Renegades of Gor - Selected Highlights.

She was small, naked and cuddly. Her thigh, as I determined, in turning her about, and caressing her, first, by feel, and then in a flash of lightning, wore the common Kajira brand, the small, delicate "Kef," for "Kajira," sometimes called the staff and fronds, suggesting beauty subject to discipline. On her neck, beneath the coils of the heavy, padlocked chain, was a common, close-fitting Gorean slave collar.

"Alas," she wept softly, in misery, in frustration, "my ankles are chained!"

I gathered she might not have been a slave long.

"Oh!" she cried, softly.

I thrust up her legs and slipped between them, and then her legs were tight about me, I within their chained circuit. I lifted her up, and lowered her. "Ooh," she said, softly. She clutched me.

The storm was fierce.

Then, after a time, I lifted her up and slipped back, freeing myself.

There are various ways, of course, to use a woman whose ankles are bound. I had utilized one of them.

"Redeem me," said the second woman. "I am of high caste. Consider the glory of redeeming a woman of high caste!"

"The slave," I said, "has no caste, no more than a verr or tarsk."

The woman cried out in misery, helpless in the shackles.

"I am shapely, and blond," said the third woman, suddenly. "Redeem me!"

"Slave!" chided the fifth woman.

"Slave!" retorted the third.

The following night an attempt had been made on my life in the Tunnels, one of the slave brothels of Ludmilla, from which the street called the Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla is named.

The warder now began to castigate her, and subject her to incredible verbal abuse, of the sort to which free women often subject slave girls. The Lady Claudia, on the other hand, though not enslaved, did not seem to mind. She was beginning to understand, dimly, it seemed, what the nature of bondage might be for a female. The sterner I was with her the more she seemed to enjoy it. The stricter I was with her the more she loved it. When I would cuff her from me she would crawl back to my feet, kissing them. Treated as a woman, and finding herself in male power, she would look up at me, with love, awe and gratitude in her eyes.

"You are protecting me," she said. "You are sheltering me. You are a true gentleman! You pretend not to be, but you are a true gentleman! Oh! No! What are you doing? I am on my belly! Only a slave is had in this position! No! Oh! Oh!"

"Do you still think I am a gentleman?" I inquired.

"It was the justice of Ar's Station," said Aemilianus.

"Look upon her," I said. "Does not impalement in this case seem a waste of slut?"

Lady Claudia, a free woman, gasped, so spoken of. Yet, too, she shuddered with pleasure in her chains, realising that she had been found worthy by a man to have so familiar, vulgar and exciting an expression, and doubtlessly appropriately, applied to her.

"The question," said Aemilianus, "is not so much the suitability of the female for 'helpless-slut' status as one of justice."

"Do you have anything to say before I pass such sentence upon you?"

"No," she said.

"I sentence you to slavery," he said, uttering the sentence.

She trembled, sentenced.