid seep onto my inner thigh.

"Turn about," he demanded, peremptorily.

With difficulty, on tiptoes, I turned myself so that I was facing away from him, my face to the wall of the Praetor's building.

Swish! Crack!

I squealed as I felt a lash of pain across my bare ass.

He must have taken the switch that hung beside me, and spanked me, once, hard, on my bottom.

"Turn back," he commanded.

I did so, tears now mingling with the drool, dripping down from my face. The punishment had been short, and, I suppose, insignificant, but nonetheless, my bottom stung terribly, and I could not, of course, rub it to assuage the spreading pain.

He had also aroused me, and evidence of this arousal was upon my inner thigh. Now he simply moved off along the street.

I watched him go, miserably. How my bottom stung.

I was surprised by a sudden flurry of movement, as several guards emerged from the Praetor's office and ran past me, down towards the docks. Their demeanour suggested a matter of some urgency.

I looked to see them go. How handsome they were, all of them muscular and well-built, in their short tunics. They carried links of chain, heavy, and wound about.

I whimpered and moaned softly into my gag, watching them go. I wondered what it should be like, to serve such as they in the alcoves of a tavern.

Then I gasped.

From the direction that the guards had ran I could see Tuka.

She knelt as they went past her, striking a provocative pose, knees wide, her palms upwards on her thighs. They ignored her and she got to her feet, looked after them, and once they were out of sight resumed her progress up the hill, coming towards me.

She was dressed in her tiny yellow tavern garment, far too short for her, with black writing on it. I knew that the writing, roughly translated to 'One serving of Juicy Pudding'.

How scandalous to walk along a public street, wearing so little, and proclaiming such a message. However, Tuka seemed little concerned. Her gait was graceful and lissome as she moved, swaying her shapely hips.

She stood before me.

"Greetings, Suckslut," she said, affably.

Gagged as I was, I could not reply.

"Whimper twice to signify 'Greetings, Mistress'", she said.

I whimpered twice. She smiled.

"You are the talk of the tavern, " she said, "Lady Draca is furious with you, and Tela is saying that you are to be killed. You barbarians are always trouble."

She imparted this information without rancour or drama. It seemed as if she regarded it as of little import that some were saying that I was to be killed.

I looked at her, frightened.

"Lady Draca has freed Tupp, and employed a mercenary guard, called, Epictetus. He is dreamy," she said.

I could see her face suffuse with pleasure at the very thought of this guard called Epictetus.

"But Tela has warned me off him," she pouted, "She says that he will not want a blonde, and says that if she sees me anywhere near him she will scratch out my northern blue eyes."

She looked at me further, as if recalling that she was still talking to me, rather than about Epictetus.

"I hope you will be alright, Suckslut," she went on, "Do you know what it says on the board round your neck?"

I shook my head.

She looked at me, not particularly pleasantly.

"Indicate your answer audibly," she said.

I whimpered, twice.

She smiled, ingratiatingly, "Would you like to know what it says?" she asked.

I whimpered, once. I was, of course, desperate to learn what it said.

"Do you recall when I was kind enough to tell you what it said on your garment?" she asked me.

I whimpered, once.

"And yet you had already asked Lady Draca, and she had not told you?"

I put my head down. I recalled that Tuka had been cross, when she had realised that I had used her to obtain information that Lady Draca had not wished to impart to me.

"Well?" questioned Tuka.

I whimpered, softly, once.

"Good," went on Tuka, "So you can understand then, why I will not tell you."

I whimpered once, miserably. I had hardly recalled the encounter, but it was evident now that Tuka still recalled it, and keenly.

I looked at her imploringly. I could see that despite her affirmation to the contrary, she was dying to impart the information.

I moaned, beseechingly into my gag.

Tuka looked at me, and smiled kindly. I could sense that, unlike Tela, she found it hard to maintain a harsh demeanour for very long.

"I will tell you," she said, "So long as you promise me that no free have forbidden it. Agreed?"

I whimpered, softly, once.

"So," she said, "Have the Free forbidden this?"

I whimpered twice. This was true as far as I knew.

"Very well," she said, "It says 'I am a Liar and a Thief. Punish me.' Did you plead 'Not Guilty'?"

I whimpered once.

"I see," she said, "That is why then. That was rather foolish, even for a barbarian. Now you are also a liar, because you have gone against the word of a free person."

I felt miserable. It would seem that, essentially, my guilt had already been determined, and now, additionally, for having the temerity to deny that I was a thief, I had been further demarcated a liar.

I was now, therefore, a liar, a thief, and a slut, although apparently arraigned only on the first two descriptions.

"I wish you well, Suckslut," said Tuka, "But you are in rather a pickle."

She moved away, and I watched her go, realising that I was, indeed, in rather a pickle.

Another man came and stood before me. He seemed vaguely familiar.

"There you are," he said, smiling broadly, "I thought that they might decide to put you on public display."

I looked at him dumbly. I was not sure who he was.

"Do you not recall me?" he asked.

I whimpered twice.

He grinned. "Well, I suppose it must be hard to keep track of us all," he said, as if amused, "I was one of those you sucked off around the dance pit at the Juicy Pudding last night. You were like a thing possessed. I even put an offer on you with Thurnus."

I wondered whether this was the tavern-keeper that Thurnus had said had convinced him to negate the bet with Lady Draca, and take me back to the slave house.

"A shame. I'd have paid a decent price to have a hot little barbarian suckslut like you serving in my tavern. Although they say you are useless in the alcoves, despite those pretty pierced ears. Ah well, looks like it won't happen now. My patrons wouldn't want a lying thief serving them. Luckily, they say that sleen are less discriminating."

He laughed a little, as if at his own joke, and then moved away, shaking his head. I was thankful that he had not chosen to punish me with the switch provided for the purpose.

I pulled weakly at the manacles, trying to get my arms into as comfortable position as possible. The muscular pain in my arms and legs as I hung in the awkward, stretching, position, contrasted with the suffusing, stinging pain of my bottom from my various switchings.

I wondered what time it might be. The shadows seemed to be growing longer. It must at least be afternoon. I recalled that the the guard had said that I should be displayed during the day. I wondered whether I should also be displayed here at night.

There was a hub-bub once more, and I could see the guards now coming up the hill from the docks.

This time there were many others with them. I could see passers-by turning to watch. As they neared I could see that the first two guards were pulling a chain. On this chain were attached manacles at intervals of about a yard, and at each manacle was secured a man. They did not seem to be resisting greatly. They were dressed in the flimsiest of rags.

Some were, to all intents and purposes, naked. They were dishevelled, with beards and long hair, in most cases, blond. People in the street were jeering at them. I saw that there were about thirty of them. At the end of the chain were other guards. One or two more were marching beside them. The chain itself was a coffle, used for transporting slaves.

The coffle came past me and disappeared into the Praetor's Office. I could smell them as they went past. There was a strong salt tang of the sea about them. Many of them regarded me, leeringly, as they went past. One made an obscene gesture with his tongue. There were grunts and cries, and sexual noises.

As a slavegirl in a large city, one gets used to, and accepts, such leers, gestures, and sounds from men that one encounters.

Particularly, I suppose, when one is nude, hanging from a chain, on public display, as was I.

I wondered who the men were, and why they had been taken into custody. I was thankful, at least, that they were under the firm control of guards, and on a chain.

I felt a sharp pain on my right shin. I whelped and looked to see who had delivered it. For the first instant it seemed that no-one was there, but then I looked down, to see the face of Tupp, my former Lord, Overseer, and Master looking up at me, annoyed.

"Interested in your fellow barbarians, are you, slut?"

I did not know how to reply, so answered only with a plaintive moan into my gag.

He seemed little placated by this, but before he could answer another man arrived, and in a rather unnecessary way I thought, ruffled the hair of the tiny man and said "Ho, Tupp! Congratulations on your freedom"

The dwarf seemed to gain little satisfaction from the greeting, "Ho, Polybius," he replied rather shortly.

"Hmm," said Polybius, "You don't seem very happy about it, you miserable ruffian. We will miss your cheery face around the Juicy Pudding!"

"Yes," said Tupp, "I dare say. Do you know any other posts going? It is all very well being free, but it would be better to be a slave with regular employment, I think."

"You are never thankful for anything," said Polybius, "Should you not be grateful for your freedom? And here you are skulking about the Praetor's Office. I don't think you have the build to be a Guard, at any rate."

"No," said Tupp, "I had a good post at Draca's, and she treated me well enough. Now she has employed some great buffoon of a guard, and I have to make my own way."

"Well, you'll find something. Be thankful you are not like those poor wretches they just brought in."

"Who were they?" grumbled Tupp.

"They are the galley slaves of the ship "North Wind"," he said, "Barbarians from the north, most of them, I think. Maximus, the ship's owner, has not paid his taxes, and they have been taken into custody until he does so. Bit tough on them, but I dare say it is no worse to be in jail than rowing a ship under the lash. Perhaps you could see Maximus about a rowing job."

Polybius laughed at his own joke, but Tupp did not seem amused.

"You are a barrel maker are you not?" he asked, "Do you not have a job for a willing worker?"

Polybius laughed. "Much as I would love to see your cheery face every day, my little friend," he said, "I do not think you would make much of a barrel maker."

Tupp scowled.

"I wish you well, Tupp," he said, as he went on his way, "and congratulations once more on your freedom!"

Tupp looked up at me, angrily.

"It is your fault that I am now without employment, slut," he said, "All you barbarians are bad news. Turn about."

On my toes I turned, facing the wall of the court building.

I heard a swish through the air, then a lash of pain on the back of my leg. I moaned into my gag.

Swish! Crack!

Another line of pain, on my other leg.

Swish! Crack!

Once more, on the first leg that Tupp had hit.

Swish! Crack!

For the next while, the malevolent, misshapen dwarf contented himself with my punishment.

Sometimes he would hit me fiercely several times in a row; at other times he would pause, and I might begin to hope that he had let me be and moved on, when another swish through the air followed by an explosion of sharp pain, would inform me otherwise.

His area of attack was from halfway up my thighs, which was, I suppose, as high as he could easily reach, down my legs, and included also the soles of my bare feet.

After a while I was sobbing uncontrollably, and moaning in agony, my legs and feet one blur of pain, close to passing out.

After what seemed an age, the dwarf seemed to tire of his cruel amusement.

Mischiana
Mischiana
185 Followers
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