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dena
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xx Chronicles of a kajira - Chap 1
« Thread started on: Nov 10th, 2010, 07:31am »

dena has been writing the story of her online Gorean life. it is LONG. she has only completed the first chapter and it is 8 pages. she would love to share, but not sure about where to put it. dena thinks it would go here...but again...very LONG. it may end up being about 6 or 7 chapters. (the first chapter would fit in 3 posts here)

if Someone doesn't mind, just let her know what You think would be best.

(see, girl warned she was long winded *giggles*)


so dena will post the first Chapter here and look into a different option for the rest of the story.

she would like to be perfectly clear that this is a story of her online Gorean life. the occurances here are RP and discusions between her and the Master that first introduced her to Gor.

This is in no way a continuation John Norman's books, and references in this story may not mesh with His tellings of Gor.

ENJOY!
« Last Edit: Nov 11th, 2010, 06:04am by dena » User IP Logged

dena
There is a difference between the kiss of the free woman and the kiss of the slave girl; the slave girl yields to her master; the difference is unmistakable. It is said that he whose lips have never touched those of a slave girl does not know, truly, what it is to hold a woman in his arms.
aidan{GS}
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xx Re: hmmmm, girl needs some info
« Reply #1 on: Nov 10th, 2010, 08:35am »

aidan looks forward to reading dena
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nasreen{TH}
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xx Re: hmmmm, girl needs some info
« Reply #2 on: Nov 10th, 2010, 11:07am »

nasreen looks forward to reading the story sweet dena..
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xx Re: hmmmm, girl needs some info
« Reply #3 on: Nov 10th, 2010, 11:09am »

hi dena,
you could upload it to a free file sharing site and just post the link here. i've used Mediafire.com. It's super easy to use.
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zoya{Thadron}

"A slave girl is not permitted to conceal anything from her master. She is his. She must be completely open to him, in all ways, and at all times."

Page 84 - Hunters of Gor
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xx Re: Chronicles of a kajira - Chap 1
« Reply #4 on: Nov 11th, 2010, 06:09am »

It had been late morning when Nilsa had come to fetch the girl, she was dreary, still somewhat asleep, and completely ignoring of Nilsa’s pleas to rise. Finally, rubbing her eyes and batting them several times, the room took shape, and Nilsa’s words made sense to the young girl.
“Wake sleepy head, you are being requested by Master Drake. Come on girl, get to.” A smack across her rear at Nilsa’s urging prompted the red head to rise to her knees and then up to bare feet.
After having brushed out her long mane, and adding color to her eyes she walked down the long corridors of the training house. Nilsa was in front of her jabbering on about something. The girl just looked about at the cold stone walls and numerous guards standing at their posts, admiring her as she past. She giggled watching Nilsa’s ass move side to side in a swing only kajirae know. The thin red fabric from her collar draped over her shoulders clashed against her deep ebony hair. The girl thought Nilsa a real beauty, but all the girls here were beauties.
Not her though, no this young girl was different, rare. She was a bred exotic, and she was bred specifically for those rare traits she carried. She had overheard, once, the men talking, they had called her mother a "Celt,” from the planet Earth, something someone had captured. Most of the beauties of Gor sported deep liver or honey gold manes with dark brown melting pools or sky blue crystals for eyes. Their skin was usually well tanned and glossed from the harsh sun of Gor. This girl could lie out all day and her skin would still be milky white. Her hair was thicker and longer than most, it was a deep red with lighter copper and gold weaving through, and it draped down in soft long waves well down to her knees, always moving in a rhythm of its own. She had a delicate face with a set jaw line and high cheekbones, very dainty and fragile like some fine doll. Set deep into the soft contours of her face were shinning emerald eyes. They would catch the light, whether it would be the sun or the torch, and mystically glow from with in; and from the right angle gold flecks could be seen glimmering with the hues of jade. The young girl was well aware of her differences, and well aware of the lust in men’s eyes as she walked by; that and the envy in the other slaves.
Two guards pushed open the heavy doors of Drake’s office; he sat behind a large ebony desk, looking over scrolls. He lifted his eyes and smiled at the two kneeling before him, “Greetings girls. Sleeping in again red one?”
She laughed at his comment, “girl needs her beauty rest Master.”
“From the looks of you, I would say you sleep all day. I called you because I wanted you to know that you will be held for auction at the end of this hand. It is time for you to make me the money I knew you would.” Turning to Nilsa, “I want her in the tavern every night, I want the men to see her and be charmed by her. Cover her with yellow and she may kneel in nadu, but she is NOT to be used. Are we clear?”
“Yes Master.” The raven haired beauty answered.
“You have your last dance session today. After, I want you cleaned and ready for tonight. That is all.” With a wave of his hand he dismissed the two.
They rose in unison, backed away and then turned quickly leaving him to his business.
“Oh isn’t that exciting! You will fetch a high price I am sure.”
“Yes, well I guess I always knew this day would come. I’ve been here so long, I just wasn’t sure He would let me go.”
“Well I can tell you it was hard for Him, but He has a business to run and a profit to make.”
Nilsa turned to the door of the training room; the guards opened the door for them and the red head stepped inside.
“I will collect you later pretty girl.” With a turn she was gone down the hall, the girl stood alone, thinking about what her future may hold.
Across the room a door opened slowly, a tall blonde walked in, her lean legs flowing under her red silks moved her gracefully to the center of the training room.
“Come here girl.” A soft motion of her finger drew the red head into the room. “This is our last time together; you know every dance there is to know and can carry them out better than some trained for years longer. Today I will ask you to do a free form dance, one with no purpose other than to work your muscles and show your beauty. Remember it is in our dancing that we keep our forms ready for the Men we serve.” Turning her back and moving to a side pillar, she waved the two musicians into song.
A tap of her foot with the beat of the taber sent the red head on her mission. It had become so common place for her now to dance on a whim for her trainer, but there had always been a story to tell or steps to follow. To dance to her own heart’s delight was foreign.
She led off with her right foot, tapping just the soft purple painted toes against the blue tiles. With each tap her waist would bend and her hip would lift and fall. A gentle thrust of her hip sent her other foot forward following the same motion, as her heart began to feel the rhythms and carry her with the sway of the flute. Her hips danced in small circles and bumps from side to side, a gentle shimmy of her ass, an easy jiggle of her full breasts. Slowly she brought her arms up from her sides, holding them out, little wrists drawing circles and figure eights into the air. Crossing them before her she leaned her head back, arching her slender torso, stretching her ribs and flexing her abs, every inch of her rippled in defined tone. Long tendrils of auburn and gold swung and danced behind her, with a wild swing of her head her mane spun around her and circled up to the sky, like a fire erupting from some angry volcano.
She spun quickly to her left, her leg rising up off the ground toes pointed down and pushed against her thigh, pirouetting over and over again. Her heart pounded as she moved across the tiles, a small body in fluid motion of spins and dips, luscious hips swaying wildly, her passion expressed through her movements. She didn’t care that there was only another slave watching her, she would dance the same for her as she would for any man; the girl loved to dance.
Two sharp claps ended the musician’s minstrels and the petite girl stopped her beckoning call, she stood still in her wide stance, her right hip thrust out. She looked over to the trainer trying to catch her breath, her body heated and glistening.
“That is enough, girl. I have every faith you will make any Man happy, and you surely put your heart into your workouts.” A coy smile on her thin lips, “Go bathe and ready yourself for tonight.” With a quick turn the girl walked out the room from the same door she had emerged from.
The red head jumped at Nilsa’s voice, “Come now.” She offered her hand out and the two departed the training room. She looked over her shoulder; it would probably be the last time she would leave that familiar place.
The corridors of the training house were long and winding; the young girl had spent 18 years of her life here and still would get lost. Guards were lined everywhere keeping a watchful eye on their employers’ property. Nilsa and she turned down several halls and then pushed into the slave’s bath. The room was beautiful with many windows and wild plants. The walls were painted with pictures of astounding beauties in compromising positions. Painted men on kaiila or tarn made her soul scream as they vanquished enemies or hunted larl.
She loved the warm waters of the bath. She stepped down into them, her slender form cutting through the watery glass; hands outreached beside her, dancing on the surface. Dipping low letting the warmth move up every inch of her to her chin, a mass of red floated on the surface and began to slowly encircle her, moving with the small currents in the pool. She stayed there, just relaxing in its gloved warmth. Nilsa sat some soap and towels at the end of the small pool, winked at her, and then turned away; busily going of to tend to some of the other girls.
The kajira dipped her head down under the water. Taking in a deep breath, she stayed submerged for a while. She rose up and pushed her long lashings of hair back from her face. With a fresh cloth she rubbed soap into it, creating a rich lather she then moved along her arms and shoulders, the white of the suds melting into the snowy color of her skin. She moaned softly as she moved the soft cloth over her round globes and down her deep cleavage to her flat sculpted belly. Lifting a slender leg up onto one of the steps she caressed her thighs and calves, moving back up, slowly she caressed her soft petals, moving them gently under the warmth of the cloth and her own fingers, closing her eyes and loosing herself to her touch.
“I don’t think kajirae are supposed to pleasure themselves.” A bellowing voice rose up.
She quickly dropped her leg and turned her face up to the unknown man standing there. “You should not be here.” She stood her ground, looking at him quizzically before lowering her eyes and dipping down into the water again. She turned her back and ignored his presence as she washed her hair, wrapping it up into her small hands.
He watched her with grand fondness; he had never seen such a girl. He smiled wryly as she offered her back to him, pulling up her hair, exposing creamy flesh. When she dipped under the water again he took several steps closer to the pool and lifted her towel into his hands, waiting for her to emerge through the shinning waters.
« Last Edit: Nov 11th, 2010, 06:33am by dena » User IP Logged

dena
There is a difference between the kiss of the free woman and the kiss of the slave girl; the slave girl yields to her master; the difference is unmistakable. It is said that he whose lips have never touched those of a slave girl does not know, truly, what it is to hold a woman in his arms.
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xx Re: Chronicles of a kajira - Chap 1
« Reply #5 on: Nov 11th, 2010, 06:15am »

Under the water she turned and glanced up, he was still there. What was he doing? Why would the guards let him in here? She rose up, pushing the water from her face and moved to the steps, her hips swaying, sending small wakes out from her body. She took the steps with ease, smiling coyly as she saw him open the towel, holding it up for her. She was keenly aware of how she must look, water droplets flowing down her contours and feminine lines. Stepping into it, she turned her back, letting him wrap it around her shoulders; he held it there.
“you are certainly a gem, little one. I wonder how much a kajira of your beauty will bring at auction.” He slowly rubbed her shoulders and arms, his hands moving down her sides and back, grasping her ass firmly.
“Again, You shouldn’t be in here. Who let You in?” She pulled away from him. Not enough to offend, but enough to warn him. She knew she was to please any man that wished it from her; she knew she was nothing more than a beast; but she also knew she had restrictions and places of safe recluse. This was one of them. Her green eyes deepened their gaze at him, not looking him fully in the eye; she would not disrespect a free man, but she needed him to see her fire.
“Calm down pretty girl, you needn’t match the fire draped from your head. I mean, unless I had you in the furs. I am a very good friend of your Master. He suggested I take an early look at the merchandise.”
That word stunned her. She had never thought of herself in that way, and to hear it now enraged her. She narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and stepped back from him. “And now You have seen it, the merchandise that is. If You would like to know if this beast can lift a mug or bowl, You should be in the tavern tonight. By the Priest Kings, Master wouldn’t want You to pay for merchandise that couldn’t serve.”
With a sharp turn she walked away from him, her heart was pounding. She has never talked to a man in such a way, but then again, she had never had a man speak of her in that way either. As she walked past the guards and took the turn she glanced over her shoulder, he was standing there grinning rubbing his chin with his fingers.

The red beauty was well familiar with the tavern. She had spent many nights there watching her sisters serve the men. She had spent days there learning the serves herself, while it was closed. Nilsa was firm when it came to serving the free. “A bad serve is not acceptable,” she would say. This night would be her first in service to the free. She was not nervous, but her heart did race at the thought. She and Nilsa entered the tavern later than the other kajirae; the room was already bustling with activity. A quiet fell to the room when the fire haired slave stepped from behind Nilsa, kneeling on a black fur. She opened her legs wide, and set her hands upon her thighs, smoothing down the yellow silks that barely covered her curves. With her head held high she offered up a smile and said her greetings to those she knew. With eyes piercing through her, she felt a twinge in her stomach, but she never let it show.
She watched as other kajirae moved around kneeling before the free, filling bowls of paga, cleaning dirtied dishes.
Nilsa leaned in and whispered to her, “Wow, They are all staring at you. Offer up service, girl, go ahead.” A subtle bump from Nilsa’s elbow to her back.
“May this girl please serve Any?” Her voice was strong and melodic.
“Aye, girl. Paga, hot of course. That’s if you can manage lifting a bowl sweet thing.” His voice came from across the table on her right. She knew it in an instant, and growled at the thought of what she had said earlier to him.
“Yes, Master, hot paga for Your pleasure.”
She rose up to her feet and quickly turned off to the kitchen. Her hair hiding her backside and curves from him. ordinarily she would have seductively lifted it, to show off her lush curves and firm ass, but for him she thought it was unnecessary. She didn’t want to serve him, she didn’t want him to be here at all, and she wasn’t sure why. He was extremely handsome, and clearly held high esteem with Master Drake. One would think she would be astounded to have drawn his attention, but something made her step back from that thought.
She looked over the open shelves of the kitchen. They were lined with clay bowls, crystal and pewter goblets, heavy tankards for ale, and an array of platters. Ornate horns in all different sizes and shapes hung down the side of the shelves. Paga was served in clay three footed bowls. She brought down two of them and studied them, looking for imperfections, setting each one down making sure they would not wobble. Putting one back upon the shelf she lifted the shear fabric of the silks and ran the rim of the bowl across the satin skin of her lush thigh. if there was a hidden crack, she would feel it’s bite and not the man’s lips. This simple act always drew her breath, it was so intimate, to risk her own flesh for his safety.
After cleaning the bowl with a rep cloth she weaved her way past other busy girls and slipped out the kitchen to large fire pit centered in the middle of the tavern. The very center was a roaring fire that plumed up to a flume carrying the smoke away. Along the outside edges of the fire hung meats and kettles full of various drinks and stews., they sat simmering over the smoldering ash that fell down from the roaring timbers. Standing beside the fire her ivory canvas now became enveloped in a red and orange glow, the colors dancing across her skin. It was hard to tell where her own mane of flames began and soft flesh ended. She slowly ladled the hot brew into his bowl, careful not to spill any.
With her backside offered to him, he got all the view he wished for as she bent over the kettle. He was mesmerized by her stunning looks, the way the fire seemed to caress her, the way she moved stealth fully, even though he was sure she was not trying her hardest. He stirred in his seat next to Drake, his loins throbbing as he watched her glide over the cool gray tiles.
Drake leaned in to him, “I don’t understand, her serves are usually much more wanting, and beautiful. she must be nervous good Friend.”
The man waved his hand, “she is the most glorious thing I have ever seen. she rivals my own love slave.”
There was no way of hiding her curves from him this time. She walked directly to him, and try as she might her hips danced on their own, the sway so natural to her. She knew by the look in his eyes he was pleased, her snowy skin glistened around the shimmering yellow silks, and she was well framed by the thick locks of copper that bouced around her.
As she lowered to a kneel at his boots, she studied his lines and demeanor. He was older, and truly a warrior. His body was kissed with scars and could tell a story of hard times. Yet his eyes glistened like a young boy having just rode his first tarn. They were milky brown, almost golden in the torch light, and his smile was crooked, pulling to the right of his face, like a sneer. She thought he must know some many secrets that only he could carry.
Upon her knees she parted her thighs, not as wide as she might have during other serves. With her green eyes lowered to the floor she raised up her head and smiled softly to him. Raising the bowl from her taut belly and lifting it to her heart for three beats, the fire haired girl then offered the paga in outstretched arms, dipping her head between her arms.
“Master, this girl hopes You don’t choke on the paga and she could care less what You thought of her serve,” that’s what she would have liked to say, but she didn’t dare. “Master, this girl hopes the paga warms You and her serve pleased You. She thanks You for allowing her to serve.”
He took the drink from her hands and sipped from it. Reaching out he caressed her cheek softly with the back of his callused hand, his eyes running the length of her body. His smile faded as his gaze fell on her thighs, sliding his boot out he shoved her legs open further. “In a proper nadu, I should see your heat girl.”
She growled at his intrusion. She saw the dismay in Drakes eyes, and her heart dropped knowing she had displeased her owner. She opened her legs even further, painfully further, and rolled her shoulders back to push her ample bosom closer to the arrogant mans legs.
He smiled, “that’s a girl,” and took another deep drink from his bowl. He waved his hand, “very good beast, go tend to Others.”
As she backed away from him, he leaned over to the side and whispered something to Drake, they both laughed.
She spent the rest of the night serving and teasing the free men. Her head was spinning by the time Drake had ordered Nilsa to take her back to the kennels. She lay there in the furs thinking about the joy she had felt until she drifted off to sleep.

The next few days flew by for the girl. Between resting during the day and serving all night in the tavern she could hardly keep up with the day. She had not seen the arrogant man from her encounter in the bath. She mused that she must have displeased him and he took off to another town to purchase some other slave.
Nilsa came into the kennels in a fury, she was carrying red shimmering silks, and a deep purple robe with gold embroidery, mumbling about tonight being so special and she hoped she wouldn’t get all weepy. The young girl griped her shoulders and said calmly, “relax sweet sister. I should be the one in a panic, not you.”
« Last Edit: Nov 11th, 2010, 07:03am by dena » User IP Logged

dena
There is a difference between the kiss of the free woman and the kiss of the slave girl; the slave girl yields to her master; the difference is unmistakable. It is said that he whose lips have never touched those of a slave girl does not know, truly, what it is to hold a woman in his arms.
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xx Re: Chronicles of a kajira - Chap 1
« Reply #6 on: Nov 11th, 2010, 06:18am »

She giggled softly as she stepped into the crimson silks, tying them in a knot at her shoulder. Nilsa held up the long robe as she turned her back into it, sliding her slender arms into the long flowing sleeves. The ties lashing the robe closed went far up to her delicate neck and the steel that encased it. Nilsa finished her duties by tying a thin white ribbon to the front clasp of her collar. It was silly really to dress up a slave in such a way, just hoop-la so to speak. Slaves never wore robes; it was only to make the men yearn to see more of her. The red silks would tell those biding that she was a trained pleasure slave; the white ribbon, told the men she was unused and not even a woman yet. It was that white ribbon that would up the bid. Virginity was a rarity on Gor.
Running the brush through her thick hair once more, she and Nilsa departed the kennels. The red head couldn’t help but get misty eyed at the thought. They walked their usual route to the main hall; the noise flowed out into the crowded hallway. Men were lined everywhere; girls were stacked against the stone walls, naked, being examined by possible buyers. They were used property being sold or traded. Guards stood at the ready keeping watchful eyes on the men. She was amazed by it all; she grabbed at Nilsa’s hand and pulled in close to her, the three guards at her back moved in closer.
Drake met them quickly, “Move! Make way!” He shoved several men to the side as they stepped into a small quiet room, “are you ok, prize?”
She nodded dumbly. Looking around the room she sat there with four other extremely beautiful girls. She wondered if she looked just as scared as they did. Nilsa stroked her hand and ran her fingers through the long tresses. Each girl was escorted by their own maid; women that had many years on them, not that you would have known by their appearance.
The sounds outside seemed to settle, she could here individual loud voices and then cheers from all present. After a moment of long applause and roar, the small door opened and slowly the girls stepped out into the hall one by one. Nilsa grabbed her hand, “girl, I will miss you greatly, you have been a joy to raise and train.”
With that the red head stepped out and up a small flight of steps to a raised platform. She stood beside the others, her lava mane the only thing that stood her out from the other robed girls. The men cheered and called, then Drake gave the summons; the girls dropped their robes. All of them bore red silks and the white sash, but she stood alone. Emerald eyes shone so brightly they could be seen by the men in the far back. Her flesh so snowy white, she must have looked like a flaming spirit standing beside the darkened beauties.
A man in black stood beside the first girl as yells of bids came up. It did not take long to close her biding. The petite kajira watched as the other girl was lead down the steps, the man paid his money, and collars were switched. A word rang in her head, “merchandise.”
The bidding went smoothly on the next three girls; they were all a bit scared and nervous to head off with the strangers. She was last. Drake motioned for her to move up to the front of the stage; she did as commanded. The black coated man held up his hand and the biding began. As she looked out to the men she realized that most of the men offering up bids had been men she had served the week before. They were well aware of her potential and desire to please. Drake was grinning madly rubbing his hands together at the price she was fetching; the biding continued, two men each upping the other.
A call rang out above the deadening drum of the crowd; men gasped. “That’s ridiculous! No slave is worth that!”
“Drake, You can’t allow this” exclaimed another man.
Drake raised his hand and looked out into the crowd. The man made his way through them and up to the front of the raised stage. “Now Drake, this is an auction, is it not? I can offer up any price I see to pay. I am just cutting out the wasted time of out biding these Two by a mere tarsk at a time.” He was laughing at their petty bids.
Drake nodded in agreement, “He can give any bid He wishes, no matter how foolish it is. Would Anyone out bid Him?”
No one rose up their hands; no one would pay that much gold for a kajira.
Her belly turned as she looked down at him, the man from the bath. She was now his.
Drake and the man shook hands as the festivities picked up in the hall. Food was served, drinks were spilt and newly purchased girls were used in the open; moans and cries of pleasure rang in with cheers of laughter. She heard it all as she watched the man hand over two pouches of coins for her. She bent her head forward as Drake removed her collar and the new one was locked on. The man tied on a leather leash to the front ring and gave a hard tug, sneering at her.
“It always good doing business with You, Drake. Stop in some time and let My new wench serve You a drink.” He made his mark in the ledger and then lifted the silks from her thigh.
“Yes, she has My house mark beside the kef. Should she get away or be stolen, it needs to be reported to Me.”
“Of course.”
“Well, enjoy the rest of the evening good Friend, there is much food and drink to be had.”
“No, we will leave early with the sun. I think I will take My merchandise and retire to My holdings. Good night.” He clasped Drake’s arm with his and looked down at her, smiling at his choice of words.
With a tug of the tether they left the hall and walked through the corridors to the guest quarters. The walk seemed long; it was the silence that made it so. He came to the door of his holdings and pushed it open, holding out his arm motioning for her to enter. She walked through and looked around; she had never been in this wing before. She was at least pleased he would open her in private, perhaps he had some manners. He motioned to the furs laid out on the floor at the foot of his mattress.
“you will sleep there girl. In the morning I will take you to My home. It is a day’s ride, so rest.”
She watched intently as he undressed before her, his muscles rippled. She took in every scar, every dark mark of conquer. Her pulse quickened as she lowered unto the soft pelts, mindlessly her tongue caressed her lips at the sight of him.
He had turned to face her, and smiled seeing her reaction. He couldn’t help but want her just as much. That fire in her eyes drove him wild and he wanted to know if she matched that in the furs. His loins ached to feel inside her, and his shaft grew thick now seeing that she too wanted him.
Seeing him turn to her, her eyes widened at the full sight of him, her mouth parted in a gasp at his size. Suddenly she was afraid to have his touch. She turned her eyes away looking at the furs.
Chuckling, “you turn your gaze away, but unavoidably motion to the furs. What is it you want girl? Do you or do you not want to be used?”
She hated that he mocked her, she was so young and unsure of these things, and here he stood teasing her. That fire raged forward, “well, Master. This girl is nothing but merchandise, Your merchandise, she surmises You will do as You see fit, no matter her opinions on the matter.”
In two quick steps he had her by the hair, growling at her, lifting her up off the ground. “It is that quick tongue that makes Me want you, but in My tavern girl, it will cost Me business and you, your flesh. Now I know you were trained well, so whatever it is between the two of Us, We need to settle it now!”
He threw her unto the mattress, forced her legs open and climbed on top of her. His large frame dwarfed her petite body, covering her completely. She tried to back away, out of reflex, but she did want this, she did want to feel what a true kajira felt inside. With a tight grip on her arms, holding one up behind her head, he slid his hardened manhood between her soft petals, pushing slowly as she stretched to accommodate him. She shook her head and muttered, “No, no…please.”
“Shhhh, lie still girl, I will make this as painless as possible and then you will feel nothing but complete pleasure.”
He pushed further and she cried as she felt her maidenhead give way to him. With each gentle thrust he drove further into her. Her pain soon became immense ecstasy; she held her legs open wide for him, thrusting up to meet him. Her free hand gripped at his arms, pink painted nails dug into the bronzed skin. Her moans filled the room as he pushed harder against her. Kissing his neck and ear, he turned to her and wrapped her lips with his, their tongues dancing in unison with the rhythm of their bodies. He gripped her tightly and rolled over to his back, pushing her up onto him seated above him. She rocked her hips slowly at first, getting used to the new position, the feel of his spear in her velvet sheath. His hands grabbed her hips hard and he moved her faster, lifting her diminutive frame up and down on him, driving in so deep. An overwhelming numbness started in her toes and rang through her legs, creeping through her muscles and scratching the surface of her skin. The fire in her belly roared out of control as she found herself enthralled with his touch, his forcefulness, everything about him. She felt as though she could explode from the passion.
« Last Edit: Nov 11th, 2010, 07:20am by dena » User IP Logged

dena
There is a difference between the kiss of the free woman and the kiss of the slave girl; the slave girl yields to her master; the difference is unmistakable. It is said that he whose lips have never touched those of a slave girl does not know, truly, what it is to hold a woman in his arms.
dena
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xx Re: Chronicles of a kajira - Chap 1
« Reply #7 on: Nov 11th, 2010, 06:19am »

Looking down to him she could see he too was loosing control. It was invigorating to see a man in such a position, giving so much to something that was owned, mere property. Yet here he was, seeing that every bit of him not only felt complete pleasure, but that she too received as much rapture from this. His hand massaged her full breasts, pinching each nipple playfully as she bounced and rocked over him. Grabbing her hair he pulled her down to him and kissed her deeply, holding her there so close to his own flesh. He whispered to her, “Are you ok? Is the pain gone?”
She couldn’t help but giggle, covering her mouth with her small hand, “Yes Master. girl is wonderful.”
He lay still for a moment, looking at her. “Was something funny girl?”
“No, Master. girl just found it touching.”
“I’m not a brute girl.”
“of course not, Master.” She slowly rocked her hips on him, not wanting to stop what was building in her.
With a very twisted grin, he pushed her off and turned her quickly. “She-sleen, slut.”
She pressed her hardened nipples into the mattress, dipping her back low she lifted her ass up to him, spreading her thighs wide, making her self available. He smacked her ass hard before he pushed into her once again.
“Besides, I wouldn’t want to hurt the merchandise I had just purchased.” His laugh filled the room as he pounded against her, moving in unison with her bucking motion.
She would have clawed his eyes out if she hadn’t wanted his touch so bad. Her muscles were clenching down around him so hard and she knew very well what was about to happen and what was expected of her, “Master, please…may this girl release?”
One more deep thrust and he too exploded deep into her, “yes, girl, please do!”
She gave in to the sensations that wound through her, her body melting in his hands. His grip the only thing holding her there, slowly he let her down onto the bed, moving to his side to lay with her, rubbing her back.
“Very good little one, I am pleased.”
She turned to face him, nestling into his arm, “Master, what does this girl call You, or rather, what is Your name?”
He let his large hands rub over her small arms, down her waist, remembering how easily both hands had fit around her, “Turok, girl. My name is Turok. And you shall be My pearled larl. pearled due to your unique color and larl, because I can see you will be one that is hard to tame.” He kissed her forehead sweetly, “but I like that about you, slut. You certainly will be a prize in My tavern.”
She fell asleep to the thunder of his heart.
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dena
There is a difference between the kiss of the free woman and the kiss of the slave girl; the slave girl yields to her master; the difference is unmistakable. It is said that he whose lips have never touched those of a slave girl does not know, truly, what it is to hold a woman in his arms.
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