The Wagon


It was a cold crisp night beneath the blazing light of the moons when I was summoned to his wagon. I couldn't imagine what he would want to speak with me about this late at night but as I moved through the camp as a shadow of a forgotten figure, I simply obeyed. Even though free, I still was at the mercy of men. Such is the nature of Gor. But I could feel it... the flutter of helpless insecurity welling up within me. I wasn't sure what he wanted of me and why so late. Something within me already knew...

I could feel my belly tighten into something I hadn't felt in a long time... not since donning the tags of a Free Woman for sure but as I moved up the steps to the door of his wagon, I knew what it was and it left my mouth dry. I was so nervous that I could barely think as a delicate hand lifted reflexively to rap on his door. "Enter." I heard the rich timbre of his voice move beyond the temwood that separated me from him and my fingers closed upon the latch, shifting before it swung open.

The difference in light blinded me momentarily, giving him an advantage as a slender hand lifted reflexively to shield my gaze, violet hues blinking as I tried to locate him. The richness of the Plains Wagons never ceased to amaze me... rich in tapestries and furs, rugs and pillows strewn as if a miniature version of exotic palaces on the planet Earth. I inhaled slowly, feeling his scrutinizing gaze even as he didn't speak and I found myself breathless, the soft rise and fall of my bosom the only indication of the wild beating of my heart beneath the curtain of clothes that separated my heated flesh from his scorching gaze. "Come in, Tay. I don't bite."

What came out of my mouth sounded precisely like that which a dreaded... a nervous laugh and I stepped in, trying to calm the nerves that I found welling up within me. My hand fluttered downward even as I pushed the wagon door closed behind me and saw him sitting in the dim light at the back of the wagon, a bota of paga in his hand. Interlacing my fingers before me as I needed something to do with them, I simply asked, "You wanted to see me?"

I could feel the weight of his look even without the words and a part of me knew he was leaving me hanging and I tried not to fidgit. A part of me knew what was coming. There had been enough teasing threats and looks at my neck. "Come closer," was all he said. I felt like I was rooted to the floor of the richly decorated wagon but reflexively my footfalls carried me closer to him and the defiant lift of my chin as I came into his circle of light brought forth a smile on his lips that I could finally see. "Turn around."

"You've got to be kidding," I whispered, a bit too harshly.

The look that overcame his eye was enough to send that part of me that was locked up within cringe but I was determined not to show it. "Do I need to repeat a command?" he asked, his eyes flashing the warning I knew not to flirt with.

Snapping my teeth together and feeling the tightening of my lips, I simply complied, turning slowly around so that my straightened back was facing him. I could feel his eyes as they raked over me and locking my jaw, I tried desperately not to let it affect me. "Again," he said, "To the front." I turned, the flash of anger apparent in my eyes... I knew that I could not hide it and I felt like screaming when I heard his laugh. "Not bad for a woman with too may clothes on."

"Is this what you wanted to see me about?" I snapped, the violet hues of my eyes becoming dark with defiance. I couldn't help but step back a bit at the look he gave me, his gaze locking with mine. That deep part of me wilted, cringed beneath his gaze and where I wanted to scream out that I was not what he thought me to be, my eyes dropped and in that moment I knew that he had me exactly where he wanted me.

"I remember vaguely something about a dance," he began and I could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Kidarr, no..." My eyes snapped open wide again and I met his gaze with my own. I knew that my very being was pleading with him not to make me do this but I knew that for no other reason had he called me to his wagon this late at night.

"Tonight you will show me what you truly are," he stated simply and I could feel the tremor of apprehension snake down my spine.

"Please..." I whispered, silver tears springing to my eyes. I wanted to drop to my knees and beg for mercy but in doing so I would be admitting to the slave inside that I tried so desperately to hide.

"Do it!" He barked out the command and reflexively my arms snapped over my head, wrists back to back in the position of the pleasure slave about to please her Master. "Not dressed like that, Tay." I cringed. With trembling fingers and through the veil of tears that threatened to spill down my flushed cheeks, I reached up to the bindings of my larl vest, slowly pulling them loose. "Har'ta!" he said in a harsh voice and suddenly I found myself naked before him as the command to hurry came in loud and clear. I could feel my whole body shudder with the horror of it all... and the beauty.

"Now," he said, leaning back into the furs which he reclined upon, "I will see a dance of submission and the slut I know is within you." I felt my gaze look to him pleadingly one last time but in his eyes I saw my destiny and knew it futile to try and resist. Even as a lone tear slid down my cheek I once again assumed the position of the dancing kajira before him in the solidity of his wagon, alone with his will and the power of control he had over me and my body. And I danced...

I had thought it dead in me. I had thought that part of me was long gone but as I was forced to display before him the very essence of what I used to be I found instead that it was very much alive. I had only pretended to be a free woman dressed in leathers and commanding the very girls that mirrored my own soul. I had run from strong men in the guise of a panthergirl with a hatred of that which I truly craved and needed in my life and it showed with every turn of my wrist, every roll of my hips, every inviting part of my lips. I was still a slave and he had known it.

I couldn't decipher whether or not it was the beat of the kaska or the beating of my heart that drove my feet to spin in tiny circles and stamp out the frustrating need that I could feel building within me. I didn't know if it was the call of the lute or the shrill ringing of my ears as the blood began to boil in my very veins. All I could feel was this primitive need to please him, to drive him to the brink of insanity where he had taken me until all that was left was the driving pant of breath that kept us apart. I could feel my unwilling arms reach out to him, beckon him to caste me beneath his body upon the furs and ravish me like the slut that danced her heart out to him that night. I gasped and pleaded with soft whispers and parted lips, daring him to taste what I thought I had hidden. And he watched.

And then it seemed as suddenly as it began I found myself at his feet, prone... helpless as trembling fingers reached out to his ankle, silently pleading as the rise and fall of heaving breasts gave indication of the turmoil that raged within me. He simply reached out, his strong fingers delving deep into my hair and pulled me close, upright until my heated gaze was lost in his and I cried out with longing, my own fingers reaching out as he whispered, "I am well pleased."

I almost sobbed for the joy of it and seemed to melt into his embrace, a sense of belonging finally coming over me as his lips descended over mine in a strong searing kiss and I was helpless beneath the brutality of it. I could feel his lips and teeth press in, drawing blood as my fingers clutched at him, pressing wantonly against his hard form and then just as suddenly he thrust me from him, sending me sprawling before him on the richly carpeted floor and my wild eyes flew to him in horror. "Please... Master..."

"Please what, slut?" he asked even as amusement was dictated in the dancing jewels of his eyes. He would not accept anything less than the words coming from my lips and I sobbed, shaking hands reaching up to cover my distressed features.

"Please, Kidarr... don't make me say it," I wept. And then I cried out as the back of his hand sent me reeling back onto the thick carpets, a trickle of blood seeping from my bruised mouth. Instinctively the back of my hand covered my mouth as wide eyes looked to him piteously. "Mercy, " I begged, tears streaming down my face. I had used his name.

"You forget your place." His eyes spoke more than his words but the meaning was clear as he suddenly stood over me and I cowered, inching back from him on the carpeted floor. "I told you, did I not, that tonight you would show me all that you are and yet you choose to revert back to old ways. Is it necessary to beat you?"

"No," I whispered and then hastily added that which I knew would anger him further if I did not, "... Master." I trembled as he reached for the five-bladed kurt that hung upon the wall, it's length unfurling with a slight shake of his wrist. "Mercy, Master... I will not displease you again!"

"I know you won't," he growled and I screamed out piteously as the leather suddenly bit into tender flesh, curling reflexively into the position for whipping, the smooth contours of my back exposed to the Gorean kurt as my arms instinctively protected she soft sides of my breasts. I whimpered and writhed helplessly beneath its kiss as it landed not once, not twice, but ten times upon the exposed beauty of my shame. I was a helpless slave when it ended, begging with both my body and words for his ultimate mercy.

I cried out as I felt his hand, strong and rough in the strewn curls of raven that shrouded my slender body, feeling him pull me up before him, a mess of tears and runny nose that made him sneer even as he used the handle end of the whip to caress me into submission and then forcefully threw me from him to land sprawled upon the love furs, his towering form over me as his gaze raped over me like a wanton caress. I couldn't help but shudder deliciously even as I dared not move beneath his unwavering gaze. Tears of fear raced down my cheeks as long lashes fluttered down, trying to hide behind their futile attempt to shield myself from him but his laughter told me all that I needed to know. "I always knew you would make a delicious slut," he said.

And then he was upon me, strong hands wrapped around slender ankles that he thrust apart and even as I twisted to get away I could feel my body arch up helplessly, wantonly to his touch. I cried out in anger that even with all that happened... the stripping, the dance, the whipping... I was aroused and with one stroke of his hand, the proof was evident. I could see the triumph in his eyes as he pulled me into his first stroke and I knew I was doomed to become that which I had so bravely pretended not to be, clutching to him in spirals of wanton lust as he sealed my fate that night in his wagon.

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