“Sex in a woman is a very subtle and profound thing; she is capable of deep and sustained pleasures which might be the envy of any vital organism. These pleasures, of course, can be used by a man to make her a helpless prisoner and slave. Perhaps that is why free women guard themselves so sternly against them.”
- Beasts of Gor
"All characters and events in this show --even those based on real people-- are entirely fictional. All celebrity voices are impersonated ... poorly. The following program contains coarse language and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone."
- Southpark
D/L/S/V-FV
In Ar there is a merchant among merchants. Perhaps not the wealthiest of them, but. Among them.
He's made a good life for himself and his beloved Free Companion, rife with opulence, slaves and splendor. Yet above all, the “possession” he prized most was his daughter. She, a stunning vision of feminine beauty and poise, was in her seventeenth year of age. Graceful and mild, she had eyes of deepest azure which did most of her speaking for her. They could sparkle and laugh with mirth and life or, at a turn, go steely, silent and cold. And when they welled with tears, a rare enough event, even the casual observer's heart would ache.
While I won't tell you her name, we'll call her “Em” for now.
Em doted on her father too, even as they disagreed. Which was fairly often. Though never defiant, she had what might be deemed by some, an uncommonly strong mind. Ever active, alert, curious, lithe and quick. Willful albeit quietly. And persuasive! Em was an extraordinarily adept negotiator. Perhaps because she was also a young woman of intense passion, with the equanimity to rarely express it.
Whatever the case and however, she managed to prevail upon her father to promise her to a boy. He, we'll call “Jay.” In Em's universe, Jay was the sun. Although younger than she, Jay was always at the center, brightening Em's world. Even when she was a little girl. Yet, she would never play with him then. He played too roughly! At first it was enough for her, to sit and watch, enthralled with his beauty, his agility, his cunning, and his strength. This merest slip of a boy. She loved him from the start. From a safe distance!
Of course the distance diminished. As they grew, so too did their friendship and their ardor. Jay came to love Em every bit as much as she loved him, in return.
The compromise with her father had been that they would wait. On Jay's 18th birthday he and Em would be Companioned. This would give her father nearly two more years with her under his roof, his loving authority, his whim and his will.
Or so he thought.
At her age, Em was keenly aware of station and status. Free Women and slaves, Free Men, Caste, Merchant Law, Warrior Codes, Magistrates and Initiates. Perhaps even more acutely, she was ever aware of the couching law. Viscerally.
Codified by Marlenus of Ar, the hero of her father, it was ingrained and, lately, always on her mind: “
Any free woman who voluntarily couches with another´s slave, or readies herself to do so, becomes the slave of the slave´s master. By such an act, the couching with, or readying herself to couch with, a slave, as though she might be a girl of the slave's master, thrown to the slave, she shows herself as no more than a slave, and in this act, in law, becomes a slave. Who then should own her, this new slave? Why, of course, he to whom the law consigns her, the master of the slave with whom she has couched, or was preparing to couch a slave, and the slave of the slave's master.
Players of Gor
She reacted physically to the thought. It made her shudder. Whatever could possess a woman to do that? To couch with a slave!
Em was not naive. Far from it. The workings of her sharp mind refused such a thing in her. She was well aware of sex and sexuality, too. Likely more than most Free Women her age. Of course there had been the awkward time or two when, having just left her father beside the hearth, or in the garden, or wherever, she found herself stood frozen before her mother's chamber door, fist poised to knock, listening to her mother's soft, passionate moans within, . . . her own breath bating, . . . listening, . . . listening, . . . listening, . . . then finally scurrying off, cheeks burning, at the muffled sound of her mother's, lusty, groaning release.
Em knew full well what that was! She had discovered the same aspect to her own sexuality some time ago when she found that loving thoughts of her Jay were often accompanied by an intense arousal and a telltale wetness between her thighs. Sometimes late at night in her own bedchamber, with a slickened finger she would tend to herself, just as her mother was doing. She smiled wryly. She knew exactly what that was. And it was liberating to be reassured that her mother had similar feelings.
Feelings, not needs.
Never did it occur to Em that her mother might have had company. The woman was too in love with her FC to ever take another man to her furs. And a thrall would have been unthinkable.
Under certain circumstances, it was a customary punishment for her father to allow his slavegirls to be taken by thralls. If she became too proud, for example. If her tongue acquired too sharp an edge. If she connived and schemed. If she belittled her sisters, or even just refused a sister help or comfort or compassion. There before the entire household, tears streaming down her cheeks, the poor wretch would service a thrall. And in extreme cases, several. Em always pitied the girl. Ever since she could remember. The humiliation of it. The betrayal of her body. The orgasms. The betrayal of herself. At the hands of a thrall. A thrall!
Yes, Em was well acquainted with station and status, sex and sexuality.
Or so she thought.
-- TO BE CONTINUED
