Tuesday, 12 June 2007

Slave Story, part 1

I posted a part of a longer story about a girl who was enslaved earlier. Perhaps it is time to return to the theme again and return to what I do best; stories (I am not saying I am good just that it is what I do best).

This is the story from the beginning. I have written quite a lot but it is far from finished. You have to imagine the setting yourself, an ancient looking fantasy land with people and places with silly names. And yes, it is very inspired by the Gor stories by John Lange (aka John Norman). I think my world is a little less brutal, though, but we'll see.

It was a beautiful day, the day I was taken. I had gone to the market with my friends as we often did in the morning. I knew nothing about what would occur, everything was decided without me knowing anything. It was nothing unusual in that. This kind of matters were never discussed with girls like me. Even if it would affect you profoundly.

I was together with my friends sitting by the fountain relaxing a little after having finished the shopping. As always we had lots of things to carry home and the road was long so we thought we deserved a short break with our feet in the cool water. We talked and giggled and sang as young girls always do when together. I was happy at that moment. Not a worry in the world.

I didn't notice the men who walked up to us. I didn't notice until I herd a harsh voice calling my name.

'Calissa! For you are Calissa, the daughter of the blacksmith Cajol?'

I stood up as a young girl should do in the presence of men.

'I am, master' I answered sensing my heart beating in my chest. The fact that this man addressed me indicated something bad, I knew that. I wondered what I was accused of doing. I took for granted that there was some wrongdoing being done and that I had been accused of it. I could not imagine the real reason for this man talking to me.

I was soon to be told the grim reason for his address. He didn't give me much time for preparations.

'Strip!' he ordered with his stern voice.

I was bewildered.

'But, why, master?' I managed to ask.

'You are to be taken to the slave pens.'

'No, master, that must be some mistake, I am free.'

I felt my cheeks blush.

'You are the property of master Firul and will be taken to the slave pens on his behalf.'

'I am not the property of master Firul, master, that is a mistake.'

'Will you strip or shall I order my men to strip you?'

'But, please, master, I do not understand.'

'The papers are in order,' he replied.

He didn't prove it by showing me the papers. I could read, it was not that. It was, simply not done.

'But, master, who could have...?'

'Strip now, girl!'

'My father can't have. Please, master, do not tell me, my father has sold me!'

'I think he has. Will you strip now?'

I was overwhelmed, distraught. I sat down on the fountain and covered my face in my hands, weeping. I couldn't believe what was happening. My mind was in turmoil.

I heard the men in the company of the master who had addressed me, obviously his servants, approach me. I immediately stood up. I realised I had to comply. Nothing could be more embarrassing than having those men strip me there in the street.

'Please, master, wait, I will do as you wish.'

The man held back his servants with a gesture of his hand.

I looked up at the man in despair. My fingers fumbled with the cord around my waist. I felt numb.

'Please, master, can't I take my clothes off later?'

'It is not customary,' he answered and I knew he was right.

I looked around and my friends watched in horror. I felt their sympathy to be another burden for me.

I untied the cord around my waist and hesitated. The man looked annoyed but he didn't say anything.

'Please, master.'

The man didn't answer but gestured with his hand and his servants started to move.

'Wait, wait, please, master, I will obey.'

He held them back.

My hands trembled as I slipped the dress from my shoulders. There was a sense of loss as I felt it slide over my body. I held it as it slipped from me and then I stepped out of it. The man held out his hand and I gave him my dress and the cord that used to hold it in place.

For a while I just stood there, feeling utterly naked, blushing, my heart pounding in my chest, full of shame and anguish.

The man didn't say anything, he just pointed at my hip. For some reason I didn't dare to protest. My fumbling fingers untied the knot at my hip and I slipped off my minimal breech cloth. Now I was naked.

'Now, girl, kneel!'

I fell to my knees and hunched my back, trying to cover up, overcome with shame and embarrassment.

'Straighten your back!'

I did as I was told. I sat up and suddenly I saw all the people who had gathered around us. It was a bit of entertainment to see a girl being enslaved like this. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to look calm.

'Knees apart.'

My heart beat and extra beat at hearing this. This was the ultimate shame, having to kneel like a slave.

I obeyed him while my whole body trembled.


I cried as I obeyed him.

My head swirled and my cheeks were hot as I knelt on the cobbled street in front of the fountain, naked and with knees apart like a slave girl.

The man knelt behind me and took my arms and crossed them behind my back. He then bound me and put a rope around my neck as a leash.


Anonymous said...

This is interesting. Seeing things through her thoughts is good. I hope you do not stick too closely to the Gor series, which many of us have read, and which are pretty much played out.

Anonymous said...

Pretty good story from a man's view errrr Janice.

Janice said...

Dear Anonymous, a belated comment. I do not care for the Gor series. I have my own mind.

Dear Anonymous, I don't think you read very well, if you say this is written with a man's view. Read again!


Lady M said...

Any Free Woman who addresses a man as Master is submitting right there and then...You were never a free.

Janice said...

Dear Lady M, let's not jump to conclusions. Politeness and a sense of decorum is not the same as submission or being unfree.