Birds of a Feather: Chapter 2
By Theodoric of York and Wardall Clark.
Warning: NO PORTION of this work may be REPRODUCED FOR SALE for any purpose. DC Comics retains full copyright to Superman, Wonder woman and the other characters mentioned here and John Norman retains full copyright to the planet and society of Gor. Birds of a Feather contains explicit sex and violence**, including scenes of rape and torture. This story is not for anyone under the age of consent** in their jurisdiction to read such sexually explicit material. Authors Notes: This is the conclusion of an ongoing series melding John Norman's World of Gor with DC Comics heroes and heroines. At the end of Chapter Seven is a thorough glossary of terms, places and recurring characters. If you find yourself completely baffled by Gorean customs, terms, or politics you should try reading the series in order: (1) A Cat and a Fiddle [by Theodoric of York], (1a) The Cat and the Shackles. (1b) Under the Shadow of the Bat (2) Diana and the Ubar (3) The Princess and the Mercenary [all by Wardall Clark.] In these earlier works Catwoman, Batgirl, Supergirl, Wonder Woman, and Wonder Girl fall prey to Kurri interplanetary slavers. Selina Kyle escaped to become a legendary Gorean outlaw until Batman came to Gor to re-enslave her. Barbara Gordon wound up as Scully, the abject slave of Mulkar, an agent of the Priest Kings. Kara Zor-El endured years of traumatizing captivity before Batman and Selina freed her. Princess Diana escaped from degrading slavery to a power-mad Ubar only to be recaptured and brought to the Sardar where her memories were altered in a failed effort to make her a docile slave. She escaped by killing her lover/jailor and was at large when Birds of a Feather began. Troia wound up in the hands of the Ubar from whom Diana escaped and was tortured for her sister's crimes.
Lois Lane and photographer Morgan Croft fell into a trap and were raped, and kidnapped by Gorean interplanetary slavers along with a runaway nicknamed Mouse.
Chapter Two: THE 'OTHER' SECRET LIFE OF BRUCE WAYNE
The U.S. Federal agents continued their search of the warehouse, but some of their attention was inevitably drawn to the Gorean agent's assistant. Her long red hair was cut in the style of a Mohawk. She wore an extremely short black pleated skirt. A black jacket, unbuttoned, graced her upper torso. Underneath the jacket she wore a diaphanous, white silk blouse. Pressed tightly against the fabric, her proud ringed nipples were clearly discernable.
So were her legs, which were graced with white fishnet stockings which rose up her thighs until they reached just underneath the hemline of her skirt. They were held in place by garters and straps reaching up, underneath the skirt. Unseen, they were attached to a garter belt. It was the only thing remotely approaching underwear. A black leather collar graced her neck. Sown into the collar were a series of rows of silver beads and spikes. Taken all together, her outfit gave a sense of business punk.
The agent from the Priest Kings of Gor himself wore a black business suit, complete with black-lensed sunglasses. He was a tall, nondescript, lanky man with gangly long arms and legs, and a very nondescript face. He reminded Agent Bach of something like a cross between a Geek and an ape. Agent Bach wondered if this was the same impression Abraham Lincoln had given when he walked into a room. During his lifetime many people described him of being apelike also. Union General McClellan had derisively described him as the Original Gorilla.
Shelby Foote, the Civil War historian, once said something to the effect that the most remarkable man in the South was Nathan Bedford Forrest and the most remarkable man of the North was Abraham Lincoln. Agent Bach, something of a Civil War buff, had sometimes wondered if that was the reason why the North won. Despite all the other factors, maybe it had all boiled down to the fact that the most remarkable man of the North was the President of the United States and the most remarkable man of the South was simply a cavalry commander. Agent Bach would have to remind himself not to underestimate this man like so many had underestimated Abraham Lincoln during his lifetime.
The government agents in charge of investigating extraterrestrial events--the legendary Men in Black---had actually dressed in casual clothing. Agent Bach asked, "Mulder, isn't it? That is the code name you are going by?" The Gorean, whose name for most of his life had been Mul-Kar, responded with a broad smile. He said, "Yes, that is the code name I am currently going by!" The government agent rolled his eyes. At times like this he sometimes thought he was dealing with just a big kid: a tall, tough as nails, deadly, intelligent, amazingly effective kid: but a big kid nevertheless. The government special agent pointed to the Gorean's assistant. He asked, "I suppose that her code name is Scully also?" Mulkar answered, "Actually that is her real name. Isn't it, Scully?" "Yes…. Sir!" answered Scully. She had to keep reminding herself not to call him 'Master' at times like this. "Is that your first name or your last name?" asked the agent with clear irritation in his voice. "Both!" answered Mulkar. "If you do not like it, I could change it." "I am sure you could," hissed the agent. He turned his attention to Scully. He said, "You know Miss Gordon, you don't have to leave with him. You can stay here if you want. Your Gorean slavery is not enforceable in the United States." Mulkar added. "Indeed you could leave now. As of a matter of fact you could have killed me in my sleep many times, both on Gor and on Earth. So why haven't you?" She paused for a moment, looking down shyly. It had never occurred to this girl to do such an unspeakable act. Her Master truly loves her, and she returns that love with all her being. Besides that, she would then no longer have a master. After she killed one master, what other master would have her? What she said was "I cannot think of a worse fate than for a slave girl to be without a master." "Just how many of these do you have?" asked agent Bach. "Just the one! I have need of no more. She is remarkably talented in more ways than one. You can try her out if you want." The Federal Agent in Charge commented dryly, "That is remarkably selfish of you. I would have thought that you would have wanted to grant the honor of your magnificence to as many slaves as possible. I thought all you Goreans kept harems." "Actually, the vast majority of women on Gor are free." Mulkar explained "Only a small percentage of Gorean females are slave. Most Gorean males do not actually own even one slave; they go to brothel taverns or rent coin girls when they want to enjoy the comforts of a slave girl's embrace. And so I consider myself lucky to own even one slave. I consider myself doubly lucky to own such a talented and dangerous slave. She is truly unique. You will not find another like her on Gor." After a second's consideration he added "Well, maybe one or two others." "I thought Gorean males liked their slaves soft and cuddly," Agent Bach commented. "From her muscle tone one would think that she is neither soft nor cuddly." The Gorean raised his eyebrow. "Oh no? You would be surprised how cuddly she can be. But you are right; she is not your common Gorean slave type. Yet since I am not your common Gorean she is precisely what I want her to be, nothing more or less. But enough of this chit chat. We could spend days or even months discussing the pros and cons of Gor verses Earth. And that is not why we are here, is it?" "No, it is not," agreed Bach. He looked about the warehouse, still strewn with women's clothing. "You know, if they just learned to pick up after themselves we probably would never have known that they were here. I thought that Kurri were cautious beasts. Don't they have enough sense to cover their tracks?"
"They are cautious. This is the first shipment from the Northeastern seaboard since Batman made his coup. It was quite impressive. He managed to capture the entire crew and their craft. I wish I had been there!"
The agent asked, "Had you been there, would we have captured the craft, or would we have been lucky just to have found wreckage as usual." "Probably the latter," agreed the Gorean. "Just be sure you don't break your new toy before either the Priest Kings or the Kurri decide to take it away from you." "They do, and they will have a fight on their hands, you know that!" one of the other U.S. government agents exclaimed. "Better than you might think. Do not forget I did serve a tour as one of your Navy SEALs. That is why I wonder whether they just might take it out by bombardment from space, along with the state where you are keeping it." The junior agent grew pale. They wouldn't !?" he gasped."
"Of course they would. Certainly the Kurri and probably the Priest Kings as well. This should not surprise you. Your own military is quite familiar with the concept of collateral damage. But I wouldn't worry. I doubt that either the Priest Kings or the Kurri would be willing to expose themselves to the other in such a risky operation. So long as you remain such a low-level threat as to not make it worthwhile for them to cooperate, (or at least look the other way while the other one takes you out,) there should be no problem."
Agent Bach asked, "Do you really think that they are capable of cooperating like that?" "Of course they would be, if they perceived the stakes to be high enough. Earth is not exactly a player as of yet, but you will be if you don't blow it or act too precipitously." Bach smiled and said, "As if I could influence the leaders of this nation or the world. No, my friend we are just pawns in the greater games being played." "But this pawn, at least, plans to be a little proactive. Pawns sometimes rise to become queens."
"Do you ever worry that you own pawn might decide to become a queen herself and not need you any more. She could, after all, finish you off in your sleep."
"Not particularly, but I suspect that is why most Goreans like to keep their slaves soft and cuddly."
"Tell me, what would happen if a slave deliberately killed her master?"
The Gorean answered defensively, "It never happens."
"Humor me. What if it did?"
"Then every force of Gorean Society would be brought to bear to bring her to Justice. Once caught her death would be slow and painful. It would be one of the worst fates I could imagine." the former-Batgirl's owner concluded.
"No matter what the circumstances?"
"No matter what the circumstances!" Mulkar insisted. There was a brief pause, to be interrupted by another agent. "Sir, we found something of interest!"
"What is it, Snyder?"
"They appear to have left a couple of cameras!" All three of them looked at the youngest agent with interest. "One of them seems to be a digital camera and the other is a video camera." Snyder volunteered. A few minutes later the Gorean, his slave, and a group of the Federal agents were studying the download pictures on the screen of a laptop. "Look familiar?" 'Mulkar asked his slave." She answered, "Yes…. Sir. The only difference is that I was loaded in an empty field." "They must be more worried about security," commented one of the agents. "Then why did they leave the cameras?" asked another of the agents. "I think there is something they want us to see. The Kurr is an arrogant as well as a cautious beast. Their agents are certainly arrogant." "You should talk." Agent Bach remarked. Then he wondered aloud "What are you doing here anyway? I thought Gotham City was your beat?" "Generally, it is!" commented the Gorean. "But to be quite frank, after Batman captured that scout ship, Kurri operations there seem to have shut down. It has become quite boring. I decided to take in a fans' convention being held here in Metropolis. At things turned out, that was quite a fortuitous circumstance."
The next photograph appeared. The scene had changed slightly; a tall woman in a short tee-shirt and hot pants was being dragged before one of the Goreans. The next picture showed her being ruthlessly raped. The one after that showed her face as the rapist cut off her air. The last showed her being discarded by a man still sporting a massive erection. Agent Bach hoped he hadn't just seen the beautiful woman being murdered. He was relieved to see her on her knees in the next photo, pointing like a dog.
The picture after that was the image of a smaller woman emerging out of the storage boxes of the warehouse. Scully gasped.
"What is it?" asked her master. Scully answered, "I know that woman, Mast…. Sir!" All eyes turned to Scully. "Who is she?" snapped Mulkar "It is Lois Lane! I have met her a few times. The last time was at her wedding." One of the agents gasped, "THE Lois Lane, the famous reporter?" Scully answered, "Yes, THE Lois Lane.!" Her Master snapped, "Are you sure?" Already the chief agent had pulled out his cell phone and was dialing the Daily Planet. He said, "This is Agent Bach of Federal Bureau of Investigation. I need to speak with Lois Lane immediately." The polite receptionist replied, "Ms Lane is in a meeting. May I have her return your call?" He answered, "Yes, be sure to inform her that this is an emergency."
"Could you wait a minute while I put you on hold?" the receptionist responded.
Thoroughly irritated, Agent Bach agreed. After what appeared to be an unimaginably long wait, a distinctly masculine voice came on the line. "This is Clark Kent, Lois's husband. Lois is currently on assignment. May I help you?" Agent Bach asked, "Listen carefully, Mr. Kent. When is the last time you had contact with your wife?" "Yesterday at work, why?" There was now some concern in Clark's voice. The agent answered, "I think we should meet."
A blonde girl in her early twenties was writhing in ecstasy on the floor of her cell in Arkham Asylum. Her knees were grown up and wide apart; a vibrator was stuck up her cunt. There was a smaller one clenched between her ass cheeks. She held two more in her hands: one she pressed against her clitoris; she rubbed her distended nipples with the other. She was naked, so every inch of Supergirl's white skin was bare to those watching through the one-way glass. Turning away from his cousin's wanton display, Superman asked, "Is this really necessary?" One of the doctors answered, "I am afraid the answer is 'Yes.' If she does not find some outlet for her frustration she can get cross and irritable. With her abilities, that can make for a dangerous situation." Bruce Wayne put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You are under a lot of strain! Why don't we come back later? Now is not a good time to see her. An hour or two later she will be much better, you will see." The doctor agreed, "Usually she is an absolute delight to be around. Much of the day she fills her time as something of an orderly. Almost everyone here at Arkham Asylum loves her. Kara has even expressed a desire to be trained as a nurse. I see that as progress." "What is wrong with her?" demanded Clark. The doctor said, "Well…. in terms of mental illness, not much. She came to us with a case of nymphomania; which is dangerous if uncontrolled. We have mostly brought her out of that, but Supergirl still displays some attributes of an addict going though withdrawal, including violent rages. Outside of that, there does not seem to be much mental disorder. We have not been able to redirect her subservient tendencies, but being submissive is not strictly speaking a mental illness." Superman's knuckles grew white. He looked as if he was about to rip the man's head off. Ivy rushed forward to give comfort, but he brushed her aside. In a barely controlled monotone, he growled "So what you are saying is that you have not been able to break her brainwashing?" The doctor answered, "What I am saying is that she is not brainwashed as we understand that term. She is neither deluded nor mind-controlled. All our studies indicate a relatively rational mind. It is her priorities that have shifted. She wants to be a slave girl because she reasons that she can only find emotional fulfillment serving a strong master. I don't like her choices. I don't like it when people become racists, I don't like it when people change party from Democrats to Republicans. And I don't like it when a woman becomes a submissive, but it is her choice." Bruce had to wonder if this pudgy, bespectacled little man was extremely brave or extremely stupid to talk to The Man of Steel this way. The little man continued, "To be honest, Arkham Asylum is no longer the right facility for her. I would like, with your permission, to release the patient to other care." "What?" asked Superman. "You cannot be serious. She needs to be in an institution."
"No, Superman, she does not. Between them, the original mad scientist who put kryptonite rings in her body, Catwoman, and the Gorean slavers put your cousin through almost three years of traumatizing isolation and confinement. She needs now to be with family and friends. I can set up some outpatient treatment for her to attempt to bolster her confidence. Perhaps Mr. Wayne here might be of help? His organization has been experimenting with a radical new treatment. I do not know much about it but it seems to have worked wonders for Dr. Isley and Dr. Quinzel here."
Superman studied the pair dressed in business suits. Pamela looked down demurely under his gaze. Harley smiled broadly and started to blow a bubble. He addressed Harley, "I understand you got your license to practice medicine back, congratulations." He did not add his thoughts, which were that it helped when a billionaire was greasing the tracks and personally running interference for you. She let the bubble pop and answered gaily, "Thank you Mr. S!" The doctor commented. "I really never thought I would see these two back at Arkham, except as patients. Dr. Quinzel here has proved quite useful here helping Kara. "You let Harley Quinn treat my cousin?" gasped Superman alarmed.
"If you mean Dr. Harlene Quinzel, yes. I have to; she is the only one who can bring Kara down when she gets in one of her moods."
"Her moods?" asked Superman.
"Yes! Kara is a delight to be around most of the time. She is cooperative and helpful. She truly finds fulfillment in serving others. I already mentioned she wants to become a nurse. But over time her dissatisfaction at being here and not with a master builds up. She gets irritable and frustrated. An irritable and frustrated woman with super-powers can be a dangerous combination. Well, when she gets in one of those moods Dr. Quinzel is able to bring her down."
Superman asked, "Just how do you do that, Harley?" Harley swiveled her hips provocatively, smiled a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, and said, "It's a secret!" Superman asked, "Are you sure you are cured?" She answered, "Let's just say that I have been taught to channel my impulses in more constructive and less antisocial ways." When Superman looked at her, Pamela shrugged her shoulders and grimaced apologetically. "You let her live with you, sleep under that same roof while you are sleeping?" Superman asked Bruce." Bruce answered, "Why not, the Joker did." Superman exclaimed, "The Joker is insane!" Harley exclaimed, "Pumpkin, I would never hurt Mr. W. Just I would never have hurt Mr. J when I was in his thrall." Bruce had to smile a small smile. He wondered if Superman had ever been called Pumpkin before. He added, "She is my personal physician, or should I say the Physician of the Wayne household." Superman asked, "Is that wise?" Bruce answered, "Selina insisted, and you know I cannot say no to my Buffy." Superman answered, "Yes, I see!" studying his friend carefully. "I would like to find out more about this new treatment that you have discovered." Bruce answered, "I am afraid it is experimental and is not for everyone. What do you think Harley?" She answered, "I believe the treatment is not best suited for Kara. What she really needs is to be in a supportive environment with family to build up her confidence along with private counseling session with yours truly." She smiled a wicked smile. "I'd sooner give her to Lex Luthor, than allow her to be subjected to your tender mercies!" snapped Superman. Bruce's eye became slits. He hissed, "Harley, I will deal with you later." Harley seemed to grow pale. Droplets of sweat formed on her face. "Oh dear!" exclaimed a worried doctor. His tone icy, Superman asked "Is she going to receive her treatment later?" "Something like that." Bruce answered evasively. "Look, we need to talk in private. There is something I need to show you. Could we go down to my car?" Superman answered coldly, "Yes, why don't we?" "About Kara, …..? " the doctor asked pensively. Superman answered, "Don't worry, Doctor, I will be taking her off your hands. This should not take long, so if in meantime you could start any preparations for her departure, it would be appreciated." The doctor answered, "I will also prepare you a list of excellent counseling services and groups that she can join." Superman said, "Thank you Doctor for all you have done." Then he turned towards Bruce and said, "Let's go!" They walked in silence. Superman could not help but notice the sensuous grace with which both Pam and Harley now moved. When they got to Bruce Wayne's limousine, Harley opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, but Bruce said, "No, I think Pam will be driving this time. I am tired of paying for your traffic tickets." Harley stuck her tongue out at Ivy, hopped into the seat and slid to the passenger side of the car. Ivy opened the rear door of the car for Bruce and almost seemed to stand at attention as Bruce slid into the rear seat of the car. She closed the door and slid into the driver's seat of the car after Superman hand joined Batman inside. "You didn't used to bother with a chauffeur." Superman commented. Batman answered, "Things change. How are you holding up?" Superman gave Batman a long look, then Ivy, and finally Harley. He asked, "They know, then?" Bruce answered, "About Lois, yes!"
"How much do they know?"
Batman answered, "They have seen the tapes and photographs Superman asked, "How? Did you show those to them?"
"I didn't have to, Clark: they are on the Internet."
The Man of Steel lowered his face to his hands in despair. He cried, "Oh God."
"They are trying to goad you into doing something rash. You know that."
Superman answered, "They have succeeded. I will bring her back and make them pay. Bruce, you know that. They should know that too."
"You might be able to make them pay but you are not going to be able to bring her back. She is as lost to you as if they had put a bullet in her head. You know as well as I do that women transported to Gor are pronounced legally dead for good reason; they never return."
Superman studied Bruce for a moment and said, "Really? Harley, might I ask you a question?" Harley twisted around and braced her elbows of the seat she was sitting on. She smiled brightly at him and said, "Sure thing, Mr. S. Go ahead and shoot!" Superman asked, "Are you a slave girl?" The car swerved and jerked as Pam heard the words." Harley merely paused for a moment for effect, and answered, "Sure I am. Do you want to see my brands?" Superman answered, "That is alright, I have already seen them. I have seen your brand too, Pamela." Harley exclaimed, "Naughty, naughty, Mr. S, using your X-ray vision to spy under women's unmentionables." Superman answered, "Actually, neither of you are wearing any unmentionables except for pantyhose. But as a rule I don't peek; that was an activity that I got bored with when I was a teenager. In this case, I made an exception. I wanted to confirm a suspicion of mine. You know, Bruce, you should have kept them hidden away." Bruce asked, "Do you know everything?"
"I know enough. I know about Barbara. Earlier today they tried to keep her hidden away but they didn't know Clark Kent has X-ray vision. Tell me, is Selina a slave, too? Or is she a partner in your perversion?"
"Neither Selina nor Harley nor Ivy causes mayhem and confusion any longer. Instead they are tools for Justice. Now they strive to strengthen society. "
"Because you demand such of them?" Superman asked in a biting tone "If they were to slip out of your hands and fall under the influence of darker forces, what then?" Ivy spoke up and said, "I guess that is why Goreans like to keep their slave girls soft and cuddly, so that they are no danger to anyone. We are, after all, just tools to be used by strong masters."
"So you admit that you have not truly reformed, either of you?"
Harley said, "Not at first, but I am getting better, after a session or two with Wonder Woman's Lasso." "Wonder Woman's Lasso?" asked Superman. Bruce commented, "We recovered it when we rescued Kara. We have been studying it, its capabilities and such. It worked wonders on Harley. She is a new woman." "How so?" asked Superman, intrigued. Harley answered:
"In my case, it just nudged me in a direction I was headed anyhow. It helped me to reevaluate my priorities. Previously, I hated the Batman for the danger he posed to my beloved Joker. Now I hate the Joker for the danger he poses to my beloved master. The truth is that I have always had a passion for the both of them. They are really quite alike in many ways, if you exclude the fact that the Joker is a homicidal psychopath.
My master had simply found a more socially constructive method for dealing with his psychosis. I have decided to pattern myself after Mr. B. Mr. J would have eventually gotten round to killing me, anyhow. I have learned to love my master with all the passion and commitment with which a slave can love her master. As for the Joker, it is my fondest hope that I might someday be allowed to love him to death."
"You said 'in your case.' Was there another trial?" When there was only silence, Superman demanded "What happened?"
"Selina used it in an attempt to create a better nanny, one more to her liking."
"What happened?" demanded Superman again.
"Let's just say that she succeeded beyond anybody's expectations. Don't worry. Rebecca is doing just fine and she is precisely the nanny that Selina always wanted."
Superman commented, "Why am I not relieved?" "I have been changed too." Pam said suddenly in an even tone, her eyes still on the road. "HE is my heart and soul. I would follow HIM to the ends of the Earth and beyond. I cannot imagine existence without HIM. I would not allow myself to be used as a tool against my Master's desires ever again. I will always strive to fight the dark forces that my Master struggles against. HIS struggle is my struggle." "If he were to fall and embraces the dark forces inside him, what would you do?" Superman inquired.
"I would struggle to bring my Master back. That is what HE would expect of me, nothing less. HE has commanded me to do so!"
Harley added, "What she said!" "You see," Bruce answered, "I do have some inkling of what I am doing!"
"So it all boils down to the end justifying the means?"
"In this case it does. In their current condition they are no longer enemies. They are my allies in my struggle to fight crime." Batman replied "I believe that the means dictate the end." Superman asserted. "What you are doing is wrong. You have made a deal with the devil and there will be a reckoning. Until then, I will have nothing to do with you. I have tolerated your questionable methods until now because they have proven so effective. Perhaps you are right, but I still cannot condone them anymore. No matter what happens, our friendship is over." Bruce answered, "I expected you would say as much. May I give you some parting advice? Do not go to Gor. Stay here and help your cousin heal. She needs you with her, and Lois is beyond your reach. Even if you were to ever find Lois you might not recognize her. She will not be the woman you fell in love with and married. She will just be another collared slut among the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of other women who have been kidnapped by slavers, a needle in the haystack. No, it is worse than that; she will be a piece of hay in a haystack." "I know Lois!" countered Superman.
"And I have experienced Gor. Lois will be fighting alone against a whole culture with thousands of years of experience molding women like her into precisely what they want them to be. You, on the other hand, will be out of your element. You will not find Truth, Justice and the American Way there. You may find truth and justice, but of a different sort than you are used to, and you will find nothing like the American Way, at least not after 1865."
Superman asked, "Are you through?"
"I have said what I had to say."
Superman said, "Good. If you would stop the car, I will be leaving. It is time to pick up Kara."
They said nothing more as the car came to a halt. Bruce watched his former friend get out of the car. You could have heard a pin drop inside the car as it sped back to Wayne Manor. He walked inside, followed by his two slaves. Without orders, the two women stripped out of their business clothing. Bruce heard two clicks as his slaves locked their slave collars around their necks once more.
He heard a different clicking sound coming from an office. He walked in and saw the former Selina Kyle. His slave Buffy was kneeling on a satin pillow, which was set on a desktop. She was typing feverishly on a keyboard as she studied the rapidly scrolling lines and changing screens of the terminal. As she typed she giggled, and her ringed nipples jiggled.
He asked, "Buffy, what are you doing?" She looked up and answered, "Making you considerably richer, Master!" He said, "If there is even a hint of impropriety in those transactions in which you are involving me, you will get a whipping that you will never forget." She answered, "Some things are worth a whipping, Master!" She reached down to scratch her own pet underneath her chin. Rebecca, the former child author and Kurri agent, stretched her neck out and meowed appreciatively. She started to purr. Bruce walked over to Rebecca and petted her on the head. Rebecca meowed again. He commented, "I still don't see how this woman who thinks that she is a cat is going to make a good nanny." Buffy looked up from the screen, "I have told you that cats make great mothers. Heck, the only reason that they tolerate us is that that they think we are their kittens: their big, dumb, magical kittens." Bruce said, "I am going to have to have Harley work on this cat fixation you have. I do not know if it is healthy." Buffy smiled slightly and answered, "It is no unhealthier than your bat fixation, Master!" He answered "Whatever." There was no joy in his voice. He turned and left the room, leaving Buffy with a worried look on her face. She had given the man she loved two opportunities to engage in playful banter and he had ignored both of them. It almost seemed to her that only during those times did she ever see him relax and smile.
She waited until Bruce was gone and slipped off the desk. She immediately hunted down Ivy. Ivy would give her the straight scoop about what had happened.
Bruce walked into a large, cavernous hall. He walked over to the liquor cabinet. He opened it and poured himself a burgundy. He then walked over to a large, leather chair. Hours passed as he just stared at the burgundy. Gradually his four slaves gathered in front of him and knelt. Even Rebecca was there. In her addled feline mind she could sense something was wrong with her Master. She meowed plaintively. Bruce ignored her.
Last to arrive was Harley. She crawled to his feet with a slave whip in her mouth. She gently placed the whip at his feet. She bent down and kissed both of his shoes, and said, "Your slave awaits her punishment." He just looked down at her and said, "Today is your lucky day." Harley crawled back and took her place in the semicircle of kneeling slaves. At last Bruce looked up and said, "I just lost my best friend. I hope you are worth it." In response Buffy rose gracefully to her feet. With a carefully schooled movement she walked to her master and climbed onto his arm chair. Bruce felt her breast and hair caress his face briefly as she positioned herself facing him in a kneeling position, supported by the armrests of the chair. He growled, "I'm not in the mood." She said nothing. She merely wrapped her arms around his head and cradled it against her belly. Then she just held him there and waited. After long silence, Bruce hissed, "Buffy, I told you: I am not in the mood. She just smiled: "Do you remember the last time I held you like this and you said you were not in the mood?
Then he did remember. She had held him just like this and something so wonderful had happened that he had stopped in mid-sentence and spilled his burgundy on the carpet.
"What was that?" he had asked. Buffy had told him, "It's your daughter. She's saying hello to her daddy."
He had wanted to know when the fetal activity had become noticeable
"Earlier today, I felt the first kick." she had told him, remarking joyously, "She's quite an athlete, isn't she?"
Today, that same little girl, their beautiful daughter Kafka, slept peacefully in her crib by day and kept her mother and nanny awake at night.
Bruce reached out and hugged his Buffy, pulling her down onto his lap. Her knees and lower legs slipped off the armrests of the chair and her master's chin enjoyed the inviting embrace of her warm soft bosom as she slid down into the cradle of her love's arms. And then Bruce felt their familiar pressure against his chest as they continued to hug each other. For several minutes they were content to just hold each other, but eventually the familiar sound of squeaking springs filled the room as their bodies began thrusting and twisting in a synchronized motion designed to give each other the most pleasure they could.
Ivy walked over to whip, still lying where Bruce had kicked it. As their master and his love slave has lost themselves in their mutual passion Harley had begun to silently crawl away. Suddenly she saw two familiar feet step right in front of her. She looked up, frightened, and saw the stern visage of Ivy staring down at her. "Where do you think you are going?" "I was leaving to give our master some privacy?" whimpered Harley. "Aren't we forgetting something?" asked Ivy
Harley shook her head.
"Wasn't an insolent slave supposed to be punished?"
Harley stammered, "But the Master…." "I am not as forgiving as HE is. " snapped Ivy as she stepped behind the quivering slave. "Don't worry; I'm not going to whip you. You might enjoy that." She knelt down and placed the handle of the whip against Harley's asshole. She pressed forcefully. Harley whimpered in discomfort. The handle slid in slowly because Harley tightened her anal muscles in a vain attempt to stop the invader. Despite this resistance, Harley's sphincter soon closed around the inserted end of the handle, holding it in place. Ivy leaned over and whispered in Harley's ear. "Remember you are a dog. You will remain a dog until morning, or until myself, Buffy, or the Master tell you differently. Do you understand?"
Harley barked her understanding enthusiastically, wagged her new tail for emphasis. Then Harley began to slyly observe Rebecca. She began to growl.
Rebecca looked over her shoulder at Harley and hissed. Then the two of them were off. The chase was on. Ivy called after them**, "Remember do not break anything this time." She paused for a moment, thinking she had forgotten something. Then it struck her. She shouted down the hallway the pair had disappeared down,** "Remember, Harley, you are paper-trained!"
Ivy then began to check on the houseplants. There were now many more of them here than before she returned from Gor. Sometimes guests of the mansion commented that Wayne Manor was now a jungle. The beautiful botanist and biochemical PhD did not care. She believed they gave the place a homey feeling.
The telephone rang. Ivy walked over to pick it up. "This is the Wayne residence, may I help you?" On the other end of the phone line was Mulkar. He said, "Listen Ivy, I need to talk to Bruce." She answered, "Mr. Wayne is in a meeting. He cannot be interrupted." He responded, "OK, when he gets done fucking Buffy's brains out, tell him to give me a call, this is important."
The Warrior from Tyros smiled as he watched the naked woman from his position in the trees; she was as magnificent as he had been told. The Larl Woman was long-legged and incredibly slender-waisted, but with breasts that would overflow even his large hands and lips that seemed to beg for a master's kiss. Her complexion and facial features were nearly perfect. Firnax doubted that there was a more beautiful woman anywhere on his world than this escaped passion slave. There were certainly none more dangerous.
Men had been hunting this outlaw for almost two years, yet she had defeated or evaded each of her would-be captors. He marveled. The Earth girl had started her career on Gor by doing the impossible; she had escaped the custody of professional slave trainers. From there she had built a legend as the Panther Woman, an elusive thief who at one point stole and returned the Home Stone of Lydius just to show that she could do it. In more recent times the outlaw, now called the Larl Woman, had compounded all her earlier crimes by a murdering several of the men who had temporarily enslaved her.
Firnax of Tyros hadn't come to the Northern Forests to find the Larl Woman. Until a few days ago, he had been looking for a green-eyed blonde panther girl named Verna, the one had been given the ring of the Ubara of Ar by Ubar Marlenus, then the great city's military dictator. Ubar Chenbar of Tyros wanted Verna for a pony slave to compete against the team of Lurius of Jad, the Ubar of Cos. That team included a barbarian panther girl princess and the woman who had once been the puppet ruler in Ar, Marlenus' daughter Talena. Verna, who was nearly as magnificent as the dark-haired blue-eyed creature below him, now was locked firmly in slave chains and bound for the warship docked on the River Laurius upstream from Laura.
Capturing Verna had taken weeks longer than Firnax had anticipated. Unlike other panther girls, Verna lived a mostly solitary existence and her knowledge of camouflage and the ways of the forest was far better than that of the best of the hunters he had hired to help him attain his Ubar's desire. In the end, they prevailed by systematically capturing seventeen panther girls and releasing them on condition that they help in the search. Twelve had simply melted back into the forest but the others had kept their word and eventually Firnax received word of Verna's approximate location.
In the process of the search he also received word of a new arrival in the Northern Forests, a very tall and broad-shouldered woman with very white skin, curling raven locks, and sky blue eyes. According to the accounts, she held her head high like an Ubar's companion but moved with the trained sensuality of a pleasure slave. Like Verna she could easily defeat any other panther girl in solo combat. As with Verna, whatever brand she had been given had healed without a trace. That was the tidbit that told him that the stranger was the notorious Larl Woman. He had elected to remain in the forests after his men left with Verna in hopes of seeing the woman for himself.
Something must have given away his presence, for she turned to gaze directly up at his position and spoke: "Have you seen enough, warrior, or would you like to get a closer look? " "How did you know I was here, panther girl?" he asked in astonishment. Neither his men nor the panther girls working with them had been able to detect him in this blind and they had carefully erased every track he had made in coming here to construct it.
"I heard your intake of breath. And the scent of your arousal is as clear to me as it would be to a sleen. You are alone and I am at present unarmed. Would you not find it more comfortable to converse here on the ground? My name is Diana of Themyscira and I make a very good cup of black wine."
"I am Firnax of the Warriors, and I accept your offer. But you are not Princess Diana of Themyscira. She and Talena of Ar are now the pony slaves of the Ubar of Cos. You are Selina of Gotham city, or perhaps I should call you Kafka, as that is the slave name given to you by the first master from whom you escaped."
As he carefully descended from the tree, Diana pondered what to tell this warrior. She knew that she, and not the pony slave in Cos, was the oldest daughter of the Queen of the Amazons of Paradise Island. But she also knew that the Priest Kings had erased all her direct memories of Earth and Cos and replaced them with the fabrication that she was a bred passion slave for the human males residing in their Nest under the Sardar Mountains. When that lie had proved untenable in the face of her obvious combat reflexes she had been told that she was the Catwoman, a criminal from Earth whose personality had been erased after coming to the Nest.
The truth was that she had been the super-heroine Wonder Woman while on Earth. She had been brought to Gor by slavers who mistakenly believed that men could make her a docile slave simply by chaining her wrists together and exploiting her extreme sexual responsiveness. So far the experiment had failed. While part of her genetic heritage was to serve as sex toy and breeder for a race of human-like aliens, another part of that heritage was from those same alien Founders, the Olympians whom men of Greece and Rome had worshiped as Gods. So far only the Priest Kings' bionic servant Jaros of Tharna had proved capable of even temporarily mastering both her spirit and her body. Jaros was dead now, his last order to her had been to kill him and end his enslavement to the Priest Kings.
She knew these truths, but she could think of no way to prove them to anyone outside the Sardar. Instead she asked him "What is your city's relationship with Cos?"
He stood at the base of the tree rather than stepping into the clearing, but he did not draw his sword as she feared he might do. His eyes held to her face rather than to her body, an act of self-control that pleased her. This man might be the master she had been longing for since Jaros' death. She had to restrain an urge to kneel and offer her wrists for binding.
"I am a warrior of Tyros. Cos was briefly our ally in our long-standing wars with Ar and Port Kar. That alliance is over and my Ubar once again regards Lurius of Jad with suspicion and contempt."
"Then he will be pleased to know of Lurius' dishonor. The original panther girl princess that he displayed at the Love Festival, the one who started the slave revolt in Telnus, was not recaptured as he claims. The girl who pulls his chariot is probably her twin sister, brought from Earth to conceal his shame. I escaped to Port Kar and was summoned from there to the Sardar Mountains to meet the Priest Kings, for I had been their ally in my time on Earth."
"You have met the Priest Kings? What are they like?"
"They are powerful beyond your imagination, Firnax of Tyros. Yet they are also cautious and wise. My memories were changed by their powers so that I remember only what I have been told about my past. I can tell you only that they are not as men, though they regard us as fellow rational creatures. I must also warn that they have cursed me for refusing to serve them and leaving their domain without their leave. You risk your life by being in my presence."
Firnax wondered how much of her words were truth and how much a clever fabrication to evade re-enslavement. One part he did not doubt, this girl was the one who had caused such a sensation in Telnus two years before. Another woman would have simply fled into the forests when she detected the presence of a warrior.
In the slave revolt in the capital city of Cos an escaped female slave held her own against one of the greatest warriors on Gor. This was that woman, he was sure of that now. The glory of Chenbar of Kasra would be magnified if he owned and displayed the panther girl in front of him. As the man who had captured two legendary women in his Ubar's service, the reputation of Firnax would likewise benefit.
"I thank you for the warning, Larl Women, but I am a warrior in the service of his Ubar. You are probably the greatest prize on Gor and it now lies within my power to bring you to him or kill you for your crimes if you resist capture." With those words he detached a set of slave bracelets from his belt and threw them to her. His sword was drawn before they hit the ground.
Diana did not know whether to laugh, to weep, or to shout with joy. The man before her showed unnatural speed, and something in his eyes and voice indicated that he was centuries old. Though he had showed no other sign of it, his massive sex had been straining against his tunic while they spoke. Diana had false memories of more than a decade as a pleasure slave. She had served in that role several times since her escape from the Sardar. Firtax was a huge man, much bigger than she was. He was handsome, courageous and apparently honorable. Those attributes, along with consideration for the feelings of a kajira, were exactly what she prized in a master. She was more aroused than frightened by his presence and his threats.
On the other hand, she could probably beat this warrior, just as she had done to others before him in single combat. Once she summoned her magic girdle from the non-space in which she stored it, she could pound Firtax into the ground in a matter of seconds. Without the girdle, she might lose, nothing in combat was ever certain; that was what made it so exhilarating. Diana no longer remembered being raised as one of The Warriors, but she has the trained reflexes of that caste and a year of experience defeating other Gorean males in armed and unarmed combat.
"I think not, Warrior. I have a third choice available to me of which you are unaware." With that she began to pirouette like a ballerina and there was a flash of light. Firnax gaped as the scarlet tunic and weaponry of the Caste of Warriors appeared out of nowhere to cover her body. "You have done me no harm so far, warrior. I extend you the same courtesy. We can leave this place and go our separate ways or we can fight to determine which of us will serve the other or die in fair combat." With those words she unbuckled the gleaming girdle about her small waist and dropped it the ground on top of the slave bracelets.
In his confusion, it took a few seconds for the warrior of Tyros to realize that the warrior before him was the woman with whom he had been speaking a few seconds before. Only the shapeliness of her legs and the way her tunic followed her body's lines revealed that this opponent was a woman. Then he recognized the scent of her arousal. That decided matters.
Diana watched in puzzlement as Firnax re-sheathed his sword and unbuckled the sword belt. When he pulled his tunic over his head, her pulse raced at the sight of his rippling muscles and smattering of chest hair. When he dropped his loincloth, he stood before her clad only in his sandals, his erection straining outward and upward toward her chin. Diana's mouth went dry.
He smiled as he watched her pink tongue emerge to lick those lush red lips. Her nipples were now pushing against her tunic and the white skin of her neck and the insides of her thighs was mottling with blood. The woman before him not only had the features and coloring of one of the most prized breeds of passion slaves, she had their nearly instantaneous sexual responsiveness. He waited to see whether she would disrobe, or flee. He was already certain that she would not strike at him. When she reached to untie the thin golden cord holding her tunic closed he knew that the sex between them would be very good indeed.