A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 09

"The captain has agreed to accept your free use amongst the crew as fare for my own passage," said Tupp. "He seemed quite interested. They do not get many slavegirls upon the galleys."

"May I be permitted to ask a question, my Lord, Overseer, and Master?" I asked.

"On this occasion," said my Lord, Overseer, and Master," But do not make a habit of it."

"I will not, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, softly, "May I be permitted to know the name of the galley upon which we will be travelling, my Lord, Overseer, and Master?"

"Aye," he said, "You may. It is called the Northern Wind."

I shuddered.

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

"Perhaps I will volunteer you to take your turn at the oars," said my Lord, Overseer, and Master, chortling a little.

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

I wondered if he knew that the entire crew of galley slaves had pleasured themselves upon my aching, juicing body the previous night.

I suspected that he did.

"And I will henceforth rename you 'Worthless'", said my Lord, Overseer, and Master.

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

I wondered whether it were preferable to be termed Worthless, rather than Suckslut, or Sleenmeat, or Flower.

I suppose that each name has its merits and demerits.

"I will have my revenge on you for forcing me to leave my post at the Juicy Pudding, Worthless. I will ensure that you are put forward for every low task. You will empty the bilge and the latrines, you will scrub the deck, you will service the crew. In short you will suffer as the liar, thief, and slut that you have been shown to be. And when we get to the north I will really show you what being a slave is all about."

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

"I think that I will have you carry me the rest of the way to the ship, Worthless. Crouch down."

I crouched down, and my Lord, Overseer, and Master. climbed upon my back.

"Up," he said, and accompanied his command with a lash of his switch.

We proceeded downhill towards the port, he on my back.

"When we get to the north," he said, "I think I will have you write your story down. Perhaps it will bring in a few pennies."

"Yes, my Lord, Overseer, and Master," I said, a little breathless from the exertion. He was small, but not a light burden, by any means, "Thank you, my Lord, Overseer, and Master."

I considered what was in store for me.

I had thought that, whatever my fate, it could be no worse than labouring in the pens.

I had for sure, come into the possession of a private Master, and for this, I suppose, a slavegirl should always be grateful.

Many slavegirls will, of course, writhe and squirm and juice in their cages at the mere thought of being owned by a private Master.

The private Master, in my case, blamed and hated me for having lost his former employment, and had vowed to gain his revenge upon me by squeezing every last droplet of effort and profit and slave juice from my worthless body.

The fact that I was a liar and a thief was emblazoned irrevocably upon my ass. Should I not please perfectly, I could be instantly turned over to the authorities, a fugitive from justice, specified thus by the marks burnt into my flesh.

I had once thought that, whatever my fate, it could be no worse than labouring in the pens.

It seemed possible, as I left the City of my first enslavement, and embarked forth to labour upon my new planet under my first private Lord, Overseer, and Master, that I now knew better.

Here I end my narrative, written at the command of my Lord, Overseer, and Master.