The Princess and the Mercenary: Wonder Woman on Gor--Story Two
Diana's Master vows to take her to meet the Priest Kings.
Authors note: The idea of DC Comics super heroines on Gor comes from Theodoric of Yorks marvelous tale: A Cat and Fiddle: a Cat and a Bat on Gor. He and I have conferred so that this story and two others, Diana and the Ubar and Birds of a Feather, could be set in the same fictional Universe. I have also employed erotic background events for DC characters from stories posted on the Mr. X website. The events of The Domination of Wonder Woman and Wonder Woman II by Mr. X and Wonder Womans Other Adventure by P Mason are assumed to have happened in Wonder Womans past. This story is the direct sequel to my Diana and the Ubar and runs concurrently with the events of A Cat and Fiddle: a Cat and a Bat on Gor.
Disclaimer:Gotham City, Paradise Island, the JLA, Batman, Superman, Batgirl, Catwoman, Wonder Girl, and Wonder Woman are the copyrighted property of DC Comics. Lurius of Jad, Samos of Port Kar, Kusk, Misk, Serus, the Sardar, and the rest of the culture, politics, and geography of Gor are the copyrighted property of John Norman. NO PART of this work may be used for ANY sort of sale or profit. This is a parody for entertainment purposes only. It is my hope that this will spur even greater interest in both these fictional milieus.
Disclaimer2:Events from the more recent Gor books are political background for this story. The politics of the Sardar is my extrapolation from brief sections found in Priest Kings of Gor and Assassins of Gor. Theodoric and I also assume secret communications exist between the Priest Kings and some of the governments of Earth, since the carnivorous Kurii represent a common enemy. No attempt is made to be consistent with current issues of DC Comics. The powers and weaknesses of Wonder Woman are taken from a long since superceded DC Comic Universe and Princess Dianas origins are dramatically reinterpreted in our stories.
The story thus far: Wonder woman was grabbed by Kurii slave runners and brought to the capital city of Cos for slave training and sale. She made a daring escape to Port Kar but has fallen slave again. (Details are synopsized in the opening pages.)
SECTION I : WHAT TRANSPIRED IN PORT KAR
PRINCESS:
I watch my opponent carefully as he approaches. He is a veteran of many fights in the sand, but he has never faced an opponent such as I will prove to be. I glance at his erection and smile. Men who think with their glands rather then their brains are easy opponents. In this bout between slaves I stand as both contestant and prize. The male slave will be allowed to rape me should he win. I am allowed the same privileges, but up to now I have chosen not to lay claim to a defeated opponent. Always before when they laid battered and unconscious at my feet I had simply walked away. The fighting slave before me has an impressive male organ, I decide then and there; this bout will end differently from the others.
As such things are measured on Earth, I stand more than 61 tall and weigh around 177 pounds. But that is deceptive. I am an Amazon, a special race of women created to be as beautiful as pleasure slaves yet as strong as warriors. My muscle fiber is unusually dense even for a man and all of it seems to be fast twitch. My D-cup breasts are quite lush but except for a shaping layer on my inner thighs and bottom I have very little other body fat. I am as strong as a junior heavyweight Olympic weight lifter, but not as strong as the behemoths who play offensive linemen in the NFL, at least not until I put on my replica of Heras Girdle of Power. In that event, I became the super heroine known on Earth as Wonder Woman.
Unfortunately for me, that magical power belt and all my other special equipment are more than one hundred-eighty million miles away. They were taken from me on Earth and so I have become a kajira, a slave girl on the Counter-Earth planet called Gor. Although most of the people of Earth still believe this world is fictional, the UN Security Council and the Justice League of America has known otherwise for several years now.
I, who was once Princess Diana, heir to the crown of the hidden Amazon City of Themyscira, am now simply the kajira Diana. Samos of Port Kar, my current owner, has chosen to enter me in the contests of fighting slaves so that I might enlarge the coffers of his house. I resent his power over me, but I welcome the exercise these fights provide.
I learned much in my time in Telnus, the capital of the Island Ubarate of Cos, and some of that knowledge has been bitter indeed. I learned that although my mind chafes at the restrictions of slavery, from the time I awakened in a slavers house my body welcomed the demands men made upon me. Goreans claim that my extremely quick and powerful sexual responsiveness means that I am a natural slave. I concede one sense in which their claim is true: at one time, so long as I thought I would never have even hope of freedom, I could have remained very happy to be the personal slave of Jaros, the captain of the Ubars bodyguards.
But that more innocent time of my life is past. Jaros, faithful servant of the Priest Kings that he is, left me in the clutches of a sadistic power-mad monster of an owner whose plans for me included either an ignominious painful death or centuries of endless degradation. When Jaros walked away I swore that I would never again be any mans chattel. The next day he claimed that his action had not been his will but that of the cybernetic net by which the Priest Kings can control his body. Perhaps he spoke truth. If so, Jaros of Tharna can be forgiven but never fully trusted again. I was the Priest Kings ally while on Earth yet it now seems they seek my perpetual enslavement here on Gor.
Samos, their chief agent in Port Kar, has told me that his fellow agent will eventually arrive and escort me on tarn back to the Sardar Mountains. Because Cos and Port Kar are officially at war, Jaros must journey here by a more roundabout itinerary than the way I arrived. When he does arrive, he will not find me a docile captive. I might not be Wonder Woman here on Gor, but I have the full abilities of my Amazon heritage plus all the tricks I picked up in my six decades as a super heroine.
Two weeks ago a crew of freed galley slaves and I brought a captured tarnship from the arsenal of Telnus directly across Thassa to Port Kar. The warship had tried to block the exit to the harbor but the freed slaves from three separate high-jacked cargo ships overwhelmed its garrison. I lost two of my ships with all their loot in that fight yet eventually we made it to Port Kar. My men were welcomed and allowed to either swear to the Home Stone of Port Kar or to try to return to their cities of origin. I, on the other hand, was swiftly and somewhat treacherously re-enslaved.
I could be resentful; the new branding was certainly painful enough. But I find myself growing stoical about such matters. It is a planet-wide social convention that women from Earth have no Home Stone and as such are automatically subject to slavery by whoever can collar and brand them. I would certainly rather be free than slave and I steadfastly refuse to think of Samos or anyone else as my master, but even so, it is a simple thing to say master to avoid blows and to do as I am told so as to avoid the five-stranded slave whip (which I do not fear) or the lash (which I fear greatly.)
On the whole, I am not unhappy about my current situation. Samos treats me with the same wary respect given to male fighting slaves. I have not been sexually abused since my first night in his house. Nor am I tormented with unsatisfied desire such as the Ubar of Cos subjected me to. From time to time I have asked to be used by men and I am frequently been asked to provide such service but in each case the choice whether to do so was mine to make.
When I asked Samos about that odd degree of freedom, he responded that it was a favor to Jaros. He sees you as more princess than slave slut. If he learns otherwise too soon I might not get as many tarns for you as I expect to, and he might be less than pleased with me.Jaros, a cyborg who has been a tool of the Priest Kings for just over two full centuries, is indeed a man to be wary of. Of all the men on Gor, he is the only one I truly fear.
The male fighting slave makes a grab for me and I elude him. I might have karate chopped him or judo flipped him but I have kept my full skills a secret up to now and this opponent does not seem to merit changing that policy. Instead I simply hurried him out of the ring with a nudge and moved into a boxers stance. He looks at me with a glimmer of respect and raises his own fists to guard his face. Now our contest begins in earnest.
My first successful blow takes him well below the belt but above his testicles. I see fear on his face. He starts holding his hands noticeably lower. That will ultimately lead to his defeat of things go as I plan. I dance like Muhammad Ali so that blow after blow of my opponent falls just short. I figure that when he realizes how well I judge the distance between us, he will bull-rush me again. Either that or he might throw out his shoulder by swinging too hard on a missed punch.
My opponent demonstrates his experience by doing neither. He simply maneuvers me so that my back is to the crowd and keeps punching with his slightly longer arms. I counter with a left hook that snaps his head to one side and drive my right into his loin area with all the force I can manage. His musculature is capable of absorbing great punishment but both punches struck where he has nothing to protect him from the impact. Now there is pain and anger in his eyes as I stand in the center of the fighting area and he is the one with his back to the crowd. I gesture him back into battle.
That exchange was too much for him; the fighting slave rushes me for a grapple. This time I accept that challenge. He might be as strong as me, but I know my wrestling skills are greater. Besides that, while we clench no one else sees the jujitsu holds that quickly force his submission to me. I pop both his shoulders out of joint, then stand to shatter his kneecap with a kick. Now it is time to lay him on his back and go to work on his magnificent male organ.
I squat my butt on his face, daring him to bite me. I doubted he will dare, and it turns out I was right. Better still, he actually lifts his head to kiss skillfully at my sex. That decides matters; I resolve to show my defeated opponent my full abilities. A long time ago a crazy Nazi Countess tried to breed with her Aryan studs. She had a magic lasso to control me and so I was forced to learn the art of cock sucking.1The slavers in Telnus refined my techniques as part of their preparation for my auction. They considered me quite skilled. I certainly have the tools for it. My tongue is tireless and supple. My lips are full and wide. My mouth cavity is deep. And my throat is big enough to take even a ten-inch cock fully inside my body orally. This man gets the full treatment and in a matter of a few Ehn he is hard and straight and pulsing against my tongue.
The mans tongue is no less busy. He laps at my fluids and parts my lips to prod and tease my clitty. I sigh with pleasure. Our coupling will be a good one; it is a shame I will have to provide all the motion. Then an idea occurs to me: what if he came in my mouth? Wouldnt he then have twice the staying power? I redouble my suction and tongue action. Sure enough, his hips begin to lurch upward, driving his long thick erection into my welcoming throat.
My swallowing action is rewarded by male lips that lock around my prominent clitty and suck it inside. His tongue lashes again and again. The male slave is expert. I drift on waves of erotic sensations even as I hold his ejaculating penis inside my throat. I wonder for the first time whether I have done the right thing by so totally disabling such an excellent lover.
After the session of 69ing, our coitus is almost anticlimactic. His long and thick erection stretches me wonderfully and I am reminded of Kara Zor-Els tale of her one sexual encounter with her Kryptonian cousin. The fighting slave feels huge within me and amazingly hard given that he has just pumped what felt like a quart of sperm down my throat. I found out later that his master, hoping for a sexual showpiece, had drugged him with something like Viagra prior to the fight.
Eventually he does come for a second time, and by then I have ridden him to three climaxes, each stronger than the one before but none approaching what I achieved as the slave of Jaros the mercenary. There is a lot of propaganda about how a slave orgasm ruins a woman for freedom. It is an exaggeration. What slave orgasms do is leave you awed, completely sated, and feeling powerfully bonded with the man who evokes it. If it happens frequently enough the resulting feelings of dependence and love bring contentment with your station on life, which makes you wonder what was so great about being free. Yet all it takes is one bad master to remind you of the advantages of freedom.
Samos is technically my owner now, although in a city less hostile to Cos Jaross possession of my ownership papers would make him my legal master. Before Jaros there was Lurius of Jad. The Ubar of Cos liked to deflower women; especially younger captives recently or not yet branded as slaves. He made me lick their slits until they were moist and then hold them still for his penetration. I was chained for weeks to the end of his sleeping platform with a three-foot neck chain, yet he disdained to use my vagina until after he had given my service to his henchman Jaros of Tharna. Then one day he and a gang of his thugs raped me and then chained me by a ring in my clitoris in a garbage pit infested with sharp toothed Gorean rodents. That sort of treatment wipes away the power of a slave orgasm very quickly. Lurius of Jad ruined me for slavery in a matter of hours.
I rise from the defeated slave to roars of approval from the stands. I take a moment to glance at my latest lover. He has fainted from our exertions and from the pain from his knee. I kneel to him and quickly reset his shoulders in their sockets. I wish for a way to have similarly disabled his leg temporarily. It will have to heal on its own.
Fortunately, Gorean medical technology is in some ways more advanced than Earths. Their pharmacology is every bit as good as that of Paradise Island and they have access to far more species of plants. The best hospitals on Earth are probably better than the best on Gor in terms of equipment, but Gorean Physicians are generally more experienced and better-trained in dealing with trauma. They see the results of sword, spear, and knife fighting all the time, and they have the advantage of a world in which every major infectious disease but one has been eliminated. When someone becomes ill on Gor the cause is almost always some sort of inhaled or ingested toxic substance.
I return to the quarters that Samos had dictated would serve as my cell. He knows about the curse of Zeus and so my wrist bracelets are always connected except during bouts on the sand. Since there is no way for any slave to escape Port Kar except by tarn back, I really did not care. As Wonder Woman I was noted for my courage, but I am not foolhardy. Nothing will make me voluntarily approach one of Gors giant aerial predators unless it is already saddled and harnessed and I am carrying a tarn goad or accompanied by somebody who does. As a joke, Samos let me nearly get torn to pieces during my introduction to tarns. Slavers are fond of such practical jokes: who really cares if a troublesome kajira is shredded for a monsters dinner?
I eat a full and delicious meal that night as an added reward for my victory for the House of Samos. My crafty owner has gotten better than even odds on every one of my fights. It is quite possible I have won the hard-hearted bastard several thousand tarns by now. There is no chance of my seeing any of that money; I am a slave. I am not allowed to own property; I amproperty.
A female slave comes and gives me a rub down that satisfies every part of me except my pussy. For some reason I tend to feel horny all the time when I am chained or tied up. My mother called it part of the curse of the male Gods. I am beginning to worry that there is a more sinister explanation. In a message through their implanted agent Jaros, the Priest Kings claimed to have had a hand in creating my race. I look forward to seeing them and learning the truth at last.
Mercenary:
Four days after his slaves latest victory, Samos of Port Kar confers secretly with Jaros of Tharna about his current mission for their joint masters in the Sardar.
Your girl is in good spirits and excellent health. However I do not think she will be glad to wear your collar, not if her words about you speak her true feelingsSamos remarks. Are you sure that you want to be the one to take her to the Sardar?
She is my slave by Law and in her heart. She must wear my collar and kiss my whip if the High Council is to understand that she represents no special threat.Jaros insists.
The Priest Kings are sometimes over-cautious and they truly understand surprisingly little of human motivations. On the other hand the girl is who she is. There is no denying that. Have you told her of her origins?
I have been preparing Diana for the truth, as best I can. Without hard evidence she has no compelling reason to believe me and compelling reasons not to believe. Her world view is not ready to crumble.
What do you think will happen when it does?
My hope is that it will bond her to me more fully. As her master I will be the one thing black and white in a very gray world.
And if the truth pushes her away from you?
Then slave chains on her body will pull her back to me. She melted at my first touch in Telnus. Her body will do so again and again. In time, the slave fire within her will overwhelm her resentment of slavery. It is, after all, what she was designed for.
You are older than I, but I think you fall into the trap of a master with his first potential love slave, Jaros. Passion slaves are born with bodies that react favorably to male touch, yet their minds share the steel of your Caste. This one was raised as a warrior, not as a slave. Beware that you do not wind up with your throat cut one morning.
That is very good advice, old friend. I will be sure to chain her carefully each night and keep her out of reach of weapons during the day.
That will probably be enough, given your enhancements. Did the Priest Kings ever tell you why they are so concerned? I have never understood their interest or their antipathy to certain Panther girls.
No, I was simply told to go to Ar and arrange an accident for Verna of the Northern Forests in case Marlenus of Ar succeeded in his hunt for his daughters tormentor.
I remember that. They are both very old but surely similar genes are distributed throughout Gor by now. It has been 8,000 years.
It does not work that way, Samos. We are a very long-lived people and we have not breed like urts, as they seem to do on Earth. I am no Physician but I would bet that less than one in five warriors bear the mark of Ares.2True passion slaves are rare, I would guess that there are no more than a thousand such woman with the gene blocks Aphrodite designed. That is what makes my possession of Diana so splendid. She offers me pleasure and joy in her possession that none of the thousands of sluts before her could offer.
That is the way of skilled passion slaves. It is also what makes her dangerous. I concede that she is a marvel of sexuality. But I hold to my own position that practically every female born here and a third of Western women brought her from Earth has the same potential for love. You bear the mark of Ares, yourself Jaros, though perhaps not as visibly as Marlenus did. Beware that your progeny are not considered a threat to the Sardar.
That is not a concern any longer, Samos. When I left the Sardar I was less than a man in several ways. What seed I have left is kept in a vault for study. I will bear no children without their knowledge or permission.
Princess:
I was dreaming of Earth. A JLA meeting had ended a few minutes before and the only ones left in the Hall of Justice were Green Arrow, Black Canary, Superman and I. As they often did in moments of calm, Ollie and Dinah were gazing at each other as if the World could be found in the other s eyes. I looked at Superman and he returned my bemused look.
After hesitating for all the wrong reasons for many wasted years, Ka-El had romanced Lois Lane successfully at a time when he had forgotten his powers and origin. Lois fell in love with mild-mannered but principled and passionate Clark Kent after years of pining for Superman, only to discover that she had in fact married her great love.
I looked at the gorgeous Kryptonian and felt a stab of jealousy: standing next to me was the one man who really matched up with me and wimpy Lois had snatched him up. True, we had collectively decided that a romance between us might get in the way of our careers as crime-fighters, but a girl is allowed to change her mind, isn t she? By Athena, could Ka-El kiss! I had felt it right down to my toes when we had started smooching that first time and each time afterwards until we called the whole thing off.
This was just a dream so naturally there was nothing to stop me from getting out my lasso and trying a little experimentation. Ka-El stepped into the loop I had casually laid on the floor and it closed around his ankle at my command.
What the heck are you doing? Superman asked me. He knew from previous experience that he couldn t break or pull free of my Lasso. I began to use the lassos power to implant suggestions and false memories in Supermans mind.
We have changed our minds about love between us. Remember that. You think right now would be a good time to investigate how the physical side of our relationship can work. Pick me up and take me to the couch in the lounge.
What about Lois? he asked me as he carried me in those incredibly strong arms.
She is just a human friend with a crush on your secret Identity. You are Superman. She means nothing special to you now that you have me.
The odd thing about dreams is that they originate in your own mind which means you can sometimes pick the topic yet the action is out of the control of your conscious thought processes. I have found that Ka-El is one of the most unfailingly gentle and considerate people in the Universe but my dream Superman took me like a Gorean master.
As soon as we got to the lounge he pinned me to the floor at the foot the big couch and used my lasso to tie my hands behind my back with my wrists against my elbows. Then he sat on the couch and ordered me to pull down his tights with my teeth and suckle his prick. I didn t have any choice, nor did I want one. In a few seconds I had his big throbber between my lips and was working it for all I was worth.
When he was fully hard he pulled me up into his lap and stripped off my shorts. Then he spanked me, hard. His bare hand was like a paddle and I don t have much fat on my cheeks to cushion the impact. I was begging him to stop long before he relented; The experience left me humbled, badly bruised, and greatly impressed.
And then he untied me only to reposition my arms at my throat. At first I wondered why he did that, but I eventually learned that this tie gave Superman unrestricted access to every sensitive part of my body. He could even get at the pulse points at the base of my jaw by simply pushing my arms out of the way.
It was a long and leisurely Taking by a master. I was kissed and stroked and fondled everywhere. I sucked his fingers into my mouth when commanded to. Both my lower passages opened for his probing fingers as well. I came three times before he finally decided to fully use me. I was taken from behind in my narrower passage first and yet that violation was thrilling to me as well. Fingers in my pussy brought me to a screaming orgasm even as Ka-El pile-drove that big erection of his into my rectum.
At last, I was pulled into his lap and onto his prick. His hands clamped onto my breasts and their hard nipples and at his command I rode up and down on a long fat cock that seemed to be made of velvet-covered bone. I came hard and loud, screaming my pleasure and was rewarded with the spurting contractions of my new Master s enormous organ of lust.
At that point I should have awakened, but instead the dream turned steadily into a nightmare. I was lifted from his cock and positioned across his lap as if for another spanking. We were both naked by then and I could feel his still inflated prick against my belly. I felt his hand clamp me down on top of his thighs with super strength even I could not withstand and then Supermans powerful fingers began working something round and smooth into my anus.
Oh Hera, not that, I cried out but there was no help for me as Ka-El worked fourteen beads, some more than an inch in diameter, into my body, one after another. I wept and begged and squirmed futilely as the cursed, invidious sensations grew more and more intense. By the time the last one popped through my sphincter, my sexual needs made me an abject slave to the man manipulating my body for his pleasure.
When he took me again, this time from behind, his erection felt thirteen inches long and three inches in diameter, so completely did it fill my wet clinging sheath. Yet despite the tightness of the fit it was exactly what I was craving for so desperately. Instead of coming immediately and subsiding, I floated on the sensations for endless minutes, crying out all the while how fantastic my lover was.
Finally, the sensations became too much to bear, I begged Superman to let me yield to him as his slave. He did not scoff at the idea. Instead he pulled me upright into his lap and gave permission. As he did so, his fingers closed painfully on my nipples. Even as my body was thrashing about in slave orgasm I was beseeching him to let them go, so intense was the pain. But he did not relent until his seed erupted within me a second time. Finally, I was commanded to sleep and the dream ended.
Mercenary:
Jaros of Tharna carefully unties the hands of the sleeping Wonder Woman and puts the special slavers rope back into his belt pouch. He had not believed that such an effect was possible but her mind had obeyed his command to continue her erotic dream even as her body had moved as he directed. Neither his spanking nor the insertion of the beads had awakened her to full consciousness.
She is his slave, not the Kryptonian called Supermans, but it had given him a great deal of amusement to play the role of her fantasy lover and turn it into that of a master. After paying several hundred gold tarn pieces to reclaim Diana from Samos he had entered the chamber prepared to harshly discipline his runaway slave. Instead he had been seduced by the beauty of her incredible body yet again. The room had been almost completely dark, but his bionic infrared vision had clearly seen the outline of her long legs and hour-glass figure, as well as the burning heat of her lips, nipples, and loins.
This is truly a creation of a Goddess and the descendant of a God. And now that creation is my property, to enjoy as I see fit. But first I have to re-teach Diana that she is slave now, rather than Amazon. I know a lot more about how those bracelets of hers are connected to her powers than I did before. I know better now than she does what her physical limits are. By the time we reach the Sardar, I intend to find her mental limits as well. She is mine.
Princess:
I am awakened by seagulls outside the barred window. The next sound I notice is a males snoring; I am not alone in the chamber. My legs have been bound together while I slept. The ropes are tight and they hold my knees together as well as my ankles. My thumbs are tied to my upper arms so that my forearms cradle my breasts. I wiggle to create some slack in the bindings and gasp in shock.
Something distressingly familiar is inside my vagina. It feels like a passion goad, but of course I cant see what it is. Something else, (a long string of beads?) is inside my other channel. The ropes on my legs help keep them both in place. Whoever the intruder is, he has plans to use my own body against me. Then I remember the night before, and my strange erotic dream.
Oh Athena? What has happened to me? Was this man here the whole time? Was it his cock that so mastered me and not Supermans.Fearing what I will find, I roll over. The action starts the tormentors moving in my body. But I have a great deal of will power, plus extensive prior training in controlling my actions even when my loins are screaming in need or even orgasm. As I hoped it would be, the man in the room is Jaros, mercenary warrior and secret servant of the Priest Kings. I think I would have wanted to die of shame had it been any other man who had so completely reduced me to a hot slave slut the night before.
Having satisfied my curiosity, I look for a way to satisfy other needs. Tied as I am, I am sure that Jaros expects me to wake him for help in peeing but Ill be damned if I will ask favors of the Gorean SOB. At the cost of a great deal of motion by the goddess-cursed devices within me I manage to relieve myself and then drink from the water bowl Samos keeps on the floor for me. Even as a fighting slave, I am always fed as a kajira.
At that point I decide that a little seduction is in order. I flop and squirm until at last my backside is pressed against his loins. Once in place I begin to wiggle against his soft prick. By the time Jaros awakens his penis is a hard spear against my naked skin, but I have miscalculated. His presence has always made me horny and my loins are moist and twitching, which only accentuates the biofeedback mechanism of the passion goad and beads. It is a desperately needy woman that Jaros pulls into his strong arms. When he suddenly begins gently stroking my hard straining nipples I think I will jump out of my skin.
Oh yes, Master,I purr for him, your girl begs for your use.
She is clever, my kajira from the stars. But I do not think she is going to be satisfied by the use she receives this morning.
With those words he positions himself and then thrusts his erection between my inner thighs. Back and forth, he rubs against my pussy yet he does not penetrate past the outer lips. The sensation is wonderful and yet each of my climaxes leaves me wanting more. The goads in my body are jostled around by our motions and so my g-spot is getting a workout along with my desperately throbbing clitoris.
I am being used as I had asked, but not as I desire to be. When he pulls away I grovel as I have never groveled for a man before, begging to be fucked and meaning every word. But my Master is Gorean. He tells me that as punishment for running away from him I will be left in this condition until I beg his forgiveness for every blow I had struck him on the docks of Telnus during my escape.
Because he is still hard and ready he forces himself into my mouth and uses my throat as if it were a vagina. I want to spit out his sperm, but he holds my nose shut until I swallow. I have not been viciously raped, but I have been treated as a will-less animal during sex. In my time in the House of Samos I had almost allowed myself to forget how demoralizing that felt.
He tells me we will leave Port Kar on tarn back after breakfast. As I had been taught by the slavers before my auction I eat from the hand of the man who calls himself my master and then Jaros carries me to the tarn. He attaches my already bound body across the front of his saddle so that he can enjoy the bow of my beauty, exactly as if I were any other newly captured slave girl. I am left there for what seems like an hour but is probably no more than a few minutes as he fetches provisions and equipment for our journey. I should be excited at the prospect of meeting the Priest Kings and demanding answers from them, instead I am feeling very much like a slave girl being taken to her Masters home for the first time.
SECTION TWO: A KAJIRAS REBELLION
Mercenary:
Jaros of Tharna is a very happy man by the time he lands his favorite tarn for the night. Except for the exorbitant price Samos had extorted from him for the undisputed right to call the barbarian princess his kajira, the time in Port Kar had gone well. He had managed to resume his relationship with Diana on the right note. Should she fail to properly obey him in the future he has a variety of effective means to both discipline and further demoralize her. If he has his way, the former princess will spend the rest of her unnaturally long life at his feet. Or perhaps she will be behind me on my leash or beneath me as I plumb her uniquely resilient pussy, the mercenary warriormused as the tarn flew over the vast delta of the Vosk River.
Once they were past the marshes of the Delta, he had landed briefly to unhook Diana from the saddle and allow the tarn to hunt for its dinner. All during the previous two Ahn, Diana had clearly been quite frightened, yet his magnificent love slave never once cried out in fear as she hung head upside down thousands of feet above the ground. Jaros reflects that had always found tarn flight exhilarating rather than frightening, but then he has never traveled as a helpless naked slave over the saddle bow of a warrior.
Before allowing his kajira the privilege of relieving her bowels, Jaros
worked his girl into a total frenzy by pulling the string of beads out one by one while his other hand worked the passion goad in and out of her dripping cunt. When he thought the time was right, he pushed Diana to what he assumed was a slave orgasm simply by masturbating her and stimulating the goad. Only afterward did he begin to wonder if perhaps that submission had come a little too easy. At that time he had simply spooned his body with hers and enjoyed a long leisurely ride that left them both sated and laughing.
My master is still a fool.She had teased He thinks his girl is a frigid free-woman he holds captive rather than the women he has taught to yearn for his touch. Jaros needs no artificial aids to conquer the body of Diana of Themyscira. It is only her mind that wants to resist him.
Is she ready to demonstrate that for her master this nightfall in his furs?
Oh yes, Masters girl Diana will demonstrate that on the front of his saddle if only her Master promises not to let her fall
And so it had happened that way. Of her own free will his Amazon kajira had clung to him for Ahn after Ahn of flight, clutching his firm staff within her the entire time. He had not believed such fervor, skill, and stamina could be found in the same woman, but the blindfolded Amazon proved him wrong. His secret commands to Diana to adore him and think of him as her master were bearing unexpected fruit; she not only called him Master, she was striving to please him as she had once done in Telnus.
That evening he releases all her bonds, except for the special yellow rope he had placed around her throat. He stands before her, fully clothed and orders the naked women to make formal Gorean submission to him. She first recites the love poem from ancient Tharna he had once taught her, then kneels and offers her wrists to his yellow silk cords, speaking words he has longed for months to hear: Princess Diana of Earth submits herself as a slave to Jaros of Tharna. I am yours fully, to do with as you please, my beloved Master.
When she finishes, Jaros binds her hands tightly then raises his arms and face to the sky and shouts his own oath. By the Power of the Priest Kings of Gor I declare this slave my love until I die. I will never sell her or even loan her use to another for she is my beloved kajira and her heart and soul are safe in my keeping.
Their lovemaking that night is so powerful that Jaros weeps with joy at Diana full slaves yielding of her body. For the first time since he awakened as a bionic slave he feels whole again. They can bear no children, but he has found a soul mate to share his travels in the service of the Priest Kings. He has never felt happier, or more confident about his future.
Two mornings later, the mercenary tarnsman yawns and stretches, then glances around the small clearing. He does not see his girl. For about a second and a half he assumes that she had gone into the woods to relieve herself in privacy. Then he remembers that when they went to sleep her ankles and hands had been close-shackled. In fact, that arrangement had been at Dianas suggestion. She had made love and then fallen asleep in slave chains.
I cant help it, Jaros; She had said,for some reason the moment I feel my wrists touching to together or held by greater strength than mine I just sort of start to melt inside. That is why I responded to you so strongly in the display cage when we first met.
He had held her hands the first time he took her body, but she begged prettily for him to ravish her breasts as well so he had cuffed her hands behind her in slave shackles for a second Taking. The third time they made love, her ankles had been cuffed together and her cuffed hands had been behind his neck while their tongues had dueled in time with his thrusting.
Jaros gets up and looks around. His tarn is still chained to the stake he had driven into the ground but his equipment has been searched and left in disorder. Calling for his slave girl to return is clearly going to be a pointless exercise. He will have to hunt for her.
Another man would have set out immediately. Jaros hadnt lived three hundred years by acting rashly. He collects up his belongings and packs them carefully. He cannot help noticing that all three of his yellow cords are gone, along with his crossbow and half its bolts. He is also short one tunic and a set of heavy shackles for restraining males. The light slave bracelets to be used on females are tucked into the bag where the heavy shackles are supposed to be.
It seems my Amazon wants to hunt the most dangerous game. Well, that is fine with me. It will ultimately make her easier to find and catch. He positions his cache where the tarn will protect it from further thievery and begins searching the edge of the clearing for signs of Dianas trail.
With the approach of darkness Jaros finally elects to return to the tarn. It has been a long and frustrating day so far. He has followed a trail that looped back to the clearing again and again. He couldnt move as fast as Diana did. His left leg is still injured from their earlier fight and furthermore he had to be wary of the pit traps and snares she kept setting behind her. He doesnt like to admit it, but her woodcraft has proved much superior to his. He has been wasting time and energy stumbling after her. It is time for a different type of hunt, a warriors stalk.
Princess:
I watch in satisfaction as my Master limps back toward our camp. I have led him around by his nose for a day, demonstrating in the process that I could do it for another day as well. The trouble is that I need his tarn and I need Jaros to control it. Gorean tarns are trained by Gorean males to respond only to other Gorean males, those who show no fear of their great beaks and steel sharp talons. I fail to qualify on two counts. Without my belt of power I know I am no match for a tarn and the tarn knew it as well. It hadnt let me get at the rest of Jaross possessions. The saddle remains between the tarns legs. Stalemate.
The morning after my submission to Jaros, my Master let me walk about our encampment wearing only a collar. I remembered everything that had happened the night before and I knew exactly why I had reacted as I did. The longest of the three yellow ropes he used in the ceremony worked very much like my Magic Lasso. Once such a tool has been used on you, you have to be told to forget what it felt like or you will recognize the source of the voice in your head compelling you to do what the holder of the lasso is ordering.
I had wondered why I was feeling so much awe and affection for a man I had sworn I would kick in the balls when next I saw him. That morning I knew the reason. He had clearly given me a number of subliminal commands our first night together. That was dirty pool, and one more mark against him in my black book of reasons to hate and distrust Gorean men.
Dont get me wrong. I was not feeling sexually exploited: the sex was the best it had ever been between us. Yet I was feeling betrayed that morning as I scurried around our small camp doing the small things that a kajira is expected to do for the comfort of her master.
A malicious thought had entered my mind and didnt go away. I began to whistle and hum. I have a lot of talents but for some reason they do not include a beautiful singing voice. Wonder Woman is not perfect, no matter what my fans may wish. I have perfect pitch and great skill with a harp or lyre but I simply cannot sing without sounding like a crow. Neither can my mother or my sister. Its a family failing. I decided that I will soon sing for my Master, whether he wants me to or not.
I now watch as Jaros eats a quick dry-camp meal, then grabs a shovel-like tool, and returns to the forest. As silently as a jungle cat I follow to observe. As I had hoped, he begins to dig a foxhole. He works quickly, and alternates his digging with the construction of a hunters blind so he can observe the camp. This is what I assumed he would decide to do hours earlier. My Master is as stubborn as a mule.
Leaving the vicinity of the camp and tarn, I slip away unseen and unheard to select a tree in which to pass part of the night. Unless I am mistaken, Jaross bionic eyes can pick out my body heat in the dark. I will make my strike during the morning fog, my body coated in cool mud. I know where he will be and what his field of vision will probably be. Unless he thinks to build a second blind during the night, he will be easy prey.
I begin working my way into position well before dawn. It is quiet in the woods except for the cries of the tarn, and answering challenges from land predators I cannot identify. Smaller fauna have deserted the area, leaving two warriors to their game of war.
In our time in Telnus I learned that Jaros has the hearing of a normal man but his sense of smell is unusually acute. I also learned the difference between his breathing when he is asleep and when he is just faking it. This night he is faking it, in case I am near enough to hear him. I smile. He is a worthy opponent after all. He thinks he has guessed my aims and strategy, and he is right. It is my tactics that will take my adversary by surprise.
I stroll into the clearing and offer the tarn the meat I killed the night before. To my dismay, the proud animal disdains it. Nobody had told me that tarns eat only what they kill for themselves or take by force from smaller tarns. I revert immediately to plan B and begin building a fire. A torch will blind Jaross infrared vision and might work to frighten the tarn away from the cache of food and equipment. As I work, I glance in his direction only casually at first, then I gradually scan his location with greater and greater frequency and interest. I want him to know that I know where he is but not know how long I have known.
Once the fire was going I select a tree branch to use as a torch and advance toward where he sits in his concealed hole in the ground. Insolently I set his blind on fire and wait for his reaction. When he loses his temper he loses out battle. His curses are music to my ears. I turn and slowly walk away, listening carefully for his footsteps.
Mercenary:
Jaros shoves frantically at the frame supporting his burning camouflage. He doesnt want to be burned and the smoke is potentially deadly to him. As he scrambles out of his self-made pit he sees that his insolent panther girl slave is still in sight. He cannot overtake her if she starts to run, but he should be able to run her to the ground so long as he can keep her in sight. He jogs after her.
Sure enough, she sees him over her shoulder and panics. Diana starts crashing through the bush, trying to pick up speed to a full run but losing time and energy to every encounter with the foliage. He is closer now than when the chase began. He keeps his own pace steady. Victory might be long in coming, but it will come to me and not my slave girl, he calculates.
Diana stumbles and when she rises he is closer still. She runs awkwardly now, possibly favoring one leg over the other, as Jaros must. He decides to sprint and see if he can catch her.
Princess:
I can hear Jaros closing on me and know that my timing must be perfect, for my next ploy to work. Yet the Gorean has no reason to suspect that my limp is phony. Just as he closes to arms reach I go down again. At his full run he plows into me. I roll and use my curled up legs to send him flying toward the pit trap he neatly evaded the day before. He misses the trap, but by the time he gets to his feet he has lost sight of me again.
This time his stubborn streak works in my favor. I hear him following the clear trail I have left and hurry ahead, out of his sight once more. He can see as well in the pre-dawn gloom as I can, but I have scouted our next destination and he has not. A few minutes later I am climbing a tree. A minute after that Jaros narrowly misses stepping into the net trap to which I have led him. He stops, and pulls his sword to spring it safely. He has avoided the lesser danger only to fall prey to a greater one. The yellow lasso descends and then snaps tight around his neck at my mental command. My voice commands his surrender and he falls to his knees and bows his head.
Mercenary:
Tell me what you are thinking?His mistresss voice speaks in a tone of command and, as had happened dozens of times in the past 60 Ahn, Jaros of Tharna is compelled to obey her by the power of the special slavers rope that encircles his neck beneath his slave collar.
I was thinking about how beautiful you are and how wonderful it felt to receive your service as my slave, Mistress. Wonder Woman blushes slightly. She remembers, too, he thinks.
Her words, on the other hand, are angry: It is you who gives service as a slave now, Ignorant Fool. You will never have my submission again, not by trick nor by manipulating my needs and especially not by my true consent.
We are both slaves, Mistress. I am a slave of the Priest Kings and a man who has given a slaves oath. I can no longer own anyone, especially you. But you remain a woman of Earth who has never been declared free. As such you are the indisputable property of first free person who can drag you to a branding fire. This insidious device around my neck can command my obedience but it does not constrain the customs and laws of a whole planet.
Diana breaks into laughter Its so easy to forget the limitations of these lassos. I can command silence, but even if I change a specific memory you cant lie while in its power. I should have realized that this thing works very much like my Magic Lasso back on Earth.
Very inconvenient, isnt it, Mistress? You have a slave who cant fib that he adores being your slave and prays that you will never sell or free him. She has commanded him to always think of her as Mistress, and address her in a respectful tone, but he has found that it pleases her to be teased. Jaros very much wants to hear more of Dianas laughter.
Why are you the Priest Kings slave? She asks him, suddenly serious once more.Didnt John Norman write that the implanted ones had been recalled and freed.
Harrison Smith conveys only what propaganda the Priest Kings give him to publish. Tarl Cabot is real enough, but actual post Nest-war politics and the state of the Nests reconstruction are no business of the people of Earth. The Sardar is not inhabited by fools, after all, but by supra-geniuses.
The short answer to Mistresss question is that certain implanted ones were considered too valuable to give up entirely once the control room was fully operational again. Others were considered too dangerous to go completely unchecked. I fell into both categories.
Ninety-nine point nine per cent of the time I work for the Priest Kings voluntarily, but the rebuilt control room can and has continued to compel my compliance with their wishes. In that sense I have been a slave for two hundred years.
His mistresss voice is scornful, outraged. But until I defeated you, you had the audacity to consider yourself superior to an Amazon Princess! Now you know what slavery is really all about. Its not just about having to do what you are told, Ignorant Fool. There are billions of people on Earth with very few options in their lives except obedience to the wishes of others, yet they are not slaves. Since I came to Gor I have learned that it isnt what you think of yourself that makes you a slave but whether those around you regard you as a property animal or a person to be respected and feared. Has Dianas Ignorant Fool learned that yet?
Her slave has learned that a slave acts like a slave and so the people treat them as slaves. I believe that should I regain control over my actions they will find nothing slave-like about me. If Jason of Earth can become Jason of Victoria I do not doubt Jaros of Tharna can do the same.
I should have named you Brick-brain instead of Ignorant Fool, Kajirus. It seems that you have learned nothing of use to me. Whatever am I going to do with you?
Jaros starts to formulate an answer and then falls silent. He has learned much in the past days. He has especially learned the wisdom of silence when even the slightest deceit is next to impossible. He had thought he knew shame, but he has learned just how deep that emotion can go. He had felt great humiliation when the Priest Kings enslaved him, but nothing like what he has experienced as the slave of the woman he wants to regard as his renegade slave but cannot because of the power of the ancient submission rope. Instead, he can think and speak of her only as his Mistress.
Diana has proved to be an expert in the use of the ancient yellow artifact rope of submission. His great strength is denied him. He knows that should he try to use it he will burst his heart. He tried once despite that belief and nearly passed out from hyperventilation. Intellectually he understands that the broad strands of a slave whip cannot do him serious injury, yet anticipation of its pain brings shudders of terror. In these and other ways she has introduced Jaros to life as a kajira lives it, the life that Diana lived while in the palace of the Ubar of Cos. The warrior lives that life now in both body and mind. He loves and fears his Mistress, and lives in terror of being sold to another.
He was led back to their camp with the rope in her hand the whole time. After he had retrieved their now joint belongings from beneath the tarns beak she used the rest of the slavers tool to bind his wrists to his ankles in a hog tie. Then she built a fire, heated an iron, and branded him on his left buttock. Before wrapping a vine collar around his throat she compelled words that not even the Priest Kings had tried to force from him: I, Jaros of Tharna, submit myself to Diana of Themyscira as her slave, hers fully to use as she wills. Inside his own head he was screaming No. No. No. You are my slave the whole time he spoke.Immediately after his words she began her successful campaign to shame him and reduce him to slavish obedience.
He had thought the first day in her chains had been terrible, only to discover the following day that he thoroughly misunderstood the lot of a slave. That first day he had simply labored for her until the sun began to set. She named him Ignorant Fool in Gorean and switched him regularly. By her command he spoke only in the slave voice, referring to himself over and over as Ignorant fool even when he was simply trying to get permission to ask a question. She sang in a voice that grated on his eardrums, her cheerfulness in counterpoint to his growing gloom as dusk approached. Every Ahn or so she would tinker with his programming, first designating one emotion she wanted him to feel more sharply and then adding another until he was feeling powerless over his own thoughts as well as his body.
That night he was shackled to a tree, a passion goad trapped within his asshole. Diana stripped naked to dance for him. First she danced as a slave girl dances and then she danced as the Rence girls and Panther Girls are wont to do. She rubbed her sweat-slicked torso against his erection and nipples until he was screaming his need into his gag.
She removed it to let him beseech his mistress to use him but his entreaties only brought her laughter and derision. She continued to taunt him with her body and then followed that torment with the blow job from Hades. She stopped his climax a dozen times with a squeeze of her hands, then resumed her work so that he was quickly straining forward and upward once more into her parted lips. Finally, after her expertise had reduced him to a desperate drooling slave of his lusts, she freed one of his hands and taught him self-masturbation. Shamefully, he had worked his own cock until he ejaculated, just as the weaklings of Earth are said to do.
Even that humiliation did not end the ordeal. Diana re-secured his hand and with skillful actions of her wet wide mouth coaxed him back to full tumescence. Then she got down on hands and knees before Jaros and raised her buttocks so that her loins brushed the tip of his manhood. Then she began to masturbate.
Her hips bucked and swayed and shimmied and at one point she took him an inch inside of her. By the time she reached a fourth orgasm the effects of the passion goad had him crying and screaming. In the most degrading words and phrases, he had begged his mistress to use her slave.
Diana responded to his plea by slave raping him, the way kajira are sometimes punished. She laid him on the ground with a command to lie still and sat on his back. The passion goad was worked in and out of his rectum with considerable vigor and its action against his prostate forced a powerful ejaculation, entirely against his will. The climax went on and on until he finally had no more seed to spill on the ground against his belly. That was how Jaros learned something of what slave rape must feel like to a kajira.
His mistress left the goad inside him all night. By midnight he was firm again and his sleep was filled with dreams she had commanded for him. In his dreams his bionics had broken down, leaving him a cripple. Yet his erection still functioned and women bought and used him as a silk slave. In the morning, he was desperately needy once again. With contemptuous jerks of her hand she lessened that need temporarily, then had him perform his body functions as if he were an animal on a leash. It was an experience she would repeat throughout the day.
They continued their journey after breakfast, only this time he rode the tarn naked and she was clothed in one of his tunics. As before, she straddled his trunk and took his erect manhood within her welcoming vaginal folds. This time he moved or was still as she directed. This time he spoke or was silent at her command. She made him tell her all he knew about the Sardar and she wanted to know as much as possible about the slavers rope of submission.
At one time the Priest Kings shared this planet with a group called the Founders. They were specialists in primate psychology and physiology, far better at it than the Priest Kings, for whom Homo Sapiens were and still essentially are a scientific curiosity. The Priest Kings wanted to both study and learn from them so the Founders were free to come and go from the Nest and mingle with the populace of Gor. The submission ropes were never technically a violation of the Technology Laws but when the founders and their prodigy were expelled all of those in circulation were confiscated and destroyed.
Why do you think they did that?She asked. When he hesitated to speculate she used the artifact to command an answer.
The Priest Kings are a very cautious species. They take no serious risks that are not absolutely unavoidable. I think perhaps they tested this one, and discovered that it could be used to control a Priest King. Sarm was head of the High Council at that time. I imagine he would have found such a capability completely unacceptable.
Jaros had hoped when he got to a city that he could explain his true situation and other men would free him. Now he knew that that false hope had been another of Dianas devious plants. She was clothed and bore no visible brand marks on her body. Her collar was safely hidden away until she voluntarily produced it as a conversation piece. Her story was seamless. She was a free woman of Port Kar he had captured for enslavement. She had turned the tables on him one night and branded him the next morning personally. She needed to buy fresh clothing for herself and proper slave accoutrements for her newest possession. Under compulsion to offer no additional information about her past or his, he confirmed each part of her story that she asked him to. It was all done without him telling a single lie.
I havent had him very long, She would say,but I've made a good start in taming him. You do fear my whip, dont you, Ignorant Fool?
Yes, Mistress, I fear the whip. And he also feared the further humiliations she had in store him that long day.
Jaros has to admit afterwards that she had basically treated him exactly as thousands of kajiri are treated. She displayed him for free persons to look at, fondle, comment upon, and abuse at their whim. She kneeled him in the positions females assume for their masters to the great amusement of whoever was watching. He walked like a two-legged animal on a leash because he was commanded to think of himself that way. That command diminished the warriors sense of shame in one respect but enhanced it in others.
At nightfall they entered a paga tavern together. Diana rented slut after slut and commanded him to offer them his use. There could be no greater degradation for one of the Warriors than to become the slave of the lowest of slaves. Spurred on by that invidious slavers training tool in his rectum, he serviced eight girls in four Ahn before a man of the Peasants brought the farce to a halt. He demanded that Diana leave and take her excuse for a man with her. Then he followed them into the street and beat Jaros around the head and shoulders with a club until his Mistress intervened in his behalf.
Jaros winces as the cold healing salve is rubbed into a cut on his face. Did that hurt?she asks and his pride dictates that he withhold a truthful answer. She chuckles and commands an answer. Her face shows concern, the haughty Amazon Princess is gone. The Diana he loves is back, for the moment.
There is pain, Mistress. But it is the sort of thing a warrior learns to push from his consciousness, lest it distract him from battle.
She sighs deeply, Jaros, I am sorry. I didnt mean for things to get out of hand like they did. I just wanted to provide you with a few days in the life of a kajira so that you can understand why such a life is intolerable for a born warrior such as I. I can be you lover and friend and junior partner while we are on Gor together, but I must have some recognition on your part of my need for respect from you and the other people of Gor.
I do understand that, but you dont seem to realize the precariousness of your situation. This is a harsh world with harsh customs, especially toward women such as you. I can protect you from much of that, but not all. Only as my slave girl are you truly safe.
Understanding of a sort showed in her face.You mean that. In fact you have said as much before. Now tell me why.
She expects an answer and his lips begin to form the words to tell her, but the words sound strange to his ears. Jaros sees Dianas face change from curious to horrified, as a terrible struggle rages within him. He cannot see his own eyes going copper-colored, but by her _expression he knows that she is watching the control net try to take over in opposition to the compulsion of the ancient Founders artifact. Normally he simply goes to sleep at these times, but today he remains awake, mouthing gibberish until the terrible pain inside his skull drives him to a wordless scream.
Princess:
I saw it happen this time. I saw that the rulers of Gor did indeed use my virile Master as their living puppet. I had gaped in fascination when his words suddenly became incoherent. It was his scream of pain that jolted me into proper action.Sleep, my love. Sleep and forget this pain I have caused youI ordered him.
And then I faced the Priest Kings living probe. What do you want of him? Cant you see that hes just good man with divided loyalties? There was no need to torture him like that.
Jaross voice is less mechanical than it had been on the docks of Telnus. This time there is a human cadence to the words and phrases. On the other hand, the voice speaks with an accent distinct from Jaross cosmopolitan Gorean and the words come out with _expression and emphasis at complete odds with what shows on the speakers calm face. Jaross eyes are closed and aside from his mouth, all his facial muscles are slack in the sleep I have commanded for him.
His genes bear the mark of the Founders. He was given the choice between destruction and our service. It was a fair bargain and he made it of his own free will. The slavers rope is an abomination to the Priest Kings and also to the codes you professed to live by on Earth, Wonder Woman. By our decree it is proscribed technology. Should you use it on our servant again you will face the flame death.
What do you mean, his genes bear the mark of the founders? My question goes unanswered. Jaros simply snores peacefully. I remove the lasso from around his throat and consider whether to unlock the shackles. Discretion being the better art of valor, I decide to leave them on until the morning. Jaros and I need to TALK about what kind of relationship we both want to have.
Mercenary:
It is the middle of the night and Jaros looks down at his mistress as she sleeps. His hands are now free. He thought the effort would kill him but the control net carefully regulated his adrenaline levels. He had never broken double chains before, especially not with his hands cuffed behind his back as they had been. The net is in observation mode now; the Sardar is waiting to see how he deals with his recalcitrant slave.
She lies peacefully, defenseless before him. And yet he knows that her Amazon powers are there at her disposal until her wrist bracelets are restrained. That gives him an idea. He will be ruthless. He will crush her so thoroughly that she admits she is only worthy to be his slave. He begins by clearing the room of anything that might be used as a weapon.
She awakens to the sound of simple slave bracelets locking her ankles together. Now there will be none of those skillful kicks she uses to such effect. Without any pause, he rolls her onto her back and pins her to the floor of their rented chamber. The passion goad is well greased and slips in quickly before she can think to tighten herself against it. He has left her arms free to try to pull it out, That will only make the struggle between them more interesting.
She wriggles and flops and fights with every ounce of her unnatural strength but all her efforts achieve is to drive the device to motion against her clitoris and G-spot. She fights him until she comes, and then tries to fight some more. She accomplishes nothing useful. In the end he pins her facedown, which allows him to begin working the string of beads into her rectum just as he had done the night he found her dreaming of Superman.
Princess:
I wanted to keep on fighting Jaros. But I soon reached the point where all I could do was suffer in humiliated despair as the bionic bastard showed me the way that my body could be manipulated like a puppet under the influence of the goads in my body. He made me come over and over again until it seemed every muscle in my body was completely limp with exhaustion.
And then he starts to hit me. His prick is hard as a rock and all my expectations are that he will finally use his gagged slut, but instead he drives his fist into my belly like a pile driver. Then it slams into my belly button again, and then yet a third time. My hands are restrained by this time, so I dont have the kind of muscle strength needed to fend off that powerful a blow. My muscles crumple on the second blow and his fist sinks deep within me on the third blow.
My body goes into convulsions and the spasms set off the passion goad. Jaros continues to pound me, forcing a powerful vaginal orgasm from me even as he ravages my muscle tissue. I come again when his fist catches me in the clit. The pain is tremendous, and so also is the unbelievable pleasure. And yet still he does not relent until my formerly rock-hard Abs feel like Jell-O.
Then I am taken as a slave is taken. He flips me over onto my boobs, un-cuffs my ankles, and yanks my legs apart. The goad is removed and his big prick takes its place. He rises from the floor so that I dangle to his feet, impaled. He does not bother to thrust. All he has to do is pull on the string of beads in my ass and I go into convulsions, squeezing and writhing as much as he wishes. There is no slavers lasso about my throat but by the time the last bead pops from my body Jaros slave girl is beseeching him for the privilege of yielding to her master. He graciously grants it, and my world explodes into a maelstrom of sensations before subsiding into blackness.
I awaken in his arms the next morning. I find that my hands and feet are close-chained and my lower torso is covered with bruises. I remember everything that happened and I simply cannot believe it. Jaros had completely manhandled me, then forced my body to his will, then cruelly beaten me, then raped me to slave orgasm. I had assumed that I was free of that threat since my escape from Lurius of Jad in Telnus. Apparently in the hands of Jaros of Tharna I am a natural slave.
I take a deep breath and wince. I ache as I have not ached since I was a powerless slave in the Ubars palace. My body has not begun to heal itself. There may be permanent damage to my musculature. That is cause for serious concern. I tell Jaros about it when he wakes.
The concern I was expecting does not come. He listens carefully and then makes a sound of satisfaction when I confirm that this failure to heal has happened before.I thought it might work that way, he says.Your body has found its sexual master and now the suppressing power of your slave bracelets is negating your Amazon physiology. If I am right, the only thing super-human about you now is your sex drive. You may even be ready to ovulate. You must be examined for that when we reach the Sardar.
What are you talking about? I am an Amazon. So far as I know I ovulate once every twelve years. As there are no men on Paradise Island our slow reproductive rates are solely of academic concern. His response confirms a nasty suspicion I have had since coming to Gor.
I am talking about those white metal bracelets you use to deflect bullets, arrows, and spears. The Founders needed to enable males to mate with females who were otherwise capable of ferocious resistance. They restrain your strength and serve to control your breeding capacity. You can get pregnant easily by embryo implantation but also after slave orgasm, or at least that is the way the original Amazons were designed. You are something of a special case.
What is special about me?
That is something the Priest Kings want to determine. They assume that you are your mothers clone, but until they do a gene scan they cant be certain of that.
Im not a clone. Mother sculpted me from clay and then Hera and Athena and Aphrodite animated me just as they created the other Amazons thousands of years before. I certainly dont see how I could be a clone. After all, mother had never been pregnant, nor had any other Amazon after we moved to Paradise Island.
I am sure that you are the product of your Mothers genetic arts, Diana. And it is certain that she had outside assistance in gestating you. But why has it never occurred to you that there is something odd about a mother and two daughters who look like triplets of different ages?
Oh Hera! That literally never occurred to me. There are no children on Paradise Island and in the world of men they are only now developing that ability.I had always taken mothers story literally. Do you think the other Amazons know?
I really cant say, Diana, but some of them must at least suspect the truth. On the other hand, you might not be a true clone, there might be other genes involved as well. You can find out in the Sardar.
I have a dozen questions for Jaros, but he answers none of them. All he will say is that the Sardar has given him his instructions and are observing to make sure they were carried out.
The rest of that day was exceedingly unpleasant one for me. I was given no breakfast, nor any chance to properly relieve my bodys morning needs. Instead I served as a footstool while ate a hearty breakfast from the top of what should have been my sleeping couch. Then he hustled me to a slavers house.
I refused to enter the circle of assessment voluntarily. Jaros solved the matter by hurling me within it like a rag doll. His full strength, which I had not encountered until the night before, is phenomenal. I tried to walk back out and the butt of a spear was jabbed into my abused abdominals. That doubled me over and his kick to my side finished me off. I lay naked inside the yellow ring while Jaros paid the slaver for branding and slave assessment services.
We left the slavers house and headed back to our quarters. Or rather I should say Jaros walked and I was carried over his shoulder trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. I had offered him kajira challenge for my freedom: I was getting desperate not to be taken to the Sardar as a rightless slave. The slaver had laughed. Jaros had simply declined. I own your slave papers. The matter was settled in Telnus. That had proved too much for me. I had launched a flying kick as his midsection. He didnt even bother to duck or turn. He simply absorbed my best shot, and gestured to the slavers men to rush me. I crumpled in abject defeat the instant one of them landed a solid blow to my midsection. The mans fist sank into me like I was now made of dough. If this tend continues I am ruined as a fighter.
I expected to be put to work in some way when we got home, but instead I was simply whipped until my bottom was red and tender and then spanked until I was blubbering like a baby. Jaros may not be Superman but I am not Wonder Woman anymore either. I am a woman completely in the power of a ruthless man who possesses several times my strength. As he spanked me I became fantastically aroused even without the influence of a passion goad.
That night when he took me, Jaros forced a series of slave orgasms from by mind and body. I fought against the first one for a long time but my rapist was tireless in the furs and skilled in judging my state of arousal. After I had yielded my body completely to his will, the rest of my slaves yieldings came easily. They overwhelmed me with their beauty and power but afterwards I silently wept in anguish, I am lost to myself. Hera, Athena, somebody, please help me.
We travel the following day from Thentis by tarn toward the plain at the base of Sardar Mountains. I am bound across his saddle as I was when we left Port Kar, but now there are no shackles with locks I can pick. I am tied with leather and wire capture ties. As we fly, Jaross hands idly stroke my body. I flinch every time he touches my belly button. Last night and yet again this morning, I was beaten there as part of his campaign to cripple the Amazon and unlock the passion slave. We are in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the southern Voltai foothills, when he suddenly gives the tarn the command to descend and land immediately.
Three other tarns follow us down, each with a rider in the helmet of a Warrior. Bound and gagged tightly, I can only watch helplessly as events unfold. We have been followed from Thentis. The men are bounty hunters. They seek a tall dark-haired outlaw with exceptional battle skills. They call her the Panther Woman. They order Jaros to sell me to them.
Jaros refuses gruffly. The woman is mine. I acquired her in Telnus. She was a display slave for the Ubar of Cos. I was his bodyguard and she was his gift to me for my faithful service. Go seek another.
I think not. She is a leader of panther girls, as is the woman I seek. I say you lie to claim the reward for yourself. The tall man who speaks is broad-shouldered, yet lean-faced. There is the look of death in his _expression. He has killed many times before. He has set himself to do so again.
No man calls Jaros of Tharna a liar, and walks away unbloodied. I grant you a chance to undo that mistake by apologizing.
I fear no man who allows his city to be ruled by women. Your challenge is accepted, man of Tharna. We will fight for the girl as well. That way, no one will say that you lost a battle of honor.
All my fights are fights of honor. I have declared my intention to challenge the very Priest Kings for this womans life and love. This is your final warning. You fight for your own life when you fight for the girl I love.
In ladys romances, the brave hero prevails over the villains by brains or skill or courage or some combination of the three. In comic books, someone like Jaros uses his great strength to flatten the miscreants. In this story the fight had a very different outcome. Jaros and the killer draw their swords. The others step away. I watch them cock their handheld crossbows and take aim. I scream through my gag and writhe frantically but Jaross attention is fixed entirely on his challenger.
Two crossbow bolts strike home into his chest and thigh. He turns in surprise and outrage and the third man runs him through from behind. My master cries outDiana, forgive and begins spitting blood. Two more bolts strike home and he falls unmoving to the ground. The men leave him there and approach our tarn. The fickle beast sits calmly until they arrive and allows them to groom its feathers. The lean-faced man mounts and we rise into the sky. I expect him to head back toward Thentis but he flies due West. I can do nothing to stop them. I am a slave in tight bondage; a prize of battle won by a ruthless killer.
SECTION III: DESPERATE PERILS; DESPERATE MEANS
PRINCESS:
0nce the tarn is back in the air, the bounty hunter leans forward and loosens the gag in my mouth. I need all the information I could get about my destination and route so I ask,Where are you taking me?He is under no obligation to answer, of course, yet with Jaros dead or dying it becomes especially vital that I reach or contact the Sardar as soon as possible.
I am not taking you to Lydius, kajira. My comrades thought you were the Panther Woman but I know better. You are bound for Cos, a place where they will pay 1200 gold tarns for the return of the princess of panther girls. I am instructed to inform you that a certain warrior of Jad wishes to renew his acquaintance with the Princess of Themyscira. Does that message make any sense to you?
Yes, Master. I make a great deal of sense, I replied woodenly, suddenly terrified as I had never been in my life. The Ubar of Cos is a sadist. He either plans to disfigure me so that he can secretly continue to torment me, or I face the most painful and publicly degrading death his ingenuity can devise for me. I hope you are pleased with what you have done, bounty hunter.
I am quite pleased, murderess. Your bounty is the largest anyone will ever collect for catching a runaway kajira. I am equally pleased that she has proved to be as beautiful and clever as I was told. Your antics with the mercenary have been quite entertaining to observe these past days. I have been stalking you since before you left Port Kar. Its a shame you make such an excellent fighting slave. I would have enjoyed your use during our journey.
I doubt that you are man enough for me, anyway, I taunt him.You are more merchant than warrior, more urt or sleen than man. I have known the use of a larl among warriors. You remind me of the greedy weaklings of Earth, thinking seldom of pride and honor, only of gold and silver.
He does not respond to my gibe with words, nor does he touch me sexually as I was hoping and expecting. Instead, he flips a dial on his tarn goad and touches the glowing rod to inner thigh, then to my breasts, and then to the side of my face. Sparks fly from the point of contact and the pain is terrible. I scream so loud that it startles the tarn. I am still sobbing and moaning when the gag is thrust back between my teeth.
I weep in pain, terror, and despair for the better part of an Ahn. I could not stop my tears and sobbing. I, Princess Diana of Themyscira, once the finest warrior of a warrior people, was a bound slave without even my Amazons tolerance for pain. I was helpless to stop this treacherous murderer from taking me back to the human monster who had delighted in abusing, humiliating, and humbling me. I would be delivered to a master who had taken great pleasure in forcing a red-hot needle though my clitoris, a sodomite who had delighted in my cries of fear and pain as he and his soul mates took turns raping my bound and helpless body. I dreamed of going back to Cos at the head of an army, or carrying a machine gun, or perhaps in the stealthy mode of a ninja assassin, yet the mere thought of being a slave girl there again was enough to make me tremble in raw terror.
Now it is my fate to go there bound over the back of a tarn. If only this bounty hunter would land and use me I might have some chance of escaping that unthinkable fate. He is wary of me, and the cruel irony of the situation is that there is no need for such caution. I cant fight him. I have only a tall womans strength left and my abdominals have crumpled under Jaros relentless pounding; the slightest jab there will double me into a protective ball. I cannot take punishment like an Amazon anywhere else either. The woman across the tarns saddle is simply a kajira. She has no weapons but her own beauty.
Suddenly I realized how stupid I was being. I had thought to taunt my capture to my use when I should have been seducing. I think of Luma and the lessons and lectures she had given me.3My decision made, I do all I can to remember my dream from my last night in Port Kar.
I awakened in Ka-Els arms. We are flying northward. My hands and feet are cuffed together tightly. He had beaten me into submission to him with blows to my back, breasts and belly. He had slapped my face once for my insolence, but afterwards he took care to preserve his slaves beauty. At the end of my beating his irresistible fists had sunk into my body as if my muscles offered no more resistance than the resilient mounds of my breasts.
When at last I had kissed his feet as he commanded, he had taken my body on the floor, as one takes a slave. I had responded to his use as a slave girl responds to her Master. Now we fly to his Fortress of Solitude where his secret prisoner will serve him as his passion slave.
Bounty Hunter:
Tarkaron of the Assassins had chuckled as he listened to the runaway kajiras sobbing. He had received such detailed warnings about this panther girl that he could scarcely believe that this oversized passion slave was the same woman. Yet she had confirmed it herself. That had been foolish. She would have done better to have claimed to be the Panther Woman who stole the Home Stone of Lydius. The High Councils sentence of impalement would be over in a matter of a few Ehn.
Someone had beaten this slave before him with great force, her abdomen was a mass of deep purple bruises, and yet her face was untouched except for the burn from his tarn goad. Her breasts were the finest he had ever seen: great cones of white flesh with small aureoles and long nipples. Her waist is incredibly small given the size of her hips and shoulders. Her perfect complexion is a lightly tanned shade of alabaster everywhere on her body except her for the rich red of her mouth and the darker pink lips at the base of the delta of dark curls at her loins.
He looks closer and sees a glistening of moisture on those nether lips. Out of curiosity he uses his left hand to touch her there. She begins squirming in her bindings more violently yet what he thought were stifled sobs have become definite moans of passion. Her body surges against his hand. Her clitoris is enlarged and pulsing with her heartbeat. She moans loader through the gag. Intrigued, he starts to masturbate her more thoroughly.
Twenty Ehn later, Tarkaron can hold back his own need no longer. He pulls on the strap which commands the great bird-like creature to land. His erection is demanding that it be plunged into the tightest, softest, slickest cunt he has ever encountered. His lips are dry with their desire to suckle those fabulous hard nipples of their secretions. He will milk the slut, squeezing her ample teats so hard and skillfully that she spurts into his mouth while he pumps that fabulous pussy of hers.
She might have been a dangerous warrior once, but her previous master had clearly reduced her to just a slut in a collar. Tarkaron has never used one of Ars bred passion slaves before, they were rare and expensive. But he knows the stories about them, of their legendary responsiveness and stamina. This one is big, but she has the same form and features as Sura of the House of Cernus. He will use this one to her limits and then resume his journey.
Princess:
I look at the tarn and seek within myself for the courage of my former life. Even without your powers,I remind myself, you are Diana of the Amazons, a trained warrior of Themyscira.I am wearing the scarlet of a Gorean Warrior. Though he was of the Black Caste, my captor masqueraded as a warrior if it suited his purposes. I wear the helmet and carry the shield and sword of a warrior. My hair is carefully coiled up on top of my head. I will approach the Tarn with accoutrements and scent of a man of war. The tarn is still saddled and bridled, all I need now is the courage to get close enough to use the tarn goad, and the cooperation of Jaros tarn.
Tarns are intelligent creatures,Jaros had told me as we flew together. They cooperate with men the way your elephants do; it is the path of least resistance once they are trained. Yet like circus cats, they remain essentially wild creatures. They can be friends, but never pets. They demand and receive respect or they turn hostile. When I had approached this same creature armed with a spear and dressed in forest camouflage it had threatened to strike at me with its beak. I had been an Amazon then, but I had backed away in fear. Now I face it as a fully human woman carrying weapon and shield.
Suddenly I laugh. Human warriors had ridden this creature. They were only males trained in combat skills. I am now physically somewhat weaker than many of them, yet I had still been born and raised as a warrior just as they had been. I had even studied and mastered the martial arts of Bruce Lee; we had sparred together prior to his tragic death. I was a human woman, but I was more than a match for any normal man in battle. I had simply been over-matched against on man even with my Amazon powers and I had let that fact shake my confidence. I am injured at the moment, but the tarn has no way of knowing how badly or of taking advantage of my present weakness. I carry steel and a tarn goad. I advance as a warrior of my city.
The tarn lowers it head to me and I pat its great beak affectionately. You have a new name,I tell it. You are now Hermes, a god of the Air. We must fly swiftly my friend, swiftly indeed.I climb into the saddle and pull on the one-strap as Jaros had described for me when he had been under the influence of the golden rope. The tarn spreads its wings and then lurches into the air. I almost fall from the saddle. In my haste to return to Jaros I had forgotten to buckle the saddle belt.
I had escaped from the assassin with unexpected aid. He had been standing over me gloating. He had used my body again and again while I concentrated my thoughts on a fantasy that Ka-El had me in this power. I had rendered Superman as succession of slave orgasms without fully contenting my rapist. Then it finally occurred to me to beg my new master to stop. I pleaded exhaustion and the vain bastard believed that he had outlasted an Amazon. He had me finish him with my mouth then stood there in front of me bragging that he was still hard. His body vaporized in a pillar of blue flame.
My hands had been cuffed behind me in standard slave bracelets. I couldnt break them but it was a simple matter to pull them beneath my buttocks and begin picking the locks with the tool I keep concealed in my curly hair. I had done this the night Jaros thought his newly submitted slave was well secured hand and foot. This time I had the advantage of knowing exactly how the locks worked. The Priest Kings had saved my life; there had to be a reason. Either they needed me to get to the Sardar Mountains or they needed me to return to Jaros. I recognize that my captor Tarkaron had died the instant he had stepped away from my body when it was not tied with ropes. From this slim evidence I reason that there is urgency involved in whatever mission they have for me.
I have my own priorities. Jaros is probably long since dead but he had loved me, truly loved me. It was a Goreans love for his slave girl but it was a powerfully compelling emotion that I could respect. He wanted to cherish and protect me as well as give me almost unimaginable pleasure with his body during sex. For some reason he was afraid to tell me why I was only safe as his slave. The Priest Kings knew the reason and refused to let him tell me.
For my part, I was in love with the magnificent bastard. He was the ultimate Gorean Male Chauvinist Pig and yet I adored the very attributes that would make him and anachronism in the USA. The ultimate alpha male, Jaros presented much that I fought against for so many years, and yet at the same time he was generous and honorable to a fault and courageous to the point of fool-hardiness. He was a warrior of Gor, absolutely true to his Codes and I could not but respect and admire that almost as much as I lusted for his body.
I could have wished for a better sense of humor, but then I have often wished the same about Superman. Until fairly recently Ka-El was just as super serious as his Clark Kent persona, only marriage to Lois had begun to loosen him up enough to be a good mate for an Amazon. My people love to laugh and are fond of playing gentle tricks on one another.
I want to fly directly to where the bounty hunters had left Jaros to die, but I do not know the way. Instead I will fly within sight of Thentis and head toward the Sardar just as Jaros had directed the tarn to do earlier in this day. That is my best chance of flying the same route through the Voltai range. I pray to Hera and Athena that terrain I glimpsed while my eyes were upside down will look familiar from on top of a tarns saddle.
Mercenary:
Jaros remembers the sudden pain of the sword thrust in his back but he feels nothing; the pain is walled out of his conscious mind. He remembers seeing the sword point emerge from his belly, but that no longer matters. The control net is in charge of his body. Jaros of Tharna is a sleeping spectator.
His heart and respiration rates have dropped to just short of a complete halt. His body temperature is falling but the net keeps this nervous system warm enough to prevent deterioration. He lives on despite wounds that should have killed him well over an hour ago. He is a cybernetic organism and the best science of two advanced races is working to keep him alive for the present, at least.
Somewhere in the mercenarys genetic lineage is a being who walked a series of planets as a God of legend and Myth. Though his body was humanoid in countenance he possessed powers to awe a more primitive mankind into worshipping him. He accepted that worship and the bodies of his female worshippers, for despite his alien origin he remained a primate with lust in his thoughts for the fairest women of Earth and Gor. His seed fertilized their wombs profligately so that his offspring would more quickly come to dominate lesser Homo Sapiens. He had performed that function on a dozen Planets before Earth and he expected to continue to do so as his people had long since found a way to stop or reverse the aging process.
Though it has been eight millennia since he and his fellow Founders walked on the face of Gor, his progeny still compete successfully for wealth, power, and the incredibly beautiful and passionate women Ares compatriots had created by their skills at gene splicing. With their greater strength and speed, heightened senses, and sexual vigor, the members of Caste of Warriors with certain bloodlines continue to dominate Gor. Jaros of Tharna is one such warrior. The great-grandson of the being known by the people of Greece as Ares now subconsciously uses a vestige of his ancestors mental powers to prolong his life.
As he waits for help that may not come soon enough, Jaros seems to be dreaming. Dianas voice resonates in his mind, not as sound but as mind-to- mind transfer of thought. When he had touched her in Telnus, and then again in Port Kar, there had been times when he knew what she was thinking with crystal certainty. When they had made love it was as if he could feel her pleasure with her and she could feel his sensations as well as her own. Often when had taken her into his arms after a night of the Ubars abuse, he had been briefly sharing her sorrow or despair. It required an act of will to cut the connection so he could offer words of hope and comfort.
This time Dianas thoughts are targeted specifically at him. They are no louder than a whisper to him, but with the Priest Kings net in control of his body Jaros has no sensory input to distract him. Diana is willing him to persevere, to survive somehow until she gets to him. She is assuring him that she loves him, and can forgive anything if only he will not leave her loveless and friendless on Gor.
The warrior from Tharna imagines his beautiful, courageous and resourceful love at the mercy of giant golden insects. Anger mixed with fear awakens him to his surroundings. He tries to move his body and finds that it does not respond. The Sardar controls it, he thinks. Inspired by a ridiculous stray though, he wills his leg to move by simply thinking at it. His foot twitches. He sees it move with his eyes but does not feel his muscles contracting.
He wonders if he is conscious but under the control of the net, or simply dreaming that he is controlled yet conscious. He decides it does not matter. In his mind he visualizes the punctures in his body beginning to close and heal. He visualizes his bone marrow making new red cells at a fantastic rate. He knows that Diana used to be able to do these things without conscious thought. He knows She is my cousin, or my aunt several times removed. Maybe what works for her can work for me? I have no bracelets suppressing my latent powers.
He understands that time is passing. In fact, he can sense his slow heart beat. Yet he feels no impatience now. Jaros has achieved the trance-like state warriors are taught in puberty but which few of his caste master as well as Jaros. His body rests and heals while his mind focuses on what his eyes and ears and nose are sensing. Somewhere in these wilds of the Voltai range is a larl, Gors greatest predator. He had heard its cry of triumph at a kill before he lost consciousness earlier. Now the meadow is unnaturally silent. That is troublesome. In a different state of mind he would find it cause for real worry, even fear. At the moment, his conclusion that the larl is close by and stalking something is merely a disturbance in his serenity.
Suddenly the serenity is replaced by the strangeness he always feels when the Sardar relinquishes control. Climb a tree comes the mental direction he knows so intimately. The larls heat signature is approaching your location. It will arrive before your kajira reaches you with her tarn.
He has questions he would like to ask but there is no time. It hurts terribly to move and he is short of breath because of his punctured lung. Yet despite that, his bionic limbs still move him toward a suitable tree. Only one leg works properly, but he is ten feet up the tree by the time the tawny-colored King of Gorean Beasts stalks into the meadow. After that, adrenaline pushes him quickly higher still. The larl is nearly twenty feet long and almost ten feet high at the shoulders. Jaros wishes he had chosen a bigger tree.
He reiterates that wish as the tree sways from a swat by the paw of the larl. Jaros clutches the trunk with arms and legs and hangs on for his life. The larls up-stretched paw was only two feet away. Branches below are breaking under the beasts great weight as the cat-like creature tries to climb after its intended prey. Larls do not climb trees as sleen do, but there is no physiological explanation for that generality; they simply get so big that there is a shortage of suitable trees.
The larl backs away and leaps. Its front paws snag their claws on the branch supporting Jaross buttocks and it breaks under the strain. Slowly yet inexorably, Jaros begins to slip downward into the range of the larls teeth and claws. He does not think of his own death at that moment; he simply despairs that Diana will end up at the mercy of those in the Sardar with paranoia about panther girls. She will be killed, dissected, or otherwise neutralized in some permanent way.
To be continued
Before reading the concluding chapters, the reader might want to also read either Under the Shadow of the Bat by Wardall Clark or A CAT AND FIDDLE: A Cat and a Bat on Gor by Theodoric of York.
The ending of that tale of Batgirl on Gor ties into THE PRINCESS AND THE MERCENARY: Wonder Woman on Gor-Story Two-part Two
1This is part of the action in Mr Xs The Domination of Wonder Woman. The Magic lasso may not have been directly involved.
2The Gorean name for the being known as Ares is something different. The author has elected to use only the Greeks names in referring to Gods and demi-gods from Amazonian mythology.
3This story is part of Diana and the Ubar by Wardall Clark. Luma is an experienced slave girl who trains other girls in kajira skills.