"You called for me, Master? Here I am. Your slavegirl, your pleasure-kitten, stepping naked into your banquet hall where your guests are feasting..."

Tal. I tried to capture the joy and the awe and the pride of a freshly conquered slave girl, ravished, branded, radiantly in love with her owner.

This is still one of the Master/slave pieces of writing I am proudest of. It is not on Gor, but on a world where Goreans would feel at home. I hope you will enjoy this girl. This is the opening of a chapter in the book Buy Me, Master (25 stories of luscious slavegirls and their Masters), and it has been performed (audio) here and here. (The first of those two recordings is posted on a deleted reddit account, but the voice actress later reinstated her account under other username and directs listeners to the audio performance.)

I hope the Gorean community will be pleased with this offering: my continuing attempt, through fiction and audio drama, to capture and display the heart of a slave girl.

Display Me, Master

We hear gentle, exotic music and possibly the soft, low guttering of flames in lamps. The slavegirl is aroused and quivery at all the eyes on her, but is proud of her beauty and her new status as her Master's bed-slave.

The audio opens with the sound of massive heavy doors opening, then closing.

You called for me, Master? Here I am. Your slavegirl, your pleasure-kitten, stepping naked into your banquet hall where your guests are feasting. I'll wait just inside the door until you summon me nearer. I will stand beautifully for you, Master, so you will be proud of your slavegirl, and all your dinner guests can see what a lovely pleasure-slut wears your collar. Do you see this blush in my cheeks, Master? All your guests are gazing at me with hunger and heat in their eyes. Admiring ... wanting ... what belongs to my Master.

Do I please you, Master, standing here obediently while you talk with the other men? I am YOUR beautiful slavegirl. softly Gaze on me, Master. I'll roll my shoulders back, my young breasts moving gently as I breathe, to entice and delight you, Master. My feet are small and bare, and the silk carpets that cover the floor of this hall feel like a caress against my skin. One hip turned toward you to display the sweet curves of your slavegirl's body. And the brand you burned into my flesh last night. quivers Red and small and lovely in the curve of my thigh. You burned this mark into me, Master. When you claimed me. softly, aroused When you made me yours.

I am my Master's pleasure-slave. I made my Master moan with the warm caress of my body, again and again, all night. You chained me by my ankle to the bed, and woke me this morning with your powerful thrusts, the surge and roll of your hips. You woke me with your cock, Master. I woke to the singing of the dawn birds in your garden outside, to the warm sun kissing my skin, to the grunts and growls of my Master as he fucked me. As you took such pleasure in your slavegirl. You fucked me, and I spasmed around your cock and screamed under you on your bed as you made me yield and surrender.

I am your pleasure-slut, Master.

Your dancing girls prepared me for you tonight, while you were away at market. They oiled my body and perfumed me and aroused me for you with their soft, delicate hands. They strung these decorative chains of silver about my belly and hips. But your slave jewelry and your collar, clasped securely around my throat, are all I wear, Master. The welts from your whip are still faint across my thighs and tits. My cunt is naked and ... soft ... and glistening with my warm honey in the light of the lamps above your banquet table, Master.

a soft sigh of arousal Those lamps. Held high above your guests' heads by the shackled hands of stone slavegirls, marble women taller than living girls, ten along each side of your long banquet hall. They are all naked. Like me. Some of their mouths are open in eternal orgasm. Others have their mouths gagged with marble imitations of leather straps. Any woman who enters this hall does so for my Master's pleasure and delight.

When I chopped onions and heated stew in my father's small house ... as a free girl, before the slavers took me ... I never imagined such a banquet hall. Such a table, with a dozen men dining in their elegant garments and jewels. And there you are, my Master, at the head of the table, seated in your oak chair carved in the shape of intertwined slavegirls, caressing and fondling each other, their backs arched in orgasm. With that huge window behind your chair, and the red sun setting behind you like a world on fire. breathless You look like a god, Master. With your eyes deep as the sea and your powerful body and that sable cloak you wear.

You beckon to me with a look. Yes, Master. I will approach you, Master. It will be my pleasure, Master. softly, yearningly My Master. See me walk toward your table with slow grace. My wrists crossed behind my back as if you've bound them, Master. My hips swaying at each soft step. I do not conceal my soft wet cunt from you or your guests as I walk. My cunt is yours. It belongs to you, Master, and you do not want it hidden. I have been bathed in warm milk, but for hours this morning your semen still covered my breasts. My neck. My cheek. Dried on my skin, wherever you splashed it over me last night, after each time you took me. Each time you thrust in me and ravished me, again and again and AGAIN. Each time my young, tight body gave you pleasure, Master.

Your guests gaze at me, like fire on my body, as I walk down the table, Master. They can smell my heat. They can smell me dripping for you as I walk past the naked thighs of the stone slavegirls. They want to touch me. quivery, aroused breathing If you weren't here to protect me, they would caress me with their fingers as I pass or grip my ass and my tits. gasps softly Maybe even pull me onto the table and fuck me.

They all want me, Master.

shyly Do YOU want me, Master?

I'll kneel beside you, Master, on your silk carpet. a soft little sound I'm parting my thighs for you, Master, kneeling with my legs open. All your guests are gazing at my soft, naked thighs and my soaked little cunt, and I am yours to display as you wish. My wrists crossed gracefully behind me, my breasts high and inviting, my lips soft and full. The cool evening breeze through the window licks at my cunt.

a soft, soft moan Your hand in my hair, Master. Mmmmm, and caressing my cheek ... Master, my Master. Your hand is so warm ... and strong. May I rest my cheek on your thigh, Master, while you dine? so softly, so sweetly I yearn for you, Master.

You ... you want me in your lap, Master?

But won't your guests ... ?

SMACK!!!

a cry or yelp from her Yes, Master, forgive me, Master. I'll rise gracefully to my feet, turning my body so you can see my breasts and cunt fully in the red light of the sunset. Look, Master, I'm dripping onto my thighs. It's because my Master is near. My Master who bought me, who branded me, who fucked me all night.

I am yours, Master. Your guests may watch the curves of my ass as I settle into your lap, my thighs open, one knee to either side of you, Master, in this enormous oak chair. Yes, Master, I'll cross my wrists behind my back. You make me feel so ... helpless. Your body is so ... massive. And I am so small in your arms. My body naked and available and open to your every touch. gasps You've taken my hair! Forcing my head back, lifting my breasts toward your face. Master, Master! Are you going to ...

(Her story continues in Buy Me, Master.)