A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 08

I heard his voice from behind me.

"I might bring a box next time," he said, "So I can reach your ass."

I sobbed and moaned.

"You will stay facing the wall," he said, "so we don't have to see your lying, thieving face Understand?."

I put my forehead against the wall, and whimpered once.

I felt another hiss of the switch.

"Yes, what?" he said.

I did not know what to do. I did not know how to say "Yes, Master" in gag speech. I whimpered three times. This seemed to placate him - at any rate he did not hit me again.

"Better," he said, "You seem to have some understanding at least of how a slave should behave. It is a shame that you are also a lying, thieving, slut. You might have made a decent coin girl, with the right Master and training. Ah well, too late for you now."

I heard nothing further, and remained facing the wall. I could no longer see what was going on in the street, my view limited to the cement plaster of the surface.

I wondered how long I might be hung there.

Occasionally someone would administer a slash or two of the switch to me, but in general I was left alone, ignored. There was nothing for me to do but listen carefully, in case I heard the switch being taken up, or muse upon my likely fate.

I wondered why Tupp had been so cross with me. Surely he had, in some ways, me to thank for his manumission. After all, had it not been for Thurnus' actions, on response to me losing his bet for him, Lady Draca would not have freed the dwarf and replaced him with a mercenary guard. I wondered, however, what other employment might be available to such as Tupp in this harsh society. I doubted whether there were provision for those out of work, benefits provided by the state or such, and yet, how wonderful it must be, to be, like Tupp, free.

For a slave, such as myself, Tupp's attitude to freedom seemed curmudgeonly at best.

The light was now slipping away. A shadow gradually crept up the wall. It grew colder, as I dangled from the chains. The streets sounded quieter.

Eventually, I heard the movement of someone behind me, and someone undoing the locks on my manacles.

It was a guard from the Praetor's house.

I sagged to the floor, and he scooped me up into his arms.

I doubted whether I could walk after the depredations of the day.

He carried me inside and placed me upon a table. The gag was removed from me.

"Th-thank you, Master," I tried to say, but the pain in my jaw was such that all that emanated from me was an incoherent mumble.

He did not seem intent on punishing me, but removed the manacles from my wrists and ankles.

"Your trial has been set for tomorrow morning, little thief," he said, not unkindly, "As you will no doubt be found guilty this is likely your last night. It should be an exciting one for a little slut like you, at least," he said.

I regarded him, quizically, as he scooped me up once more and carried me down some stairs.

"Where...where are you taking me, Master?" I managed to say, each syllable still sending a wrenching pain into my jaw.

"To the slave cell, of course, little thief, where else would we put you for the night?" he said.

I gasped, relieved. It would be unpleasant, no doubt, to be locked up, but it was a relief after the rigours of being on public display.

"Here we are," said the guard.

We had arrived at a place in the stone floor of the cellar where there was a grating in the floor. It was about ten feet by ten feet. From the grating emanated a smell, that of men, combined with the salty tang of the sea. The smell was familiar to me.

I heard grunts and cries, as of men, sexual noises.The guard put me down, at the edge of the grating, and, still holding my arm with one hand, went to some keys at his belt.

Worried I asked "Where are you going to put me, Master?"

"In the slave cell, of course," he replied, "Where else would a slave be put?"

The cell was crammed with men, all looking up through the grating. They leered at me, I tried to look away, and desperately turned to the guard.

"But it is already occupied," I said fearfully, "Is there not a private cell?"

He laughed, "Slaves don't get private cells," he said, "We put all of you in together, though it will be quite a crush tonight, the cell is only made for six, and you will make thirty-one! Still, it should ensure that your last night is memorable, not that you'll have long to remember it!"

He began to undo the grating. The men were about three feet below it. As one they were looking up at me. Some were licking their lips. Others made sexual noises.

"No," I wept, in English, "No!"

I tried to break away from him, but his grip on my arm was secure.

His other hand gripped my other arm, and he propelled me forcefully towards the grating.

"Come little thief," he said, "You were a tavern slut, I believe, so this should be meat and drink for you. These poor men will not have had a woman for months, and it is their owner's fault they are in here, not theirs, so they deserve a bit of a treat."

I felt nothing beneath my feet, and his hands left my arms.

I dropped into the cell, and was immediately clutched, then engulfed in the sea of galley slaves. I tried to scream, but my voice was swiftly stifled as something entered my mouth.

Hands were all over my body, groping my bare flesh.

I heard the clang of the grating closing above my head.

"There, lads," I heard the guard say, "Enjoy!"

There was a ragged roar of appreciation from my new cellmates as they scrapped and pulled at one another, each striving to be the first to enter one of my holes.