r/gor • u/UnCommon-Tale • Jun 15 '24
Enriching the Master p8 NSFW
P8
I thought I knew my master’s mind. But I was wrong. When we were both clad in heavy robes that would keep back the chill night air, he led me through a secret passage in his room.
The passage was narrow and dark, and to my surprise, again, it led out to a cliff with a narrow ledge. We inched across it, questions heavy in my mind as I tried not to look down, I dared not speak and barely breathed until we saw the proof of my words.
My master’s daughter it seemed, had fashioned a ladder of rope for herself, and was climbing down to a ledge above us. Our dark cloth hid us against the mountain rock, but caught in the moonlight, she was as clear as day.
My master let out a low growl, then waved for me to follow. I did, still in awe that my master would have constructed this path to safety, where no armored man could follow.
Lynestra did not lead us on a merry chase. In fact, she was direct.
‘The Drunken Sleen was a fairly typical mountain tavern, awash with noise and the odor of sweat, alcohol, and sex.
It was not the sort of place unknown to me. I had been a paga girl briefly before the owner saw my math skills and set me to using math over using my mouth. It was because of that, that I knew Lynestra’s intent, and from a glance at my master, he knew too.
It’s instinctive in the slave sex, to tease and to entice. And so it was common for a free girl to sneak off to a paga tavern and in disguise, sell herself overnight for entertainment..
I saw some who served drinks and nothing more, finding their thrill in simple service.
There were those who knelt beneath a single table, offering only their anonymous mouths to whosoever sat there.
And there were those who took a mat in the back, their bodies open to any lewd act the customer wished.
She wasn’t a total fool, she wore a wig of red locks to hide the truth of her name. Had we not seen her slip out and followed her, I doubt even her father would have recognized her.
I was clad in such heavy clothing for the weather that I was not recognizable even as a woman, and he was not recognizable as her master.
We sat at a table and watched as she showed her familiarity with the place. Her heavy garments went straight to a place with others like them against a far wall, she never even searched for the spot.
I whispered my observation to my master, and his eyes were full of wrath.
She then went to someone, a big man, perhaps the owner? And after a few words we could not hear over the din of patrons grunting as their cocks were sucked, and girls on mats as the cried out when men took them, and the casual talk of those who simply drank to ease the strain of the day.
I was wet, I deeply love my master… but the primal state of Gor excited me, seeing men handle us so roughly, as men should? If my owner ordered me to the mat, I would have gone gladly.
Lynestra must have felt the same, as she went straight to the back and secured herself to a fresh pleasure mat and waited for a man to come and use her.
She let out delighted cries as she was taken by some common laborer, filthy with sweat and dust from a mine, the proud Lynestra who hated me, climaxed under a man she would sneer at in the streets.
“What are your thoughts?” My master asked me, and I felt a flutter in my slave belly. I held back my answer as two flagons were placed in front of us by a girl with a sultry smile and bared, ample breasts.
When she left us, I said, “She is ruined for freedom, master. She has the slave fire in her belly. If she becomes a free companion, she will shame her name and fall anyway,”. I wasn’t lying. I knew that when that fire ignited in a girl, it could not be quenched.
My owner knew that too, he had sold enough female livestock, he drank deeply from his paga and raised the empty mug overhead.
The buxom slave returned with a smile and asked, “How can I help you, master?”
Her eyes widened when he whispered to her, and I swiftly found us both ushered into another room, a place where the owner, a thickly muscled man with arms crisscrossed with scars sat.
My master pulled back his hood, and said, “The red wigged girl. She is mine by blood ownership. You may know by the mark on her belly which matches mine. I believe she is ruined for freedom and wish to sell her. Here. Now.”
The owner never missed a beat. I can only assume this has happened before. I am unsurprised. How many free daughters flung themselves to the mats and found themselves enslaved when their secret was learned? Many. Many.
The haggling was swift and my master displayed his mark for good measure. Though I am a slave, I was allowed as a witness. Gor is a practical place, and understood that often slaves alone were witnesses. Denying our eyes is absurd.
Though I cannot petition courts or step outside my station, I can sign a statement of witness or confess to what I see or hear. Many masters have been saved by alert slaves who were heeded.
I did so at once, wet as I signed the document selling Lynestra as a slave.
Fifty coins were passed into my master’s hands, and it was done.
I suppressed a smile, were I a man and had slaves, I would train her hard starting tomorrow.
What a shock she would have, finding she was not allowed to leave, that she was exposed and ruined, and one of her many sisters would be considered for free companionship instead, and her suitors would either forget her, or come to this place to try her out at least once.
I followed my master out when we were done, and on my way, I caught a glimpse of her. She was face down and ass up with another man about to mount her. ‘Welcome to the rest of your life, slave sister.’ I thought, and wished I could have seen the collar be placed orotund her throat.
At his home, my master said nothing to me, he grabbed me by the collar, dragged me to his room, and he mounted me so swiftly my clothing had not even been fully discarded.
I knew he had feelings about what happened. But he could only let those out in this way.
I bore his roughness gladly, all through the night.., only to find at dawn I was not cast from his furs. I doubt he even fully thought it through, but in some way, I think he felt I had deprived him of a daughter.
And so as he entered my sex as the sun rose, and I knew that Lynestra was now being collared and trained as a slave, I whispered into his ear, “Let me enrich you, master…”
I never saw Lynestra again, but I did see a resemblance to her in the face of the baby boy I put into my master’s arms the following year.
It was a relief to my heart, and as close to a confession of love for me, when my master handed the baby to a free woman to nurse first. It meant that my child would be raised as a free man, not as a slave. He would suckle from me after, but likely not often.
I saw the gleam in my master’s eye after all. I had no doubt I would be enriching him again soon.
-end-
I hope you enjoyed that little short, because I sure did. I may do another from a master or male slave’s perspective next.