A Paga Girl on Gor

"But how am I to do that?" I wailed.

"That," he said, "is rather up to you, I think. I would admit that in your case, it will probably be a case of 'sink or swim', but you have got a very low mark for 'slave heat', the lowest in all your batch, so rather extreme measures have been countenanced in your case. You might look upon yourself as rather a guinea pig, or perhaps less optimistically as a lamb to the slaughter. However, there is a chance perhaps that these special methods will work, and if they do not, there are always the pits where the guard beasts are kept, waiting for you.

I could barely speak now, hearing my fate, but managed to whisper, "How long will I be assessed like this?"

He sneered at me, "Yes, you would like to know that wouldn't you, barbarian bitch? So you could tailor your behaviours accordingly, and only seek to modify them significantly when the deadline is approaching. You will not be told of course. The time available to you may be short or it may be lengthier. However, little honey cake, you may rest assured that our patience with you will not be infinite. If we do not see from our frequent assessments of your attitude and slave heat that you are continually striving to improve, and indeed improving, we will contact the animal food merchants. Then we will at least recoup a proportion of our outlay upon you. However, we are an economic entity, and as such we would far rather turn a profit on your sweet little ass. Do you have any further questions?"

I tried to think of more to ask. "How will I know when I am being assessed?"

He laughed hollowly. "Naturally you will not be privy to that information. Do you take us for fools? Some of the men you serve will be ordinary tavern customers, some will be there for the specific purpose of assessing you. You will not know which you are servicing. However, little slut, I would strongly recommend that you treat every one of your numerous clients as an assessor. You would agree that that is the most sensible course of action, is it not?"

I struggled to grasp the enormity of what he was suggesting. I had been told what went on in these taverns, where the girl is totally available, in every respect, to any patron that buys a cup of drink. They had been discussed in the pens, where there was discussion amongst some of the native girls as to whether one of the girls that the guards took special pleasure in using was 'tavern hot'.

I did not think for one moment that I should ever find myself in such an establishment. I simply wasn't 'that sort of girl'.

However now it seemed that I would have to become exactly 'that sort of girl', if I wasn't to end up as fresh food for the guard beasts.

I tried to think of another question, anything to delay him a little.

"How long before I am sent there? May I be permitted to say goodbye to the other girls in the kennels?"

He smiled.

"They have already been shipped out to auction. You are the only one left in your batch. the only failure, as it were. You are being sent to the 'Juicy Pudding' immediately. We cannot afford to waste any more time on you. A new batch of slaves is expected in tomorrow. Besides, it is only a short distance from here, so you can make your way on foot. Oh, and you are no longer 'beast 13', but are now named 'flower'."

I found myself leashed, gagged and hooded, and then pulled by the neck. Soon I felt fresh air on my body, and the sounds of people on the streets.

I was being taken to the 'Juicy Pudding' for assessment as a tavern girl.

To keep my courage up, I kept repeating to myself that whatever my future, it plainly could be no worse than the pens.