Birds of a Feather: Chapter 9
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 Pikachu. Supergirl was admitted to Arkham Asylum for treatment. When Batman and Superman visit Supergirl to arrange for her release, they quarrel about the practice of slavery and Lois' prospects of resisting being broken into a submissive as Supergirl was. Meanwhile, Diana took up with a Gorean warrior from Tyros in hopes of rescuing her sister from the clutches of Gor's most sadistic ruler, Lurius of Jad, the Ubar of the Empire of Cos. Supergirl submitted herself as a slave to Superman who is brought to Gor by the Priest Kings' agent Mulkar to rescue Lois and Wonder Woman.
Clark cannot read the local language, so Kara entraps a free woman scribe into slavery, then entraps a slaver as well. However Clark frees Lady Monica only to have her persuade him to accept her as free companion and native guide. Diana escapes from her captor with the intention of learning to become a Pony slave. She then murders that owner and briefly returns to the Northern Forests where she lets herself be captured again this time by Panther Girls. Meanwhile, Lois becomes engaged in a battle of wits and wills with Arbus, a master slave trainer. Morgan, now renamed Cricket, displays great potential as a Pony slave racer and is sold. Pikachu becomes beloved as a story-telling kettle girl, but makes a dangerous enemy in the ex-Nazi Martin. In particular, Martin's friend Andre expresses interest in buying her. Martin reveals to Lois and Arbus that there is a conspiracy to use Superman to help him kill Wonder Woman.
Chapter Nine: Clark Purchases a Familiar Stranger
By the time she started her second week of pleasure slave training, Pikachu's head was aching with all she was now expected to learn. Although she had only asked Silvia to tell her some ways to give Andre more pleasure from her use, the next morning she found herself pulled from her kitchen duties and placed in a class for women whose future as slave girls was to be housekeeper/mistresses for Gorean men wealthy enough to afford such pieces of fluff.
When Pikachu protested that she was perfectly willing to work very hard in other ways for a safe place to stay and enough to eat, the experienced slaves in the room broke into laughter. In a combination of Gorean and English, Silvia explained to her about house slaves and chamber slaves.
A house slave has duties pertaining to all members of a household, including other slaves. These duties typically included such things as cooking, cleaning, shopping, and serving meals. Such slaves were used sexually from time to time, but that was incidental to their usefulness. Few house slaves were ugly, but a house kajira was in no way different in principle from any female field slave. A chamber slave, on the other hand, was a body slave to the inhabitant of a particular sleeping chamber and for them sexual service was regular and mandatory when the inhabitant of the room was male.
Since some men demanded more than just obedient submission to their sexual demands, some girls were trained in additional sensual skills, including dance and massage. Arbus' establishment taught Gorean language and rules to barbarians and instilled in every slave girl the necessity of prompt full obedience to one's owner, along with proper postures, obeisance, and the basics of oral and vaginal sex. The pleasure slave coursework extended to perfumes, cosmetics, personal adornment, interior decoration, sexually suggestive words and foods, and sexual techniques so advanced that often Pikachu had no idea what they were talking about even when Sylvia translated for her. It was especially hard because the other girls were already two weeks into the classes.
Pikachu learned that Silvia had been born as the only daughter of one of London's most sought-after professional mistresses. Being a courtesan was essentially the family business and so long before she took up the first man in a string of rich patrons, Silvia was absorbing tips and tricks of the trade from her mother and her mother's courtesan friends. Silvia's virginity was sold for an enormous price and for the next three years she provided sex, conversation, and physical comfort to the elite of London Society. Then at the age of 19 one of her customers turned out to be a Gorean slaver interested in claiming her whole person for resale on his planet instead of a Russian Prince interested in enjoying her high-priced attentions each night for a few months. He bound and gagged her, and then spirited her to a space ship waiting under the waters of the Thames.
"I lost the future mother had lain out for me, but In exchange for my freedom I gained the blessings of perpetual youth and beauty. And I learned more about great sex from Sura of the House of Cernus in a week than I had learned in 3 years as a courtesan. Gorean males take you to heights women of Earth only read about in their steamy romances." That statement brought both laughter and sounds of derision from the newer arrivals. "Go ahead, laugh if you want." Sylvia chided tartly "It is the laugher of the ignorant. Pikachu knows better. Don't you, Pikachu?" Put on the spot like that, Pikachu was tongue-tied. Now she thought she knew what she was doing in this class; her owners wanted to use her as an example of some kind. "What would you have me say, Mistress Sylvia?" she asked cautiously. "I want truthful answers to my questions, child." The First Girl told her, in a voice that warned of dire consequences for the wrong answers. "Did you find a full woman's pleasure at the hands of any man before Andre?" "No, Mistress." Two weeks before this, she had told Sylvia that.
"What went wrong before?"
"The men hurried too much, Mistress. Andre always waits until I am ready and eager before he enters me, even with his fingers." This was embarrassing to talk about, but the question had been straightforward, the next question was anything but straightforward.
"Was there any other reason?"
Mouse saw the jaws of the trap ready to close, but she trod the path Silvia had laid out for her. She tried to remember what she and Sylvia had talked about that night. "Well, there was also the fact that I knew I wasn't trading sex for anything. I knew Andre, or any free man here, could just take what he wanted, so I didn't feel guilty or ashamed about cooperating. In fact, I wasn't even asked to say 'yes'. I just let myself feel whatever Andre wanted me to feel." Sylvia nodded in satisfaction that Pikachu had gotten both her overt and her covert messages. She turned her attention to the rest of the group**. "That, my lovely sluts, is the great joy of being a pleasure slave: frequent sex without guilt or shame, and men who take pride in the depth and durations of our pleasure during sex. Sooner or later one such man will find a way to pull your very soul into his hands and when you yield your body to such a man the physical and emotional power of your orgasms will seem beyond description." She paused for effect then asked.** "Do any of you deny that the men here who used your body for his pleasure also brought you to climax? "No, Mistress" they replied as one.
"Damn right they did. That was our intention, and your good luck. Not every man who desires you enough to use you will be in the mood to take his time; that's a fact of life I won't lie to you about. But I'd also be dishonest if I didn't tell you that the main difference between sex on Earth and sex on Gor is that Gorean men are STRONG believers in staying for seconds. It's called the First and Second Takings. In the Second Taking their intention is to enforce their will on the slave by taking her along for the ride. If the woman doesn't orgasm they think she hasn't been slave raped thoroughly enough and blame themselves for poor technique. Then they try again. "
That brought cheers from her listeners and Silvia went on to mention that as side benefit of their training was that it would accelerate their reactions to sexual stimuli and situations. "Every orgasm will provide memories to fuel more sexual fantasies until, as I do, you will find yourself getting wet when you sense a man's assessing gaze upon you. Once a man's touch makes you automatically juice inside there will never be pain again, only joyful pleasure. Since I am teaching you how to squirm and wiggle so as to enhance both partners' pleasure, couplings without orgasms are going to become very rare things in your future."
Pikachu didn't know if all of what Silvia said was true or not. She knew that Sylvia was always firm and never unfair. It was just that Pikachu had figured out that this place wasn't just for teaching woman what they needed to know to survive on Gor as slaves. Arbus and all his employees were in the business of getting women to think of themselves as fuck toys and/or work animals. That meant Pikachu had to sift the propaganda through her own experience.
Martin had taken delight in giving her more pain than pleasure, and he wanted every taking to be a First Taking in which he physically overcame a woman's resistance to him. But then Martin also got off on forcing orgasms too, so maybe this propaganda had some truth to it.
The guards and trainers here were forceful, but patient. If she tried to refuse them they simply rendered her helpless with slave chains then worked on her erogenous zones until she couldn't help but kiss them back. She hadn't always climaxed when they penetrated her, but she had certainly never felt any pain either. If she started to get sore from too much use she simply summoned her hard-earned knowledge of how to fake an orgasm.
She still remembered her shock when she had looked into the mirror after Lana and Sylvia had spent nearly a Gorean hour experimenting with their make up and hair styling kits. The reflection staring back at her was that of an elegant Eurasian lady, not a street urchin with spiky hair and deliberately blackened lips. Mouse from Metropolis was gone and in her place stood a beautiful, imminently desirable kajira in the first bloom of her womanhood.
"I'm lovely, Sylvia. I really am as pretty as the other girls."
"Yes, little one, you are very much desirable in face and body now. In truth you always were. When you become fully content with your new life here and find men to love, your expression and posture will reflect that and soften, making you truly as beautiful as any pleasure slave. Here on Gor, a girl's beauty belongs to her master, Pikachu. You will never again be permitted to conceal or diminish it. Do you remember the whip?"
"Yes, Mistress." That had hurt far worse than her stepfather's belt, but not enough to make her willing to let Martin visit her every night. Unfortunately for Pikachu, her hunger strike had accomplished nothing except to nearly get Rollo killed. In this place, in which your owner could do literally anything to you, slaves got tortured as punishment and still ended up eventually doing as they were told. She understood that now.
"Good, so I trust there will be no need to close chain you and do your make up for you. Shall we ask some of the men here what they think of the new you?"
Pikachu had shaken her head in negation, but the first girl signaled to a youthful-looking guard. He had gazed at her for long time, his smile of delight growing as he took in the creamy skin and lush red lips. Their eyes met, and she watched in mesmerized fascination as he brought his lips to hers. She parted them under the pressure of his insistent tongue and he claimed all of her mouth in the kiss of a master.
She found that she was crushed in an embrace she did not want to fight. Her head seemed to be spinning as the kiss went on and on. She wiggled to get closer and then felt his erection between them as one of his hands covered and claimed her left butt cheek while the other buried itself in her hair to hold her face in place for his tongue's thrusting invasions. He let her go very reluctantly when Silvia began speaking sharply to him. As he stepped away she saw the erection the kiss had caused. He immediately seized one of the other trainees to work it off.
The next volunteer was just as impressed with Pikachu's rouged and ringed nipples as with her luminous eyes. He put her to her knees and knelt beside her. Then he started kissing and nibbling at her body. Ignoring her squeaks of protest he had Pikachu out of her slave shift in less than three Ehn after taking her in his arms.
His fingers and lips caressed and claimed her breasts simultaneously. There was no way to stop him and stopping him was the last thing that Pikachu wanted to do at that moment. She felt herself beginning to gush between her legs before Sylvia called a stop to the embrace.
She forced Pikachu to meet her gaze for a few seconds, and then instructed the former kettle slave to approach a third guard and offer him her body.
Pikachu wished desperately that it was Andre whom she was kneeling before, and that gave her the idea. She closed her eyes and pretended that the thigh she was caressing with her long silky raven hair and the penis she was teasing with her fingers belonged to one of the few men on this planet who seemed to care about her for who she really was. The man's sex grew hard and she brushed it with her lips and then gazed briefly at his face, seeking approval of her technique. He nodded and she continued.
Her mouth was full of the guard's cock when she felt hands upon her body, they were men's hands and there were four in all. Possessive hands claimed her breasts and gentle hands stroked her lower belly and parted her pussy lips. She couldn't see anything but the belly of the man she was sucking as the three men began to maneuver her body to suit their desires.
Before long there was a cock in her mouth, a cock in her cunt, and a third one pressed between her breasts. The one in her pussy felt especially lovely. When it came, her climax wasn't as strong as the last one with Andre, but it was surprisingly good. On a hunch, she cried out, "Master" again and again as her body shuddered in orgasm. That made her rapist stiffen. He cried out in triumph and release.
Sylvia had smiled. The woman-child was proving to be putty in her hands. She clearly had exceptional long-term potential. The trainers' challenge was to create a link between a girl's suppressed passion and the helplessness of a kajira's lot in life. It was troublesome that Rollo had reported that although the girl was extremely physically affectionate, she had something of an aversion to sexual submission. Most of the girls Sylvia worked with at least had rape and bondage fantasies in their daydreams; that was what made them so susceptible to slave orgasms.
Arbus, a master of female psychology, had suggested an alternative approach for this girl. From the beginning the girl had been awed what had happened to her and generally obedient to her captors' commands. In order to become a slave of any value what the girl needed was pride in being female. Sylvia was thus instructed to take Pikachu under her wing and teach her the skills of a courtesan. If the training took hold, Pikachu would eventually become an exceptional first girl, just as Sylvia had become.
So while the skills imparted were in many cases the same, Silvia's tactics had to be very different. While most women experienced great difficulty envisioning themselves as legal property animals, Pikachu had come to Gor with unpleasant experience of what it meant to be completely controlled by others. Someone on Earth, or a series of people, had half-broken Mouse to the collar before she ever felt a slave whip. To counteract that, Sylvia orders were to treat this particular student as her protégé, rather than just another chattel.
Noticing her pupil's dazed expression one day in class, Silvia assured Pikachu "It's not too much to learn, little one. A lot of Earth's women with far less brains than you have graduated here." Sylvia's voice brought Pikachu back into the present. She had been reminiscing about the days and nights of the past week again. She hadn't spent every night at the Golden Tarn with Andre, but she was now so popular that Martin couldn't get at her to torment her again. "I am sorry, Mistress Sylvia. Please punish me for not paying attention."
"Indeed you were not attentive to Lana's lesson, but you need not cringe in fear of the whip for this kind of offense. Your punishment will be kitchen duty tonight followed by the extra effort that will then be required to make yourself ready for your trip to the Golden Tarn later tonight."
"If I ask you a personal question, will you answer it honestly?"
"I will, unless I have been ordered not to. And in that case I will do you the courtesy of telling you that I have been so ordered."
"That is exactly what I wanted to ask you about. I wanted to know why you are so kind and fair with me."
"At first it was because those were my orders, now it is because I like you. I like the way you think and the fact that you will risk very severe punishments to protest something you think is wrong. That requires more courage than I have and I can't help but admire it. That combination of brains and courage makes you ideal for the First Girl that our Master wants you to become."
Seeing Pikachu's expression, Silvia commanded "Don't frown in skepticism, it really does." She went on to explain the position of head slave in a Gorean household
A first girl has to challenge her master, not just obey him. She has to use initiative and her own judgment on a daily basis with the knowledge that she will be whipped from time to time for assuming too much authority or simply to remind her that she is still a slave. And yet if she doesn't try to walk that fine line, most masters will replace her with somebody else.
In addition to being smart and full of spunk, you are neither predictable nor boring to be around. The last thing a Master wants is a boring first girl. And, if he has any imagination to speak of, the only thing he wants to be completely predictable in his household is that the necessary work gets done on time and without squabbling that spills over onto him."
"Do you really think I can do all that?" Pikachu was so awed by Sylvia's apparent confidence in her that she forgot to say 'Mistress." She yelped in pain from the touch of slave goad.
"Of course I do, little fool. If I thought I was wasting my time with you I would have beguiled Arbus into changing his mind by now. Our Master thinks you can do this, and he is seldom wrong about something like that. Now that I have come to know you, I see that he was no doubt correct in his judgment. Being First Girl requires people smarts and you have that. God knows, my country used to entrust the lives of its young men to officers from the upper classes with less experience than you will have before you leave here."
Mouse gave those words a lot of thought during the quiet hours the trainers insisted on each day. Sylvia had become her true friend and mentor. It was time to start liking the woman even if it was unwise to completely trust her yet. As for leaving the house, that meant leaving Rollo. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was too bad Rollo was a Viking and a slaver, other than that he was a very nice man who simply needed a shave to be less scary-looking.
Ilsa walked beside her companion, the newborn sucking at her right tit. Little Jaros would be as big and strong as his father one day, but he never would have made it into the world without the healing skills of their newest slave. The baby had been turned sideways in the womb and Tima had reached inside her to turn the child and make certain that the umbilical cord did not tangle and strangle little Jaros.
The dark-haired beast of burden had indeed been a gift of the Priest Kings. She had even leant Ilsa her special healing bracelets so that she recovered more swiftly for the strain of the long labor. The poor dear girl had had to be chained in shackles forged for a tharlarion, so wild had been her rages without the restraining power of the white metal wrist bands. Ilsa didn't know who Lurius or Tregor or Mul-474 were, but these men must have been horribly cruel to sweet Tima for her to make such awful threats against them.
Seeing her shiver as she heard the talk going on, Paxton placed his hand around his companion's shoulder in an attempt to assure her that as long as he was around there would be nothing for her to worry about. Ilsa knew it was not true. She knew that there was not much that her companion could do to protect her child, herself, or their slave from the clutches of a monster like the Larl Woman, but she still felt comforted by his touch. She listened to the man shout on.
The man stood in the middle of a town square, addressing a number of would-be hunters and slavers interested in collecting the bounty placed on the Larl Woman's head by Lurius of Jad. He was saying, "You may think that she is just a woman but she is not. She is not human. She killed her Master, the mighty Jaros of Tharna and many others also. Too many have come to the forests and too few have returned. She is the Larl Woman, a scourge released by the Priest Kings to teach us humility, diligence and courage." Paxton assured his companion and his humble slave pulling their handcart behind them, "I have no plans to make war on this Larl Woman. I figure if I leave her alone she will leave me alone. Is that not right, Tima?" The shapely slave pulling the handcart answered, "Yes Master!" She knew that she had nothing to fear from this grab bag of warriors, assassins and hunters. Instead, her attention was drawn to the scribe studying them. For a disorienting moment she thought she was seeing her love master returned from the grave. Then even when she realized that this was not Jaros she wondered if he could be the man who was haunting her dreams. He looked so very familiar for a stranger that she was certain that she had seen him somewhere before. Using English, Kara whispered in Clark's ear, "Can that be her?" Supergirl's X-ray vision could see past the harness and blinders to the flesh beneath. Clark answered, "Yep, that's Wonder Woman. We were looking for the Larl Woman, the ferocious outlaw. Instead, we find the scourge of the Priest Kings docilely pulling a handcart. The target of all this uproar is a naked collared slave badly in need of soap and a scrub brush."
That very night, a mul came running down a corridor in the darkened labyrinth of the Sardar, the home of the Priest Kings. She interrupted a meeting of Priest Kings and their human advisors. "What is it?" her superior asked. She answered, "Sir, He had found her!" There was a momentary silence as those in the room digested what she said. She grew increasingly nervous when all eyes fell upon her. He said, "Are you certain?" She answered breathlessly, "Yes, in a village near the great Northern Forests, the alien calling himself Clark of Kent purchased a very tall, dark-haired slave and immediately began calling her Diana. It can only be the Founder female. The human advisor to the High Council to the Mother calmly scratched his chin. "In that case I think it is time we release the Dogs of War. What do you think?"
Priest Kings very seldom do anything without lengthy discussion and the one that night was spirited. Yet the advisor and the chief Priest King on the Mother's council had been gathering support for this course of action for over a year. The Amazon was to be killed and dissected. Her stolen slaver's cord would be returned to the archives where it belonged. Her bracers would be placed on female muls within the nest to study their effects on females with less powerful Founder genes than the former panther girls of Paradise Island.
The other human advisors had originally favored simply deporting Diana of Themyscira. Then someone had suggested that with suitable restraints, Kara Zor-El could take the former Mul-Delta's place as the primary pleasure slave of the Nest. Supergirl was infertile by human sexual use, so there could be no unpleasant genetic consequences. As Supergirl was essentially hermaphroditic, some of the females on the council had found the prospect pleasing as well. From the point of view of the Priest Kings, humans seemed to have the strangest motivations!
A very short time later, a small group of carefully selected men were heading northward to the vast Sa-tarna fields on the outskirts of the Northern Forests. While one piloted the black transport ship, the rest were checking their weapons and equipment. The weapons were primarily high-powered sniper rifles. Inside the clips were bullets that shown bright green. Each knew that their mission was dangerous, yet they looked forward to the challenge. Each hoped they might be the one to kill Superman and Wonder Woman.
* * * *
Diana/Tima had been carefully observing her new owner Clark of Kent and his party even before they had approached Paxton about buying his Pony slave. The man who claimed he was a scribe carried himself like one of the Warriors and had relied on his Free Companion to bargain with Tima's peasant owner and on one of his slave girls to fill out the papers certifying her change of ownership. Clark of Kent was no simple scribe; he was either an outlaw, a spy of some sort, or an assassin who had taken gold.
Two very beautiful slave girls accompanied him, each quite young as far as Diana could tell. On Gor few women looks much older than twenty nine, yet there remains a lightness to the movements and voices of the truly young that a skillful eye can detect. The little auburn-haired slave with the pink blush to her skin was clearly in the first bloom of womanhood and love. Her taller blonde companion had one of the most beautiful youthful faces Diana had ever seen, and it too was lit with love whenever the slave called Kara gazed upon her master. That was a good omen.
The presence of his astringent free companion was a bad omen, as was the amount of authority he seemed to have granted her. Nevertheless, Diana nodded when Paxton looked at her for approval of the customer. Clark of Kent, an iterant scribe looking for a lost free companion, was just the right sort of master for a Pony kajira who wanted to see more of Gor. That he reminded her of the super powered lover who kept appearing in her dreams was not a real consideration; the heroic Superman that Scully had told her about in the Nest was almost certainly 186 million miles away.
Now she was alone in the tent with her new legal owner. She wondered if she would think of him as Her Master, or merely as her slave owner. In the laws of Gor there was no such distinction, but in her mind there was all the difference in the Universe. A Master was a man to which she could give an oath of submission in good faith and for whom she would strive her utmost to keep that oath. An owner was simply someone to whom the society on this planet had granted the right to maim, torture, or kill her without fear of legal repercussions. She had escaped from over a dozen owners in the past year. Four of them she had murdered in the eyes of Gorean Law. Slaves had no right of self-defense. Her sentence would be death by impalement for even touching an edged weapon.
As had become her habit when facing each new owner, Tima looked over the dark-haired man who had purchased her with the same assessing eyes that men of Gor used on their slave girls. There had been many such men since her arrival on this planet, but this one showed unusual promise. He was a little taller and considerably more broad-shouldered than she, and his movements hinted at great power carefully held in check. With his chiseled features and striking blue eyes he was also quite good-looking.
He much resembled the Superman in the erotic daydreams she was having. The dreams were confusing, filled with images of things she did not understand. She had loved a master who looked something like this man, but he had brown eyes and hair. She knew that they were not the same, for sometimes she saw them side-by-side in her dreams. All she knew for certain was that in each of those sex dreams the strangely-clad man was her Master and she was his loving slave.
Unfortunately, the recognition and compassion on his face indicated that he knew who she was. That was not good; in fact it could be disastrous. She yearned for permission to speak, to ask his intentions. She was fully prepared to go down fighting for her life, but instinct told her that her efforts against this male would, in the end, avail her nothing. This Clark, who she already had discerned was not the scribe he claimed to be, could either turn out to be her executioner or the master she was yearning for.
Clark of Kent had somehow recognized her even though she was wearing the accoutrements of a show pony when she and Paxton of the Peasants encountered his small party. Tima had suggested that she be sold as a pony slave. It allowed Paxton to get more much needed coin for the care of his baby son, and hopefully, the elaborate halter and bridle would prove an effective disguise worth enduring even though such women were worked like cattle and then expected to respond as women to sexual attentions. In Diana's estimate, any man willing to reduce an otherwise healthy woman to the status of mute beast of burden was the worst form of human monster.
It bothered her that this Clark might be another such man. Fortunately, from the way she and her sister slaves were being treated by her new master and mistress, it seemed that Clark of Kent was the kind of master every kajira dreams of: a handsome man of great strength and will who disdained to use that strength to injure or demean those around him.
She shivered as she remembered what a previous master had tried to do to her. Once he established that his exceptionally beautiful slave also possessed exceptional speed and endurance, he decided to try to breed her like a thoroughbred stud. When she had physically resisted being given to men after being denied contraceptive slave wine, she was restrained and penetrated with a dildo equipped with bladders of sperm that his slave girls were harvesting from suitably athletic donors.
If only they had simply tied her up and raped her she could have at least derived physical pleasure from being used as a breeder. Instead she received only pain because her owner had not cared either about her feelings, or her sound reasons for opposing his plans for her. Diana had been frantic. Had the stable owner succeeded in harvesting her embryos, the Priest Kings might well have opted to murder an entire generation of pony slaves in order to be sure of exterminating Diana's children.
Her new owner's plaintive tone brought her thoughts sharply back to the present. "Don't you know me, Diana? We were friends on Earth. I am Clark Kent and you are Diana Prince. As teammates on the Justice League we were Superman and Wonder Woman."
Some of the words were familiar from a talk she had had with the slave who had once been Batgirl, but the rest was gibberish to her. She couldn't understand the barbarian tongue of English, only the common Language of Gor. In her mind she again cursed the practice of denying pony girls the right to orally communicate with each other or their masters. She made a gesture of incomprehension, and then knelt in obeisance to await blows of punishment.
"My God, this is worse than Mulkar predicted." She heard him mutter in some barbarian tongue. Then he spoke to her in Gorean: "If you can speak, Diana, then tell me what the problem is. Your master commands it." Hearing him speak to her in a language she understood, Diana raised her forehead from the floor and regarded her new owner. She saw a great deal of compassion and distress in his face. She decided to confess her failings. "My master spoke a tongue I did not understand. If his ignorant girl is to answer him he must use the only language she was taught." Again she pressed her head to the floor. His voice was kind when he repeated his initial question using Gorean.. Daring much, she answered completely truthfully. "What I know of Earth and my former identity was told to me in matter of hours by three people who knew Wonder Woman. I have since learned something of my ancestry from a very ancient panther girl. The names you used are familiar to me, but as I have only the vaguest idea of what any member of the JLA looks like. You could be Superman, Master, or you could be an assassin sent by the Sardar."
"What would you do if you learned that Superman had been brought to Gor to kill you?
"It would be very foolish of me to reveal my abilities in advance to a potential threat, Master. I am enough of a warrior to know that. I can and will defend myself with any weapon at my disposal, including surprise."
Her new master laughed. "It is fortunate for you that I do not object to such a warlike mindset in my slaves. In fact, I have been finding my cousin's cuddly little slave girl routine a bit disconcerting." "You made her your slave?" Diana was so disturbed by this notion that she forgot a kajira's obligatory 'Master' at the end of her impertinent question. She was surprised that her cheek did not explode in pain from the back of his hand. "I did NOT enslave her," the stranger insisted. "SHE declared herself my slave. A series of earlier masters, some sadistic and some simply completely ruthless, crushed her spirit and much of her mind. They also did things to her body so that she is addicted to sex. I keep her beside me so that no one will be able to hurt her like that again or exploit what she has become." Diana had to suppress a chuckle. From the glances she had seen them exchange, the slave girl had clearly outmaneuvered her handsome cousin into not only protecting her, but also into enjoying her body's charms. What she said was "If she remains a slave, it is because there was always something in her that yearned for a lover who was stronger both in body and will than she was. Your blonde kajira obviously loves you, Master, and a girl who loves her master wants… No, the right word is 'needs,'... She deeply needs to believe that her welfare and fate matter to him. You should take care never to use her simply as means to your goals." "And what about you Diana, what do you need?" She searched his face for irony and found none. No master had ever asked her anything like this before, not even the one she had fallen in love with.
"I need what life seldom provides anyone, master; I need to know what my future will be. Well, not all the future, I just need some assurance that I will find contentment and joy again before my many enemies destroy me. May a girl ask why she was purchased?"
"Yes, she may. My plan is to return you safely to Earth as soon as I manage to determine the fate of my free companion, Lois. Like you, she was brought to Gor by slavers."
Diana considered, "If you do not know the market in which she was initially sold that could take a long time. I will stay with you in your search if you will help me determine if there is anything left of my sister Troia to rescue. She is the prize Pony slave of Lurius of Jad, the Ubar of Cos. I was letting myself be trained as a ponygirl so that I might one day get a chance to meet with her. The gossipmongers say that he will bring his racing team to Ar, for the games of the Love Festival. What will you do with me in the meantime, Master?"
"That is entirely up to you, of course. In the robes of concealment women wear on this planet, no one will suspect whom you are provided you stoop a little. You could be even more useful to me dressed as a warrior, but that just wouldn't work. Even if we bound your breasts and thickened your waist, you legs would give you away as a woman."
"So would my master's eyes when they followed the sway of my hips. Your eyes have not left mine since we began to speak; that is the mark of someone who finds my naked body too distracting to gaze upon. Your girl thanks you for the compliment."
"Stop talking about yourself in the slave voice. You are Princess Diana of Themyscira. Your people loathe slavery in every form. I have bought you only to free you."
There was silence between them for a long time. Then, daring greatly, she began to speak as no girl should speak to a master unless she trusts him absolutely with her soul.
"Princess Diana is gone forever, Master. I am sorry for that but I cannot give you hope for what cannot be. Her mind was murdered by the technology of the Sardar and I was chosen to live in her body. She was a centuries-old warrior raised in the traditions of the Amazons. The synapses of her brain were massively altered so that every direct memory of that upbringing was lost and a twenty-four year-old pleasure slave was created so that the males of the Nest could use the princess's passion slave's body as their sex toy.
I remember a very different life quite clearly. I remember that my body began maturing at age twelve. I had my first period at age thirteen and lessons in oral sex began the following day. I was taught dance and cosmetics and how to move and posture myself so as to best inspire desire or turn desire into lust. I was red-silked at age fifteen and for ten years I used my skills for the pleasure of dozens of human agents of the Priest Kings.
At age twenty-five I learned that my whole past life was a construct and that only about six months of those memories were true ones. For a time I was allowed to believe that I had been born Selina Kyle and had been a criminal on both and Gor. They told be that the Catwoman had been mind-wiped as a favor to one of the Priest Kings most valuable agents on Gor. I felt no anger at what had been done to me; instead I felt gratitude that I could fully embrace the collar of the Nest without regrets for the life I had lost. For many weeks I continued to serve gladly as the body slave of the occupant of the chamber to which I was assigned. I loved Jaros of Tharna with all my heart and adored his mastery over me.
But one day Jaros and I learned the real truth; that I had once been Wonder Woman and that she had accepted him as her free companion as well as her love master. From the slave who was once Batgirl, and a Panther Girl who know my mother during her last years on Gor I learned many things about Diana of Themyscira. Yet those are not my truths; they are Wonder Woman's truths. Learning who she was brought back no memories; it has simply provoked nightmares. I have fought in her costume, but no matter what I try, I cannot resume the role of Earth's symbol of Women's Power
Master, your slave is no Amazon; she is a runaway kajira willing to seek love from her master with the point of a knife if need be. I promised my dying love I will fully submit myself only out of love and I am determined that no man less worthy than he shall master my will and body. So far I have murdered four times without a trace of remorse in that pursuit of the right master for the woman I have become
Diana expected words of condemnation, or a harsh demand to say why she had killed those men. She fell to her knees, gambling her life that this was indeed the Superman which Mulkar and his slave Scully so admired, and not the Sardar's assassin as she initially suspected.
Through tear-filled eyes she watched him approach. She did not dare look at his face. A Gorean male, having found a friend or relative or companion broken thoroughly to the collar, might well decide to slay the animal, thereby preserving the honor of the free person's memory. Diana didn't want to die yet. She wanted to once again experience the rapture of surrendering her body, mind, and soul in slave orgasm to a master she loved.
Two hands like blacksmith's clamps pulled her to her feet and she was swiftly enveloped in his embrace. Her naked breasts were crushed against his rock-hard chest by the gentle, but implacable arms holding her upright. To her surprise, she felt moisture against her forehead; Clark of Kent was weeping silently. She wanted to ask if he wept for the loss of his friend or out of sympathy for the plight of his slave girl, but all that emerged from her mouth was her own body-wracking sobs.
"Go ahead and cry, Diana. It is safe to cry all you want now. Your days of running for your life are over. You don't have to look for a new master, either. I will try to be whatever you need until you get back to Earth and your people can begin to heal the wounds to your heart. You are mine to protect now, and while Ka-El son of Jor-El lives, no one on this planet will harm you. You have Superman's word on that."
For a very long time not another word was said. They simply stood there clutching each other. He had no intention of letting go while she was still trembling and weeping, and she found quickly that she was incapable of budging the arms that held her. "Oh please Hera, She thought, "let this really be Superman and not a trick. And Aphrodite, I ask that you let him be the right kind of lover for me. I have been so very lonely since I was forced to kill Jaros."
He kissed her. As a father kisses his daughter, his lips brushed her forehead, then her eyelids, before puckering to press briefly against the end of her nose. She tilted her head so her master could take her mouth as was his right, but he only brushed lightly against it before his hand turned her cheek to his chest once more. Even so, the sensation from the contact raced through Diana from her lips to her loins and nipples. They hardened and tingled.
Feeling oddly shy, she hesitated to speak her desires. Instead, she used her fingers to tickle him behind the ears and raised a bare leg sensuously along the side of his body. When her knee reached his hip she hooked her calf behind him and pressed her loins against the growing bulge on the front of his tunic. His erection would fill her nicely.
Again she raised her lips for a full kiss. His eyes met hers. His brow was crinkled in dismay rather than desire. "You owe me no sexual service, Diana. For the sake of my friend's memory I will never demand a master's service from the body that is now yours." Puzzled, she reminded him "I know you use the other girls who wear your collar, Master; one can see it in their faces. Treat me as just another of your girls as long as you are on Gor."
"Do you want to be a kajira? I do not understand. I said that I would free you."
In that moment of confusion the stranger's grip slackened and she was able to twist out of his arms. She backed away two paces and stood before him. Her posture was proudly erect and yet sensually provocative. Her shoulders and spine arched slightly in order to thrust her high, white bosom artfully toward him. She raised one heel off the ground to better accentuate the lines of that long leg. She lowered her head and smiled shyly as she sensed his gaze taking in her tiny waist and tapered hips and shoulders.
She was a very big woman, but her body's basic contours had been specifically designed to be maximally pleasing to male eyes, just as her skin remained uniformly unblemished and baby soft even after the passage of several centuries. She was one of the most beautiful women on two planets and though her head was tilted downward in a slave's deference to a free man, her eyes held both promise and challenge. She could sense the racing of his blood. "You desire me. Don't you, Master? A kajira can tell such things. You desired your friend on Earth as well-- Don't bother to deny it. And now you are horrified by the idea of using her body after her death."
"That's right! How can you understand me so well, if you don't remember me?"
Diana did her best to explain something she really did not understand herself.
"Because you are a man, and I have been taught to read between the lines of men's words and thoughts. It is also because at your core is a deep well of honor. My dead love was just such a man as well. If you really are Superman, Master, then you may rest easy on this point: your Diana had a great many fantasies about you. I retain many of her dreams and her favorite sexual ones involve a man with blue-eyes and dark hair and a red and blue costume with a white symbol on it.
There is another thing you should know. Before the Sardar stole her memories of Earth, the men of Gor well taught Princess Diana that she was a natural slave. If that were not true I could never have become so comfortable in the identity they created for me. I am the spiritual descendent of the kajira she became and I very seriously doubt that there would be any man she would rather have as a master than Superman."
That wasn't entirely true, in fact she had told him little that was entirely true because until she rescued Troia or took vengeance on Lurius of Jad she could not afford anyone to know that she had all of Wonder Woman's powers and then some.
"So know this, Clark of Kent. So long as you bear in mind that slaves are people in chains and not unfeeling automatons to be manipulated as chess pieces or discarded like used tissue paper, I will keep a full slave's submission to you. The Larl Woman's trained passion slave's body will be yours to enjoy fully if you will only give your word not to sell me or to treat my needs as nothing in comparison to your convenience."
"Is that how you have been treated?" he asked in genuine horror. Pleased with his reaction, she returned to the demeanor of a slave trying to be pleasing to a strange new master. "Sometimes. In truth, men have generally been wild to use me once they found out how quickly I juice and how long and powerfully I can climax for them. It has been my sister kajira I have seen both emotionally and physically abused. Whippings were given simply to remind us that we were slaves and emotional cruelty to slaves is routine. Everyone regards such abuse as a necessary tool for reminding the rightless and powerless of his or her place in Gorean Society. It is not the institution of slavery that is evil; it is the actions of the slaveholders. "It that why you killed those men, for emotional cruelty? That seems rather extreme, Diana. You would never have done such a thing in the past. I remember how devastated you were the first time you had to deliberately kill someone." She sighed deeply before trying to explain. This stranger was so damn naïve about the harsh realities of this planet.
"The men I killed were rapists, in the fullest sense of that word. They enclosed free women in chains and refused to grant them their pleas for a clean death rather than slavery. They burned brands into unwilling flesh and helped themselves to the bound bodies of their helpless captives before selling them for coin they had no real need of. On this planet the civil authorities patted them on the back or looked the other way. I chose not to do so. If she had faced similar circumstances on Earth I think Princess Diana would have executed them as I did. From what my mother's old friend Verna told me, the Amazons of Paradise Island would have cheered me on as my sword struck home."
He considered her words for a few heartbeats, then reached his decision: "Very well, Diana. I will require no oath of submission from you but you will wear my collar and follow my commands until we leave Gor together. Clark of Kent has a free companion and owns two other slaves. Lady Monica is your mistress. I have no other first girl in my household. If you find her abusive to you I expect to be allowed to judge the matter for myself. You will not be degraded, humiliated, or physically abused except as part of your camouflage. I purchased a pony slave, so that is what you must remain for the time being. Later we can work on changing your appearance. As a start we will see what you look like as a blonde. That is all I can think of, for now. Go find my free companion and get her to show you where you will sleep."
Slack-jawed, she stared at him, flabbergasted with amazement at the completeness of her rejection. She couldn't believe that a man who so obviously desired her would dismiss her in this way. Then she thought about the juicy little sluts who must be waiting outside to share his furs.
"You Hera-cursed bastard! You have fucked that sexpot blonde and her little dyke sidekick until they think you are the sun and stars, but when a woman of real experience offers you her body and skills, you say "No, thank you." What Hypocrisy! MY needs are every bit as great as your cousin's. They are not something that goes away if I diddle myself. I need a man's penetration to feel whole. Not a day went by during those eight months in the Nest that Wonder Woman or I wasn't riding some Gorean's cock. Mul 474 had an absolute monster. You aren't saving your friend's honor by keeping your hands off me; you are just sentencing a born passion slave to another night of lonely misery."
With those words, she turned to stalk from his tent. To her surprise it wasn't her new master who stopped her, but Lady Monica. Diana started to say 'Get out of my way" but stifled her worlds in the nick of time. She needed to stay with Superman if she was to have any chance of getting to Troia before the Priest Kings caught up with her. She could not afford to antagonize Clark's free companion. "That was quite a discussion that I just overheard in there. I think you and I need to have a little girl-to-girl talk. Come with me." Lady Monica's tone was calm, but her eyes shot sparks. Diana realized the seriousness of her offense. The free woman planned to make her pay for every disrespectful word. And as Diana was a slave, the payment was going to involve a great deal of pain.