Writings

:: Fiction/Encouragement ::

A girl died tonight. You'll not hear about it from the town crier or read about it in the daily scroll. You probably won't even notice anyone missing, but she died all the same.
Kneeling in a dark corner of the Tavern, a girl looks tired, drawn, defeated with eyes that once caught everyone's attention because of how they sparkled with laughter and just a hint of mischief, now were puffy, barely half-open, devoid of spark.
The collar and lock that seemed so permanently attached was missing. Once a symbol of love and devotion and who she was. A source of pride and identity, marking her as the property of her Master, a role she truly cherished. Now she hardly seemed to miss it. The girl within had died.
Looking at her reflection in the window, she wondered just what had happened? How did that part of her which she had worked so hard to develop just suddenly fade away? she had come to be respected as a loving kajira. Looked up to as a role model for other girls, had gained the respect of Master's and Mistresses and slave's alike. But now, it was gone.
Actually, it had been a gradual death. One she'd been fighting for several months. Growing pressures from the outside world, her job and family, as well as increasing pressure from the gorean community to give more and more of herself had finally taken it's toll. Outside responsibilities were causing her to feel that she was not giving as she was to her Master. That she was letting him down, and letting him down was the one thing the girl could not forgive herself for.
Despite reassurances from her Master, try as he might, the girl could not get over feeling inadequate. The Master tried to help by relaxing some of the girl's duties. But to the girl, this just meant that her Master didn't think her capable. The more her Master tried to help, the more inadequate the girl felt. Trips to the alcove became less and less frequent. It being a magical place for them. Reviving their Master and slave spirit, binding them closer. But now it seemed that though they both wanted to, both seemed afraid that for some reason, the magic wouldn't be as great. The fear of disappointed froze them.
Falling deeper and deeper into despair, the girl could hang on no longer. Once she had been able to reach within herself to find that extra little bit of enthusiasm to carry her forward. But this night, no such energy could be found. Nothing was left, and with one last gasping breath, she let go.
Before she kenneled she would put away her silks. Never to see them again. But something kept her from doing it. Looking at the few gifted belongings that clothed her, each one with it's own special memory, the girl couldn't face returning them. The first, a simple set of bells which adorned her ankle, given to her by the first Master who'd brought her to Gor. The second, a waist chain of golden coins, gifted to her by another special Master she had loved with all her heart. An arm band of silver a Mistress had given before a cruel twist of fate had taken Her from this world. All simply meant to much to her to let it go. Perhaps all was not dead. Am ember, a spark, however small, still burned beneath the ashes of her slave heart.
As the tavern began to fill with laughter dance and song. Master's with they're slaves on leashes and the sweet scents of Gor, she rose, shoulders slumped and heart heavy with sadness, she made her way to the door. It was there that she noticed a new girl kneeling quietly off to the side.
Shy, alone and slightly nervous, a lot like the girl was her first time out. The new girl knelt silently. Naked, knowing her place and respectful of those who around her. Those of the tavern were noticing her. The looks were not obvious, but they were there if you knew what to look for. The girl knew she would do alright.
As the girl curled in her kennel that night, she couldn't help but think of the new girl. Something about her was familiar, though she knew she had never seen her before. Something about the eyes she thought. The way they glimmered with eagerness, yet nervous, shy but longing. Something about those eyes.
That night, one girl left, one girl arrived. One died and one was born. But did she really die? Looks can be misleading. For as long as there is still even the smallest ember burning, no matter how deeply buried in ash, the fire to serve still lives.
And the girl will be back. Stronger than ever. Ready to serve the free again with more spark and drive than ever before. Sometimes we have to lose what we have to fully appreciate the gift we've been given. The girl will be back. Perhaps she already is....it's something in the eyes!

Serrene

:: Dedication/Fiction ::

A Band of Outlaws

A band of dangerous travelers wandered on the plains. They rode gnarled old kaila that should have been slaughtered before now but the ancient beasts were proud creatures and served the needs of the gang of Men. Outlaws lived from meal to meal, adventure to adventure.
Sometimes they ranged so far that they went into the southern cities. Sometimes they would travel to the colder climes and raid there as well. Their band of Men were so bold, it was reported that they took bounty from the highest, and bravest warriors of the plains themselves.
Skirmishes fed their appetites in more than one way. Not only did they plunder and take foods and ales and paga botas, they also searched for the finest women available to plunder. They were infamous for taking the daughters and companions of the highest councils in many cities.
Though some had tried to stop them, none had succeeded so far. Even when they had plenty of food and drink in their bags, they still hungered for that risky adventure. There was never a sense of enough. On the horizon, just over the next dune, there was something more.
One such morning began as any other, surly Men too long in each other's company growling at the dawn. When life was too quiet, they grew restless and anxious. If they weren't about the business of being Outlaws, then they often turned on each other. Games of chance amused for a short while, but there was nothing that equaled the thrill of the hunt.
The self appointed leader of the clan smirked to himself. The tarsk strips were sizzling over an open fire and someone had kept vulo eggs in his pouch so this morning's meal would be richer than the norm. Unfortunately, it seemed that nothing would distract the Men, not even the delectable scents lingering in the air about camp.
His first in command and blood brother lunged suddenly over the fire, tipping the pan in his path. The Man across from him had jested. Sometimes such jests were harmless. Sometimes they meant death. The leader watched both, noticing that the lunging Man had ignored the grease scalding him because of his anger.
He spoke levelly, without hesitation, looking to his first sword, disregarding for the moment the underling that had begun this latest tiff. "Today, we prowl." Just as he thought, the Men retook their seats and their expressions changed instantly. Predators always enjoyed a good hunt.
"Over the next ridge, there is an Oasis. I have sent scouts and they return favorable reports. We might fill our water botas, take mean and fresh cheese, and perhaps there will be a bauble or two to interest you, Men." He spoke the words deliberately, knowing he enticed them with the idea. The leer in his grin gave them no cause for wonder as to the nature of the baubles. Choice always went to the leader, but this Oasis left room for others to make their selection as well. "We ride at sundown."
The day passed without another skirmish. Some men sharpened their weapons. Others lolled about in the afternoon sun, resting so that full strength would be had for the raid. As the sun dipped over the horizon and the sky blazed, he notice groups of three and four Men mounted on their kaila. They were ready to ride.
Loudly, abruptly, they rode into the town situated around the water hole. Women screamed, Men shouted, and pandemonium ruled. The leader of the Men watched for the most part, letting his Men run through the buildings. He knew they would bring their spoils to the center of town once they'd had their sport with the hunt. It was only a matter of time.
The three moons rose in succession as the sounds dissipated. His Men had subdued the small Oasis town. It was simply a matter of time before they brought what they had found to him. His favorite part of the raid was always the moments before he saw the spoils. Imagination ran fervently, and he allowed himself this pleasure. Who knew, sometimes reality was even better than fond thoughts.
Again familiar groupings of Men appeared, this time far less restless than earlier that night. Draped and tied over the beasts they rode were plump botas of water and wine, fresh packs filled with treasures and foods and women in all shapes and sizes. The leader smiled as he noticed some of the women thrashed about, testing their bonds and others were far more subdued. The light of the moons cast a bright glow over the clearing and he moved to stand, pacing from cluster to cluster, inspecting the Men's findings.
Some he passed without second glance, dismissing the Men who brought them to enjoy their prizes. Others he looked up with interest, lifted chins, patted botas, checking the more interesting packages, and inspecting more closely. Towards the rear of the gathering, there was an especially feisty thrashing female.
The leader could tell that she was still partially clad in robes and veils hung crookedly on her face. When he lifted her chin as he had the others, she spit on his hand. A crack of his hand swiftly connected to her cheek and jaw. "You WILL be still now, eh?" he smirked to her as he could still see the fire burning in her gaze as he studied her. Veils were easily snagged in his grasp and tugged free from her skin. Delicate skin, alabaster in color, shone in the moons' light. His smile widened. Even out in the harsh desert environment, she had been kept unmarked by the brutal sun. She was exquisite.
He took her from the back of the kaila. Even with his command to still, the woman fought against him. He shook her, then lifted his hand again, bringing it back to use it again but noticed a bit of fear replace her bravado and she grew quiet and finally stopped her thrashing. "This one is mine, Men. The rest may be divided. We will spend the night here, and ride out at day break."
He felt the woman shudder at his words. He laughed aloud. "Do I frighten you, ~woman~?" He sneered at her, using the word woman to tease and humiliate, not respect in the least. Again, she shuddered. "Where are the finest chambers in this town?" he asked with the sort of commanding voice that implied he had better not have to ask twice. She winced as his grasp tightened and twisted her hair. A small hand motioned to one of the nearby buildings.
He kept his fist tight in her hair and strode off, half dragging, and letting her crawl. The robes about the woman shredded as she moved through sand and dust. For a moment, she flushed, knowing that all around her could see bare skin exposed, but then she was grateful as well. The more the robes came up and to pieces, the easier a crawl became and she was not dragged so painfully.
By the time they entered the low roofed building, the woman was trembling and in tears. Hair was tangled. Robes were hanging wildly, accenting the womanly curves they had originally been made to cover. Feral eyes bore into her as she huddled before him. "You know how to kneel! Do it now." Rough hands caressed her maliciously. What might have been a caress to someone else was little more than possession. It shone in his eyes. Fresh tears spilled from her eyes. "There might be ransom, if you leave me untouched ROGUE," her words were brave and spoken vehemently. She had spirit. It was obvious to him.
"Doubt it not. You are no longer free, nor will you ever be again. From this point forward, you are simply a beast. MY beast. You will crawl when it pleases me, serve when it pleases me, and you WILL scream when it pleases me as well," fierce words were spoken evenly. He stroked her cheek again, feeling the bruise rise over the cheek bone. Such a pretty one she was, and such spirit. She would indeed serve him well. The raid had been successful. Sometimes, reality was better than any imagination.

Ashaia - A dedication to Saxus, Ty`nan, Silver

:: A kajira speaks ::

Greetings to A/all,

Well tendre is going to speak of the journey she has embarked upon. First of all, tendre has always known she was submissive, she knew when she was teenager, being of the quiet type though, and shy, never let anyone she ever had a relationship with know about it though. She was ashamed of the feelings and thoughts that were brewing in her mind. The family in which she grew up, well she dearly loves them, they mean everything to her but, on matters of this type, she knows they would NEVER understand, * just to give you an example- one of tendre's sisters is VERY big into women's rights issues and has marched in Washington in rallies and such* she would never ever understand.. so to tendre is best just to not tell them.
On marriage number two, tendre finally found a man she, well that she felt so comfortable with, she finally told him about how her submissive feelings. He did exactly as she thought he would, he supported her. Just as he always has.
Well this was only a few short months ago, of course tendre being tendre, she needed to find information about this life style, and the best place for tendre was the internet. Finding many good articles and such, well she also came across many sites about IRC bondage network, and also a few things about Gor, well she had read a little about gor, but to be honest, it really didn't seem like her cup of tea so to speak, but she did find her way to IRC bondage. Found herself floating around the sub channels aimlessly, not quite finding anything that interested her there either. Noticing all the gor channels on the network though, she popped into one day, and popped right back out, she is such a nervous shy lil twit, well thankfully a Master took notice of her, and pulled her back in, and let her watch, and observe.. tendre had totally, misunderstood what gor was about. She had this perception that it was * please excuse this girl* but she thought it was just totally full of men who were all HNG, and had these visions of them being hard cruel Masters.
Well, this was not the case, tendre was placed in a collar, in a tavern at first, and that is where she began her journey of gor, learning. Her thoughts, well thoughts and feelings when she first began serving, she was of course white silk, so terrified of making a mistake, from the very first she wanted to be found pleasing, to both Master / Mistress` alike.
With her first serves, wow, she was like cold as ice, stiff as a board with her words, totally stressed out, because she couldn't remember what the heck blackwine first serve and blackwine second serve was, ohh and the very first time, she served bazi tea, ohh *lol* very bad.. as she looks at herself now, she has went from a caterpillar, to a beautiful butterfly, don't misunderstand tendre though, she still has very much to learn she thinks, but being in Koroban Kaverns has given her, it has given her the strength, the confidence she needed.. she takes pride in the fact she is a slave, ( may a slave be proud of being a slave ?) not knowing if that is allowed, but is how she feels, well tendre better sign off for now, thank you for listening to this beasts words.. well wishes

tendre{S1}

:: Words from a kajirus ::

Being a kajirus on Gor

A world where most Men and women are free, and where few men kneel, this is Gor. This is where the sun burns bright and the three moons show their phase, casting their shadows on all. i write as a kajirus, one of the rare male slaves on this world, where savagery rules, and a life hangs upon the whim of the Master who would take it upon the slightest dissatisfaction.
Why Gor?
So many have asked. the truth is, in a boy's mind it is not only the feeling of submission, perhaps a slave's most congruent quality. it is not merely the need to serve the Dominant Ones...one can do that in many worlds open to him, especially at the keyboard. what appeals to a boy about Gor more than any other venue of his expression is the discipline involved to survive, yea thrive. when one takes a generic BDSM culture and compares it with Gor, it is clear that the tolerance for deviation from accepted norms is much less Here. it takes effort to be on Gor...not only the root feelings of submission that a slave would feel. there is learning of Gor itself...basic knowledge of the geography, the regions and their people, their customs and traditions. it is the food and drinks to serve, and how to serve them. it is the positions...the way to greet...knowing when and when not to greet nor even to speak. no wonder why so few come to dwell on Gor...it is far easier to slip into a typical BDSM channel and act as one wishes, knowing that at worst they will be ignored. no such tolerance on Gor. a slave must be on their toes...so to speak...and serve with knowledge, respect, and seductiveness to merely be accepted. this is what separates Gor among the rest for a boy.
What does it mean to be a kajirus?
a boy on Gor faces several challenges his sitter slaves do not. the least of which being to earn the acceptance of the free Men he encounters. this is not at all an easy thing to accomplish. it takes weeks if not months of proper behavior and discipline. it takes the willingness to take not only criticisms, but downright debasing by the Free who do not tolerate such a thing as a male slave. in Their eyes, a man is either Free or non-existent. how does a boy survive such confrontations? he simply remains true to who he is. he relies on his convictions as slave. he allows his Supporters to answer for him, never taking the words of others in his hand. a boy's poise shall not waiver in the face of such attacks. that said, a boy must also conduct himself with respect, not only for those Free and slave around him, but for himself...because if a boy can not respect who he is, he can never give of himself to Home stone. he will be judged by this...daily. he must know, through heart and through training, that there are ways a male slave act that would not be accepted for sister...and ways that sisters can act and serve that would lead to a boy's dismissal from Home stone at the very least. a boy knows his primary duty is to see to the comforts of the free Women who visit...but his eye can not be turned when a Master wishes service. he serves both with honor and substance...though he may accent his serves to Women in a way that he would not even consider with Master. still, all done in respect. a boy must interact with sisters in a way that garners appreciation, friendship, kinship and camaraderie...without bringing undue attention to himself, after all he must remember Gor is for most intents and purposes a place where sisters serve the free Man. he will not attempt to alter the atmosphere of Houston by what he brings.
With all this, with all the challenges and obstacles a boy must face in being kajirus, he has three choices for himself: one, to turn tail and run, showing he does not have what is needed inside to be part of Gor; two, he comes to taste, then decides it is not for him. respect is due a boy that makes a qualified decision, but he must remember why he did such, and let that weigh upon him should he wish to return; three, a boy learns...he watches...he grows. he takes each defining moment, pleasant and painful, as an experience learned. he remains true to himself, and delights in serving the needs of the Free. he shines in the company of his wonderful sisters, but knows enough to blend into the furs. more than anything, he feels the beat in his slave heart. he knows where he belongs, and when he is there, he knows he is home.

respectfully submitted

ai`den [S]