|
 Kisses, What ToHere are relevant references from the Books where What to Kiss is 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 Belt Blanket Boots Bracelets Cage Bar Chains Collar Couch Coverlets Dust Floor Furniture Furs Gloves Grass Home Stone Inanimate Articles Kaiila Paws Leash Mattress Mitten Moccasins Note Pillow Pole Quirt Sail Sand Sandals Shoes Slave Ring Slippers Stanchion Sword Table Thong Tiles Towel Tunic Wallet Walls Water Bag Whip Wood
He put aside his shoulder belt, with the sheath and blade, and removed his tunic belt, slipping the pouch and knife sheath from it. "On your knees, slut of Cos," said he. She struggled to her knees. He doubled the belt, and regarded the slave. "Kiss the belt," he said. She quickly kissed the belt. Too, then, as he held it there a moment, she kissed it again, more lingeringly, and then licked it, and then looked up at him. I stood obediently, and shook out the tunic, and kissed it, as one is trained to do. I then helped him into it. "Belt and wallet," he said. These, too, I kissed, and, putting my arms about him, trying to touch him as little as possible, for the others were watching, affixed the belt, with wallet, in place.
She had been unbraceleted shortly after leaving the camp yesterday morning, and had, of course, prepared the midday meal, and, later, the evening meal for the men. After that, and the cleaning up, and the kissing of, and turning down, and preparation of, the sleeping blankets of the men, he had thrown a bit of cloth to the ground near her. After she had kissed, and opened, and prepared the blankets of the men, her master's last, as was proper, she lay down beside him, her master, at his thigh. While they ate, she knelt down beside their blankets, kissed them, shook them out and folded them, and placed them in the wagon.
"Yes my Jarl," she said. Then she put her cheek, to our surprise, to the side of his leg, and lowering her head, holding his boot, kissed it. She kissed the side of my boot. "A girl knows," she said, "Master." She again kissed the side of my boot, in the stirrup, and again looked up at me. "When Reginald returned from the holding of Policrates, doubtless you met him, either on deck, or in the cabin, as a naked, kneeling slave, licking and kissing at his sea boots, begging to serve him." She now, trembling, lay on her belly, licking and kissing at the auctioneer's kaiila boots. "She wants to be at your feet," I said. "I would kick her away," he said. "And she would crawl back, to kiss the boot which kicked her," I said. Humbly she kneels before him and kisses his boots, rejoicing to be permitted even so simple a privilege. She pressed her lips to my boots, left and right, kissing them, and licking at them. He placed his boot on her shoulder and thrust her to the floor, on her side. She crawled back to him, on her belly, and, putting down her head, kissed the boot which had spurned her to the floor. Why then had he not seized me and cast me to his feet, and pointed to his boots that I might lie on my belly before him, and cover them, as I wished, with the kisses of a trembling, submitted slave? I crawled to him on my belly, weeping. I pressed my lips to his boots and kissed them, again and again. I rolled to my stomach and pressed my cheek softly against his boot. I then, my head down, pressed my lips to his boots, and kissed and licked them. I longed for a Master before whom I might kneel, whose boots I might kiss, whom I might love and serve, selflessly, devotedly, with the whole slave of me, with all that I was and wanted to be. And what of a free woman who kneels before a man, holding his ankles, kissing his boots?
"Sometimes, at night," she said, "I find myself, almost without thinking about it, licking the bars of my cage, kissing the steel on my wrists." This is the surely one of the deepest and most profound relationships in which a woman can stand to a man, that of slave to master, and, ideally, that of love slave to love master. It is no wonder then that we sometimes kiss our finger tips and press them to our collars, that we humbly lift and kiss the bracelets that link our wrists so helplessly, so closely, together. This settled in her mind, and kissing the bracelets on her wrists, holding her to the upright bar, she laughed, and was pleased with this understanding. But then I wondered what might be the feel of his bracelets on my wrists. If he were kind enough to bracelet my hands before my body I might, when no one was about, lift them to my lips and kiss them.
Within the cage, most near the exterior bars, were ten upright metal poles, which helped to support the roof of the cage. She as slave must obey. And so many times, in the afternoon, had she been forced to kiss the bar, to cling to it, to caress it, to kneel before it, head down, and such. She wondered if her heat had been visible in the exhibition cage, when she had touched the warm bar, kissed it, pressed herself piteously against it.
One thing that was shown to me was the slave bridle; the male takes the light chain back between the teeth of the girl and holds it, together, behind her neck, thus, too, pinning her hands there, helplessly; he then controls her by means of the bridle; my own invention was the chain kiss; one clasps the leg with the chain against the interior of the thigh, and then, from the side of the knee, one begins to kiss the leg, one's lips and teeth hot about the chain; the male feels both the chain and her mouth, biting and kissing, climbing the chain; she climbs the chain and descends it, and climbs it again, until he orders her to leave it. "I know what Audrey would do," I said. "Yes," said Arlene, bitterly, "so do I, the little slut. She would kneel, and lift them, and lick and kiss them." Afterwards she lay against me, soft and warm, and small and lovely. "Do you know what I would do now," she asked, "if you were to throw your chains before me?" "No," I said, kissing her. "I would kneel," she said, "and I would lift them in my hands, and -" "Yes?" I asked. "And then I would kiss and lick them," she whispered. "Of course," I said; "you are a slave." "I am a slave. I beg your chains," said Audrey. "Pick them up," I said, indicating the other sirik. She picked up the chain, with its collar, and wrist and ankle rings. I saw her lift it, tears in her eyes. Gently, head down, she licked and kissed the metal. I smiled. As I had thought, the former rich girl was the first to lick and kiss her chains. Arlene, angry, lifted the chains to her lips. She, looking at me, pressed the chains to her lips and kissed them. Then, delicately, touching the chain with her small, soft tongue she licked the metal. Then she kissed it again. Then she held the chain diagonally in her mouth, her small, fine white teeth gently closed upon it. She then removed it from her mouth. "You see, I can lick and kiss my chains even better than she, Master," said Arlene. "Oh, oh," said Audrey, softly. Her body trembled. She looked up from the chain. She was almost in orgasm. "But do you understand the meaning of it?" I asked Arlene. Suddenly Arlene shuddered, and looked at the chain. She held it in her small hands. It, locked on her body, would confine her obdurately, making her helplessly the rightless slave of a master. Every organism has its place in nature. That of woman is at the foot of man. "I love being a woman, Master," she said. She held the chain against her bared beauty. "Now lick and kiss the chain, Slave," I said. "Yes, Master," she whispered. She bent her head to the chain and, delicately, sobbing with emotion, licked and kissed at the metal. Her tears fell among the links. I threw another sirik to the floor before me. Barbara, the blond Earth girl, knelt before me. "I am a slave," she said. "I beg your chains." "Pick them up," I said. She did so, and kissed them. I locked them on her. The graceful and aristocratic girl, she who had been the Lady Rosa, came and knelt before me. "I am a slave," she said. "I beg your chains." "Pick them up," I said. She did so, and, looking at me, pressed them to her lips. Then she put her head down and, delicately, licked and kissed them. Slowly, numbly, frightened, I turned about and went to the foot of the great couch. I knelt there, and, putting my head down, tenderly lifted up, in two hands, a length of the chain that lay coiled there. I kissed it. I served muchly that afternoon, and five times did I dance. Sometimes in my dance I made use of the chain, sometimes pretending, to the music, to fight it, a fight which I had to lose, or not to understand it, looking to the men then, as though they might explain its meaning to me; they did, with raucous cries; sometimes I used it to caress me, with the soft, lovely chain caresses of bondage, to which I, whimpering, responded; sometimes I seemed to confine myself variously, seemingly sometimes more strictly, more helplessly, more mercilessly, with it; sometimes I kissed it and caressed it, gratefully and lovingly, expressing therein the welling up within me of my joy at finding myself at last in my rightful place in nature; there is much that one can do with a chain. She kisses the chain with which he fastens her to a public slave ring, where she must wait for him. "It is so, too, for a woman, Master!" wept Ellen. "That is our place! That is our place in nature! We long to be in our place in nature! We belong at your feet! We beg our collars! We lift and kiss our chains in gratitude! We ask only to kneel, to be used, and to serve!" She lies then at the foot of her master's couch. She kisses her chains. She kisses her fingertips and presses them to her collar. "Might they not cover their chains with tears?" I said. "Yes," she said, "and then kiss the chains that bind them, so helplessly, so securely!" The intelligent slave learns her master's language quickly, learns swiftly how to please him, and perfectly, in all ways, and, being intelligent, is more likely to be in tune with her basic femaleness, and its profound needs. She is the first to lick and kiss the chains which bind her. I heard a small sound of chain, and I turned about, again. The slave was now on her belly, on the boards of the deck, and she still held the chain in her hands. Then she wept and, putting down her head, kissed the chain. I had heard a small sound of chain, and I had turned about, again. The slave was now on her belly, on the boards of the deck, and she still held the chain in her hands. Then she wept and, putting down her head, kissed the chain. "You are now safe on board," I said. "You are safe on your chain." "I kiss it," she wept, "I am such a slave!"
She kissed the steel collar thrust to her lips. She closed her eyes, joyfully, as it was locked upon her small, fair throat. "A collar!" she cried, touching the metal. "A collar!" She reached out, holding my wrist, and kissed at my hand and the collar it held. I kissed my finger tips and pressed them to my collar. This is the surely one of the deepest and most profound relationships in which a woman can stand to a man, that of slave to master, and, ideally, that of love slave to love master. It is no wonder then that we sometimes kiss our finger tips and press them to our collars, that we humbly lift and kiss the bracelets that link our wrists so helplessly, so closely, together. Could I do so, were I not so chained, I would kiss my fingers and press them to my collar. She lies then at the foot of her master's couch. She kisses her chains. She kisses her fingertips and presses them to her collar. I kiss my finger tips and touch my collar. It has been put on me by my master, whom I love. I am his slave. I desire to serve him. I would die for him. How is it that they kiss your feet in gratitude, leap instantly to do your bidding, kiss their fingertips and touch them to their collars, buck and squirm in your arms, gasping and writhing in grateful, uncontrollable, orgasmic ecstasy, kneel, heads bowed, before you. Whether I might kiss my fingertips and press them to my collar, or sob and scream, and try to tear it from my neck, it was on me.
It is sometimes months before a girl is permitted, commanded, to ascend her master's couch. Even then she commonly enters it not as a free person, directly, but as a slave, from the lower left, or bottom, after first kneeling and kissing its furs. A Gorean slave girl, incidentally, does not simply take a position on a couch as might a free person. Commonly she will kneel at its lower left side, or bottom, and then kiss its furs, or covers, after which she will crawl into it on her belly. Too, he permitted me, even ordered me, upon his couch, there to continue my performances. I must first, of course, kneel at the lower left side of the couch and kiss the covers before being permitted to creep upon it. Toward morning, in the early hours, he summoned me to his bed and again made use of me. I knelt beside the bed, kissed the covers and crawled into it. It was a great honor, of course, to be allowed upon the surface of the couch. When one is granted this privilege, one commonly kneels at the foot of the couch, at the left side, as one looks toward its foot, and kisses the coverlets of furs, and then enters upon its surface. She wondered if, one day, he might purchase a lamp of love, and love furs. Perhaps, someday, who knew, she might, if she served long enough, and deferentially enough, with sufficient perfection, be permitted sometimes the dignity of the surface of the couch, though still chained by neck or ankle, first kneeling beside it, kissing its furs, and then being permitted to ascend to its surface and then, kneeling at its foot, head downward, rendering obeisance there, before being commanded, or positioned, and swept into ecstasies to be known only by chained, ravished slaves. If she is permitted on the surface of the couch, there is often a ritual involved, in which she kneels at the foot of the couch, or toward its foot, on the side, and lifts the coverings, and kisses them humbly, and then, when permitted, crawls to the couch's surface, from the bottom, or near the bottom. She kneels beside the couch, humbly lifts and kisses the bedding two or three times, and then ascends the couch. Even to be permitted on the surface of a master's couch, after kneeling, head down, and humbly kissing the furs, is a privilege to be earned by diligence and pleasingness.
I might be often called to the couch of high men, to kneel there, belled and perfumed, and kiss the coverlets, and then, bidden, to insinuate myself sinuously into their arms.
Mira returned to our vicinity now and knelt near Hci, proffering him a bowl of porridge as she had to Cuwignaka and me. He took it with one hand. He spoke to her in Kaiila and snapped his fingers. She put her head down to the dirt before him. He spoke again. She kissed the dust before him, humbly. He spoke again and she straightened up and then again lowered her head to the dust before him. He spoke again and she withdrew to her former position where she knelt as before. Again he spoke, and she lowered her head, humbly.
The doors were swung open by the helmeted guards. I was flung to my knees. "Kiss the floor, Slave," said one of the men. I did so, my arms held high, straight behind me, thrusting me down. Then again, rudely, I was thrown to my feet and led into the room. "You are unworthy to kiss my feet," he said. "Kiss the floor before me." I obeyed. Also my thighs were heated. I felt helpless.
"You will, where practical, kiss the walls at the corners, on each side of the corner, about five horts from the corner and about ten horts from the floor. Where you come to chests or furniture, you will treat them as extensions of the wall, kissing them at the corners, and so on. You will then return exactly to your present position." "Yes, Master," I said. "You may now leave," he said. "Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master." I then began my journey. The kissing of inanimate articles, such as a master's sandals, or the tiles on which he has walked, is used in teaching a girl respect and reverence. There was something of this involved in his command, the having to kiss the walls of his room, the furniture there, and such, but the form of the command was presumably motivated primarily by the consideration that compliance with it would guarantee a full and adequate negotiation of the room's interior perimeter. I was then, after a time, again where I had been before on all fours, some ten feet from his chair, facing him. The leash, dangling from my collar, was now trailing behind me, between my legs.
"Kiss the furs," said he to her, "and crawl upon them." She did so. "On your back," said he to her, "split your legs, part your lips, lift your arms to me." The slave complied. He forced her to hold the position for a few moments and then he crouched down near her and took her head in his hands, pulling her up to a seated position, and crushed her lips beneath his. She murmured and moaned, and then, when he thrust her back, I saw there was blood at her mouth. She whimpered, frightened. I think he had waited years for that kiss. "Furs have been spread," she said. "Get on them," I said. "Yes, Master," she said. "Kneel down, and kiss them," I said. "Yes, Master," she said.
It seemed then that the rich beauty had received very little of Milo, scarcely the least of his favors. Perhaps, however, for what it might have been worth, she might have managed to receive a woeful glance or two, or a kissing of her gloved fingers. Then some of the more timid women who had not dared to approach the fellow hurried to him, one after another, to be alone with him, if only for a moment. He would smile upon them, and kissed the gloved hand of one.
"The bosk are safe," Kamchak had said. I had seen strong men leap from the back of the kaiila and, on their knees, tears in their eyes, kiss the green, living grass. "The bosk are safe," they had cried, and the cry had been taken up by the women and carried from wagon to wagon, "The bosk are safe!" Then, as she could not, as she lay, reach his sandals, she put her head down before him, and pressed her lips to the grass, kissing it, pathetically. She lifted her head, frightened, then lowered it, to kiss again at the grass. She felt the moist, narrow blades upon her lips.
I took the small stone in my hands and kissed it, for it was the Home Stone of the city to which I had pledged my sword, where I had ridden my first tarn, where I had met my father after an interval of more than twenty years, where I had found new friends, and to which I had taken Talena, my love, the daughter of Marlenus once Companion. Young men and women of the city, when coming of age, participate in a ceremony which involves the swearing of oaths, and the sharing of bread, fire and salt. In this ceremony the Home Stone of the city is held by each young person and kissed. Only then are the laurel wreath and the mantle of citizenship conferred. This is a moment no young person of Ar forgets. "Gnieus Lelius permitted her to kiss the Home Stone," he said. "It was done in a public ceremony. She is once again a citizeness of Ar." "I am surprised to hear such sentiments," I said, "from those who must once have held and kissed the Home Stone of Ar." This was a reference to the citizenship ceremony which, following the oath of allegiance to the city, involves an actual touching of the city's Home Stone. I was sure that the Kurii did not realize the possible consequences which might attend denying kajirae to Gorean males, men accustomed, almost from the ceremony of citizenship when they are allowed to hold and kiss the Home Stone, to having such conveniences inexpensively at hand. I did not doubt that Seremides, who had been First Sword in the Taurentian Guard, was well acquainted with the Home Stone of Ar. Presumably, at one time, he had held it in his hands, kissed it, and swore to honor and defend it, and all it stood for, to his last breath, to his last drop of blood. Surely he had not yet been permitted to hold the Home Stone, kiss it, and speak certain momentous words. "First," said Talena, "my face is not bared by choice. I have been denied the dignity of facial veiling by a ruling of the court. Consider then the shame of a free woman whose stunning facial beauty, a thousand times superior to that of a slave, not just mine, is callously exposed, against her will, to the casual scrutiny of the vulgar, a beauty which may be looked upon then by low-caste scum, such as those here, and on the jury, a beauty which is subject even to the gaze of foreigners, and strangers, which is open to the perusal of coarse, vile, power-mad urts such as Decius Albus, one who is unworthy to even look upon the Home Stone of Ar, let alone touch it, hold it, or kiss it!" "Have you not held and kissed the Home Stone of Ar?" asked Hemartius.
"You will, where practical, kiss the walls at the corners, on each side of the corner, about five horts from the corner and about ten horts from the floor. Where you come to chests or furniture, you will treat them as extensions of the wall, kissing them at the corners, and so on. You will then return exactly to your present position." "Yes, Master," I said. "You may now leave," he said. "Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master." I then began my journey. The kissing of inanimate articles, such as a master's sandals, or the tiles on which he has walked, is used in teaching a girl respect and reverence. There was something of this involved in his command, the having to kiss the walls of his room, the furniture there, and such, but the form of the command was presumably motivated primarily by the consideration that compliance with it would guarantee a full and adequate negotiation of the room's interior perimeter. I was then, after a time, again where I had been before on all fours, some ten feet from his chair, facing him. The leash, dangling from my collar, was now trailing behind me, between my legs.
"This time," she said, "I crawled to them on my belly. I put down my head. I kissed the beast's paws. I licked and sucked them. I cleaned them of dirt and dust with my teeth, even the nails." "Kiss the paws of my kaiila," said Hci to me, imperiously.
Girls, too, can be taught to use the leash to enhance their seductiveness, appearing to draw away, then approaching, using it about their body, kissing it, taking it in their mouth, fingering it, and so on.
Cecily drew away her tunic, like the beautiful, uninhibited, shameless little animal she was, and knelt beside the mattress, at its lower left side, and lifted it a bit, and kissed it. She looked at me, expectantly, hopefully, to learn my will, and I reached down and seized her by the hair and, as she winced, in pain and delight, I drew her beside me on the mattress.
I laughed, and gently cuffed the side of her head. She kissed at my mitten.
"Get up," said Pimples. "Go to him. You may kiss his foot and ankle." The red-haired girl got up and went to the young warrior. He looked very splendid in his paint and feathers, with the lance, astride the kaiila. She pressed her lips to his moccasin and then to his ankle, kissing him softy. Then she looked up at him, and backed away, his, stripped save for the beaded collar knotted at her throat. "You may kiss his feet," I said. She began to kiss the moccasined feet of her master. "I was displeased with her," said Canka to me. "She knows," I said. Canka reached down and pulled her up to her knees and then, by the hair, he bent her back, and then twisted her about. "She does not appear to be much disciplined," he said. "I think the discipline to which she was subjected will prove to be adequate," I said. "If it does not, it may, of course, be doubled, or trebled." "That is true," said Canka. Winyela, then, released, was again at his feet. Imploringly, beseechingly, again on her belly, as she had been before, she continued to press her lips to his moccasins. "Do you think she is improved?" asked Canka. "I think so," I said. I looked down at the girl. I had little doubt she had learned her lessons. The highly intelligent woman, incidentally, as would be expected, learns her slave lessons, and that she is a slave, much more quickly than the stupid woman. It takes some stupid women as much as two days before they learn that they are truly in a collar. If a slave continues to prove recalcitrant, of course, she gains nothing by this. She will merely be disposed of. "It is my hope," said Canka, "that she will not repeat her earlier mistakes." "I do not think she will," I said, "and, of course, if she is not pleasing in some why she may be swiftly brought into line." "She is responsive to the quirt?" asked Canka. "Yes," I said. "And to the touch of the master?" he asked. "Yes," I said, "and, as befits a slave, helplessly and superbly so." "Good," he said. He then stepped back from the contrite girl, bellying to him, kissing his feet, suing for his forgiveness and mercy. She threw her soft body to the rock at Mahpiyasapa's feet. Lying on her belly before him, her hands bound behind her back, her ankles thonged, she pressed her lips, again and again, helplessly, to his moccasins, covering them with kisses. "I, too, am a slave!" she wept. She kissed his moccasins fervently, lying bound on her belly before him. Her lips pressed again and again to his moccasins covering them with pleading, desperate kisses.
"Tuck the note in your tunic," I said. "Deliver it when the opportune moment arises." "Yes, Master," she said. She kissed the note, and then thrust it into her tunic.
She sensed now how she had been before him, how she, as a female, had tried to attract him, though, of course, not admitting this in any obvious way to herself, and, indeed, on a fully conscious level, she supposed she might have denied it, doubtless vehemently, except perhaps, in quiet, private moments, when she was alone, when she might perhaps, tears in her eyes, softly kiss her pillow.
She then stood, held by the tethers, wildly, before the pole. Cancega pointed to the pole. She looked at him, bewildered. Then the quirts, again, struck her, and she cried out in pain. Cancega again pointed to the pole. Winyela then put her head down and took the pole in her small hands, and kissed it, humbly. Winyela, kissing the pole, and caressing it, and moving about it, and rubbing her body against it, under the directions of Cancega, and guided sometimes by the tethers on her neck, continued to dance. Her red hair hung about the smooth, white wood. Her lips, again and again, pressed down upon it, in helpless kisses. She began to writhe about the pole. "Kiss it, caress it, love it!" commanded the trainer, snapping the whip. "Now more slowly, now scarcely moving, now use your thighs, and breasts more, moving all about it, holding it. Touch it with your tongue, lick it! Use the inside of your thighs more, your breasts, turn about it, slowly, sensuously.
The quirts were thrust to my face. "Kiss the quirts," she said. I did so, commanded by the woman whom I feared, who was my mistress. I held the quirt before her face. "You may kiss it," I told her, "or be beaten with it." She kissed the quirt, the supple, slim leather.
"Excellent," said the Lady Temione. "We have lost not one lovely digger of suls." She then turned to a tall man in a yellow scarf. "We shall tarry here no longer, Captain," she said. "Raise the mast and yard. Let the wind kiss our sail. Fly the pennon of Jort's Ferry. That will do as well as any. Let our progress be unhurried and stately, as befits our pose of innocent merchantry."
"Kiss the sand before the gate of your master," said the man. Hassan and I pressed our lips to the sand before the great, open portal.
Then, when she was released she crawled rapidly to Targo, shuddering, thrust her head to his feet, seized his foot and began to cover his sandal with kisses. She seated herself on her great couch, and extended her feet, one after the other, to me. I, kneeling, removed her sandals, kissing each and laying it aside. She stood up and I, rising and standing behind her, lifted away her robe. I kissed it, and put it upon the couch. "Take off my sandals," I said. "Yes, Master," she said. She looked up. "Never until I was a slave," she said, "did I feel so helpless, alive and vulnerable." I said nothing. "I must untie your sandals," she said. "I must crawl to you, if you wish. I must do anything you want. I am happy." "Attend to your work," I told her. "Yes, Master," she said. Then she had removed the sandals. She kissed them, and looked up at me. "Sandals!" I suddenly snapped. A Gorean command need not be repeated. Peggy, startled, wild-eyed, rose to her knees and seized my sandals. I stood up, bending over in the low alcove. I pulled on my tunic. She thrust the sandals to her lips, kissing them. "Master?" she asked. She placed the sandals on my feet, thonging them tightly. I buckled my belt, with its dependent pouch. I slung the sword belt, with its attached scabbard, with its sheathed steel, over my left shoulder. "Master?" asked Peggy. "Can you not hear it?" I asked. She finished tying the sandals. As she knotted each she kissed the knot, and then, when finished with both, put her head to my feet in a graceful gesture of submission. The girl kneeling before me, once Elicia Nevins, once the lofty, beautiful and proud agent of Kurii, now only my lovely slave, reached for my sandals. She pressed them to her lips, kissing them, and then, head down, began to tie them on my feet. She was quite beautiful, kneeling before me, performing this lowly task, the heavy iron collar and chain on her neck. "Do not forget to kiss the sandal, humbly, before tying it on his foot," said the whip master, "just as, when you remove them, you kiss them, before putting them away." "Yes, Master," I said. "You will, where practical, kiss the walls at the corners, on each side of the corner, about five horts from the corner and about ten horts from the floor. Where you come to chests or furniture, you will treat them as extensions of the wall, kissing them at the corners, and so on. You will then return exactly to your present position." "Yes, Master," I said. "You may now leave," he said. "Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master." I then began my journey. The kissing of inanimate articles, such as a master's sandals, or the tiles on which he has walked, is used in teaching a girl respect and reverence. There was something of this involved in his command, the having to kiss the walls of his room, the furniture there, and such, but the form of the command was presumably motivated primarily by the consideration that compliance with it would guarantee a full and adequate negotiation of the room's interior perimeter. I was then, after a time, again where I had been before on all fours, some ten feet from his chair, facing him. The leash, dangling from my collar, was now trailing behind me, between my legs. She looked at it. I took her by the arm and conducted her to where Tula knelt, her head to the dirt. "This is a free woman," I told Tula. "She will be traveling with us." Tula, scarcely lifting her head, pressed her lips to the sandals of Boabissia, kissing them. "Mistress," she said. I then conducted Boabissia to the vicinity of Feiqa. Feiqa had once been the Lady Charlotte, of Samnium, a high lady in that city, one of aristocratic birth and upbringing, from one of her finest families, one prominent on her Street of Coins. Feiqa pressed her lips to the sandals of Boabissia, kissing them. "Mistress," she whispered. "What?" inquired Boabissia, imperiously. Feiqa again pressed her lips to Boabissia's sandals, kissing them. "Mistress," she said, trembling. "I would kiss the unstrapped, discarded sandal that had kicked me." I hurried to kneel before him. I picked up one sandal, looked up at him lowered my head, kissed the sandal, looked up at him again, and then bent to put the sandal on his foot, which I did, carefully trying the thongs. I then did the same with the other sandal. We are taught to do this in this fashion. One commonly, unless otherwise instructed, places the right sandal first, then the left. I did it in that fashion, of course. Two of the first things we are taught are the bathing and dressing of a man. I completed my ministrations by kissing his feet, of course, each in turn, and then backing a bit away, and keeling, in common position. We may thusly await further instructions, if any may be forthcoming. But, of course, in another sense, I was terribly pleased that it had been I, and not she, or not Tima, or Tana, whom he had selected out for the kissing and tying of his sandals. I bent forward, from the waist, and, putting my head down, pressed my lips to his sandals, licking and kissing them. "You lick and kiss well," he said. Once, in training, I had had to lavish loving kisses on a discarded sandal. To be sure, it had been appropriate to do so, and, and I had been pleased to do it, for it had been a man's sandal. Too, I would have begged to have done it, even at that stage of my training, and would have done it gratefully, had it been the sandal of he whose whip I had first kissed, but, alas, it had not been. "Obeisance!" he said. Instantly I knelt forward, the palms of my hands on the floor, my head to the floor. "Lick and kiss," he said. I scrambled forward and, head down, kissed and licked, swiftly, frightened, at his feet and sandals. I picked up one of the sandals, and kissed it, and then, humbly, head down, placed it on his foot. I did the same with the second sandal. I then looked up at him. "You fetch, kiss, and tie sandals well, Earth woman," he said. She had learned which sandal was to be placed first on which foot, and in what order they were to be tied, and the kisses, expressing her gratitude that she was permitted to perform this service. She went to the first obeisance position before him, crept forward, and covered his sandals with kisses. "Thank you, Master," said Ellen, kissing his sandals. And quickly, frightened, Ellen put down her head and began to lick and kiss the sandals of Selius Arconious, once again a slave, once again reminded of the absoluteness of her bondage. Such tend not to be tolerant of even trivial, and inadvertent, imperfections of service. Once this sort of thing is understood, interestingly, it is remarkable how scrupulous a slave can be concerning even the smallest details of her service, her glances, her kneelings, her serving of dishes, her kissings of sandals, and such. How gratefully she throws herself to her belly before them and licks and kisses their sandals. I quickly knelt down before the man and, the palms of my hands down on the street, pressed my lips to his sandals, kissing them. Then she said, "A lady needs a slave. You may now kiss my sandals, and thank me for deigning to keep you, despite your many faults." As I kissed her sandals, tears ran from my eyes. I could hardly speak. "Thank you, Mistress," I whispered, "for deigning to keep me." "Talena, as Ubara, had her enslaved," he said, "and at a state supper she had her dance before me, naked in a collar. I found her pleasing and so I threw my sword to the tiles. It muchly pleased the Ubara to see her former critic and rival on her belly licking the sword to which she might easily be put, and then crawling to my feet, terrified, covering my sandals with kisses, begging to be found pleasing." The Shelf Master poked me with his coiled whip. I then, on my knees before Maxwell Holt, my ankle bloody, kissed his bootlike sandals, and, head down, spoke as I had been told.' "Buy me, Master," I said. "I beg to be purchased. I will try to be a good slave to you." I threw myself to the feet of Rupert of Hochburg, putting down my head, and kissing his bootlike sandal. He then began to draw on the strap which in a moment or two brought my face to the dirt at his feet. My cheek was on the ground. "Lick and kiss," he said. I put my mouth to his high, rugged sandal. "Better," he said, "more lengthily, more humbly, more reverently, more tenderly, more gratefully." I began to weep, but dared not desist. I continued my ministrations, a slave at the foot of a free man, hoping to please him. "Stop," he said.
Once, in a fearful dream, as I would learn, she had dreamed he had stripped her publicly in the company offices while others looked on, bemused, or unconcerned. Then he had thrown her to his feet, kicked her, and put a collar on her, and had then put her to his pleasure, while the others continued to look on, and later politely applauded. She recalled going to her belly, crawling to his shoes, and, head down, frightened, kissing them. "Had I known myself then as I know myself now," I said, "I would have stripped myself in an instant and crawled to them, to kiss their shoes and beg to please them."
She had reached out and touched the slave ring with her right hand, and then she had crawled to it, and kissed it. "Of course, Lady Sheila," he said. He need not know that I often, for no reason I clearly understood, in the loneliness of my quarters, slept at the lower end of the great couch, near the slave ring, and sometimes, seemingly almost unable to help myself, had knelt beside it in the darkness, and kissed it. "Go now to the slave ring," a voice seemed to say to me. I got up and, almost as though in a trance, scarcely understanding what I was doing, went to the slave ring, that at the foot of the couch. I knelt there. "Are you positioned at the ring," the voice seemed to say. "Yes," I whimpered, to myself. "Take it in your hands, Tiffany," it said, "and kiss it." I took the heavy ring in my hands, lifted it, and kissed it. I then put it back gently, lovingly, against the couch. "You are already a slave for certain, Tiffany, and you know it, a voice seemed to say from within me, that voice which in the past had seemed to speak to me, too, though usually in the quarters of the Tatrix, as when it had ordered me, and I had complied, to kiss a whip or the slave ring." "Perhaps," I said to the voice, to myself.
Immediately, terrified, the Lady Constanzia struggled forward and pressed her lips to the slippers of the free woman, kissing them again and again. The Gorean slave girl is much at the mercy of free women, by whom she is likely to be resented and hated, and free women are not above petty exercises of power, ordering the slave to kneel, to serve her, to bare herself, to kiss her embroidered slippers, and such.
Some of the men reacted to this, and leaned forward. It is, of course, easier to see a girl in the exhibition cage, where, if she is not restrained, one may even call her to the bars, than from most of the positions in the tiers, at night, as she is shown illuminated in the torchlight of the sales block. That, of course, is the purpose of the exhibition cage, to exhibit. One may then take note, under favorable conditions, of merchandise in which one might be interested. Ellen, of course, could not have been called to the bars in the exhibition cage, as she had been braceleted about one of the stanchions. She had, of course, had to caress the stanchion, kiss it, writhe about it, and such, responding to the commands of the fellows peering in, in their robes, from outside the bars.
"And did you not, even as a free woman, kneel in the dust beside the palanquin, your mask taken from you, and kiss and lick the blood from his sword?"
She did not dare to rise to her feet. She crawled, head down, on her hands and knees, to the edge of the table. There, near the table, she put her head down and kissed the tiles. Then, rising up a little and approaching further, still on her hands and knees, she turned her head, delicately, and kissed the edge of the table, her lips touching partly the surface of the table, partly its side. "Put your head down now," said Temicus, "and kiss the table."
To my surprise I saw her lips gently kiss the cruel leather thong which so tightly bound her wrists.
Then, looking to Ibn Saran, suddenly she bent forward, as though impulsively, as though she could not help herself, and, hands on the tiles, head down, kissed the tiles at his feet, before his slippers. We were thrust before the dais. "Kneel, and kiss the tiles before the feet of your master," the man. Hassan and I knelt. Scimitars stood at the ready. We kissed the tiles. We straightened ourselves. Failure to comply in such a situation means immediate decapitation. He lifted his finger. "You may again show respect," said the man behind us. We again kissed the tiles. We again straightened ourselves. Again we said nothing. "You will, where practical, kiss the walls at the corners, on each side of the corner, about five horts from the corner and about ten horts from the floor. Where you come to chests or furniture, you will treat them as extensions of the wall, kissing them at the corners, and so on. You will then return exactly to your present position." "Yes, Master," I said. "You may now leave," he said. "Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master." I then began my journey. The kissing of inanimate articles, such as a master's sandals, or the tiles on which he has walked, is used in teaching a girl respect and reverence. There was something of this involved in his command, the having to kiss the walls of his room, the furniture there, and such, but the form of the command was presumably motivated primarily by the consideration that compliance with it would guarantee a full and adequate negotiation of the room's interior perimeter. I was then, after a time, again where I had been before on all fours, some ten feet from his chair, facing him. The leash, dangling from my collar, was now trailing behind me, between my legs. He then pointed to a place on the tiles, out from the covers but in front of them. "A free person has walked here," he said. "Yes, Master," I said. I then, kneeling, put down my head and kissed the indicated place three times. "You may approach," said Samos. She did not dare to rise to her feet. She crawled, head down, on her hands and knees, to the edge of the table. There, near the table, she put her head down and kissed the tiles. Then, rising up a little and approaching further, still on her hands and knees, she turned her head, delicately, and kissed the edge of the table, her lips touching partly the surface of the table, partly its side. It might have been, too, something of an offering of thanks, so to speak, to the fates, or the gods, or the Priest-Kings, whoever they may be, for a safe return. More than one of these fellows had knelt down and kissed the tiles of the docking area, stones of his native city.
"It is my hope that I will be pleasing to my mistress," I said. She gestured and I brought the towel, kissing it, which I then wrapped about her head, that her hair not be dampened.
I stood obediently, and shook out the tunic, and kissed it, as one is trained to do. I then helped him into it. "Belt and wallet," he said. These, too, I kissed, and, putting my arms about him, trying to touch him as little as possible, for the others were watching, affixed the belt, with wallet, in place. I raced to the bit of cloth, sobbing with relief and laughter, seized it up, held it, pressed it to my lips, and kissed it, and slipped it on, over my head. "Thank you, thank you, Master!" I cried.
I stood obediently, and shook out the tunic, and kissed it, as one is trained to do. I then helped him into it. "Belt and wallet," he said. These, too, I kissed, and, putting my arms about him, trying to touch him as little as possible, for the others were watching, affixed the belt, with wallet, in place.
"You will, where practical, kiss the walls at the corners, on each side of the corner, about five horts from the corner and about ten horts from the floor. Where you come to chests or furniture, you will treat them as extensions of the wall, kissing them at the corners, and so on. You will then return exactly to your present position." "Yes, Master," I said. "You may now leave," he said. "Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master." I then began my journey. The kissing of inanimate articles, such as a master's sandals, or the tiles on which he has walked, is used in teaching a girl respect and reverence. There was something of this involved in his command, the having to kiss the walls of his room, the furniture there, and such, but the form of the command was presumably motivated primarily by the consideration that compliance with it would guarantee a full and adequate negotiation of the room's interior perimeter. I was then, after a time, again where I had been before on all fours, some ten feet from his chair, facing him. The leash, dangling from my collar, was now trailing behind me, between my legs.
I threw her the water bag. She kissed the spike, softly, tenderly, watching me. Then, unexpectedly, mischievously, she quickly swirled her tongue about the spike, and kissed it again.
The auctioneer, in his skill, would have demonstrated undreampt latencies in the wench on sale, that her desirabilities were not merely placid and visual, but organic, reflexive and sensual, that she, properly handled, was the sort of woman who, as the Goreans say, could not help but kiss the whip that beats her. I held the whip before her. "Kiss the whip," I told her. She did so, and looked up at me, pleading. In some cities, once a day, a girl must kneel and kiss the whip which, if she is not sufficiently pleasing to her master, will be used to beat her. "What is your duty?" asked my master. "Absolute obedience," I replied, in Gorean. He held the whip to my lips. I pressed my lips to it, and kissed it. "Absolute obedience," I said. "Yes, Master," I had said. The whip then, roughly, had been forced against my face; it pressed against my lips, bruising them; I felt it with my teeth. "Kiss the whip Slave," said the voice. I had kissed the whip. She was seldom permitted to carry her whip outside the slave quarters, except in conducting a new slave through the corridors and bringing her through the small iron door, as she had me. When she left the slave quarters she normally knelt before a guard and handed him the whip, her authority ended. He would then take the whip and thrust it against her lips, and she would kiss it, after which he would order her to her feet and discard the whip, which she would retrieve on her way back to the slave quarters. "What is the duty of a slave girl?" she asked. "Absolute obedience," I whispered. "Kiss the whip," she said. I did so. "Kiss the whip, Slave," said the man. I kissed the whip. "The man who truly understands us," she laughed, "is the first to put us on our knees and make us kiss the whip." "It required only a bit of chaining and teaching her, so to speak, to kiss the whip." He then withdrew from the flat box the last of the objects which it contained, a slave whip. He thrust it to my mouth and I kissed it. Too, the kissing of the whip is a quite accurate detail, one practiced in many cities, but surely a surprising detail to occur in the dream of a girl ignorant of bondage. There was laughter. "Make her kiss the whip!" called a man. "Down, Wench, and kiss the whip!" ordered the auctioneer. The girl knelt and kissed the whip. There was more laughter. He then began to put her through slave paces. The auctioneer spun to face the girl. "Kneel, and kiss the whip," he ordered her. Swiftly the girl, frightened, knelt before him. She took the coils of the whip in her small hands and, lowering her head, kissed them. I trembled. I had seen Miss Beverly Henderson kiss the whip. I had seen her put through slave paces. "Kiss the whip," I told her. "Yes, Master," she said. She took the whip, held before her, in her small hands and, pressing her lips fervently to it, kissed it. She then looked up at me, and I saw in her eyes, moist and awe-stricken, that I was her master. "And here, Master," she said, "is your whip," She kissed it and put it, too, at my feet. Perhaps he strikes her, perhaps he puts the whip to her mouth, and she kisses it. Angrily I rose from the couch. I seized up the whip. I thrust it to her mouth. "I kiss your whip, joyfully, Master," she whispered. I looked down at her, enraged. Beverly Henderson had kissed the whip. "Master?" she asked, frightened. She was very beautiful, bound before me, on her knees. I returned to the couch, angry, and sat down upon it. I again regarded her. She smiled, uncertainly. "I have kissed Master's whip," she said. "Does he not now wish to use me? Does he not now wish to try out an Earth girl?" I put the flat, leather coils of the whip then to her mouth. She, lying on her side, fervently, frightened, kissed them, again and again. "Please do not whip me, Master," she begged. She looked up, and I held the whip before her. Eagerly, crying, she took it in her hands and kissed it, fervently. What a contrast is the beautiful, vended girl, branded and collared, desiring a master and trained to please one, kneeling before her purchaser and kissing his whip, with the brutish female, cowering under her master's club at the back of his cave. I wanted only to be naked, and collared, and at his feet, kissing his whip. "Have you ever kissed the whip?" I asked her. "Other than in training and in the hands of an auctioneer, when I was being sold?" she asked. "Kiss the whip," I said. She took the coils of the leash in her small hands and, putting down her head, covered them with kisses. She then lifted her eyes to me, in which there were tears. "Now, too, my Master," she said, "I have kissed your whip." Suddenly, gratefully, tears in her eyes, sobbing, and half gasping and choking with relief, kneeling before me, grasping my calves, her head over my thighs, she covered the whip, that symbol of masculinity, and of the authority of men over her, and specifically of my own authority over her, with kisses. "I kiss your whip, my Master," she said, gratefully, continuing to kiss the brutal, uncompromising blades and staff. But he folds back the blades and holds the whip before her. She kisses it, fervently, in token of her slavery and submission. "Kiss the whip," I told her. "Yes, Master!" she said. She kissed it, fervently, again and again. The former Miss Henderson, of Earth, kneeling naked before me, now knowingly my collared slave, kissed my whip, She looked up at me, happily. I had then had her kiss the whip. I thrust the whip again to her mouth and, tenderly, softly, holding it to her lips, she covered it with kisses. "You enjoy kissing the whip, don't you?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she said. "You know well what its lash can do to your softness, do you not?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she smiled. "And yet you kiss it lovingly," I said. "Yes, my Master," she said. "Why?" I asked. "I do not know," she said. "Perhaps it is a symbol, plain to my vulnerable womanhood, of your manhood, which makes me such a yielding slave. Perhaps it is a symbol of your dominance over me." "Does it seem to you that you are kissing a symbol?" I said. "Perhaps on some level it seems so," she said, "but I experience it rather differently. It is, you see, a real whip, and one that can be used on me. Thus it seems to me that what I am really doing is kissing a whip, your whip. The whip, in itself, is not a symbol. It is a real whip. It may, of course, have symbolic significance." "Kissing the whip is for you," I said, "apparently a rich sexual, and emotional, experience." "Yes, Master," she said. "And even if you were a hated master, it would still, for us slaves, be such an experience." "Even if the master were a hated one?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "On one level we might hate to kneel before him and kiss his whip, but on another level we would be thrilled that he had made us do so. . He would be showing us that we are women. Master, perhaps, being a man, cannot fully understand, or understand in its total fullness, what it is for a woman to kneel naked before a man and be forced to kiss his whip. It is, I assure you, a very meaningful experience, and one which she understands in every bit of her body. Indeed, after having kissed a man's whip it is very difficult to continue to hate him, even if he wishes us to do so enjoying perhaps the humiliation and taming of a woman who hates him. Rather, as slaves, now taught by our master we find ourselves, almost against our wills, considering how we might perhaps better serve and please him." "I see," I said. "All women want to be owned by a man strong enough to make her kiss his whip," she said. "What woman would want to be owned by a man of any other sort?" I said nothing. "You will be strong with me, will you not?" she asked. "You will make me do, and be, uncompromisingly, and as slave, what you want, will you not?" "Yes," I said. "Then I kiss your whip," she said, "and love it." I held the whip to her mouth, its blades folded back. She kissed it, and shuddered, and I placed it on the couch. I wrapped its blades back about the handle. Then, humbly, my head down, submissively, near the point where the five long, soft blades join the staff, holding it in both hands, I kissed it. I saw him recoiling the blades of the whip. I viewed this action with unspeakable relief. He then thrust it before my face. "Lick it, and kiss it," he said. "Please," I begged. "You will do so now," he said, "or after you have been beaten with it." I then reached my head forward and, delicately, licked and kissed the whip. He then replaced the stern, supple disciplinary device on his belt. "You are already a slave for certain, Tiffany, and you know it, a voice seemed to say from within me, that voice which in the past had seemed to speak to me, too, though usually in the quarters of the Tatrix, as when it had ordered me, and I had complied, to kiss a whip or the slave ring." "Perhaps," I said to the voice, to myself. "Kneel and kiss the whip of Mintar," he said. He took a whip from the table and held it before me. "Again and again," he said, "tenderly, lingeringly." I did so. I trembled, thrilled, forced to kiss a man's whip, and in the intimate manner of a slave. I supposed that I would never see the man whose whip I was kissing. "Kiss the whip," he said, "and as a slave." Luta did so, fearfully. "Return now to your place," he said. Yes Master," she said and, rising up, hurried to her place. "We are all going to be pleasing, and meet our work quota aren't we?" inquired Borkon. "Yes Master!" we said, including Luta. He then lifted his whip to the lips of the first girl in the line. "I kiss the whip of Borkon," she said "Who do you love?" he asked. "Borkon," she said. In a moment or two I felt the whip pressed, too, against my lips. I kissed it "I have kissed the whip of Borkon," I said "Kiss the whip," he said. "Again, lingeringly!" "Yes, Master," she said. "Now lick and kiss it," he said. "Yes, Master," she whispered. "Kiss the whip," he said. I did so, fearfully. "Kiss the whip," I said. "Never!" she said. "You will kiss it now, or after you have felt it," I said. "It does not matter to me." "I will kiss it," she said angrily. "More lingeringly," I said, "and lick it, as well." She complied. "Now, kiss it again," I said. She complied. "Now say, 'I have licked and kissed the whip of a man,' "I said. "I have licked and kissed the whip of a man!" she said. I noted one of the soldiers. He moved about, here and there within the chain lines, among the women. Occasionally he would put his whip before the lips of one of them. She would then kiss it. I saw the soldier hold the whip before 437. She bent forward and kissed it. "I had to kiss a man's whip," she whispered. "So, too, did we all, I am sure," said the mother, kindly. "But it is worse," she whispered. "I fear to speak." "Tell me," said the mother, soothingly, taking the girl's head upon her breast. "I had feelings," said the girl. "I had never felt just those feelings before." "I understand," said the mother. "When I felt the stout leather thrust against my lips, I trembled," she said. "Then, as bidden, I kissed, and licked it, lingeringly. I looked up at him. I saw the ferocity, and the strength, and the uncompromising determination, in his eyes. Then, again, I bent to my work. I felt thrilled to the quick. My belly became hot. My thighs flamed. I felt wet." I picked up her whip. "Doubtless she would look well kissing the whip," I said. "Yes," laughed my captive. "Kiss it," I said to my captive, holding it before her. "What?" she cried. "All women belong to men," I said. She tried to pull back from the whip, frenziedly. She struggled. "Be careful," I said. "You may cause your bonds to cut into your limbs." She looked at me in helpless fury. I loosened the blades of the whip. "You will kiss it now," I said, "or after you have felt it. To me it is a matter of indifference. The choice is yours." "Do not whip me," she said. "You are a free woman," I said. "You have doubtless never even felt a slave whip." "I will kiss it," she said. I held it before her. Many free women, before they have felt it, are skeptical of the efficacy of the slave lash. Their skepticism vanishes, of course, as soon as they feel it. On the other hand, I did not think this one would be. She was quite familiar with it. She doubtless used it regularly in her work. It was one of her tools, a useful device for the instruction, correction, discipline and punishment of slaves. She would be quite aware of its power, of its effect on her helpless charges. "You can do better than that," I said. "Better. Very good. Now, with your tongue. Come now. That's better, much better. Excellent. Now, again, kiss it. More lingeringly, more lovingly. Splendid." I then drew the whip back. She looked up at me. "I have kissed your whip," she said. I want to belong to him. I will kiss his whip with joy! I looked at the whip. I leapt to my feet, in a jangle of bells, and hurried to the place where the book was. In a moment I had it and had returned, and, holding the book, knelt again before him. "Kiss it," he said. I did so. "Put it down," he said, "to the side." I did so. He then held the whip before me. "Kiss the whip," he said. I did so. I knelt before a man. The whip was held toward me, and I kissed it, deferentially, and then drew back my head. "Kiss the whip," he said. I did so, quickly, that I might not seem to dally, or he draw it from me, but then, as he held it in place, permitting me to continue, more slowly, more lingeringly. Then he drew it back, and I knelt back, before him. On my knees, rising, I had been conscious of their legs, and whips, about, me. What whips I could I seized to me and kissed, hastily, in fear. I did not want to be lashed! But the whip was thrust to my lips. Eagerly, lifting my head, I licked and kissed the whip. Perhaps mollified then to some extent by my placatory behavior in kissing the whip he had decided to take the time to make test of my virginity rather than simply and with terrible force utilizing me, moving aside whatever obstacle, if any, might have attempted to impede the progression of his mastery. I kissed the whip, and holding it with both hands, my arms extended, my head down, between my arms, proffered it to him. He then, crouching near me, reaching about me, put the whip to my lips. I kissed it, frightened, again and again. Then I must perforce kiss the whip. As I approached him it seemed I became more and more terrified, and contrite, and then, at the conclusion of my dance, I put my head down and placed the whip humbly before him. I then put my head down again licked and kissed it, and then I put myself on my belly, prostrate before him, a slave at his mercy. "Do you know what this is," he asked. He had picked up the slave whip. "A slave whip," I said. He held it before me and I eagerly licked and kissed it. "Forgive me, Master," I said. I seized up the slave whip and handed it to him. "Let an impertinent slave be whipped!" But he only held the whip to my lips and I kissed it, fervently, gratefully, and then looked up at him. He looked at me, and I squirmed in need. He touched the whip to my shoulder and I moaned, and put my head to the side, and kissed it. He then removed the whip from his pack, and held it to my lips, and I kissed it. This sort of thing, I suppose, is largely unknown to free women, though many seem to suspect it, dimly or otherwise. Its reality, of course, can become clear to them, for example, as they might find themselves on their knees, bound, kissing a man's whip. When I removed the pouch and knife from my knife belt, I doubled it, and held it to her, and she took it in her hands, and kissed it, as a slave might have the whip. "You will kiss, and lick, the whip," he said, "lovingly, lingeringly." I looked up at him, in terror. "Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "First," he said, "the whip will come to you, and then, second, you will come to the whip." "I understand," I said. Surely I must resist this! I could feel the chain at my belly. I squirmed a little on my knees. He held the whip gently to my lips. He could, I realized, have done this in a very different manner. He might have done it with brutality. He might, in effect, have struck me, perhaps bruising my lips, perhaps bloodying my mouth, forcing the soft inner surfaces of the lips back against the teeth. I might have tasted leather and my own blood. But he was very gentle. With incredible feelings, which I could scarcely comprehend, I kissed the whip, and then, slowly, licked it. He then removed the whip from my lips and held it a few inches before me. I was now, I gathered, to come to the whip! It is one thing, of course, to have such an implement forced upon you, giving you, in effect, no choice in the matter. It is quite another to expect you, of your own will, to approach it, and subject it to such intimate, tender ministrations. What did he think I was? I would do no such thing! I fought with myself. Part of me decried the very thought of coming to the whip. And part of me, some deep, fearful part, longed to do so. The deeper part of me was stronger. I leaned forward a little, and reached out with my lips for the whip. In ecstasy, I kissed it. I kissed it lovingly and lingeringly. I think that I had never been so happy, or so fulfilled, as in those moments. Then, with my tongue, again and again, softly, tenderly, lovingly, I licked it. I could taste the leather. I feared only the moment when it would be taken from me. Then the implement was drawn back. I looked up into the eyes of he who held the whip. I now knew what, in my heart, I was. He who had been nearest to me now stepped away. I, and, I gather, the others, were now, again, left kneeling, but now our heads might be up. We knelt there. We were now being given time to ourselves, I suppose, kneeling there, the chain at our belly, that we might understand, and appreciate, the momentousness, at least from our point of view, of what had occurred. Let us now, kneeling there, the chain at our belly, realize what we had done, let us now understand, and appreciate, how we might now be utterly different from what we had been before. I had kissed his whip, in giddy ecstasy! I was prepared to give myself to him, to love him! Had he so much as snapped his fingers I would have done anything! I heard, again, voices behind me. One or another of the men were coming down the line, approaching from behind. I did not look back. It is not so easy to do, held in the collar, both from before and behind. Too, I did not know if it were permitted. This seemed a place in which it might be well to be very clear on what was permitted, and what was not. Then, out of the corner of my eye, coming from behind, I saw the coils of another whip. Then two men were rather before me, to the left of the chain. I looked up. Joy transfigured my countenance for one, with his whip, was he who had earlier been nearest to me, he to whose whip I had pressed timidly, then fervently, my moist lips, which whip, too, I had subjected to the tender, eager servile caresses of my tongue. But it was the other fellow's whip which was now held before me! It was not that of he who had hitherto been nearest to me! I looked up, dismayed, startled, at he who had been nearest to me. Surely it was his whip, and his whip alone, which I must kiss! He looked down at me. There seemed, for a moment, a sternness in his gaze. This terrified me. Quickly I put my head forward a little, as I could, in the chain and collar, and kissed, and licked, obediently, tears welling in my eyes, the other's whip. The two men then, paying me no more attention, went forward on the chain and, in turn, each of those before me kissed what, too, for them, must have been a second whip. I knelt there. I looked after he who had been nearest to me. I choked back a sob. In a few moments we again received instructions. "To all fours," I heard. I, and the others, went forward to all fours. We then waited there, on all fours, in the line. My tears fell to the stone flagging. My knees felt how hard it was, and my hands and toes. It had a rough texture. The corridor, it now seemed, was damp and cold. Too, it seemed dim now. The light from the lanterns flickered about. I became even more aware of my chains. I sobbed. I had kissed his whip. I had thought that it meant everything, but it had meant nothing. But, of course, in meaning nothing, it had, in its way, in a sense more grievous and fearful then I had understood at the time, meant everything. The kissing of the whip had been impersonal. I was, apparently, in this place, one for whom it was appropriate to kiss the whip. That was the kind of which I was, whatever kind, in this place, that might be. The kissing of the whip had been impersonal. It made no difference whose whip it was. It could have been any whip. That was the lesson of the "second whip." After a time the men returned and, here and there, took positions along the line. He who had been nearest to me was now near to me again. This was doubtless because he could speak my language. He was a bit before me, and to my left. I looked up at him. What emotions I felt! I had kissed his whip! He put his finger over his lips, cautioning me to silence. The whip was now partly uncoiled, in his right hand. It was he to whose whip my lips had first been pressed. I had thought that I might have been important to him. Then, when I had kissed the second whip, I had realized that I was not. Tears had formed in my eyes as I had thought of he whose whip I had, in what must have be the dream, first kissed. I had been popular with the guards, with the exception of he whose whip I had first kissed, he whom I had most zealously, even to the point of anguish, desired to please. I recalled the guard from the pen who had been, for some reason, unlike the others, so cruel to me, he whose whip I had first kissed. Not before him, of all, he who was so precious and special to me, he who figured in my most helplessly lascivious and submissive dreams, he whose whip I had first kissed on this rude, beautiful world! "We have some new male slaves in Pen 2 of the Bata Section," said another to her, he whose whip I had first kissed. He whose whip I had first kissed was, in his unassuming way, a powerful, handsome Gorean male. They learned to lick and kiss the whip as quickly, as delicately, as the rest of us. He lifted the whip to my lips. Quickly I kissed it. He held the whip before me, and I put forth my head and lips, and kissed it twice, quickly, fervently. In more than one case the very lash which had struck a captive was pressed to her lips that she must fervently kiss it in gratitude. I recalled a slave who had wanted desperately to serve and please a fellow, he whose whip she had first kissed. The whip, coiled, was thrust roughly before me. Instantly I licked and kissed it. I had felt the first time I had seen him, the first time I had knelt before him, looking up at him, the first time I had kissed his whip, that I was somehow his, that it was to him that I belonged. She could now lick and kiss a whip in such a way that it would drive a man wild. He took the whip from her and held it before her. Obediently, delicately, she began to lick and kiss the whip. There were the gentle kisses, some prolonged, some as light and quick as the shiftings of sunlight and shadow among stirring leaves, some as bright and unexpected as the pattering of momentary, shimmering drops of rain, some as tender as the falling of the petal of a flower, and the other kisses, the swirling, begging, meaningful kisses, the kisses almost beside themselves, uncontrollable, and the petitionary kisses, reluctant to draw away from the shaft; and there were the movements of the tongue, the tiny dartings, the teasings, the supplications, the tastings, the long, and the short, and the circular caresses, the placatory caresses, the caresses of yearning, and begging and total submission; and she moved her hair about the whip, and thrust the side of her face lovingly against it, rubbing against it, and then looked up, tears in her eyes, at her master. Some have suggested that there is more to the kissing of the whip, and many such things on this world, than may be readily visible on the surface, that such things, in their way, are meaningful, that they, in their way, have symbolic dimensions, that they, in their way, express truths, relationships, acknowledgments, and such. I leave such speculations to the reader. "Put the iron to her!" cried another. "Collar her!" cried another. "Teach her to kiss the whip!" "Make her jump and squirm!" cried yet another. "I speculate that her life is going to change," said Laura to Ellen. "Doubtless," said Ellen, touching her collar, frightened. The slave then rose gracefully to her feet, ascended the dais, and knelt before the chair. There, her hands pinioned behind her, she licked and kissed the whip for several seconds. Already you grovel at the snapping of fingers, and lick and kiss the whip with not only skill, but eagerness. "I once had a barbarian," he said. "She thought she was going to be free, but she quickly learned to kiss the whip." "Lift your head," he said. The slave obeyed, and found a whip before her lips. Obediently, unbidden, she licked and kissed the whip, for some moments, deferentially, submissively, timidly, lovingly, until it was withdrawn. She trembled. She had, of course, kissed the whip before, and had even been trained to do so, but this time, oddly, it seemed momentously significant to her. She had knelt before a mighty man and licked and kissed his whip. The symbolism of this act, she on her knees before him, naked and helpless, chained, back-braceleted, suddenly overwhelmed her. Never before, it seemed, had she felt so radically, vulnerably, rawly female. They are the masters, she thought. We are, fittingly, their slaves. She could imagine her at his feet, at the foot of his couch on the love furs, attached to the slave ring there, naked, cringing, not knowing if she was to be whipped or caressed, as a slave, taking the whip cast before her in her small hands and, looking up, trying to read the mood of her master, fearfully, tenderly, hopefully licking and kissing it. He held his whip down and she fled to it on her knees and kissed it, and then put her head down, kissing his sandals. "Kiss the whip!" called another. Then it seemed she lifted her hands and received into them an object, which, putting down her head, she kissed, and then, lifting the object, returned it to the unseen master. And doubtless there were few if any men in that audience to whom it did not seem that it was into their hands that the whip was returned. In the morning you would be freed to kneel, and kiss the whip, to belly, to wash his feet with your tongue. Similarly, consider the kissing of the whip. Imagine the feelings of a free woman forced to kiss the whip, perhaps finding her feelings surprisingly and troublesomely delicious, and those of the slave, grateful to be permitted an opportunity to perform this beautiful symbolic act, of submission. Earth women do have, incidentally, a reputation on Gor for making excellent slaves. They seem to grasp their new identity, their new being, shortly after their collaring, after having been taught to crawl and kiss the whip. Most are comprehending slaves even before they are taken, sold, from the block. Swiftly then do they learn to lick, kiss and caress, to kneel and obey, to serve as what they have then become, as what they then are, the properties of their masters. Know what it is to kiss the whip, knowing that it will be used on you if you are not fully pleasing. Does she not know she may not even place a thread of cloth upon her body without the permission of her master, and that she is subject to the very whip she licks and kisses so gratefully? "I may teach you, too, how to kneel and kiss the whip." "I learned something of that in the cylinder," she said. "It is a beautiful symbolic act," he said. "How did you feel about it?" "At first I was terrified," she said, "but then, as I began to better understand its significance, and why I was on my knees, and kissing the whip, it moved me, and it stirred me, exciting my belly, profoundly." "Excellent," said Cabot. "Soon," she said, "I was eager to perform this act." "Good," said Cabot. "Too," she said, "I think I did it acceptably, with timidity, and tenderness, and deference, and hope, and awe, acknowledging my station as slave and the rightfulness of my submission to the might of men." "And it continued to stir you, and excite you?" he asked. "Oh, yes, Master," she said, "terribly so. Yes Master!" "Good," he said. "And eventually you might learn to do it," said he, "piteously, beggingly, supplicatingly, with tiny noises, in such a way as to drive a master mad with passion." "And with my hands tied, or braceleted behind my back!" she said. "Quite possibly," he said. "And you will improve in your skills, and learn the slow slave use of your tongue, and the slave use of your lips." "Such things excite me," she said. "In my training, even with the hint of such thoughts, I could barely remain on my knees." "There are many ways to lick and kiss the whip," he said, "tenderly and lovingly, humbly and gratefully, lasciviously and avidly, pleadingly, needfully, supplicatingly." "Yes, Master," she said. "Yes!" "There are skills involved in all slave acts," said Cabot, "even in so simple a thing as the kisses of slaves." "Perhaps Master will teach me," she said. "It would doubtless improve your price," he said. "Oh, Master!" she protested. "Incidentally," said he, "being skilled in slave acts, such as kissing the whip, has saved many a girl a beating." She turned her head, and pursed her lips, pleadingly, and Cabot held the whip to her lips, and she kissed it, gratefully, fervently. From time to time, commanded, she will kneel, and lick and kiss the whip, it held to her lips by her master, licking and kissing it as his slave, in which simple, familiar ceremony, that of kissing the whip, in lingeringly, attentively, obediently, and humbly caressing it with her soft lips and delicate tongue, she acknowledges that she is subject to its rule. "Keep your knees together," I advised her. I was, after all, only human. I then put the switch before her, and she leaned forward and, timidly, licked and kissed the supple leather implement. He then threw her to her knees before him, fetched a whip, and thrust it to her lips. Instantly, terrified, she pressed her lips to it, kissing it, desperately, fervently, placatingly. Certain prosaic regularities contribute to this purpose, that the slave will commonly kneel upon entering the master's presence, that she may speak only when having the master's permission to do so, that she must often kneel and kiss the whip or switch in the morning, that she may not clothe herself without his permission, that she may not take food before the master, that she may not leave the domicile without his permission, and she must give an account of her intentions before leaving and an account of her activities upon returning, and so on. Kneeling, gratefully, she presses her lips to her master's whip, held before her, and licks and kisses it, at length, tenderly, not daring to touch it with her hands, this symbol of his sovereignty over her. Verbally, of course, the master's attention might be variously solicited, from tiny need noises to explicit phrases, such as "I would be reminded of my collar," "I would kiss the whip of my master," The whip hurts; a slave will commonly do much to avoid it. Certainly they are seldom in doubt as to their bondage. They know themselves subject to it. It is often most effective when merely dangling inert upon its peg. It is sometimes put to the lips of a kneeling slave, that she may lick and kiss it, in trepidation and reverence. He was flogged and she put under the five-stranded slave whip. He grinned under the lash but she wept, but I think, too, she would not forget that kiss. Let them remember what they are, slaves, and no more. Let them kneel, the whip held before them. Let them lick and kiss it, in all trepidation and deference, and hope that it will not be used upon them. "The whip, then," I said, "after your beating, was pressed to your lips, to be kissed." "Yes, Master." "And you kissed it?" "Yes, Master," she said, "fervently, piteously, hoping that it would strike us no more." Does it not tell me I am an animal, that I am owned, and a slave? Perhaps my master will often have me kiss the whip, that I may thusly be reminded of my bondage." A similar act, perhaps more clearly symbolic, is involved when the slave, kneeling, licks and kisses the master's whip, held to her lips. I then fetched a slave whip which I had earlier put to the side. "Pass the whip about," I said. "Each slave, when she first serves you, is to kneel and kiss the whip, and then place the plate before you." Let them learn well, I thought, what they are, the former Talena of Ar, once Ubara, and the former Lady Flavia of Ar, once her confidante, that they are now slaves, only that. I tossed the whip to Aeacus. Adraste knelt beside him, at the edge of the small table, bent forward, and kissed the whip, which he extended to her. She then put the plate before him, humbly. He handed the whip to Leros, and Alcinoë knelt at his place, and leaned forward, kissing in her turn the whip proffered to her lips, and then, as Adraste before her, placed the plate humbly before the free man. Soon Adraste would return, with another plate, and the whip would be passed to the next fellow. "Fellows," I said, and loudly, that the slaves might hear as well, "if the service is not fully pleasing, or is lacking in any respect, use the whip on them." Before I untied her, I put the switch to her lips, and she kissed it, fervently. He removed the belt from her teeth. "You may now," he said, "show the belt deference." "I do not understand," she said. "We do not yet have a whip," he said. "Lick and kiss it." This was an analogy to the simple ceremony of kissing the whip, wherein the slave demonstrates her bondage and submission, acknowledging and accepting her subjection to the mastery, a common symbol of which is the whip. Similar things may be done with rope, the chain, slave bracelets, and such. The former Lady Flavia of Ar addressed herself to the belt of her master. "She seems tentative," I said. "I think you are right," he said. The slave looked at me, angrily, but then her master's hand was in her hair, twisting it, and she cried out in misery, and his other hand was up, the looped belt in it. "No!" she cried, her head held in place. He then gave her two sharp strokes with the looped belt. Tears sprang to her eyes. He then put the belt again to her lips, and she began to kiss and lick the belt more seriously. "I hate you!" she said to me. "I think she does not understand what is required," I said to the stranger. She then received two more strokes of the looped belt. Then, fervently, desperately, the frightened slave, Alcinoë, the slave of Callias, of Jad, a Cosian, addressed herself to the belt of her master. "That is much better," I said. "I suspect you are beginning to comprehend." "Thank you, Master," she said. "Now," I said, "with your lips and tongue, as the most helplessly needful of all women, as a slave, make love to the belt of your master. In kissing it, tenderly, you express your gratitude that you, only a slave, have been permitted to touch a belonging of your master. Too, in this way, you express your devotion for the master, your reverence for him, perhaps unnoticed by the master, by tenderly and gratefully kissing even a belt, even a tunic or sandal, of the master. In licking it, slowly, you express yourself, and your bondage, that you submit yourself to him wholly, without reservation. In licking it slowly, and sensuously, you express your passion, and need, your desire, that you would serve him intimately, as the least of slaves, as the readiest of aroused, owned beasts." This is the joy of the slave, to kneel naked at the feet of her master, to lick and kiss his whip and his feet, and then to lie before him, helpless in his chains. But in time, they, too, lick and kiss the whip lovingly, for they, too, are women. "Is that why the women of your world make such excellent slaves, why they lick and kiss our whips and feet, why they beg to be subdued and chained, owned and mastered, why they writhe in grateful ecstasy in the thongs and silken cords that render them helpless?" he asked. Still I had no desire to lick and kiss the whip of Trachinos, though I would do it fearfully, and well, if it were pressed to my lips. Nora then held the switch to our lips, those of Jane, Eve, and Allison. We all kissed it, with deference. "This is the whip," he said, holding it before me. I shuddered in the bonds. "I fear it," I said, "the very sight of it." "You may kiss it," he said. I kissed the whip fervently. "And you secretly despised me all the while?" he said. He then again put the whip to my lips, again I kissed it, fervently. "No, Master!" I said. "More lingeringly," he said. "And lick it, devotedly, as the pretty little slut and slave beast you are." "Yes, Master," I said. A fellow was moving amongst us, from one to the other. He carried a coiled whip. He would crouch down, hold the whip to one's lips, and say, "Kiss it, and say 'La kajira'." He was then close to me. I was on my back. I pulled at the bonds, futilely. Then he was beside me, and the heavy, snakelike coil of the whip was held before me. "Kiss it," he said, "and say 'La Kajira'." I lifted my head a little and kissed the whip. "La Kajira," I said. I did not know what it meant. There were several reasons I turned her over with my foot. First, most were supine, so it seemed suitable more aesthetic if the merchandise, in this wholesale lot was positioned uniformly. Secondly, supine, they were more conveniently positioned for their first lesson, namely, that they were subject to discipline symbolized by kissing the whip and, second, enunciating their first words in what would be their new language, appropriate words. I recalled how she had kissed the whip frightened, to be sure, but, too, seemingly gratefully. She had placed her soft lips upon if gently, truly, fully, and had kissed it tenderly, deferently. In short, she had kissed it well. She had then completed the small ceremony, as instructed, saying "La kajira." She had said this softly, obediently. She would not know what it meant. In time she would learn. Things are much different, of course, with the slave who knows her collar, who has knelt and kissed a dozen whips. A coiled whip was placed to my lips. I was told to kiss the whip and say, 'La kajira', with which instructions I readily complied. I was told to kiss the whip and say, 'La kajira', with which instructions I readily complied. So I kissed the whip for the first time, lying on my back, naked and bound, lifting my head, kissed it tenderly, gratefully, submissively. Commonly the whip is kissed while one kneels. The licking and kissing of the master's feet is a familiar behavior on the part of a slave girl. It is a ritual, like kissing the whip which is symbolic of submission. But these behaviors, or rituals, are often rich and complex. For example, we are taught the licking and kissing of a man's whip in such a way that he may be driven mad with passion. Too, of course it has its effect on the slave, as well. The kissing of the feet is also, obviously, symbolic of submission, and is rich in significance. And the first wine at the feast, following her public licking and kissing of his whip before which time no one may eat or drink, will be served to him by his new slave. "You do not want freedom," said a girl. "You want a master. You want to kneel naked before a man, and bend down and kiss his feet. You want to lift your head, and lick and kiss his whip. You want to be owned, to belong wholly, to submit, to obey, to be dominated, to be mastered, to be possessed as only a slave can be possessed, to grovel, to selflessly love and serve." "Do you wish to feel the switch?" "No," said Emerald. "No," said Hiza. "Then kiss it," said Donna, "to show your fear of it, and your respect for it." "Never!" said Hiza. The switch was then thrust to her lips, and Hiza, sullenly, kissed it. "Lick it, as well," said Donna, not pleasantly. I then watched the small, soft tongue of Hiza applying itself reluctantly, but obediently, to the supple instrument of discipline and authority. The switch was then held a few inches before the face of Emerald, who bent forward and kissed it, and then, unbidden, licked it, carefully, delicately, tenderly. Emerald, I thought, is already in the collar. How she might have driven a man mad with passion. What a fine price she might bring! "Like slaves!" said Tuza, regarding Hiza and Emerald with contempt. "You, next," said Donna to Tuza, and the switch was thrust against her lips. "No!" said Tuza. "Now," said Donna. Tuza then, as had Hiza and Emerald, kissed the switch. She was not required to do more. Perhaps it was felt that a tongue such as hers was unworthy of the switch. "Mistress," said Donna, to Darla, and Darla, then, as had Tuza, kissed the switch. She, too, was not required to do more. I began to attend to the whip kissing and licking it. I did this softly, slowly, tenderly, carefully, humbly, deferentially, and, I fear, seductively. More than once I had seized the slave whip, kissed it, and licked it, and, kneeling, proffered it to Kurik of Victoria. "I wonder," said Drusus Andronicus, "why the men of Earth do not have their females so before them." "Doubtless, some do," said Kurik. This startled me. Could there be something of Gor on Earth? Could there be women there who knew the chain, who knelt, who kissed the whip, who had met men? Surely not! But could it be? I did not know. He rose, went to the side of the room, removed the whip from its peg, and cast it to the floor, a few feet away. "Go to the whip," he said, "on all fours, put your head down, lick and kiss it, and then lift it in your teeth, and bring it to me, on all fours." "Kiss the whip," he said. "Yes, Master," I said, lifting my lips to the whip, kissing it. As he did not remove the whip from before me, I moved my head to the side of the coil, and, eyes closed, pressed my check against it, lovingly. Then it was again at my lips, and I, again and again, tenderly, gratefully, kissed it. Then, looking up at him, into his eyes, I licked the coil, softly, again and again, beseechingly. Then he removed the implement, and looked to the side, to the ramp. I was kneeling beside him. I then lifted my head, and looked up at him, and then, tears in my eyes, I began, softly, to lick and kiss the coils of the whip he carried in his hand. How I longed, a woman of Earth, to lick and kiss the whips of such men! It might be mentioned, in passing, that being marked and collared, being naked, or clad as a slave, obeying, needing permission to speak, kneeling, being subject to bonds, kissing the whip, being owned, and such, is incredibly arousing to a slave. Did he not know that it was his whip I longed to lick and kiss, that it was he to whose feet I wished to crawl, bringing him his switch, held between my teeth? I seized her hair with my left hand and pulled her up to her knees before me. I removed the whip from my belt and held it to her lips, where, immediately, in tears, she began to lick and kiss it with fervor. There are many acts and practices on Gor, postures, expressions, and behaviors, which are deeply meaningful and profoundly symbolic. One of these is "kissing the whip," where the slave kisses the very whip to which she is subject. Some Masters require a slave, particularly a new slave, to "kiss the whip" until it is done properly, rightfully, humbly, respectfully, sincerely, authentically, even, eventually, reverently, and gratefully. In the course of this exercise, the slave, if lax or inattentive, or if the least bit reluctant or resistant, may feel the whip, and as often as is deemed necessary, these brief admonitions providing an incentive for her to renew her efforts. By such means, she is encouraged to do better and, eventually, achieve success. A slave is expected to kiss the whip well. By means of this exercise, and several others, she learns her collar. Behavior comes first; understanding and acceptance comes second. One begins by behaving as a slave and then, later, discovers that one is a slave. One realizes, of course, from the very beginning, in one sense, that one is a slave, undeniably, strictly, and in the total fullness of legality. There is no mistaking the brand, the collar, the tunic, the whip. But, then, later, there comes the profound, liberating moment in which one realizes that one is now, in truth, and wholly, a slave. "You kiss the whip well," I observed. The last I had heard, she had learned to lick and kiss a whip well, even begging, in the darkness and on the damp sand, to be permitted to do so. I held the whip before her. "Kiss it, and lick it," I said, "humbly, lengthily, submissively, lovingly." "Better," I said. "More lengthily. Let me see your lips pressed on the leather. Softly now, lovingly, good. Again, and again. Let us see your tongue. It is a pretty tongue, the tongue of a pretty kajira. Good, use it lovingly, slowly, lengthily, tenderly. Again. Kiss, lick, slowly. Show me variety. Continue, Kajira. Good. More!" Scarcely regarding me, he held the whip to my lips and I kissed it, routinely acknowledging my slavery and submission. He who had lashed me then held the whip to my lips and I kissed it, frightened, again and again. He then pointed to his feet with the coiled disciplining device, and I covered them with kisses. He who had lashed me then held the whip to my lips and I kissed at it, frightened, again and again. He then pointed to his feet with the coiled disciplining device, and I covered them with kisses. The rider went to the side of his saddle and removed a whip from a small ring there. It was the long, several-times-coiled whip I had earlier noted. Certainly it was not the usual slave whip with its five broad blades which slaves learn quickly to fear. Indeed, it seemed to me an unwieldy device. At the time, I did not realize it was a capture whip, and that it was not intended for disciplining a slave. He held it out, toward me, and I bent swiftly toward it, grasped the coils in my two hands, lifted them to my lips, and, putting down my head, licked and kissed it, humbly, fervently, hoping to be found pleasing. Too, even as hungry as I was, this act of obeisance enflamed me. I fell asleep and dreamed that my ankles were unbound and that I found myself somehow in a crowded, lamplit tavern, and that a whip was pressed to my lips, which whip I fearfully kissed and licked, a whip to which I knew I must soon dance. She kneels, kisses the whip, and begs to serve. "That is why they enslave them. The collar is a badge of quality. It says that men have found that woman acceptable to be collared. She is worth owning. She is desirable. They want to possess her, every bit of her. Therefore, get on your knees, kiss the whip, and be done with it." He then lifted his whip to my lips, and I pressed my lips to it, quickly kissing it and then licking it, and kissing it again. Slave girls are seldom, if ever, struck with the whip but they know that they are subject to it. He then placed the paga goblet on a low shelf to the side, and, as I knelt, held the whip out to me. Unbidden, I licked it, and kissed it, acknowledging that I was a slave and subject to discipline. One of the Kurii, he with the whip, bent over, approached me, shuffling, and held the whip against my lips. I kissed it, licked it, and kissed it again. He unbuckled his belt, looped it, and thrust it to my lips. My lips were still sore, where I had been cuffed. Immediately, desperately, I began to lick and kiss the leather.
Bina, terrified, threw herself to her stomach before the player on the platform. She kissed the wood twice before his feet. |
$768 donated since 2015 Last donation March 7, 2026
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