|
 Kisses, Types ofHere are relevant references from the Books where Types of Kisses are mentioned. I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them. Arrive at your own conclusions. I wish you well, Fogaban Click a heading to jump down to that listing. Main Headings At Supper Between Slave Girls Blow a Kiss Cunnilingus Dismiss a Slave Girl Fellatio First Kiss of the Captive Slave Girl First Kiss For Favors Give Away Given by Wives Harvested Kiss of an Insolent Wench Kiss of the Barbed Steel Kiss of the Whip Leads To Domination Leads To Ownership Leads To Rape Lovers Not Kissed Of a Warrior Of the Branding Iron One With The Kiss Ordered Placatory Pleasure Slave Slave Lips Stolen Taste Blood Taste the Kiss Thassa Thrown To Silence Too Brief Too Soon Ended Well-Placed Wet Without Permission
This sort of thing is sometimes done at Gorean suppers. Each male has a naked slave girl who is in attendance on him during the supper. She licks and kisses him, and fetches for him, and may even put food in his mouth. It is not unpleasant to be served by a naked, collared beauty in this fashion.
Aphris cried out with delight and ran to Elizabeth, to my astonishment, to kiss her and help with the water. "I love him," said Tenchika, kissing Dina and hurrying away. "El-in-or," she said, and kissed me. I wept, and kissed her. I ran to tell Ute and Inge that I was now Eleven Girl. We hugged and kissed one another. We all laughed, and hugged and kissed again. Ute held her more closely. She kissed her. The Lady Rena put down her head, weeping. "Do not scold her, El-in-or," chided Ute. "She is sad." "Do not cry so, Lady Rena," said Ute to the girl. She again held her and kissed her. She kissed me. Good," said Ute. Then she kissed Lana and myself. Ute gave me a kiss, and put her arm about my shoulder. I pressed my head against her shoulder. "Oh, Ute!" I wept. "It is only a dream," said Ute. "We will sit up for a time, and then we will go to sleep." After a time we lay down, side by side, and I, holding to Ute's hand, kissing it, fell asleep. "Yes, Mistress," I had said to Inge, humbly, hating her. "You may now kiss my feet," she informed me. My fists clenched. Her eyes flashed. I did so. She kissed me. She smiled. I wept, and kissed her feet. "Hurry to your work, Slave," she had said. She had then kissed me. I sprang to my feet and ran to my work, overcome with affection for her. She had forgiven me! I loved her! Ute, only of the leather workers, was the kindest, most generous, most loving girl I had ever known. How I hated myself for having once hurt her. Inge and Rena, I sensed, regarded me in a new fashion. "Slave!" they had said to me. And I had said to them, "Yes - Slave!" and kissed them. We kissed one another good-bye. "I love you, El-in-or," had said Inge. "I love you, too, Inge," I had wept. "I love you, El-in-or," had said Rena. "I, too, love you," I had said. "I wish you all well." She smiled. She removed the last of the bells. Then she laughed, and came over and kissed me. I hummed softly to myself as I worked. Eta, too, seemed pleased. Once she kissed me. Eta examined the brand, too, and smiled, and hugged and kissed me. I gathered that the brand was an excellent one. I hugged and kissed her, too, weeping. Eta kissed me, and I kissed her. She had kissed me, happily, and one by one, removed the loops and ties of bells, lastly removing that which I had worn at my left hip. I thrust the flask of wine I carried into the hands of Eta, who came to comfort me. "Go away!" I cried. Eta took the flask. I would not permit her to kiss me. looked to the sleeping men. I looked at Eta, again. "Teach me, Eta," I begged, in a desperate whisper, "teach me tomorrow to be pleasing to men. Teach me to be pleasing to men." Eta could not understand my words, but she could read my eyes, my looks, the movements of my body, my piteous needs. She smiled, nodding. She understood what was occurring in my body. I knew Eta would help me. She knew I was a slave. She would help me to be a better slave. Soon, I knew, when I learned more of the language, and could clearly, or more clearly, express myself, Eta would train me, as she could, in the giving of pleasures to masters. I kissed her. Eta kissed me and rose to her feet and left. "I shall miss you," said Eta, kissing me. "I wish you well, Slave," she said. Lehna, Donna and Chanda came to me, and kissed me, and hugged me. "I wish you well, Slave," they said. "I wish you well," I said. Slave Beads stood to one side, looking at me. "Will you not say farewell to your sister slave?" I asked. She came to my side, and knelt down beside me. "Yes," she said, tears in her eyes. "We are all slaves," she said. She took me in her arms and kissed me. Slave Beads was no longer the Lady Sabina. She, too, now, was only a slave. "I wish you well, Slave," she said. Radish, Verr Tail and Turnip fled to her, hugging her and kissing her. "We are so happy for you," said Turnip. Radish, Verr Tail and Turnip came to me and wished me well, hugging and kissing me. I, too, wished them well. "Slaves to your cage," said Sandal Thong. "We must go to our cage," said Radish to me. "I wish you well." "I, too, wish you well," I said. "I wish you all well." The three girls hurried to the cage. Sandal Thong, switch in hand, came to me. She hugged and kissed me. "I wish you well, Dina," she said. She had kissed me. "They will keep you much as you are," she said, "young and beautiful." I hugged and kissed her. It was done in this manner, to satisfy the desires of the free woman; to the astonishment of all in the court, when the chained slave girl crept on her knees, head down, to render gratitude to the free woman, the free woman had knelt beside her and kissed her, and then turned away. "I love you, too, Elicia," I said. I embraced her, holding her, her arms bound behind her. We kissed. Various of the girls whom I remembered, and Slave Beads in particular, had, with the permission of Busebius, the tavern master, spoken with me and kissed me. I kissed her. We kissed one another, and cried, for we knew that we might soon never see one another again, and we did not know what lay before us, outside the confines of the House of Andronicus, in the harsh world of Gor. Some of the beasts, I saw, regarded the blond girl, now, with loathing. Others, however, came up to her and kissed her, gently, welcoming her to the sisterhood of the collar. How wretched and peevish are those, themselves so resentful and constricted, who begrudge others the vitalities and pleasures of their honesty. "She said that there were two women who knelt before you, one bond and one free. In this she was in error. There were two women who knelt before you, but one was not bond and one free. Both were bond." Mira, tears in her eyes, suddenly seized the woman bound beside her, and kissed her. The men and women in the lodge let out a cheer. Mira rushed to Tuka and kissed her. "I, too, of course, am only a slave and a slut," said Teela. "And I love it!" Then she kissed us both. "I wish you well, Emily!" I said. "I wish you well, Tiffany!" she said. We kissed. This morning, early, I had been sent stark naked, even collarless, to the courtyard, that I might bid farewell to my friends of Feast Slaves, who were now leaving for Ar. I had spoken with them, and kissed them, shedding tears. We kissed one another, then, in hope. "May I kiss Tuka?" asked Tela. "Very well," he said. Tela came to kneel beside me. "I wish you well, Tuka," she said. She kissed me. "I wish you well, too," I said to her, and kissed her. Mirus had been on the wagon box, Tupita beside him, in a tunic fashioned of one of the blankets which had been inside the wagon. My eyes were still moist from their departure. Tupita, her hands braceleted behind her, had knelt and kissed me. "I wish you well, Tuka," she had said. "I wish you well, too, Tupita," I had said. Mirus had then crouched near me and kissed me. "I wish you well, slave," he had said. "I wish you well, Master," I had said. They had then left. Tupita and I could not wave to one another as our restraints did not permit it, but we exchanged a common slave girls' farewell, kissing to one another, tears in our eyes. "You are pretty, Janice!" she said. She bent down, kissed me. "Do not go away, Janice," she said. "I love you!" She then kissed me and arose, and beamed down on me, she with her hand on the arm of the scarlet-clad fellow. She then kissed her finger tips and touched the side of my face. The Lady Constanzia kissed me. I kissed her, trying to comfort her. Constanzia knelt before me, I kneeling, too. "It is he, Janice!" she said. "I am a slave! I am his slave! I am happy! I am so happy! I love you, Janice!" She bent toward me, joyfully. I took her in my arms and kissed her. "I am happy for you!" I said. "I love you, too!" Dara had sunk to her knees within the area of preparation, partly in misery, partly in confusion, partly in relief. Ellen bent down, quickly, and kissed her. "Thank you," said Ellen, and then she hurriedly slipped the bracelet on her left wrist, gave Dara a quick kiss, and hurried out onto the sand. But, both kneeling, they clung to one another, kissing, each weeping. But, weeping, sobbing with joy, we kissed one another, I them, and they me, again and again. "Jane! Eve!" I had cried, delighted, for both were at the top of the stairs. Soon, how joyfully, embracing and kissing, did we greet one another! Tula and Mila were with me when I opened my eyes. They kissed me. "You are alive, Vulo," had said Tula. Mila gave me water from a metal cup. Asperiche hurried to me and kissed me. "I wish you well, Laura," she said. "And you are very beautiful." "I wish you well, Asperiche," I said, kissing her. "And you are very beautiful." I could not hold her, as my hands were braceleted behind me. Paula leapt up, smiled, gave me a quick kiss, and followed him down the stairs. "I wish you well," I wept. We kissed, quickly, and Paula sprang to her feet. We kissed one another, I think both with tears in our eyes. She embraced me, gave me a quick kiss, and then turned about, and fled away into the darkness. Happily, Calla soon appeared behind him and welcomed me with an embrace and kiss. "Mira, Mira!" cried a voice. A slave was running toward me. "Here," I cried. "Here!" I broke into a run, as I could, my hands tied behind me, toward the opening. In a moment I was embraced, held, and kissed. "Mira!" she said. "Temione!" I said.
When I had left the compartment, Ho-Tu preceding me down the hall, I had turned and blown her a kiss. She laughed. "After breakfast," she said, blowing me a kiss, much as I had her the evening before, "you can discipline me!" Then she turned and scurried down the corridor. I saw a girl in the window, who blew me a kiss, a slave girl. "Kajuralia!" she cried and laughed. I blew her a kiss in the Gorean fashion, kissing and gesturing, my fingers at the right side of my mouth, almost vertical, then, with the kiss, brushing gently toward her. Ivar blew Pouting Lips a kiss, in the Gorean fashion, brushing the kiss with his fingertips toward her. I blew her a kiss in the Gorean fashion, brushing it upward to her with my fingers. I blew her a kiss, in the Gorean fashion, brushing the kiss with my finger tips towards her. She blew a kiss toward me, in the Gorean fashion, brushing it toward me with her fingers. "And when I was chained, and bound for Klima," I said, "again you smiled upon me. You cast me a token, a bit of silk. You blew me a kiss." Of course I lightly blew you a kiss of farewell, delighted in my triumph over you! Of course! Of course! Yes, yes, I mocked you when you were helpless! It gave me much pleasure to do so!" I pursed my lips and blew a kiss to him, brushing it toward him with my fingers. I was permitted this gesture of insolence. "Bina!" I heard. "Teela!" "I am coming," cried Bina. "Teela is ill!" She then blew me a kiss, and hurried out of the room. She pursed her lips, and then, delicately, kissed with them, as though her mouth might be upon my body. I blew her a kiss, brushing it from the side of my face towards her in the Gorean fashion. Then she brushed a kiss to me with the tips of her fingers in the Gorean fashion. I returned this gesture. The blond girl turned once, and waved to me, and then blew me a kiss in the Gorean fashion, kissing and brushing it to me with her fingers. I returned the kiss, and waved, too. "Yes, Master," she whispered, her lips forming the words. "Thank you, Master." Then her lips pursed a moment and sped him a kiss. I had little doubt he would call for her after the performance. "Thank you! Thank you!" called Boots, blowing kisses to the crowd in the Gorean fashion, brushing them from the side with an open hand to the audience. She pursed her lips, timidly kissing at me. I blew her a kiss in the Gorean fashion, brushing it to her with my fingers. Melanie threw Ellen a kiss in the Gorean fashion, brushing it to her with her hand. Ellen returned the kiss, similarly. Thurnock brushed them a kiss from his fingertips as we withdrew, which gesture doubtless incensed them further.
When her struggles had subsided I began, half biting, half kissing, to move up her calf to the delights of the sensitive areas behind her knees. "Please!" she wept. "Be quiet, pretty little Slave Girl," I mumbled. Then, kissing, but letting her feel the teeth which could, if I chose, tear at her flesh, I moved to the interior of her thigh. Slowly, with my mouth, by inches, I began to claim her. She cried out in misery. "I do not want to be a slave!" But when I had touched the most intimate beauties of her she became uncontrollable, writhing, and in my arms I knew the feeling of a slave girl and such, for the moment, was the beautiful Elizabeth Cardwell, helpless and mine, female and slave.
I drew her swiftly to me, and she cried out, frightened. I held her helplessly, and raped her lips with a kiss, an insolent kiss, such as a master might use to dismiss a slave girl, and then threw her from me, against the feet of the men of Tyros.
It was well toward morning, and he was nearly asleep, when he felt them against him, their cheek pressed against his thigh. "Girls," mumbled he, "do not forget you wear my steel." "We will not forget," they said. And he felt their kiss. I knelt beside the man in the furs, who threw back the furs. My master stood behind me. The other man held the torch. I then, with hands and mouth, fell to kissing and touching the warrior. I pleased him as well as I could, being an ignorant girl, following his directions. At last he took me and threw me to the furs beneath him. I had knelt and, with hands and mouth, kissing and touching, attempted to please the free man. "Please me," I said. My voice was hard. "Yes, Master," she whispered. She began to lick and kiss at my body. "I will try to please you," she said quickly. She began, clumsily, to kiss and caress me. I laughed at the ineptness of her efforts. "Teach me to survive as a slave girl," she begged. "I will show you some simple things," I said. "But girls usually learn from other girls, or from their slave trainers in the pens." "Pens?" gasped Audrey. "Of course," I said. "Sometimes," I admitted, "trainers are brought to the compartments, with their whips, but that is more expensive." She turned white. "You are a slave, and you are going to continue to be a slave," I told her, "so you had better learn how to be a good one." She looked at me. "Do you want to live?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "Then learn," I said. "Yes, Master," she said. "Here," I said, "hold your lips to my thigh. Put your lips thusly." "Yes, Master," she whispered. "Perhaps I should whip you," I said. "Rather let me try to please you," she begged. She was frightened. "Very well," I said. The slave girl then fell to kissing me, eager to placate the master. "Please me," I said. "Yes, Master," she said. The lamp went out softly in the darkness. This frightened her. "Must you go out on the ice?" she whispered. "Yes," I said. "Are you going to take me with you?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "I am afraid," she said. "Do not be afraid," I said to her. "I cannot help it," she said. "Please me in the darkness, in the furs, Slave," I said. "Yes, my master," she said. Her head lay on my belly. She was not asleep. "Master," she whispered. "Yes," I said. She knelt beside me. "Please, Master," she said. "Is your need to serve a man hot upon you?" I asked. I could tell that it was from her breathing. "Yes, Master," she said. "You are a slave," I said. "Yes, I am a slave, Master," she said. "Very well, Slave," I said. "You may serve me." "Thank you, Master," she said. Soon I marveled at her skill. It was all I could do to keep from crying out with pleasure and delight, and my pride in the skill of the slave I owned. How proud I was of her! She was for most practical purposes untrained and new to the collar and yet many girls whom I had had, even in paga taverns, I suspect, could not have equaled her performance. "What is going on with you?" I asked. "I do not understand," she said. "What has happened?" I asked. "What has gone on in your head, pretty slave?" "I do not understand," she said. "I went to sleep with a pot wench," I said, "and I awaken with a pleasure slave." She laughed. Then she said, soberly, "I love being a slave, Master." "That is well," I said, "for on this world you are a slave, and you are going to continue to be a slave." "Yes, Master," she said, trembling. Then she said, "I am content, Master." "Continue your work, Slave Girl," I said. "Yes, Master," she said. I then let her pleasure me, fully, not so much as touching her, that she might learn to please completely, without being so much as granted the least kiss or caress of the male beast. Slave girls are forced thus, sometimes, to serve, totally, unilaterally; it helps to impress their slavery on them. She slipped down my body and began, piteously, to kiss me. "I do not have time," I told her. "But one more kiss, please, Master," she said. She knelt on the furs, chained by the ankle, and I crouched before her, and took her in my arms. We kissed. Then I thrust her back, and stood up. She then, lifting her head, began to lick and kiss softly at my body. I looked up at the stars. I listened to the noises of the jungle night. "How sweet, and strong and beautiful it is," she said. I said nothing. "Are you angry with me, Master?" she asked. "No," I said. Then she again put her head down on my belly. "Do not stop, Slave," I said. Again she lifted her head. Then I took her by the hair and drew her close to me. "Master?" she asked. "Perform," I told her. "Yes, Master," she said. I then forced her head downward and held her in place, as is common with slaves. "You are skilled," I told her. She moaned softly. "Quite skilled," I said. She moaned again, a sweet, soft, piteous moan. "Aiii," I whispered, softly, and, not releasing her, holding her head to me, reared to my feet, half crouching. She was gasping, sobbing. She was half lifted from her knees. I looked down at her. How incredibly beautiful she was in the jungle night, so small, so white and soft, her small hands tied behind her, the tether on her throat. I gasped, and put my head back, taking air into my lungs. Then I lowered her gently to the ground. She looked up at me. "I love you, Master," she whispered. I forced myself to remember that she was only a slave. Then I lay beside her. I wiped her mouth with the back of my forearm. I held her head in my hands and kissed her on the forehead. Then, shuddering, I clutched her. In a few minutes I was calm. In a quarter of an Ahn she felt me move against her thigh. "You are strong, Master," she said. "You are beautiful," I told her. "Lift your head," I said. She did so. "Please me," I said. "After what you have done?" she asked. "After what you made me do!" "Please me," I said, "- perfectly." "Yes, Master!" she said, frightened. She then began, anxiously and fearfully, desperately afraid, to kiss and caress me. I then looked down at her, in my arms, snuggled against me, lifting her lips to mine. "Who will conquer?" I asked her. "You," she said, "you, Master!" "You will see to it, won't you?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she said, desperately. It is occasionally useful to enlist the woman's aid in her own conquest. If she is not conquered, authentically, and in her own understanding, and to the master's satisfaction, she is subjected to severe punishment, and may even be slain. Accordingly, with all of her will and feeling, she bends every effort toward her own defeat. She does not rest until she knows herself, and her masters know her, to be naught but a submitted, vanquished slave. I kissed her, and her lips, open, hot, seemed to melt beneath mine. How well her slave's body, hot and naked, yielding, felt in my arms! I leaned over, and kissed him, delicately, intimately. "Aiii!" he said. "Yes, Master," I laughed. It was hard for me to keep my hands off Drusus Rencius. He was so beautiful. I snuggled down beside him, my head at his hip. I kissed his hip. Then I lay there, quietly, beside him. "I am not disturbing you now, am I?" I asked. "No," he said. "Would you like to rest now?" I asked. "Yes," he said. His hand was in my hair. "Would you like me to relax you?" I asked. "Very well," he said. I crawled to my knees. In a few moments, he said, "Is that your idea, as how to relax a man?" I laughed, and continued my work, lovingly. "Obviously you have been trained," he said. "Do you think being a slave is merely a matter of crawling about your master's legs, and licking and kissing, and serving his intimate pleasures?" He bent over me and removed the chains. Swiftly, tears in my eyes, I knelt before him. I then, unbidden, contritely, timidly, lovingly, kneeling before him, kissed him, serving him with all the sweetness, delicacy and perfections I could. I then swallowed, and looked up at him, hoping to find some particle of forgiveness or kindness in his eyes. "How many guards were there with the prisoners?" "Four," said Portus. "They are now bound and gagged, concealed in that declivity, and stripped, of course, for we required their uniforms." "To them, and please them," said Selius Arconious, "with your kisses, and lips, and tongue and mouth. Draw their seed forth, and leave no traces, for we do not wish them to be slain in the morning, signs of pleasure about their bodies." Ellen then, to the best of her ability, pleased him. She tried to remember the lessons of her training, limited though they might have been, the kisses, the pneumaticities, the subtleties, the delicacies, the gentleness, the deeper grasps, the swirlings of the tongue, the touchings with the side of her face, the caress of her breasts and hair, the occasional, seemingly inadvertent brushing even of the eyelashes, light as feathers, her face beside him.
"And yesterday," laughed Elizabeth, rocking back, clapping her hands, "when Sura asked him to stand forth that one of us might approach him to administer the First Kiss of the Captive Slave Girl, it was you who first sprang to your feet."
"The eye of Priest-Kings," I laughed. "But it is now shut." Vika trembled against me and in my joy with my fist still in her hair I bent my face to hers and kissed her full on those magnificent lips and she cried out helpless in my arms and wept but did not resist. It was the first kiss I had taken from the lips of my slave girl, and it had been a kiss of mad joy, one that astonished her, that she could not understand.
"I could learn," she said, "to lick and kiss for candy." "Or an apricot?" I smiled. "Yes," she said.
The image of the treacherous, beautiful Talena, in her dancing silks, as she had lain in my arms, tormented me - she who would gladly give her kisses to the cold Pa-Kur for a place on the throne of Ar, she whose implacable hatred had sent me to this terrible death, not even permitting me the honor of a warrior's end.
I kissed the kneeling, chained prisoner swiftly, with the insulting kiss often given by the wives of Earth to their husbands. "Forgive me, Master," I said, "I must now serve another." Then I hurried away.
"It is a jollity of the Vennan races, a game," he said, "to harvest kisses from the lips of unattended kajirae." "So why was I unattended?" I asked. "I do not understand," he said. "I am in your charge," I said. "Why did you leave me? Why did you not stay, and protect me?" "The tarsk-bit was paid," he said. "I see," I said. "You are not a free woman," he said. "You are kajira. Surely, on the street, in the market, or elsewhere, you have received a sudden slap or pinch, on the fundament, when unattended, even though you were in the tunic of a woman's slave?" "Yes," I said, angrily. "Perhaps, even," he said, "an occasional kiss." "Perhaps," I said. It did not seem to me that he or the Lady Bina or the beast, needed to know about such things. Occasionally a fellow had taken me in his arms, suddenly, unexpectedly, held me to him, and kissed me. Such things were done almost as one might glance at a sunset, ruffle the fur of a pet sleen, or bestow a familiar slap on the flank of a kaiila. I was, after all, goods, a property girl, a collar girl, a vendible animal, a purchasable, perhaps lovely, thigh-branded beast, a female slave, a mere kajira.
"Should I win," I said, "I will claim as my prize the kiss of an insolent wench." "Tuchuk sleen!" she cried, eyes flashing. Conrad and Albrecht laughed. Albrecht said to the girl, "It is permitted." "Very well, he-tharlarion," said the girl, "your bola against a kiss." Her shoulders were trembling with rage. "I will show you how a Kassar girl can run!"
When I came to the right center rings I again encountered tarnsmen, now regrouped. Again and again the Tuchuk bow fired and again and again unwilling tarnsmen felt the lightninglike kiss of the barbed steel. Then the arrows, of which there had been forty, were gone.
Then, beside herself with rage, holding the whip in both hands, she lashed madly at me. "It is the kiss of the whip for you!" she screamed. Again and again she struck me, yet through it all I managed to stay on my knees, not to fall. I no longer had an interest in lying or cheating, or shirking my work. I suppose, in part, it was that I was afraid of being punished. Surely I had not, and could not, forget the iron nor the whip's hot kiss. I much feared them. I could no longer even look on a slave whip without a feeling of terror, for I understood now the pain of its meaning, and what it might do to me. She shuddered. I had little doubt but what this slave knew well, and much feared, the disciplining kiss of the Gorean slave lash. Yet, too, as noted, she mightily feared the whip, and would surely do much to escape the renewed kiss of the slashing leather blades. Perhaps she merely wished to have me beaten, as a presumptuous prisoner, availing himself of a cell slave, but had misjudged the matter, and found that it was she herself who was fastened in place for the lash's kiss. It is interesting how a slave who has felt the whip so fears it. They will go to great lengths to avoid its kiss. "You should not have been on deck in the first place," I said. "You dallied. You lingered. You did not accompany your chain sisters below. I trust that after you were cleaned and tended, the backs of your pretty thighs were kissed with the switch for that." How I feared then what must be the kiss of the Gorean slave whip! It is not pleasant to be cuffed, nor switched, nor feel the kiss of the supple, five-stranded Gorean slave whip, designed to administer admonitions to the female slave who has somehow failed, or is suspected of having failed, to be fully pleasing. I feared I might be punished. A slave will do much to avoid the fearsome kiss of the five-stranded slave lash. "No," he said to the men about. "She is distraught. Do not beat her. What she has lived by has perished. Her world has fallen to ruin. That is far more painful than the hasty kiss of an angry lash."
"Will you not give me but one kiss?" she asked. "No," I said. "It is well known to what the kiss of a slave girl must lead." "What?" she asked, innocently. "Her ownership, domination and rape," I said.
"Will you not give me but one kiss?" she asked. "No," I said. "It is well known to what the kiss of a slave girl must lead." "What?" she asked, innocently. "Her ownership, domination and rape," I said.
"The kiss of a slave can be but the prologue to her rape," I said. "Will you not give me but one kiss?" she asked. "No," I said. "It is well known to what the kiss of a slave girl must lead." "What?" she asked, innocently. "Her ownership, domination and rape," I said.
At a word from him, then, she leapt to her feet and he took her in his arms, as though he might own her, and she kissed him, too, as though she might be owned. Never had I seen human beings kiss like that. It seemed a deeply sensuous complementarity that shook me to the core. It was the kiss of lovers, but more than the kiss of lovers. It was the kiss of a lover who is owned and of one who owns his lover. Then he laughed, and thrust her to one side. Then all turned to regard me. How I wished that he had held me and kissed me as he did her. How jealous I was.
"When first I saw you, Cabot," she said, "I knew you owned me." She looked up at me. "I wanted to be free but I knew that you owned me - though you had not touched me nor kissed me - I knew that I was from that moment your slave; your eyes told me that I was owned and my most secret heart acknowledged it." I rolled over and seized her in my arms, but she turned her head away, and seemed determined that I should not kiss her. She laughed. "Whose knots are neater?" she asked. "Yours, yours, yours," I mumbled, "yours, yours," in frustration. "Very well," she said, "you may kiss me." I did so, grumbling as she laughed. An Ahn later, however, I had my vengeance. I attempted to kiss her, but she had turned and, not crying, left me. My father made his fortune in real estate in Chicago. He cared only for his business, as far as I know. I cannot remember that he ever kissed me. Sheera lifted her head. In her eyes I saw that she had not forgotten my kiss. Hassan began to kiss rhythmically at the back of his hand, his head down, but moving so as to see the birds. The sound he made was not unlike that of an animal lapping water. There was a squawk as he seized one of the birds which, curious, ventured too near. The other vulos took flight. Hassan broke the bird's neck between his fingers and began to pull out the feathers. We fed on meat. Then I had seen what I had wanted. She pressed herself against the bars. Her eyes were closed. The lower portion of her face, the bars cruel against it, thrust toward me. Her lips, soft and wet, opened to me. "Oh, no," she had then breathed, softly, in English, and, frightened, had drawn back. I had then released her arms and she had crouched back in the cage, against the bars on the other side. I had neither kissed nor, really, refused to kiss her. It had happened, really, neither quickly nor slowly, but as it had happened, she offering her lips, almost inadvertently, hesitating, and then, frightened, dismayed, drawing back. I do not think I would have kissed her, as I did not own her, but she, of course, had not known that. I had been interested, of course, in assessing the current level of her development in bondage. "I am not one of those girls," she said, "who at a touch of the leather will crawl to you and kiss your feet." I lowered my head, gently, to kiss her, but she turned her head away, looking down. "It was my intention," I said, "to kiss you only with the gentleness, and tenderness, of a man of Earth." It had not been my intention to subject her mouth, her throat and breasts, her belly, the interior of her thighs, to the cruel, commanding, raping kisses of the Gorean master. "How wonderful you are, Jason," she said. "If only the men of Gor were more like you." "Please let me kiss you," I said. She was so lovely. She turned her head away. "No," she said. "I wear a collar." "I do not understand," I said. "I am a woman of Earth," she said. "I would be ashamed to be kissed while my throat is locked in the collar of bondage." "Of course," I said. "I am sorry." "Dress now, Jason," she said. "There is little time." "I do not understand," I said. "The guards may make their rounds soon," she said. "I see," I said. I removed my clothing from the bag. I began to draw on my undergarments. "There is another reason, too, why I did not let you kiss me," she said. I lowered my head to her, to kiss her, but, again, she twisted her head away. She strained at the bracelets, twisting her body. Then, suddenly, flexing her legs, she thrust her lower abdomen toward me and kissed at me with her lips. "I did not earlier this week," I said, "steal a kiss from Tuka nor did I, two days later, with two hands, intimately caress the leg of Peliope near the first feed shed." She tried then to kiss me, but I held her from me. "Has the Mistress owned you long?" I asked. She kissed at me, helplessly. "Do not strike me again," she said. "Kiss and caress me instead." "I will do either, or both, as it might please me," I said. "Please let me kiss you," I said. "It has been a trying day for me," she said. "I am weary. Surely you must understand." "Please," I said. "After what happened a moment ago," she said, "I do not think I will permit you to kiss me again for a very long time, if ever." "Perhaps you will permit me to kiss you from time to time," I suggested, "just to keep me performing properly." On Earth I had never kissed her. "Lick and wipe your mouth," I told her. She ran her tongue over her lips, and wiped them with the back of her right forearm. If I should choose to kiss her I did not desire to taste the residue of sip root. "Now face the camera on all fours," he said. "Good. Now lift your head and purse your lips, as though to kiss. More. More sensuously. Now close your eyes. Good. I did not want to fail to please them. I would have been willing to do anything. I would even have been willing to let them hold me in their arms, or kiss me. At one secluded point in one of the gardens I had paused and, pretending to adjust my veil, had stood quite close to Drusus Rencius, but he had stepped back, and looked away. He had not kissed me. I had then, angrily, refastened my veil. I wondered why he had not kissed me. Was it because I was a Tatrix? I wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. I wondered if he might, touching my lips, I in his arms, helplessly held there, suddenly rape my lips with his kiss, and then, unable to help himself, hurl me to his feet, crouching over me then ferociously, to remove my robes and force me to his service. In a deserted corridor, before we would turn into the corridor leading to my door, and come into the view of any guards there, I stopped. I would give Drusus Rencius another chance to kiss me. "This veil," I said, irritatedly, "is loose," reaching to it, fussing with it, taking a pin from it, with the result that the cloth, as though temporarily disarranged, fell to my left. I then stood quite close to Drusus Rencius. "It is hard for me to see," I said to him. "Could you please fasten it for me?" "Of course," he said, and took the pin. I lifted my head to him. He was tall and strong. As he reached to the right of my face I gently stayed his hand. "I give you my permission to kiss me," I whispered. "Does Lady Sheila command me to kiss her?" he asked. "No," I said. "Of course not." "I do not require a woman's permission to kiss her," he said. Then he repined my veil, closing my lips away behind it. He had then escorted me to my quarters. I had been rejected by Drusus Rencius. I had thrown myself at him like a tart, and had been rejected! How could I have done that? Was I only a little tart, or was I a desperate, needful woman, one who had dared to be true to her needs? How I hated him! I was a Tatrix, a Tatrix! He was only a soldier, a mere guard! I had power. I could have my vengeance on him! I could tell Ligurious that he had become fresh with me, that he had dared to try to kiss me. How could they even begin to compete with a slave, those dreams come true for men? Perhaps that is it, I thought, perhaps that is why he did not kiss me. Perhaps he did not kiss me because I was free, or, I added, in my thinking, not truly understanding the qualification, because he thought I was free. I wondered if Drusus Rencius would have refused to kiss me if I had not been a free woman, but a slave. "There, where you see the trees," said Drusus Rencius, again, "is the garden of Antisthenes." "Yes," I said. We had visited it twice. It was there, on our second visit, that I had first tried to entice Drusus Rencius to kiss me. The second time had been after we had witnessed the fencing matches. I had been rejected both times. I wondered if I would have been rejected had I been a collared slave. To be sure, he might have made me whimper and beg for his kiss. I saw that it was a slave who danced before the men. She gyrated but inches from a burly oarsman, then leaped back, eluding his drunken grasp. She moved between the tables, a slave, an owned woman. Then she was kneeling beside a man, kissing and caressing him, and then, as though it were involuntary, as though her hands were tied behind her and she was being pulled back, away from him, by a rope, she retreated from him. I regarded her. Jewels did not bedeck her. Her silks were now gone. No cosmetics now adorned her, begging to be licked and kissed from her lips. "All my life," she said, "I have wanted to kiss, and lick, and serve a man, and make him happy." I cannot so much as kiss his feet without the permission of a guard. Lick and kiss his feet, with tears in your eyes. I strained forward, trying to kiss at his legs, but the chain on my wrists, pulling against the back of the post, held me back. "From each of your fraud sisters outside, chained to their rings," I said, "I had a kiss." "You will get no kiss from me," she said. "I was once well taken at the Crooked Tarn," said the first man, "by a wench whose redemption cost me three silver tarsks, plus travel money, supposedly to get her back to Cos. For all this I received not so much as a kiss, she informing me that that would demean our relationship, putting it on a physical basis. She only laughed at me, from a fee cart, moving rapidly away, with my purse, waving the redemption papers, signed for freedom, in her hand. I was a fool. Often since I have dreamed of her in my power, naked and in a collar, my slave! I would use her well! Her name was Liomache." "Please do not look at my lips!" sobbed the prisoner. But my hand was in her hair, holding her head up. "She has excellent lips," I said. "Properly trained, she could probably kiss well." "You well made me your fool and dupe!" he snarled. "I paid your bill for three silver tarns, a fortune to me at the time, and put in travel money, too, that you might return to Cos!" "It is not I!" she said. "And for this I received not so much as a kiss, you claiming this would demean our relationship, by putting it on a "physical" basis." "It was not I!" she wept. "Beware," she said, "lest I be truly cruel to you, lest I truly torment you, lest I lower my veil and permit you to glimpse, ever so briefly, my beauty, a beauty which you will never possess, which you will never kiss or touch, a brief glimpse which you must then carry with your recalled in frustration and agony, through the marsh!" She then lifted her head and rose up to her toes, to kiss me, but I drew back and removed her arms from about my neck. I then held her, by the arms, before me, facing me. In the same ceremony the young women of Tharna are also brought into the presence of the Home Stone. They, however, are not permitted to kiss or touch it. Then, in its presence they are stripped and collared. I was hitching her head back, by the leash and collar, close to the slave ring. "Please, Janice!" she said. "Not so close!" "Why not?" I asked. "I want to be able to put my head down," she said. "I want my lips to be able to touch the very tiles of the terrace!" I looked at her. I did not think it was the tiles of the terrace that she wanted to kiss.
I heard the tearing of a veil and heard a girl scream and turned to see her lips being raped by the kiss of a Warrior, and then she was yielding to him;
"Do not punish me with the iron!" I cried. I could not move my thigh. It must wait, helpless, for the blazing kiss of the iron. What would it matter to Sarus that more than eighty of his fair allies might even now, in chains, in a slaver's camp, be screaming to the iron's kiss. The girl can writhe in the rack or squirm, or scream, but the held thigh will not move. It is held for the kiss of the iron. For an hour it seemed I felt the iron. It touched me firmly, kissing me, then claiming me. "A blond-haired, blue-eyed barbarian," called the auctioneer, "who speaks little or no Gorean, untrained, formerly free, a purse not yet rent, a thigh not yet kissed by the iron. What am I offered?" She tried, unsuccessfully, to struggle. She could move her wrists, her upper body and feet somewhat, but she could not move her thighs, at all. They were, because of the construction of the branding rack, held perfectly immobile. They would await the kiss of the iron. "Have no fear, Lady Florence," he said, "her thigh will soon know, and well and deeply, the kiss of the burning iron. Soon she will be a properly and fully marked slave." Sometimes, however, the free woman in a captured city is not, say, simply stripped, thrown down and tied, later to be turned over to an iron master for the searing kiss of his white-hot metal. "As you can see, Ladies and Gentlemen," said Boots, "on her lovely throat she does not wear the light collar of inflexible steel, that beautiful circlet proclamatory of absolute bondage. Similarly her beauty has not, as yet at least, as you can see, been graced by the imprinting upon it of some delicate emblem indicative of the status of property, some device recollective of the unmistakable, transforming kiss of the blazing iron! As advertised, as proclaimed, as announced earlier, she is a free female!" "Soon your lovely thigh will feel the kiss of the blazing iron, and you will be sold," she said. "You will then have entered upon your new reality. You will then have begun your new life." The location of the tree was close enough to the road that she might, if I had not returned by morning, call out, attracting attention to herself, thus saving herself, even if, at the same time, making it almost certain that soon thereafter her thigh would know the fiery kiss of a slave iron, and her neck the clasp of a master's collar. "Perhaps I should have seen to it," he said, "that her neck took up its residence within some suitable encirclement, that her thigh was subjected to the kiss of some appropriate iron." Genetics had formed her thigh for the kiss of the iron, her throat for the encircling clasp of the collar. Do they envy them their brands and collars? Do they themselves wish to feel the kiss of the searing iron and the clasp of the degrading metal collar? "That lack will be soon remedied," said Rupert. "In the meantime, let her fair thigh anticipate the kiss of the hissing iron."
Our lips then met, sweetly and tenderly, fully, lingeringly. Her lips, opened, soft, those of a submitting slave, at first met mine timidly, and then, as she understood that she was not to be spurned, or struck, more fully, more boldly, until her kiss was deep, helpless and warm, and she seemed one with the kiss, and lost within it, and then, again, timidly, she drew back, having proffered herself to me as a slave, to observe what might be my reaction, to see in my eyes if she had been found pleasing, and what would be her fate.
"He ordered me to kiss him!" I cried.
"She is new to the collar," I apologized to the free woman. "I think that perhaps even now she does not yet fully understand its import. Yet I think that perhaps she understands something more of its meaning now than she did a few moments ago. Shall I kill her?" Hearing this question Feiqa cried out in fear and shuddered uncontrollably on her belly before the free woman. She then clutched at her ankles and, putting down her head, began to cover her feet with desperate, placatory kisses.
She rose gracefully and put her arms about my neck and moved her lips close to mine. "You kissed me before," she said. "Now I shall kiss you." I looked into those blue eyes and they looked into mine, and I wondered how many men had been burned, and had died, in that smoldering, sullen fire. Those magnificent lips brushed mine. "Here," she said softly, imperiously, "is the kiss of your Pleasure Slave."
"On your back," I snapped. "Make slave lips. Throw apart your legs!" Swiftly the girl complied, tears in her eyes. She then lay there, her lips pursed to kiss, her ankles widely spread. I looked down at her. She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. A girl who is commanded to make slave lips, or who receives the command, "Slave lips," must form her mouth for kissing. She then, commonly, is not permitted to break this lip position until either she kisses or is kissed. Needless to say, a girl cannot speak when her lips are in the unbroken, fully-pursed slave-lips position. The command which commonly follows the "Slave-lips" command is, "Please me." I threw the quirt down beside the girl. She looked at it, there, gratefully. No longer was it in my hand. To be sure, it was where I might easily seize it up. I then crouched beside her and lifted her to a half-sitting position. She closed her legs somewhat. I then kissed her, and this permitted her to break the slave-lips position. Similarly, I was not required to respond to certain sorts of commands, for example, to make "slave lips," pursing my lips for kissing, or to writhe slowly before my viewers. Once a ruffian, lounging against a wall, as I made my way to the market, summoned me to him. As he was a free person, I had to obey, of course. He put me before him, and said, "Clasp your hands behind your back." I did so, of course. Much may be done with an unattended slave. Is she to disobey a free person? He then put his hand under my chin, lifted it a little and said, "Slave lips." He was very close to me. I complied, and waited, eyes closed, and then he took my head, and pressed my lips to the wall. "Kiss it, slut," he said, "for three Ehn; then be about your business." I remained thusly, my lips pressed against the wall, my hands clasped behind my back, for three Ehn. I counted the Ehn, for fear he might be behind me, watching. Some passers-by laughed. Doubtless I was not the first slave they had seen, so discomfited. I then, tears in my eyes, my fists clenched, then better aware of my slavery, left. Too, I was distraught. He had been cruel, but had I been found wanting? Was I so poor a slave, so unattractive a slave? Had my lips not been formed, at his command, as a slave's lips, readied for attention? Had I not, eyes closed, waited, until I had been ignored or rejected, and my pursed lips put to a stone wall, against which I foolishly stood, my hands clasped behind my back, while strangers, some amused, passed by? How helpless, weak, and meaningless I felt! I had been neglected, ignored, and scorned, and not scorned as any slave is scorned, for she is a slave, but scorned even for the purposes of a slave!
One does not complain, of course, as one is slave. Such small attentions, a pinch, a touch, a stolen kiss, pressed perhaps to the side of one's neck, as one is briefly held, helplessly, must be expected. Indeed, in their way, they are flatteries. At certain Ahn walking down certain corridors, as when carrying provender to the guards at the outer gate, given the accostings, hootings, stolen kisses, playful slaps, and such, it could be something of a gauntlet. The first time I had scarcely been uneasy, fearing little more disruption in my service than an occasional stolen kiss.
I could feel her nails in my arm. In her kiss I tasted blood, suddenly realizing that she had bitten me. Her head was back, her eyes closed, her lips open.
"Now," I said, "I will taste the kiss of my slave girl."
Strange, I thought, how Decius Albus had elected a holding so far from the kiss of Thassa. Did he really expect to cut his way through superior numbers to reach the docks?
She had thrown me a kiss, and then, before the slave master, hurried from the window.
I kissed her irritably to silence.
Suddenly she reached out and, putting her lovely, bared arms about my neck, pressed her lips to mine. "Ai!" I cried, in anger, in fury. But I could not, then, for a moment, release her. She was a female slave. It is not easy to surrender a female slave from one's arms. Then, angrily, I pulled away from her. Her kiss, that of a female slave, burned on my lips. I shook with emotion. I was furious. The kiss, too brief, delicious, startling, warm, soft, raged in my body. It was like a chemical agent, a catalyst, introduced unexpectedly into my system. Reactions and transformations, eruptive, excruciating and compelling, irresistible and violent, seemed to explode in every compound and tissue in my body. Then she lifted her lips again to me. "Taste again of the lips of a slave, Master," she said. Then she was in my arms, crushed to me, and it seemed that there was only she, and the thunder and light in my blood. Then she was lifted in my arms. "See my collar!" she laughed. "I see it," I said, angrily. "I am a slave!" she said. "Yes," I said. "Do you like the taste of a slave, Master?" she asked. Then she reached out again to me, her arms about my neck, and, again, our lips met. I was then furious. I hurled her to my feet.
Suddenly she kissed me, a deep kiss, moist, rich, too soon ended. "There!" she laughed. "The kiss of a Tuchuk slave girl!" Then she laughed and turned away, looking over her shoulder. "You see," she said, "I can do it quite well." I did not speak. She was facing the other way. "But," she said, teasingly, "I think one will be enough for master." I was a bit angry, and not a little aroused. "The girls in the public slave wagon," I said, "know how to kiss." "Oh?" she said, turning about. "They are not little secretaries," I said, "pretending to be slave girls." Her eyes flashed. "Try this!" she said, approaching me, and this time, my head in her small hands, she lingered with her lips upon my mouth, warm, wet, breaths meeting and mingling in the savoring touch. My hands held her slender waist. When she had finished, I remarked, "Not bad." "Not bad!" she cried. Then fully and for much time, she kissed me, with increasing determination, yet attempted subtlety, then anxiety, then woodenly, and then she dropped her head. I lifted her chin with my finger. She looked at me angrily. "I should have told you, I suppose," I remarked, "that a woman kisses well only when fully aroused, after at least half an Ahn, after she is helpless and yielding." She looked at me angrily and turned away. Then she spun about laughing. "You are a beast, Tarl Cabot," she cried. "And you, too," I laughed, "are a beast - a beautiful little collared beast." "I love you," she said, "Tarl Cabot." "Array yourself in Pleasure Silk, Little Beast," I said, "and enter my arms."
An Earth woman, incidentally, if rescued on Gor by a Gorean, might be surprised at the aftermath of her rescue. Half hysterical with relief, overwhelmed with gratitude, say, she was prepared to throw herself into his arms and grant him, even though he is a stranger, the inestimable favor of a kiss. Many Earth women seem to think their kisses are of great value, whereas most of them do not know how to kiss. The kisses of a slave on the other hand, so subtle, and humble, and well-placed, coupled with her entire demeanor, the meaning of her collar, and such, can drive a man mad with pleasure. But then that is understandable, she is a slave. To be sure, as the slave is further and further aroused by the master, in his turn, her kisses may become more and more piteously and helplessly orgasmic. But then to her surprise, and, one supposes, consternation, the Earth woman finds herself enfolded helplessly in mighty arms and kissed in turn and kissed as she had never dreamed she might be kissed, with such ferocity, and mastery and power, and ownership, and then as she reels, giddy and dazed, she is taken in hand and turned about, and thrown to the ground, on her stomach; her clothing, she almost failing to comprehend what is occurring, is ripped from her, all of it; she feels the air on her body and the grass on her belly and breasts; she protests; she struggles; she tries to rise; his hand holds her in place; she cannot rise; her wrists are jerked behind her and enclosed in slave bracelets; she is then leashed, and led from the field; if she resists or dallies she will be whipped; if he has a collar with him it will undoubtedly be put on her; he has saved her life and it now belongs to him, and he will do with it what he wants. He will keep her, have pleasure with her, sell her, or give her away, as he pleases.
Suddenly she kissed me, a deep kiss, moist, rich, too soon ended. "There!" she laughed. "The kiss of a Tuchuk slave girl!" Then she laughed and turned away, looking over her shoulder. "You see," she said, "I can do it quite well." I did not speak. She was facing the other way. "But," she said, teasingly, "I think one will be enough for master." I was a bit angry, and not a little aroused. "The girls in the public slave wagon," I said, "know how to kiss." "Oh?" she said, turning about. "They are not little secretaries," I said, "pretending to be slave girls." Her eyes flashed. "Try this!" she said, approaching me, and this time, my head in her small hands, she lingered with her lips upon my mouth, warm, wet, breaths meeting and mingling in the savoring touch. My hands held her slender waist. When she had finished, I remarked, "Not bad." "Not bad!" she cried. Then fully and for much time, she kissed me, with increasing determination, yet attempted subtlety, then anxiety, then woodenly, and then she dropped her head. I lifted her chin with my finger. She looked at me angrily. "I should have told you, I suppose," I remarked, "that a woman kisses well only when fully aroused, after at least half an Ahn, after she is helpless and yielding." She looked at me angrily and turned away. Then she spun about laughing. "You are a beast, Tarl Cabot," she cried. "And you, too," I laughed, "are a beast - a beautiful little collared beast." "I love you," she said, "Tarl Cabot." "Array yourself in Pleasure Silk, Little Beast," I said, "and enter my arms."
As quickly as I could, I ran back to the fallen Rupert of Hochburg I seized him and began to kiss him madly, wantonly without permission. |
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