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Friday, November 11, 2016

DREAMS OF GOR




By Christopher Leeson

Revised 11/13/16


Kalwa had taken a strategic spot by the bar, under the the chandelier lights, which would show off her red cocktail dress.  had been there for about an hour, waiting patiently, like a hunter in a blind.  Like a hunter, she needed to keep her wits, so made her champagne last, barely sipping from her glass.  The young brunette very much wanted to be seen, wanted to attract men.  The people around her -- the men, the women, the dominants, and subs -- none of them had impressed her so far.  They were only little fish; she believed that there must be a better catch in this very small pool. 

This was one of those bondage clubs that catered to erotic themes from popular culture.  Classical Greece and Rome popular on the S&M scene.  Kalwa's own favorite was the planet Gor, the universe made popular from a science fiction book series.  “Goreans” sought out like-minded people to act out bondage scenarios modeled on incidents in the pages of the adventure novels.  Kalwa had seen the promotional material in the Master's Club's brochure.  It welcomed Goreans and, infact, fan art, some of it very well done, decorated the lounge's walls.  Also, there were notices to the effect that costumes and specialty gear, such as barbarian slave collars, were available for rent. 

Millions of Earth people knew about Gor, but they had been led to believe that it was no more than a fictional world.  The stories told of an Earthman, Tarl Cabot, who had been abducted to Gor to serve the Priest-Kings -- the non-human race that ruled it.  He quickly becomes their favorite agent.  For some reason, the Priest-Kings deign to allow that Cabot's ongoing memoirs would be taken to Earth by their agents for publication.   

The authentic manner in which Cabot wrote out his adventures had made his memoirs very popular.  In particular, it was the Gorean tradition of “pleasure slavery” that had had engaged millions.  Over the course of fifty years, Gor enthusiasts created fan clubs all over the world.  Some, though certainly not all, were actual domination and bondage groups.
 
Kalwa, while she waited , occasionally stole glances at the other visitors.  She could pick out the newcomers by their nervous, forced  smiles.  Kalwa herself was not a first-timer, far from it.  This environment had set her at ease and she radiated a relaxed and confident air.  Hers was a calculated poise that attracted attention.  But she was not here to meet the common throng.  She had a quirk against male subs.  Submission was fine in a woman, but Kalwa hadn't needed to seek out females in recent years.  If women or submissive-looking men started to approach her, she would project a chilly signal to tell the person to go away.  

If, as occasionally happened, the hunting was very bad, a sub might do, but Kalwa was against settling for a consolation prize.  So far, her present trip had been extremely successful; she wanted to end it in a way that was up to her standards.  The brunette glanced up at the clock above the shelves of liquors.  There were about two hours left before the bar closed.  She frowned.  She might eventually be forced to throw in the towel and make contact with a submissive.  But she would only do so reluctantly.

The dimly-lit lounge smelled of cigarette smoke, beer, wine, and also the aroma of appetizers.  Hot wings, spinach dip, cheese, and crackers.  She started to think about a snack, but it was exactly then that a man stepped up close.  Kalwa regarded him.  Tall and vigorous-looking, his smart suit was expensively cut.  In truth, however, a man's appearance didn't actually matter to the young woman, as long as he appeared to be robust and healthy. 

“I've watched several men stop to speak to you, but you sent them all away,” he remarked.  “Waiting for someone in particular?”

She smiled.  “Yes, I am.  My type.”

He smiled back at her.  “Would you know your type if you saw him?”

“I have a talent for finding what I'm looking for.”
  
The stranger appropriated the stool beside her.  “I know what you mean,”  he said as he glanced around.  “Secretaries, lawyers, shop owners, accountants.  Tourists!  Most of these people are out for cheap thrills; they don't really understand the game.”

Apparently, there seems to be a lot of them.  The admission isn't exactly cheap,” Kalwa observed. 

Her companion nodded.  “Many first-timers can't get over their inhibitions.  They sit alone for a little while, drink too much, and then go home to read pornography.  They rarely come back.

“Let me guess, you're a dom.”

Bing!” he said.  “And you?”

“What do you think?”

“You have the air of a lady who does it both ways.”

Bing!” she conceded with a chuckle.

Kalwa was concentrating hard to bring his psychic aura into view.  Ah, there it was.  “Good, very good.” she thought.  This handsome young dom was sizing up to be exactly what she was looking for.

“That's an odd look,” the stranger observed.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you like it both ways, too.”

He shook his head.  “No, I like to smack, not be smacked.”

“Well, my instinct seems to have failed me for once.”

“Disappointed?”

“Not at all.”  And she wasn't.  His aura colors intrigued her. 

Kalwa beamed a body signal to express her interest.  He seized on the bait and took her left wrist.  Kalwa tested his hold with a slight tug.  He did not release his grip and that pleased her.  For a moment, the well-dressed dom just stood there, waiting for some word or sign to inform him where she wanted things to go from that point on.  After a moment, Kalwa inquired, “Do you intend to fish or cut bait?”

His kiss came hard, almost too hard.  The man, she noted, was not shy about public kissing.  In her sight, he exuded complete and total domination. Many men could fake such a thing; only a few actually possessed it.  Kalwa parted her lips and the unnamed – but very charismatic – man thrust his tongue into her mouth while clenching her hair with both fists.

Kalwa commenced kissing him in return, letting her own tongue dart between his teeth to tangle with his.  When she rested her palms against his broad chest, she felt the flex of hard muscles.  Body heat radiated through the fabric and she started imagining the two of them alone together, hot and sweaty, with slick flesh against slick flesh.

The fierceness of this first kiss gradually lessened, but he began biting her lower lip lightly, wanting to hear her cry out.  The slight pain was blending into sweet pleasure for her.  He tasted of breath mints; the intoxicants of being in the presence of prime maleness stimulated her.  He kept his grip on her scalp and, as his body grew tense with passion, the tug on her hair roots sharpened.

For a while, it seemed like the kiss would last forever.  When her companion finally drew back, Kalwa's lips tingled and moist; her breath was coming in small gasps.  “Your lipstick tastes like candy,” he said.
 
She straightened upon her stool.  “Like it?  Want to taste some more?”

“Most assuredly!”  This time the dom was more deliberate in licking the pigment off her lips.  When he had removed all he could, he eased back slowly, saying, “You're mine for the weekend.... What should I call you?”

“Try Kalwa.”

The stranger took another look at her.  “Hawaiian?  You don't look Polynesian.”

“I'm not; guess again.”

“You have an accent, but I can't place it.”

“I'm Gorean.”

His face lit with pleasant surprise.  “Ah, does that mean you're into...pleasure slavery?”

She raised her chin.   “I am very much into pleasure slavery.”

“Delightful.”

Kalwa touched her companion's hand.  “I haven't left my own slave collar and pleasure silk at home.  They're in my handbag.”

“Double delightful.”

“And you, are you a full Gorean?”

He pursed his lips.  “Since recently, but the more I've experienced it, the more I've liked it.”

“In that case, I only wish that it hadn't taken so long to meet you,” she replied.

“It's not all that late.  Hopefully, you are not an early-to-bed person.”

“I could be,” she replied slyly.  “It all depends upon whom I'm going to bed with.”

This naughty retort seemed to cheer him.  “Turn over control to me, my beautiful free woman,” he said.  He now released her hair and ran his fingers through Kalwa's shimmering tresses.  His touch sent tingles down her spine.  “What would you say about  giving pleasure?” he finally asked.

The beauty looked askance.  “Would I be allowed to do something novel enough to surprise you?”

He shrugged.  “Good surprises are welcome; bad ones will lead to...  Are you into paddling?”

Paddling or being paddled?”

What do you think?

“You like the paddle?  Don't you ever use the whip?”

He captured her glance and held it firmly.  “I would have to know you much better before we start talking about whipping.  Whips aren't for first dates.  Do you have any other fantasies that you'd like to experience tonight?”

“Of course.  Do you?”

He shrugged lightly.  “We'll go on a voyage of discovery.”

“I'm quite sure we will.  But you haven't told me your name yet...sir.  I'd like to put it into my diary.”

He shrugged again.  “It's Ned.”

“Noted.  Do you have a room here, Ned?”

"That I do."

#


Kalwa's burgundy-colored pleasure silks resembled, superficially, baby-doll pajamas.  Ned seemed to approve of her tastes.  “You put on a nice slave face,” he said.  “The way you do it makes you look like a harem dream, not a slut.” 

 "I've had a good deal of practice, master."

They'd been together for an hour and already Kalwa had retouched her lipstick several times, to satisfy Ned's sweet tooth.

So far, they had played a number of scenarios of master and pleasure slave.  At the moment, Kalwa was going down on him with abandon.  "That's it, baby,” he said.  She was working his shaft with her skillful hands while her tongue hungrily flicked his formidable length.  “Don't stop for a second,” he commanded her breathily.

Driven past the point of control, Ned he could barely speak.  “I'm going to come...swallow every drop!”  She glanced up briefly, while continuing to suck. 

“Now!  Get me off..  Come on, baby, you can do it!”

The girl's technique was expert.  Given up to pleasure, Ned's hips arch up and down in synch with the rhythm she'd established.  She had a temporary tattoo on her left hip to mark her a kajira, the Gorean name for "slave." Without being ready to, he suddenly lurched and his seed jetted.  Kalwa didn't pause a beat.  Instead, she lapped rapidly, trying to consume his every drop.

When the young man could take the marvel of her ministrations no longer, he lifted her slight weight and rolled her on her side.  His moist cock slid from between her lips.  Kalwa rose up on her haunches and wiped her mouth with a bare arm.

Ned got up his feet and tucked himself into a pair of leather pants. “Very good, Kalwa..  Come on.”  He helped her to rise and then guided her toward the bed.  “You have a talented mouth.”

“Thank you, master.”

If she allowed it, Kalwa knew that Ned would soon be “taking her in the furs.”  There were no actual furs in the bedroom, but oh, well.  

When they were at the foot of the bed, Ned stopped, released her hand, and said, “Kneel.”

The slave-clad girl did so.   

“Rest your face and forearms against the carpet; keep your lovely bottom in the air, Ned said.   Rather than obey, she shook her head.  This surprised her partner.  It was not usual for a sub refuse something if she wasn't using the agreed-upon “safe word.” 

“Don't be angry, Maser Ned,” she addressed him respectfully.

“Then what do you want to do?” he asked.

“Let's cuddle on bed together and just talk.  I want to know much better the fierce warrior at whose feet I kneel, branded and collared.  Oh, come, my sweet master.  I am already your love slave.”

He let himself grin and, taking her hand, he raised her up and guided her to lie on the satiny comforter upon the bed.  He got in beside her and they lay with their bodies close and their noses only inches apart.

“Do I make a good pleasure slave, master?” she asked with a smile.

“Hmmmm.  Very good.  Your submission is unusually intense, in particular for one who has never been enslaved before.  You must surely be a natural slave to show such a response.  In fact, I do not think that it shall take much training before a formerly free lady of Gor experiences true ignition.

She knew well that natural slavery was an instinctive susceptible response  to bondage.  Being ignited was an enhancing reaction.  It established a permanent, instinctive positive response to slavery.  These animal-brain, she understood, tended to soften the captive's response to what could sometimes be the harsh conditions of enslavement on Gor.   

She laughed softly.  “Many women are natural slaves, master.  Most do not know it, not until a strong and virile male has made them kneel abjectly before his irresistible power.”  She paused.  “May a slave speak?”  He gave consent.  “Did my master tell the truth when he said that he always acted the master and never the kajirus?”  She had used the Gorean word for a male slave.

He frowned.  “It 's true.”  He grabbed her then and brought her face close for a kiss.  She squirmed away before their lips touched.  Exasperated, Ned said, “Bad slave, I desire to taste those sweet lips again.”

She shook her head.  “Your own lips are red, and so is your tongue.  Master has had enough of sweets.  Maybe more  later.”

These words seemed to take her out of her role and it irked him  “You must...”  His statement was interrupted by a yawn.  “Must obey your master,” he concluded.

“I shall, master, but did not master agreed to talk first?”

Ned yawned again.  “Talk about what, lovely kajira?”

“Your slave is very curious.  Has my master ever had naughty fantasies about Gor, fantasies that are so sexy, so amazing, that he has never dared to act them out?”

“Everybody has fantasies like that,” he murmured.

“It's true.  I sometimes like to be a dom with a pleasing girl.  When I do, it makes my pleasure even more intense.  I even have fantasies are about being a dominant man.  I close my eyes and see myself taking some proud, free woman, perhaps an Earth girl, kissing her fiercely, fondling her breasts, and ordering her to strip.  If she does not obey, I teach to do so under the discipline of the whip.”

“Ahhh...nice thought," Ned said dreamily.  “But why would a woman so beautiful as yourself ever want to be a man?”

She made a tossing gesture.  "The physical power of the man is something that a woman can envy sometimes.  And just being a man yields pride and status.”

Ned nodded.  “On Gor men are allowed to be strong and they are able to claim the woman they want and then love her intensely; even if she wants to reject him, she can't.  It is a better world than ours.  Here, society takes the woman's side every time and men get to feel so resentful that they forget to be as kind to their women as they would otherwise  like to be. ”
“So a life on Gor would appeal to you?”

He yawned.  “In the books...the lives of the rich and the warlike seem very appealing indeed.”

“Yes, the high-caste men of Gor enjoy good lives.  But I have heard some males say that it is the women of Gor that they envy."

"Why?"  Ned seemed interested at such an idea.
 
"For their beauty and their lives of intense sensuality, or so they say.  They also suggest that it cannot be unpleasant to be a beautiful woman who is treated like a beautiful woman.

He frowned and said in mock-Gorean diction:  “Such unworthy thoughts would not occur to a true  male.”

“I suppose not.  But how can one tell when a man who appears lordly has a tender girl living secretly inside of him?  Has my own master never wondered what pleasures might be his if he were a girl who was abducted to Gor?”

He yawned , almost ready to nod off.  “Sometimes...."  He abruptly caught himself.  "Uh, no, I don't mean that!”

Her eyes grew bright.  “Do not be embarrassed, master.  I heard you say 'sometimes.'  Do not fib.  Pray, is it sometimes or never?”

Answering seemed hard for him, but at last he said, “Sometimes.”

Kalwa sat up, gleefully.  “I knew it!" 

“Noooo...” said Ned.  “It was...a joke.”

She decided not to press the issue.  Ned was looking very sleepy; she fell quiet and cuddled up to him until he dozed off.

#

While Kalwa waited, she thought thought about the next step.  Ned had tasted more than enough of the drugged lipstick she wore.  It had lowered his inhibitions enough to answer questions truthfully.  Unfortunately, he had proven too strong-minded to confess very much.  When she heard his sleeping breathing, she knew he was passing into a trance-like state.  It would be her chance to confirm what she suspected.

Kalwa was not of Earth.  The masters she served were the Kurii race.  The were technologically very advanced and had created the interrogation drug.

“Ned, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” he sighed, like one talking in his sleep.

“You must answer all my questions truthfully.  Tell me, when imagine yourself a girl, are you a pleasure slave of Gor?”

“Not always.”

“Do you have many other fantasies about being a girl?”

“A few.  Now and then.”

“How interesting; tell me the one you enjoy most, quickly.”

She had to urge him several times before he began speaking.  “The movie Total Recall...about a machine that gave the user dreamsRealistic.  Could see, feel, taste, smell...I go to the Recall clinic...ask for a fantasy. 

“What type of fantasy?”

“A man in control...lots of women to bang...lots of power...”

“What happens next?”

“A screw up...machine buffer doesn't clear... has the adventure a woman customer...kinky...fun.”

“Exciting!  What kind of fun?”

“Garish apartment.  Furniture brightly colored, tasteless.  Hands are small, slender.  Suit too big.  Body is changed.  Face; it feels wrong,  Hair hangs over my cheeks.  Reach back; there's too much of it. 

Go to the mirror. A woman there, a young...pretty.  This wasn't my fantasy.  Can't understand.  Someone starts speaking...behind me.”

Ned then went on to tell how a tall, powerful, black pimp grabs his character by the arm.  He tells the girl that he wants her for his “stable.”   When he tells her to strip, she refuses.  He has his several “wife-in-laws” take off her male clothes.  Afterwards, they give her a bath and put slutty makeup on her face.  At last they sprinkle her with a florid scent and put her into a little nighty.

The pimp tries to kiss her, but she fights.  He throws her over his knee and he has a flat-backed hairbrush.  The man starts spanking her and the girl really does feels it.  She yells and kicks and finally surrenders.  He pushes her onto the bed and she lets him kiss her; she feel his hands all over her body.

 Over what seems to be a span of days, the pimp keeps Ned's character in strict sexual bondage.   He performs foreplay often.  He has an uncanny instinct for getting her excited.  At first she yells in indignation, but increasingly her shouts become shouts of pleasure. 

Despite her conscious wish to resist, her body seems to have other ideas.  Progressively, she gives in; the dark man even starts to look sexually attractive.  One night, the pimp tells  her  that she's ready to be turned out.  He sweeps her into his strong arms and carries her into his bedroom.   

Once there, he gives Ned's character no choice but to please him orally.  When she spits his sperm out, he punishes her.  Next, her street lover puts her into a position for anal intercourse. This is the girl's first penetration and she's horrified by the sensation.  Nevertheless, however much the girl wants to rebel, she senses a contrary impulse stirring deep insider her.  It is like a totally differently person is being awakened, one who finds joy in what is  happening to her. 

Instead inspiring loathing, the experience of his domination is like getting too much of an intoxicating drink.  The more her captor makes her submit, the more she revels in that submission.  Then comes his copious release.  It fills her with heat.  His satisfaction complete, the pimp forces Ned's character to shower with him.  The water falling on them, the fondling, the being soaped by his hands, combine to overwhelm her senses like an opiate dream of delight. 

After being dabbed dry, the pimp spreads her out supine on the bed.  In a moment, he's on top of her and his penetration is hard and direct.  She cries out, but he ignores her appeals and  makes her a true woman.  The girl can't hold back.  He raises her to a higher and higher pitch.  

Her sudden orgasmic surrender decimates even the pretense of resistance.  Her body has become a vessel for the semen now spewing into her.  As he thrusts repeatedly, it keeps coming and coming.  She is past the point of wanting it to stop.  Instead, the girl wants more and more, to give herself up completely to this unfamiliar kind of sex.  

She realized that she is reacting like a slut, but if this is what it feels like to be a slut, she wants with every fiber of her being to be a slut in very dimension of the term.  When her lord and master finally stops pumping her, Ned's character is lying conquered on the field.  Even more amazing, the girl has entirely lost herself.  She has become wildly infatuated; the slut insider her would cheerfully do anything that this domineering alpha male might demand of her.

He is quick to speak his demands.  He orders her out to the street to start working, to start bringing home the “green.”  This order shocks the girl, but defiance is impossible; she had been too well tamed.  The pimp turns her over to his “wives,who put her into a short striped dress and high heeled pumps. Then the hookers convey her to a lamppost outside a downtown bar.  “Look sexy,” she's told.  When a man steps into view, they point him out.  “Pick that one up,” one whore tells her.  

 To the girl's surprise, her amateurish approach is good enough for the John.  He takes her to a cheap hotel and uses her, hard and fast.  Then he leaves.  The wives are waiting for Ned's character down in the lobby.  The rest of the night consisted of picking up one customer after another.  When it is time to go home, the newly-minted streetwalker has to turn over to her pimp every cent that she's earned. 

'How does the adventure end?” asked Kilwa, intrigued.

“It doesn't.  Machine in bad shape.  If turned off, I die.  I stay a streetwalker.   Doing it twenty times a day.  Never even thought about ending it.”

“Wow!” Kalwa exclaimed.  “Do you like boys in real life?”

“No.  That's queer.  Girls should go to bed with guys.  That's...the fun of being...a girl.”

“Why do you enjoy the fantasy so much?”

“All the sex, the orgasms.  Sexy clothes.  I...look hot.  Women have...more fun with sex.”

“Do you have Gorean daydreams, too?”

“Some.”

“Tell me about one.”

Ned described being in a escape pod in space with three other girls.  They set down on a some planet with no people in sight.  The capsule sinks into the mud and the four Earth girls are a slimy mess when they wade to solid ground.  They find a clean pool to wash up.  They swim nude, but when they're out in the water, they see movement.  Primitives take all their clothes and weapons.  They splash to land, but, barefoot, they can't catch the savages. 

The girls don't know what to do.  There are hidden tribesmen and they are unarmed.  They fear  being taken captive.  They try to move from the area, but they see shadows from the sky.  Men on giant eagles have seen the nude girls from on high.  The girls bolt in all directions.  The eagles dive in from above.  One rider snares a girl with a lasso.  The other warriors land and chase the three other girls on foot.  The rough ground hurts their bare feet and they can't get away.  The captives are all bound across the eagle saddles and are flown into a city.  There the warriors sell them to slavers, hard-looking men who put them into a slave pen.    

The Earth girls are soon collared and branded.  A salve heals the burn quickly, but soon their training begins.  Gradually, they learn simple words, enough to know they are on the planet Gor.  One astronaut knows the Gor books and she tells them what to expect.  They want to escape, but there is no escape.  Their training begins and it is almost all sexual, involving surrender to one lusty trainer after another.  At last, when the girls have been trained well enough, they are sold from an auction block.  Ned's character is acquired by a “pleasure house,” a Gorean whorehouse.  She never sees any of her three companions again.  As a popular pleasure slave in an establishment doing heavy business, she has no time to think about them.

#

Ned had fully dropped off at this point.  Kalwa, through her questioning, had confirmed that Ned enjoyed some very powerful fantasies.  There was no doubt; he was the exact sort that she had been looking for.  Kalwa needed six captives for this trip, and Ned would make five.  

Kalwa of Gor had not been born into the slaver's caste, and she hadn't even known that the Kurii existed until she had fallen slave to one of their human agents.  The Kurii, also called the Others, had come from beyond the solar system.  They had been kidnapping humans both on Gor and on Earth for a very long time.  

 The Priest Kings, their enemies, had been raiding Earth for human livestock even longer.  The Kurii sought for agents for help in their intrigues against the opposition.  These humans proved intelligent and useful and some of them were eventually assigned to take over the captive-raiding enterprise on Earth.   As soon as these agents observed the female beauty available on Earth, they wanted to capture their choice finds back to Gor as slaves.  The Kurii indulged them.  What did did it matter to the Kurii if humans wished to enslave one another?  That is what humans always did.

The duel of the Kurii and the Priest Kings had gone on for centuries, but in the recent past the situation had changed.  The Priest Kings had created a metamorphosis serum that genetically changed humans from one shape to another.  Spies eventually stole the formula for the Kurii, who then started using it for their  purposes.  

It could change one man to look like another, and one women to look like another, but it could also change a man into physiologically perfect woman.  The serum could not change a woman a man because a woman had no X-chromosomes for the serum to interact with.  If the serum were made widely available, she suspected, it would change Gorean culture greatly.  But it was not well known; few of the common throng knew about its existence. Those who knew about it were targeted and silenced.

There were two uses for men who were transformed into women.  Most commonly, they were wanted as “exotic” slaves.  Exotics were traditional prizes on Gor, but this was a new sort that became very popular among the small cadre of humans that knew they existed.  Their owners gained status and exotics were sold in private markets for considerable gold.  It was Kalwa's task to find captives to be transformed into exotic slaves.  But not just any man could become a superior slave on Gor after metamorphosis.  

Originally, Kalwa had herself been the slave of a Kurii agent.  Her master came to realize that Kalwa possessed the gift of seeing auras.  It was that psychic gift that had earned her release from his pleasure garden, as Goreans called their harems. 

The colors and intensity of the human aura revealed many different things to the few who could see it: general state of health, illnesses, or useful qualities, such as mental alertness and courage.  But the slavers wanted her to find captives from among the minority that were male natural slaves. 

Natural slaves, she had found out, had very distinct auras.  A pinkish element (the stronger the better) indicated a predisposition for natural slavery.  Natural slaves thrived on captivity and bondage and made the most satisfactory slave girls.  On Earth, a large portion of the female population seemed to be natural slaves.  Interestingly, a large proportion of natural slaves seemed to cluster in certain occupations and life styles, either because these occupations were attractive natural slaves, or because there was something in certain categories of work that stimulated natural slavery in a woman.  Kalwa had studied the statistics.  It seemed that few housewives or waitresses tended to be natural slaves, but many lawyers and MBAs were.

On the contrary, relatively few Earthmen of any occupation were natural slaves.  It took sensitives like Kalwa to seek out this desirable type.  

A man like Ned, she knew, would make a valuable prize on Gor.  But slavers hunting on Earth had to take care not to be discovered.  For that reason, Kalwa was now extracting a Kurii-created device from her gear.  She dabbed a spot of jelly-like anesthetic on the sleeping man's thigh.  Then the efficient Gorean slaver touched an injection device to his flesh, implanting a tiny sub-dermal bead.  Sensing devices installed in Kurii vessels could locate this installed tracer from a distance, even from above the atmosphere.   When it was convenient to take him, Ned would be abducted and placed into a transport capsule.

This type of capsule contained an aerated liquid, a type of artificial embryonic fluid.  A prisoner could breath in this fluid for as long as remained inside.  Once the captive was installed within the capsule, a pink fluid that contained genetic material from a donor would be introduced into the bath.  The process would put the subject into a catatonic sleep.  The capsule was effectively a womb that would bring about his rebirth.  The borrowed genetic pattern in the fluid would by stages replace a person's original pattern.    

The subject's age would be rolled back to about 18 years of age and he would slowly metamorphose into the physiological duplicate a totally different person.  On a small slaving ship, the journey between worlds would be a rather slow one.  By the time Ned reached Gor, the transformation would be complete, or nearly complete.  At the end of the process, the captive would awaken female, one foredoomed to fulfill any purpose that the Kurii desired.  Usually, the purpose was pleasure slavery.   

But the serum had another important use.  It could be an asset in the spy war that continually raged within the shadows of Gor. 

The Priest King and Kurii agents both had, for a long time, favored female agents for infiltration duties.  Using females blindsided traditional Goreans, unsophistocated people who underrated women in all that they did.  These common Goreans were suspicious of strange males arriving in their midst, but they regarded foreign women with much less scrutinyIn truth, they knew only Gorean women, to whom society educated them for skills and knowledge that would prove useful in espionage.  

But the Priest-Kings and Kurii had access to Earth women, and these were more physically active, more aggressive, more learned in things that, on Gor, were customarily reserved to men.  And they were also more deadly, having been reared to be ruthless, nearly heartless, in the corrupt culture of planet Earth.   

But a disproportionate number of educated, ruthless women recruited on Earth were natural slaves.  These agents had had many failed or botched missions.  Female agent capture rates perennially ran too high.  When interrogated, the agents usually gave up secrets.  They were commonly willing to accept life in slavery if it would save their lives.  

The Priest-King and Kurii masters of espionage started to screen their agents more carefully, trying to weed out the natural slaves among them.  But about that same time, the metamorphosis serum had became available and another solution was found.  This came not a moment too soon, for the stakes in the spy war had by then become more critical.  Many good agents were needed, and quickly.     

The Priest-Kings had the serum first and started to transform superbly-trained male intelligence personnel into women.  These first agents managed to score major intelligence coups against the Kurii and, for a while, the later didn't understand what was wrong.  

The secret turned out to be that a competent male, even if metamorphosed into a female, kept much of his male  thought patterns, patterns which allowed them to be both effective and daring.  And few of them were natural slaves. 

When the Kurii learned the cause of their distress, they did as the Priest-Kings were doing.  Unfortunately, due to the Gorean cult of masculinity, few Gorean males, or Earth-born males who had been acculturated to Gor, were willing to be transformed.  If a Kurii agent (and presumably a Priest King agent, too) were forced to transform, he would often turn traitor in vengeance.  Besides that, other male agents tended to desert, on the chance that they, too, would forced to accept such a degrading fate.  

To remedy this problem, the Kurii used t he solutions that the Priest-Kings had come up with.  After that, Kurii human agents were increasingly selected from recent male captives from Earth.  Even if these were forced to transform, no one cared about their fate; they were only off-world barbarians. 

Earthmen brought to Gor, by the Kurii at least, were offered the best possible circumstances in their new existence as women.  If they did not respond to this generous bounty, they were subjected to regimens intended to instill both useful skills and personal loyalty.  The more stubborn the subject, the harsher the re-education process became.  

Even at that, only a modest percentage of Earthmen could be persuaded to put away their undesirable attitudes.  Consequently, the Kurii had increased the number to Earth male captives that they brought to Gor to be transformed.  Out of this greater number, they were able to turn out the troops of agents in sufficient numbers.  True, the majority of transformees still failed the loyalty indoctrination.  Rather than slay them, these would be collared, branded, and sent to the slave market.  Kalwa thought about these rejects with regret; it would be hard for them; most transformed to be agents were not natural slaves.

Kalwa had, off and on, sought out potential Kurii agents. She was not then looking for natural slavery, but for evidence of skills, knowledge, survival instincts, and courage.  Months ago, on an earlier trip to Earth, she had seduced a courageous and daring ex-military intelligence agent.  Since then, the Gorean hadn't heard of his fate.  By now he would either be a skilled infiltrator or the Kurii or a trained pleasure slave

For Kalwa, capturing men who enjoyed female slave fantasies was a kindness.  It exasperated  her to be confronted by males so foolish as to be ungrateful that the gods had made them maleSuch as they deserved to have their fantasies made true.  What was the alternative?  Let some better male suffer their degrading fate?  Her history of slavery had made her something that she hadn't been before.  It was hard to separate in her mind innocent men and those who had originally enslaved her.  Doms reminded her of slavers.  But once Earthmen were female, she forgave them.  Kalwa was never so vengeful against Earthmen as against the very few Goreans that circumstance had brought into her power.  Ned didn't even seem to be a scoundrel, not as far as doms went, and she didn't hate him.  But she did need captives and she was a business woman, not an angel.

Ned would do fine, Kalwa thought, like the many similar males that she had already taken to Gor.  It was well known that almost all natural-slave bondage doms were sadomasochists at the core.  The masochistic parts of their nature were often repressed, as seemed to be the case with Ned.  It confronted them in unusual forms, such as in erotic fantasies of the thype that ones that Ned had admitted to.  Under discipline, such a person's masochism could be brought out into the open. 

After successful training, should a transformed dom's aggressive nature try to reassert itself, one could depend on the majority of masters to drive it back into the darkness with the slave whip.  

She couldn't keep from thinking about Ned's fate.  But why?  It  had not been Kalwa's fault that he had contemplated erotic fantasies about being a girl who felt aroused by the threat of the whip.  Fine, then.  In theory, he -- she -- might find female pleasure slavery more natural than would, say, that intelligence officer that she'd captured.

There had been a time – before the Gorean woman had been either a slave or a slaver – that she would have been horrified by the things that she was now expected to do -- even to innocent people -- every day.  But the business of life hardens a slaver's heart.  She consoled herself with the thought that all she did was dictated by the plan of the gods.  Simply said, one who was not fated to be a slave could not become one.  If slavery was a person's intended lot, what blame could flow to the slaver for fulfilling the will of destiny?  Such a proposition comforted the young woman, but for how long could she keep believing it?

Kalwa folded her arms and gazed out the nearby window.  Beyond the club lights, there was darkness.  It reminded her of the darkness of space.  In such darkness, it was sometimes possible to believe that a natural slave would learn to be happy in her fate.  Kalwa recalled that some of her sisters in kajira-training had been natural slaves.   She had watched so many of them gradually change from glum drabs into hot little wantons -- sexually eager and even cheerful.  Did all of those girls still wear their collars?  Kalaw supposed, so.  Rarely was a slave freed.  What would motivate any sensible person to free a slave?  But she had so far persuaded herself that even as kajiras they might have thrived.  Some people do thrive in bondage, most particularly the natural slaves. 


But why was it that she, Kalwa, as one who had escaped the collar, one who had erased the brand, one who, as a free woman, had become the tormentor instead of the tormented, never felt happy? 

That didn't seem logical.

Life was strange.
End