A Game of Girl Catch – Part I

First Meeting

When I first saw her, she was using the name zurina. It was easy to tell at a glance that she was new, a little nervous, but definitely searching for her master. She was curious about this place where men were not afraid to be men, and women were expected to be docile and pleasing. Her deepest fears and greatest desires were about to surface and force her to see what she truly was.

I drew her aside to an alcove and spoke with her, determining if she were truly what she seemed to be, or if she were yet another of the many players that wandered the realm of the Den. I had time and the patience to use it. She responded well to the light array of questioning that I used.

“Do you know what this place is?”

“It is Gor, Master.”

“Do you understand what is expected of you here?”

“Yes, Master. To please you, Master”

“You are aware of the dangers related to some of the people here?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Have you had a master before?”

“No Master.”

She was new, unharmed, uncollared, emotionally unscarred, and completely trusting. It was as if she knew that I would be there waiting for her when she came to surrender herself to a master. It was at this moment that I knew that I must nurture and protect her until the flower of her slavery bloomed and called to her. She was as yet not ready for the passions and pleasures that her own body was demanding from her. To be owned fully and completely is not something that is learned overnight. She was a barbarian, coming from a culture that spurned the type of servitude that she was seeking. There would be costs and dangers that she would have to face if she was to come to what she wanted; a kajira, the female pleasure slave, owned by a master, expected to serve perfectly in all that she does for him.

I commanded her to stand before me. She did so. I stood from my cross legged position and slowly paced around her, studying the lines of her body beneath the silk. It was cut rather long, almost to the knees, but it did not hide the sweet swell of her breasts or the curves of her hips. I determined that she was very beautiful.

“Remove your silks.”

She reached to her left shoulder and pulled the clasp loose. Her silks slid willingly to the floor about her feet. Her skin became alive with goose bumps either from the cool air or from being exposed to the eyes of a master. Her breasts hung sweetly above the flat of her belly. The areolas were large and rounded, the nipples dancing like tiny candies ready to be eaten. Her skin was fair and gave a soft shimmer from the candles about the alcove. Her hips were gently rounded and tapered well to her unbranded thighs. She was more beautiful than expected. She might make a very pleasing kajira. I would know for sure soon.

I walked softly around behind her. Her back was unmarked, the lines were clear and firm. Her buttocks rounded like a ripe peach. Her hair was cut short as many women from warmer climates do. It would grow in time.

“Do you know the position, veck?”

“No, Master.”

“I will teach you then.”

I stepped a bit closer speaking softly, telling her what to do. Her body moved ever so slightly as I spoke. I could tell the fires were stirring inside of her. She had never been subjected to this type of treatment, yet she was becoming aroused.

“Clasp your hands behind your neck and pull your elbows back in plane with your shoulders.”

I watched the outline of her body rise and expose the curvature of her breasts. Her shoulders were trim and firm.

“Spread your feet shoulder width apart, raise your chin slightly and look straight ahead.”

I watched her buttocks flex as her foot position moved, her calves, well shaped, were relaxed and tempting. Yes, she would look well in chains serving at the feet of her master.

“I am going to touch you and inspect you completely. I will not harm you. Do not move.”

“Yes, Master. I trust you, Master.”

I gripped her wrists at the back of her neck from behind. They were small, but strong. I squeezed them tightly for a moment to guage her reaction. She was still for an ehn as if in shock then her breath quickened and her body quivered; not from fear but from arousal. I loosened my grip and ran my fingers out along her arms and down the upper portion of her arms to her shoulders. I could see goosebumps following the lines of my fingers. Her body was betraying her. I flattened my hands and felt the lineaments of her back. The skin was soft and tender, the muscles well defined but not hardened. I could feel her breathing through her rib cage. My hands slid slowly down her back to rest on her flanks. I kneaded them gently, lifting one at a time or both, squeezing them. They were firm. She had the hot responsive ass of a slave girl. She would respond well to spanking and the whip. She began to moan softly, her breathing becoming deeper. I could smell her arousal.

I lowered myself to my knees and let the backs of my fingers drift down the backs of her thighs.. over her calves.. turning my hands to grip her ankles firmly. I could feel her fighting to stand still. Her body wanted to collapse in ecstasy but she had been commanded not to move. Her ankles were dainty but strong enough to support her. They felt good in my hands. I began to stand again, loosening my grasp and turning my hands to run up the front inside of her legs. My arms were about her. Her knees trembled when my fingers touched them. Goosebumps raced up her thighs as my fingers traced lines toward her heat. She began gasping lightly. I parted my hands and ran them up the soft skin about her hips, across her belly and brought them to rest at her breasts. One engulfed in each hand, weighing them, testing the firmness. She was a fine specimen of a female, one that it would be a pleasure to own. I rolled her nipples gently between my fingers. She shook, it was hard for her to stand. I had to support her somewhat. The fires ran through her body hotter than she had ever experienced before as a free woman. She was gasping, her eyes had closed tightly.

I desisted and held her until she could stand again. There was only one other test. I walked around before her and looked into her eyes. She remained silent, but, her eyes pleaded with me to show her no mercy. There were warm red splotches all over her naked body. I reached to her throat with my left hand and held her enough to keep her from falling, not enough to keep her from breathing. I placed two of my fingers to her lips, sliding them inside to wet them with her tongue. She opened her mouth and sucked willingly on my fingers. I withdrew them slowly. She looked into my eyes. She was now ready. I placed my wetted fingers between her thighs and pushed them into her deeply, lifting her from her heels, only her toes able to touch the ground. I watched as her eyes winced shut and she gasped deeply, her body began to writh spasmodically as I held her. She moaned as I moved my fingers against the walls of her pussy. She was wet. She had been juicing since I had first begun to touch her. She would not be able to help herself at the hands of a master. She would soon wear a collar. I removed my fingers from her pussy and licked them while I held her until she could again stand. She tasted wonderful. There was a sweetness and a lingering fluidity to her juices. I released her throat gently.

“You may kneel.”

“Thank you, Master.”

She knelt before me, her breathing accelerated, her body quivering with excitement and she was grateful to be allowed to rest at kneel.

“You will not submit to another until you have seen and spoken to me again. You may don your silks.”

“Thank you, Master.”

I decided that, if she came searching for me again, I would collar her and train her. She was paga hot and a natural kajira. She belonged at the feet of a strong and deserving master. Perhaps it was not me, but, she should be trained to wear his collar well, whoever he was.

“When you desire training, zurina, seek me out again.”

“I will, Master.”

I led her out of the alcove and watched her go before leaving the Den myself. There was no doubt in my mind that she was a natural kajira. I would see her again. It was only a matter of time before the need in her grew.

– Jonrhus of Gor –