The Captured Slave

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Earth girl is presented to a Jarl on Gor.
1.3k words
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simply_cyn
simply_cyn
224 Followers

She seems to become someone different in the movement of creamy flesh, distinct transformation from wanton kajira to wild barbarian. There is defiance trilling through her proud form with an insolent shake of crimson ribbons that cascade down the sweet curves of heated flesh. She can feel her slave heart start to quicken, watching as six free men move to stand, long leather thongs dangle from their strong hands. Each pair of unmoving eyes seem to devour her delicious flesh, stalking footfalls echo against the hard floor before reaching out quickly to capture the untamed beast in the girl before them. She screams her fury as beautiful form twists and turns in their grasps, the flare of burnt copper strands teasing down over her ripened hips. An angry flush creeps across her delicate cheeks as she wrenches away from them. "Don't touch me! I am not a slave!!" she screams defiantly.

But then she cries out in shock and outrage as her earthen blouse is roughly torn from her body, lashing out in fury at the men that hold her. Their hands boldly move over velvet skin, stripping her trembling form of every thread that covers luscious curves. "I hate you! Let me GO!" reverberates through the small Inn where she has been brought. She can feel their hands grasp at her body and rebellion flares in the depths of stormy blue eyes, growling angrily as they bind dainty wrists and ankles, her slender neck and narrowed waist with the thongs. As the slack drapes downward, she stabs each man with a heated glare of hate, writhing against their hold upon her even as fresh silver-laden tears spill downward to stain her flushed cheeks. Her cries are answered with rolling laughter; mocking her despair as one by one they test the thongs. A sudden jerk of the leather bites into tender flesh, pulling her trembling limbs in each direction as if she were an exquisite marionette helpless in their control. Her voice is heard throughout the filled Inn, sobbing uncontrollably, as she pleads, "Please ... don't ..."

The captured Earth girl gasps as the rumbling command suddenly pierces her soul ... "DANCE SLUT!" and a rugged Warrior tugs harshly on the thong secured to a dainty wrist. Her unwilling hand is coaxed upward as her ankles begin to turn, invoking the stretch of creamy flesh. A flush creeps upwards as reflexively hardened tawny nipples seem to invite the sweet caress of a pair of lips. She is surrounded ... trapped by their bonds, their gazes stern and unyielding as her succulent hips begin to gyrate in insolent undulation before them. It as if she is floating above, watching in horror as the girl below flexes a ripple of taut muscle beneath the soft yielding flesh of trembling belly. Her lean supple thighs stretch as the music of the cezhar wails softly in the background of her torment

Slender bound wrists cross reflexively above her swaying form, sinuous nude flesh exposed for their appraisal as her head slowly rolls, auburn mane tumbling downward in fire-tinted swirls against her creamy bared flesh. A tug of one thong upon her captured form arches lean muscled back. She gasps as a sudden savage jerk of the thongs bring the dancing girl to tender knees, tiny waist drug back onto the cool floor as her thighs slither blatantly open to display the dewy lips of her exposed sex that bloom moistly blush. Beautiful, wild tresses of crimson hair seem to fan about her exposed form in a pool of molten lava. She cannot help but blush as the betrayal of her own hands tease down trembling form, the thongs directing her every caress, wrists bound tightly even as her own wanton fingertips travel over aching breasts, pinching turgid nipples as the flutes echo lustful cries erupted from parted berry lips. A long tear slips down her flushed cheek as hips thrust upward in succulent offering, unable to control the movements of her body beneath the tutelage of the thongs held within their hands.

The bound girl whimpers even as her hands continue on their journey over the sensuous plane of undulating belly, guided by the pull of the thongs. Slender fingers cannot help but splay over her shaven mound, causing trembling thighs to spread reflexively wide and to her horror, searching fingertips find the swollen bud to tease and stroke as the kalika strings moan the depth of her unspoken need. Both her movements and the pulsing stare of their gazes drive a primitive growl from her captured throat and she swivels her pelvis against upturned heels. She is out of control as her fingers flow over molten folds like melting honey to spread glistening petals, exposing her tingling hungry flesh, aching for what she can not fathom, the beast within begging on a husky whisper, "Please."

She cannot withhold whimpers of frustration that erupt as the tightened thongs keep her roaming fingers from the beckoning call of that decadent hole. Her flesh trembles helplessly as dainty wrists are yanked away from her weeping slit, slender arms pulled over her tossing head as she writhes before them. She is encircled by them as both fear and lust courses through awakened veins. They tug the startled girl to shaky feet, the thongs held fast in their strong unrelenting hands as she careens towards one only to be pulled toward another. Her auburn mane flares outward ferociously with the jerking commands of her luscious body to their desire. But unknown to her, only one would consume and command the barbarian beast she is this night. Her wide fearful eyes meet his as exquisite limbs entwine in the leathers, yanking her from one Warrior to the next, her blazing eyes willing him to take her, to make her his.

The barbarian girl pales as blue eyes watch him drop his leather thong, its end falling limply onto the unforgiving floor as he eases back into his place with the curve of an insolent smile. Suddenly an unknown terror rushes through the belly of the discovered slave, her voice pleading as he is removed from her grasp, "Please Master! PLEASE! I am your kajira!" She can sense the men moving closer but her focus remains on him, oblivious to the raw exposed hunger in the surrounding men's eyes that move over her heated skin in a deliberate rape of delicious flesh. She panics, each turn sending her trembling form into a wall of hardened unyielding flesh, moaning as they reach out, her succulent form suddenly hidden from his view. She screams out for him, unable to comprehend why she cannot control the piercing screams that rise from behind the towering wall of men, "NO! PLEASE! NO! I am a kajira! I am a slave! I submit! I submit!!"

The Earth girl quivers both with fear and unbridled lust as her trembling form is suddenly hoisted up, lifted above their heads, lavish flesh displayed in a reflexive arch of her bared back. Crimson tresses cascade downward as her limbs dangle down in a helpless bow, her luscious form exposed as a prize. She can feel the gazes of the room up her like a wanton beast caught in their grasp, a lecherous sacrifice for all to covet as firelight licks over her succulent flesh like a thousand tongues. Their hands squeeze the ripe flesh as they hold her up to his appraisal. She cannot help but shudder with apprehension and craving as she is brandished in their arms. Suddenly, to her horror, she is tossed to the ground with a moan, splayed at the feet of the one who surprisingly holds her heart. She is a pool of liquid desire, curves and supple flesh displayed before his hard gaze, locks of the brightest fire cascaded wildly before him and she knows that today, and forever, she is his.

simply_cyn
simply_cyn
224 Followers
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4 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
So when ...

... do we read about a Hero from earth going medieval on their asses for abducting our women? [DUKE] No one steals our chicks - and lives! [/DUKE]

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
Purple Prose but better than Norman

A bit on the purple prose side, but captures the feel of Gor well.

As for the comment about "real Jarls", typical teenage gorean wannabe. No where in this story does it suggest it takes place in the North and no where is the word Jarl is used. Really confused about that comment. Erm, no such thing as real Jarls (pronounced Yarl) on earth or Gor.

AnonymousAnonymousover 16 years ago
Hmph

Obviously this one has not read or seen how a Jarl truely is to base this story on.

TanukiTanukialmost 20 years ago
Interesting

While I like the Gor theme, I never liked Norman's writing style, so it's great to read an author who does it steamier and more to my liking! It's a challenge to write this style without sounding corny, but I think you managed!

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