A Game of Girl Catch – Part III
Collared
The girl knelt before me with her crossed wrists bound by the cloth belt from my tunic. She was no longer free, and yet, somehow she looked happy and even more beautiful. Perhaps it was the release of the stress when her internal battle between slave girl and free woman was finally won. Her submission had once and for all destroyed the free woman and, in effect, freed the woman within. Legally, she was now my property. Her submission had been accepted when she was bound. I had not yet seen fit to unbind her. She was very pretty as she was kneeling as a submitted bound slave before her new master.
I turned and walked back to the hearth where I had discarded a broken sword belt. It had torn at the soft end of the strap where the holes were punched for the buckle. It was now too short to serve to support the sword that hung over my shoulder on journeys about town. However, with the short work of a quiva, a shortened length of the belt would serve as a fine leather collar for this new slave girl. I turned sharply and snapped, “Kajira!”
The girl started briefly. Her body tensed for a moment and then relaxed beautifully, “Yes, Master?”
“What is your name, kajira?”, I spoke with an inquisitive tone.
“Master has not seen fit to give a girl a name yet”, she pouted.
Her feeling was genuine when she spoke. She fully realized that I could name her as I pleased. Her name could be changed with my mood and any name given was only a slave name. I knew for a fact that her name had been zurina, at least, that had been the name that she used during previous meetings. That now made no difference. She was no longer zurina. She was only a nameless slave girl.
“Hold your chin up so that I may better see your throat, girl”, I spoke with a practiced tone. She quickly and quietly obeyed showing her delicately tender throat. She would take a small collar. I drew the quiva from under my tunic and measured the circle of leather about my hand to the buckle. A well applied slice seperated the useless excess of the strap and formed a clean edge of new leather. The properly placed point of the quiva removed a small amount of leather to serve as an anchor for the hasp of the buckle. I turned and closed the leather loop in my hands and pulled it firmly to test its strength. It would serve its purpose well.
As I re-opened the collar, I began thinking about names for this slave girl. She was a very pretty slave, young, sweet, juicy, and very hot. Her name should roll off of the tongue and into the furs.
I approached her and placed the collar firmly about her throat, closing the buckle, and then giving a harsh tug pulling her against my thighs. I stared down into her now wide eyes and said, “Kajira, I name you Talia. Now you are a collared kajira.”
“This collar does not even have a lock, Master”, she protested.
I answered with a glare, “It is good enough for a slave girl. If you remove this collar, you will be whipped severely. Do you wish to be whipped, Talia?”
Her eyes lowered, “No, Master”.
“Then this collar does not need a lock does it, Talia?”, I observed.
“No, Master, it does not”.
I set her gently back down on her heels so she was kneeling as before. She adjusted her position subtly and straightened her posture to better display herself and her new collar. She truly shone with life.
“You look to be happy, kajira. Tell me why.”
She replied, “The collared kajira Talia belongs to you, Master. It is what this girl needs and wants. I love you, Master.”
– Jonrhus of Gor –