Adventures on Hor Ch. 03: Owned

The artist carefully duplicated Goran's sketched symbol. It depicted a horned demon with crossed lances behind it, all in black. The eyes and mouth were brilliant red and yellow-red flames rose from behind it. It was about three inches in size and very prominent ... just above the sparse pubic hair on her mound. Goran stood stoically as the artist worked, frequently seeing him stroking Cat's pussy lips, even inserting a finger on occasion.

The artist spoke as if Cat hearing him wasn't significant. "She must be a valuable slave to mark her like this."

Goran's stoic face broke with a wink to Cat, "You have no idea."

Back on the public street, Cat stood proudly in view of all those who passed. She couldn't help but openly display her nakedness but especially her mark. Goran stood alongside her as if deciding where to go next. He was merely giving her time as she openly enjoyed displaying herself.

She murmured for only him to hear, "Thank you, Master, you honor me."

He turned to her and softly responded, "This is a harsh world we find ourselves on, Cat. You honored me with your unconditional acceptance of an impossible life compared to the one you had taken away. As long as we are on this world, we are stronger together." Her fingers moved subtly to touch his thigh covered in the tight-fitting hide. He chuckled, "Perhaps we should return to the room ... before you try to mount me in the street." She blushed deeply, the change in her coloring very evident even on her deeply tanning skin. Her body and mind had become voracious in her desire to please this man with her body. The 21st-century woman was indeed a very proud and slutty slave.

"Head and shoulders out the window." They had just entered their room and Cat began clawing at Goran's clothes before his command.

"Master?" The question came out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Ai Sar."

She quickly moved to the only window in the room, raised the lower half of it, and leaned her head and shoulders outside. She braced herself with her hands on the window sill and frame, looking down at the street below when someone pointed up at her. Another small crowd began forming. Could it be that some of those same people had witnessed the early scene of her being fucked noisily?

She felt ridiculous with her naked upper body hanging out the window. That is until she felt Goran behind her. She opened her feet past normal shoulder width and he plunged his ready cock into her pussy.

"Are you always with a wet pussy, slave?"

She giggled in between gasps as he rammed his cock deeper. "Ai Sar ... for you ... because of you."

"You are indeed a good slave." He slapped her ass, causing her to yelp between her moans becoming louder and louder.

"Thank ... you ... Master!"

Her head sagged down as her passion rose, her mouth agape and a mixture of groans, moans, and gasps tumbling from her open mouth. She caught sight of her breasts swinging and bouncing wildly from the aggressive fucking. She also caught sight of more people standing below watching, talking, and pointing. Several slaves in gossamer outfits seemed to be watching from behind their fat or old owners with envy. Other slaves were being mauled by owners as they watched. She might have wondered if some were beginning to expect this form of entertainment, but an orgasm was taking charge of her body and mind. She cried out, her head rising sharply upward as if to send her orgasmic cry into the sky above. She felt his seed flood her pussy and she sagged against the frame of the window, Goran's strong hands holding her firmly on his cock.

"Master, you seem to enjoy exhibiting me like that to the people below who might be passing, don't you? You enjoy exposing me, displaying my primal lust while you are hidden behind the reflection of the window."

He had pulled her into the room and carried her to the bed where they were cuddled, her body half spread along his side, her leg draped over his and her arm across his chest. He chuckled, "It hasn't seemed that you minded too much as long as I was fucking you."

Her hand slid down his body and over his flaccid cock. "You could fuck me anywhere, Master, and I would be a happy slave." She softly stroked his cock, not for arousal but as she thought things. "It is hard to believe I have become accustomed to being naked among strangers." It was quiet for some moments. "Master, you said I should be an exceptional slave, a slave that other owners might desire and other slaves might envy." He nodded and shifted his head to be able to see more of her face. "Well ... I was thinking ... you know how I shave you in the morning? What if I shaved, too?"

He chuckled. "I hadn't noticed your beard starting ..."

"No ..." She held out her arm to show her underarm and raised her leg to show her sparsely covered mound. "I haven't seen any woman shaved ... it would make me different. And ... it would expose my pussy even more."

He shifted more, "Is this another 21st-century thing?" She nodded and giggled.

He watched her shave her armpit and pubic hair using the same straight razor and cream she has been using so expertly on his face on mornings when he wanted a clean look. He remained naked, too, and they talked more about the 21st century and the habits of women in that age. He was kneeling in front of her to get the full view and her foot frequently pressed against his cock, stroking it, which he found quite sensuous. He continued to marvel at this woman who impossibly found her way into his life. On Earth in another time, he wondered if they would be a match, but here under these conditions, they seemed to be the perfect match. He never tired of watching her. Her body was magnificent, and with seeming acceptance of her fate after he took her from the caravan, she carried herself with a prideful and flaunty attitude that might seem challenging in another slave. That attitude could be construed by another owner as to be prideful, independent, confident, and strongly self-aware rather than submissive, demure, and hesitantly seeking direction. He knew the strength and intelligence in Cat and he had plans for applying them as her body continued to adjust to HOR as his did. Already he could see how her body was changing, losing fat with increased muscle. The key was the protein in the meat, he was sure of it, and he made sure she got plenty of it even if slaves were not normally given such good food.

When she was done, he inspected her new look closely. His fingers glided over the soft, smooth skin of her pussy. He smiled as a finger rubbed on either side of her lips and a third slid gently between her lips. "You are truly exposed now. That is the reason why it is shaved?"

She watched his fascination with the new look as he fingered and touched the pussy that she had essentially made his to use as he wished. She understood a normal owner/slave relationship would likely be quite different and that theirs was based in part on an underlying common connection, but she nonetheless believed in her very being, her soul, to be his ... owned. The slave mark on her back had sealed her fate on this world, but his symbol just given her on her upper mound, prominently displayed now without distraction by hair next to it and the collar she knew she was soon to receive like all other slaves would define her not just as a slave on this world but his slave. And being owned by a man feared by others held its comfort.

He had a thought. He would show off this magnificent creature in the fanciest pub in the city. They cleaned up from their fucking, then asked to see the gown she had been working on. He dressed in a shirt that loosely hung on his body. He sat back and watched her align the filmy garment and drop it over her head and down like soft haze descending over her body. It secured around her neck with a looping strap that crossed in front of her between her stunning breast before quickly expanding into the gown. It hung loosely to a point about her ankles. She turned to show that her slave mark was not covered and her ass crack was just peeking above the material. As she spun and took a step toward him, he noticed what she had done. The gown wasn't a full piece of material covering her lower body but many strips fastened to a band at the waist. A breeze entered the open window and the filmy gown fluttered, opening and closing easily. He smiled ... exceptional, indeed.

He left the room with a dagger strapped to his right calf and carrying one sheathed sword rather than wearing it. On the way to the pub, they would stop at the craftsman preparing the collar. It would complete the look nicely, he thought.

The master craftsman consigned to fashion the collar to Goran's specifications presented it to Goran for inspection. Goran nodded his approval and showed it to Cat. It was made of a highly smoothed and shiny black metal she was not familiar with. It was one and a half inches high and bore the engraved symbol that appears on all of Goran's weapons and inked just above Cat's pussy, a horned demon over crossed lances. Having it approved, the craftsman approached Cat, instructing her to raise her long hair out of the way so he could fix it permanently to her neck. While he worked, he quizzed Cat:

"What are you?" he asked.

"I am a slave," Cat answered.

"What is a slave?"

"One who is owned."

"Why do you wear a marked collar?"

"That men may know who owns me"

"What does a slave want more than anything?"

"To please my Master."

"What are you?"

"I am a slave."

"What do you want more than anything?"

"To please my Master."

Completed with the task of fixing the collar on the slave, he looked at her owner, nodding as he stepped in front of Cat. He gave her the command to assumed the presentation position. She sank immediately to her knees, keeping them apart, her ankles turned so her butt rested on the insides of the foot, her head up but eyes downcast and her back straight and shoulders back emphasizing her breasts. As part of his collaring ritual, he finished with:

"What is the duty of a slave," he asked.

"Absolute obedience," she said with confidence and pride.

"What are you?"

"A slave."

"What is your duty?"

"Absolute obedience."

He left Cat in her position. He reached out to fondle each breast and roll the nipples between his fingers. He turned to Goran as if it didn't matter what was said, "A magnificent slave, sir. I have wealthy patrons who I know would be interested, if you might consider selling her." Goran must have given him a warning look, Cat thought, for the next words couldn't tumble from the craftsman's mouth fast enough. "I meant no disrespect, sir. It was merely a business consideration ..."

Goran's commanding voice cut off the man, "Come, slave."

Outside on the street, for Goran always walked in the street to present fewer options for attack, he stopped to appraise her. He liked the collar. Normal collars were of plain iron. When he saw the ring of metal at the caravan, he knew it would be perfect for Cat with her dark hair and eyes. He could see something in her eyes. Something was off. He asked what.

"He said sell me ... as if it was nothing. I guess I knew intellectually in the caravan that was the expected outcome, but ... to hear it so casually suggested ..."

He gave her a subtle smile and touched her hand, "I am not selling you ... but ... I am feeding you. Come, I hear this place has entertainment, too."

Cat's mood lifted instantly. Yes, she was a slave on this planet and there was nothing that could be done about that, but she was a slave to a man who had bonded to her purposefully because of a connection that was literally beyond this world. And that connection was proving more than merely both coming from Earth.

Slaves are not allowed to sit at tables, even with their masters. Slaves stand alongside their masters or kneel in the presentation position, as Cat was next to Goran. Goran was, however, breaking another of the accept rules by ordering two plates and giving one to Cat. Normally, slaves would be given a meal specifically intended for slaves and was often a gruel composed of odds and ends found in the kitchen. Goran knew Cat needed the protein enzymes found on this world if she were to reach her possible physical enhancements as he had. While traveling alone, it wasn't an issue, but he was determined not to waste any time in providing her with the nourishment she needed. He had plans for their future.

Slaves also were not allowed to consume fermented drinks but Goran slipped his goblet to her discreetly. He had insisted on a table in the corner where he could not be approached from behind. Even if he placed himself in a position without a retreat, he preferred his chances in a head-on confrontation. His larger-than-normal sword sheathed on the table and his size generally were deterrents to give brawling types pause in including him in any disruption. So, isolated as they were, it was easier to break a few rules regarding slaves to enhance Cat's evening.

When the entertainment was to begin, Goran pushed his chair back and offered his lap for Cat. She smiled impishly, anticipating a better view but also idle attention to her body by his freely roaming hands. With her right leg across his lap and her left leg draped in front of him, she had opened herself to his touch. She wasn't disappointed as the hand of the arm around her waist immediately fondled her breast and the hand casually resting in her lap parted the strands of her gown to idly caress her pussy lips and clit. She purred softly at his touch.

One of the owners in the room offered his slave to dance for everyone. She was dressed in a filmy outfit that covered her completely but was sheer enough to imagine what was underneath. She moved in sometimes fluid, other times jerky ways that suggested a performance of effort but not commitment.

Cat softly inquired of Goran, "Master, I don't get the dance."

"It is a dance often taught to slaves to entertain." He sensed he had not satisfied her question. "It is intended to entice free-men with her body and movement. See how the free-men in the room are intently viewing her body as it moves."

"Is she doing this dance well?"

"Well enough if I were to compare to other times I have seen it. You don't agree?"

"It is not for me to critique a dance I don't know, Master. I have not been taught it."

He laughed, perhaps too loudly, "Why would I when I can enjoy the way you dance for me around the campfires."

Cat blushed. Her dances around the fires were frequently between fucking sessions that might be more reminiscent of a beast rutting his bitch than a man and woman. "They are not dances I was taught but a movement that flows from my soul to yours, Master." There was lust in his eyes. How primal they lived, lust so quickly and openly displayed between them. She wiggled her ass on his hard cock, a finger pressed into her pussy. She gasped and moaned openly.

"Quiet!"

It was a commanding, threatening admonition from the table in front of them. The man, large but soft in expensive garments, scraped his chair against the wood plank floor with an obvious intention of adding physical effort to his verbal. Goran instantly grabbed the sheath of his sword with one hand and the hilt of the sword with the other while encircling Cat in the process. The other man, seeing those quick actions and the image of the man making them, immediately calmed himself to diffuse a confrontation he couldn't endure.

The man, softening his voice and manner, offered, "Your slave, sir, has a bold manner of speaking for a slave."

The room had gone quiet. Even Cat noticed a couple of armed men who now appeared to her to be enforcers (bouncers in her time) touch their weapons but did not want to confront Goran, either. With the change in the man's tone, Goran relaxed his grip on the hilt but left his hand casually resting on it.

Goran spoke clearly, "What you call 'bold' is only reflective of the spirit to match a man like me. For me to take a slave, she could not be meek and useless." He had just made a judgment of every slave in the room in her defense. Perhaps, she thought, being exceptional in his view was not the same as being a 'perfect' slave in other's view.

Cat noticed others in the room craning necks and shifting positions to see who was speaking this way. Soon, she heard a collective murmur and words that included mercenary, assassin, the demon, and even his real name, Goran. They had been seen publicly all over the city so some might already have made the connection. Those who might have been close enough might also have noticed and recognized the medallion Goran wore, a tightly fitting leather strap around his neck with a metal oval bearing the same symbol she had inked on her mound. She remembered asking him about it. It had caused him to hesitate in replying as if the answer had more meaning than was easily expressed. She had related, though, to his words in the answer. He had been a slave put into battle by a warlord, a slave intended to die, supposed to die with the hopes of taking some of the enemies before he did. He was merely a tool, a weapon. He had vowed that if he survived, somehow, and have the choice, no man would ever look at him with an assumption of how he might act or his allegiance. When the whispers started about him being a demon, he embraced it and put the image prominently near eye level for any man to consider. It had become both a deterrent and something of a challenge to any warrior who thought he could assume the legend by combat. Though he bore the scars of combat, none had been successful.

Goran whispered into Cat's ear. She smiled and nodded. He responded to the man but clearly enough to be considered by the entire room. "I do not hold my slave to some of the confines of your society and expectations. I have chosen to enable parts of her spirit while also holding control. She knows where those lines are. To judge her as a slave is to judge me as her Master."

The man starting the exchange was quick to concede, "I meant no disrespect to you or your slave, sir. I apologize for causing any impression of the kind."

Cat watched Goran's reaction and it sent a chill even though her. A smirk formed on his mouth but it reflected open contempt for the sniveling concession and retreat by the man. He nudged Cat off his lap and addressed the larger group in the room, done with the man in front of him. "I will have my slave demonstrate the difference between precisely moving as instructed and expressing what her body and soul feel." He looked into Cat's eyes and softly instructed, "Dance as if for me alone, as if everyone here were me and like at our fires you were enticing me to ravage you."

Cat shook slightly. What she had done at their fires was personal. Her dances were indeed intended to entice him. The dance might be to initiate the evening of savage sex or between bouts of being fucked senseless, giving him time for recovery and to assist in stimulating him for more. She physically and emotionally couldn't get enough of his monstrous cock and that was what her body expressed when she danced for him like that. Could she do that for a roomful of strangers? Could she do what he said and transfer the people she saw with the image and impression of her Master? To please him, she would have to. But not only to please him but to honor his declaration. He had publicly put her performance above any other taught to slaves during training. For her to fail would be to shame him.

Cat moved to the center of the room where the other slave had danced. As she moved to the opening, she took the other slave by the arm and pulled her into the very center. The slave looked for her owner's reaction, but Cat gave her a firm command to stand perfectly still in the center and not to move regardless of what she did. The slave's attention was immediately transferred to Cat. Cat had called up her experience as a commander in the Marines, a voice and tone she hadn't used since arriving. Cat would initially use the slave as the fire to dance around, then improvise.