La Kajira

Missy had been beside herself with that answer, so much so that she was crying in giggles at his knees. I'd been the one to change the tone of things, when I decided I'd been lenient enough for one night with my little kajira. "But that's okay." She broke off with a soft inhalation when I grasped her by her hair. "We can change some of the rules. Let him touch you."

My meaning was clear too and she moaned while Jordan curled a hand around her throat and I'd learned that the older Dom could switch all that play to roughness as quickly as he wished. She was wearing a chastity belt and a very revealing white silk two piece, but it was more than enough reminder that she was a slave when he cupped a rough palm over one of her tits. Her body arched where she faced away from me and towards him, in a kind of desperate slave fire, one that ruled her almost all the time now.

"I'll always touch a soft little kajira when invited," Jordan said softly, and she whimpered, going still in surrender, waiting for more, but he only gently stroked, with a touch that had clear, latent violence in it, even to see it.

She squealed when I pulled her head back and lifted her face for him, so that he smiled wickedly and pressed his lips to hers in that brutality and force that most aroused her. He made her be still and made her take what he gave her, so that Missy writhed in a kind of struggle in my hands. I kissed the back of her head, smiling thoughtfully.

It was true that I was a somewhat jealous Master, at least by Gorean standards. I wouldn't share her in a lot of ways, but I did rather enjoy the hard reminder for her that she was a slave. I forced her low to the furs when he had enough and pulled away, smiling down at the sight of her quivering. Jordan smiled and soothed her with a soft pet on her head. "I thought about changing the last spare room into a sand pit," I said thoughtfully.

His smile widened when Missy moaned. "She seems to like that thought, at any rate." His hand went to the back of her neck. "Don't you, little slave girl? He'll make you dance in chains with a sand pit."

Her voice was breathless in a way that said she damn well did know where this was going. "Yes, Master."

Jordan laughed and looked up to me with a grin. "I know two other people you have to show these rooms to, by the way." Missy whimpered and he tightened his hand on her. "Quiet."

She went still while I had the vague thought that I was going to have her lick all the cum off the chastity belt she was wearing later, when she was likely making a mess on it. The best part about all this was how Jordan had just started with talking, but the more time he spent with Missy and having her bowed, having her dressed in slave belts and a brand of collar he was familiar with, the more he played and turned rougher. It was like seeing him fall back into an old routine he knew so very well and it was giving me ideas, especially combined with the ideas Christopher was already having.

I ended up tethering Missy low to a slave ring, with her hands forced crossed behind her again in the belt she wore, and making her bow over it on her knees, gagging her. She shifted restlessly and Jordan trailed a finger up her spine.

"You know..." I said thoughtfully. "If they're free on a Monday, then Deirdre and Christopher could be here as well, along with Chase."

Once upon a time, I had started to become a little too reserved with turning my dreams into realities, with daring to have some fantasies. But it was a little slave girl, with a heart as romantic as mine, that made me remember.

There wasn't a Gor, so we'd make our own. Hell, it was better than the original anyway. At least in my thoughts, it was.

----

Missy's Journal

Master gave me this journal as a... gift, for lack of a better word, although it's a gift with a purpose, according to him. "You've enjoyed writing and reading for a long time. The gift is more privacy than the journal. Write what you like and I won't read this." But it came with a second journal as well, one that made me grin when he described that one. Because that one I had to write in and it was for my fantasies. That one was for him to read. Of course, I wrote in it first before going onto this one when it's a must and this one still makes me curious.

He even gives me time locked in the dungeon cell to do it, but... well, now that I'm sitting down for the first time to use it, I'm at a blank to think of something I wouldn't want Master to read. It's strange sometimes. Whenever I would write stories or music concepts before him, I thought I would never find someone to share raw content with. Of course, this still kind of remains true. If I'm honest, raw content just isn't very good, but even the edited versions of some things used to be ideas I thought would remain hidden in the box under my bed, just for me. He's... different, though. He's someone I can share everything with, no matter how cheesy some of the princess stories were or how sappy and romantic some of the fantasies were.

I guess... The only thing I can think of to write are things he already knows, actually, something like a diary.

Today he had friends over again for instance. Well, our friends. After Christopher introduced us to Jordan and Chase (D'artagnan's middle name, since he absolutely can't stand his first name), Jordan pulled someone else named Levi in on it, too, and apparently Levi already knew all the high protocol ways. It was really supposed to just be Master showing off his renovations again, but it started to turn when he chained me to the floor rings on his furs. He had me dressed back in white silk and in the chastity belt again, even if it wasn't true anymore, but that's because white silks aren't to be touched and Master is jealous over his little slave. He does not share overly much and he also does not play with others now that he has me, but he does like finding smaller ways to remind me of my collar and that he could.

I... Mmm, I like remembering these things.

Jordan is someone I like, too, although not in any romantic way, exactly. It's just that he's funny and he's playful and he follows all the high protocol rules, even while he'll wink to soothe them sometimes. Like when he knelt in front of me and grabbed the chain trailing from my collar while Master watched. And Master chooses to dress me in a two piece white silk's outfit these days, to better show off my tattoos. Deirdre had been dressed in red, but she wasn't in that room with us. It was just myself and three other Gorean style Masters, all of them clothed while I was dressed like a doll.

Master says I'm getting kinkier with my interests, by the way, and I think he might have a point. Even though I only really feel safe with Master's touch - in that way, I mean - I do like being forced on my knees and subjugated with the others around, too. I think he knows this, though.

Actually, he definitely knows it, with how he smiled when Jordan tugged my chain, so that I was forced stretched from the ring that held my wrists tied, so that I had to crane my neck. "Such a pretty little kajira in your chains. You like this?"

"Yes, Master!" Because I did. I really, really did. It wasn't even the full of what they were trying to start, was actually just my Master taking advantage of a chance to show off his rooms to people who would like them. It made me happy to see it, especially after knowing the moments that had made him so crestfallen before, but it was more than that, too.

It was... Well, every day, there's at least one interaction where I am careful with my Master, when I might have to use his name when I don't want to or when I might have to make a judgment call in his place while working. And, with that group, it felt like all of that was gone and I could just let go and be the way I really wanted to be anyway.

Especially when someone like Jordan and Chase were involved. "Aww, of course you do. And how well behaved and well trained you are, little white silk." Master watched while he stroked my hair, at first leaning against the wall, before he pushed away and lifted the whip off its hook. I moaned in excitement when he handed it to his friend and Jordan was someone with this look of experience, from the gray wings in his hair to the way he took the whip like he very well remembered the feel of it in his hand. He laughed at whatever I must have looked like, letting the blade unfurl so that it tickled against my thighs in the softest, snakelike threat of pain or pleasure... or both. And, well, let's say I've learned to crave the sight of that whip, of any whip.

"Master..." And that. It felt like a natural part of being a kajira that the word applied to any person who was free.

"Good girl. Here, you know what to do."

I did know what to do when he lowered the whip's handle to my lips. Master had a kiss he'd taught me for this, one that was fearful, lustful, and adoring all at once. It wasn't quite a slow kiss, but it wasn't frantic either, and my mouth opened in invitation at the end of it, something Jordan took advantage of, pressing the shaft of the whip between my lips for me to suck and I let that sensation of dark desire flood me, something else Master has broken me to. He says that slaves are meant to be creatures of desires and that he doesn't want me to try to control these things. That's his job.

It's... heady. There's something so deliriously degrading about being watched while another Master fucks my face with a whip and it thrills me to feel like a toy slave. I felt almost at a loss when he stopped his attentions with the whip, when he tugged it away from me so that my mouth was still open, and I realized that I'd fallen into my slave's pose almost naturally. I moaned, watching him hand the whip to Chase, who stepped forward, and he's still hesitant about some things. Jordan laughed. "Go on. She wants you to. Don't you, little kajira? He needs to hear it."

"Yes, Master, I want it, please."

Jordan knelt behind me, holding my head back against his shoulder with a hand to my forehead, a forceful touch to make me shiver when all forceful touches are starting to make me fiend, so that Chase fed the whip's handle back to me. I closed my eyes, resting back against Jordan's shoulder, and he knew my Master's lines. He never crossed them, only touching me to hold me still and under control while I accepted what I was made to. "You can do better than that," Jordan said in my ear, a hint of latent threat in his voice so that I shivered, feeling hot with that desire. "Let him hear you, little slave girl, and how much you love to serve."

That made me cry out, made me arch, shivering with hot need, arching my breasts as if craving to be touched, craving any touch at all. The response made Jordan burst into laughter behind me. "That's better." I opened my eyes only once to meet my Master's gaze where he stood against the wall, something that made me quake with how fiery the possession and ownership was in his eyes. I knew that look by then. He was going to give me a session with the short, braided whip later, one where he'd make me beg with the most loving flicks against my thighs and pussy.

I moaned when Chase pulled the whip away, when he softly said, "Look at me," so that my eyes obediently went to his. Whatever he saw made him excited, too, in a way I thought was probably promising for when he brought his little barista around, something Christopher says he's already proposed to her. I shivered fearfully against Jordan's shoulder, glad I had pleased both of them when I knew how that whip could sting. I yelped when Chase striped me once anyway, in a stroke that was masterfully done, now that he'd been practicing a fair bit with my Master and Christopher.

"Thank you, Master," I whispered, breathless when the sting of the stripe spread across my thighs. It was a rule that good slaves always showed gratitude for the whip, for punishment or reminder. Both were good.

Chase smiled. "You're an angel, sweetheart."

I couldn't keep from the excitement that gave me. "Thank you, Master!"

He laughed and it was happy, in a way that let me know I'd succeeded in being an enticement for him to keep playing, which I think was the point to Christopher and Master placing me around him, when he was initially so hesitant with some of the concepts. Jordan kissed the back of my head, whispering, "Good girl."

Master made me fearful when he finally spoke. "You can enjoy the feel of the furs with her if you like, Jordan, while I show Chase the other two rooms, since you've already seen them."

I froze for a moment so that Jordan chuckled in my ear. My Master had a look of amusement when he casually left me with his friend and Jordan's breath still quivered with his quiet laughter when he kissed the back of my head. "How terrifying for a little slave girl, to be left with someone else for the first time. But that doesn't matter, does it?"

"No, Master."

He was quite gentle when he pulled me to the furs, while I was processing a lot of different fears. For a start, without my Master with me to give me commands, I had a deep fear of falling short in my serving. Then, of course, there was the fear of not knowing Jordan overly well and the feel of being so casually touched. True that he wouldn't cross boundaries, but he had no problem in resting a palm against my side, in trailing his fingertip up to lightly stroke my breasts. "And why is that?"

I relaxed a little when I knew the answer, when he fed the chain through my collar to one of the rings, using a karabiner in the links to make the lead I had short, so that my head was forced up and against his shoulder again. "Because la kajira," I said softly, then grinned when he stroked my hair in reward.

"That's right." There was an approving smile in his voice and... I don't know why Jordan quit his lifestyle for a time, but there are some things that make me think it was a sad event, something that broke his heart. Like then, for instance. He didn't do anything at all. He just held me close and without saying much. Sometimes he would ask me some of the rules of my slavery, in a soft voice, and his replies sounded pleased when I told him these things. At one point, I decided to be a little more playful with an answer, when he asked about the cell room of the dungeon.

"Missy loves her cell," was what I said, happily, and he burst into laughter at the excited use of the third person.

I don't know what he told Master about our time together, but whatever it was, Master rewarded me after everyone had left, with orgasm after orgasm, so that I had the joy of being an exceedingly pleasing slave girl.

It's like a dream that I never have to wake up from. It's the kind of thing that I never would have expected, true. Actually, if this end had been something told to me up front, I probably would have never gone with it. Master's life is something gorgeous, though, something decadent even while he disdains overindulgence. He is never idle, either, propagating an atmosphere for continual movement, which is delightful. Slaves are not supposed to be idle and they're always supposed to be trying to better themselves, but he makes it very easy to follow that, when he has no end of restless energy. Sometimes, he'll enter the room I'm in, pacing while thinking of something he got an email for from work, and he'll stop when I kneel at his side, like I'm supposed to, a slow smile coming to his face. He'll walk to my side to stand over me, to stroke my hair and on more than one occasion, he has said, "Well, now I have an idea in mind for an answer," as if seeing his little slave makes his world click under his control and makes him see things easier.

When he leaves, I'll always have some treat in mind to make for him, as well.

These memories make me think of an idea for my journal, though, if Master is willing to help me. Of course, he may give me a look of exasperation when I give him back the privacy he had intended to give me, especially when I tell him the idea. But, well, it was such a fun way that our relationship started and I feel like he and I can't be the only people who have had problems with loneliness or sadness when others weren't as excited about these things as we were. Master gave me his own journal, as well, and I've been reading it, thinking of how he was so willing to give up his own privacy, while trying to give me mine. So, maybe he'll help me.

And, if my Master will help and is willing, well, I'd like to try to tell you a story...