A Barbarian Girl on Gor Ch. 05

Chapter 5 - Amelia Jane Acquires a New Accoutrement

I ran and knelt before the man in my 'default position'.

I was scampering nude about a public market place propositioning men!

I had chosen my place of kneeling well, in that it was not directly on his path, thus blocking him, and perhaps increasing the likelihood of my being dismissed with a kick or a cuff, yet was close enough that he should not overlook me.

He stopped, and regarded me. I, under such appraisal, tried to kneel as prettily as possible, my back straight, emphasising my breasts, my legs widely apart. I looked down, as if demurely, then felt his hand at my chin lifting my face so that I was left with little choice but to regard his features. He was scarred, and was certainly hideous, stretching down the right side of his face. He opened his mouth and leered, teeth uneven, gapped, and discoloured.

He was the sort of man that I would have formerly shuddered to meet, and certainly have taken pains not to converse with, let alone importune to please fully with my body. Rather than a robe he wore a short tunic, and some sort of tight breeches. I had seen some of the handlers in the pens similarly attired. It seemed a less decorous mode of dress than the robes that some wore, but of course, I could not be sure of the cultural significance, if any.

He spoke slowly, with a hint of impediment in his speech. It seemed a question, to which I of course had only one answer.

I stammered out my little phrase.

He looked at me a little askance, then opened my mouth and began, for some reason, to inspect my teeth.

He laughed, then lifted my coin box and shook it. Of course, it made no sound. Conclusive evidence of my lack of success in my allotted employment. I realised that anyone, absolutely anyone, could, by the simple expedient of shaking my can, find out whether I had earned anything, and, if so, roughly how much. So far, of course, I had not earned a single coin, let alone the three that I would apparently need to pay for my food, water, and shelter; my keep, as it were.

He indicated a point just before where he was standing. We were in a quiet little enclave behind the stalls. It seemed that I was going to have to kneel in a puddle of dirty water to serve him.

I went to my 'default position', feeling the mud first beneath my bare feet, then on my knees. I shivered with revulsion. The puddle was about two inches deep and the liquids that constituted it were not warm. He pointed to his belt.

It seemed that he wanted me to undo his belt with my mouth.

Obediently, determined not to earn punishment, I knelt up and got my even white teeth on the end of his belt.

Diligently, slowly, I pulled the belt back through the hasps, and after a few moments the tip went through the outer hasp. I was then able to grip the end of it in my lips, and with effort pull it off the spike of the buckle. The two ends of the belt hung down, and the top of the man's breeches were exposed before me. I put my face at the top, as I would now have to find the method with which they could be unfastened. I was relieved to see that there were just four bow knots about an inch beneath one another, and I got my teeth on a thread of the first one and pulled. It came undone easily, and I smelt the scarred man's musky aroma.

I was swiftly able to unlatch each of the fasteners, and his already tumescent member sprang before me. I could feel my lower lip trembling, and tears spring to my eyes at what I was about to have to do - give oral sex to a perfect stranger, on my knees in a public place. I knew that the best way to start was to lick his member all over, to try and make it moister, more slippery, more lubricated, even perhaps cleaner, to have in my mouth, and I began thus to slurp and lick and spread my saliva over his manhood.

I looked up submissively at him towering over me. I saw lust in his eyes, his right hand clutched my long blonde hair to give him more control over my ministrations. I went to work, beginning by taking the tip of his member in my lips, then pressing my tongue to it. The brute gave a grunt of satisfaction.

I let my lips drift down the man's shaft, tasting his aroma, unpleasant, salty, and sweaty, yet somehow exciting on my tongue. As his member continued to swell in my mouth, beginning to fill it, I heard myself making tiny gurgling noises, almost choked by the size of him. I concentrated on keeping my jaws far apart, and felt his other hand at my hair also, giving him now a firm and painful grip of me on either side of my bobbing head.

How I wished that I had my hands free to help me in my demeaning task as I licked and sucked, on my knees in the puddle, tears rolling down my face, trying to follow the cruel rhythm dictated by his hands enmeshed in my blonde tresses.

I felt him grow still larger inside my mouth, certainly the largest that I had ever had in my mouth. I felt myself struggling to breathe, my face was surely turning red. It was difficult to accommodate him, my jaws opened as wide as they could go, wider than they had ever been before. His thrusts became faster, his grunts louder and more urgent, then I felt, with surprise, my head suddenly wrenched back painfully by my hair, as if I were a rag doll in his grasp, then jets of warm fluid splattered upon me. He had discharged the copious juices of his pleasure not inside my mouth, but directly upon my face.

I felt sick. How could this be be happening to me? I could feel his seed trickling down my chin as I knelt before him in the puddle, my own tears joining his fluids. It was good to be able to breathe freely once more. Then there was something else, another fluid. I realised that he had spat on me, spat on my face. I heard his voice.

He barked out something angrily.

His anger shocked me. Had I not just knelt in front of him and intimately pleased him with my lips and tongue?

I knew enough not to argue, and, hands cuffed behind me, struggled awkwardly to my feet and, cowering before his anger, scampered away, my bare feet sliding in the mud, knees soiled with dirt. I must find my handler once more. I thought what a sight I must make, running nude through the marketplace, sex-fluids coursing down my face, mixed with my own tears and the spittle he had seen fit to cast upon it.

In the main part of the market I looked around for my handler. At the same time I tried to avoid any eye contact with the leering mob, as I could see several looking at me and grinning at the sex-fluids that adorning my face.

'Oh!' I said, feeling a pinch on my bottom.

A man called at me, laughing.

I ignored him; where was my handler? I looked around the market desperately. A hand was in my hair, pulling me painfully down to my knees. I managed to keep my balance, grimacing, gasping with shock and pain, my neck twisted to try to reduce the agony.

"There you are, slut! And you have been busy at last, I see."

I assumed that he was commenting favourably on the state of my facial features, doused as they were with the sexual discharges of the man that I had attempted to service. My handler took my slotted can with his free hand and shook it, then yanked my hair lower, displeased.

"Why are you still empty, slut, and yet with seed on your face? Did you not please him?"

"Yes,...yes...I tried! Please, I tried!"

I heard myself whimpering plaintively, his hand in my hair was painful, and I did not want to say anything regarding the customer's anger whilst I had sought to pleasure him, kneeling in the mud of the marketplace, behind the stalls.

"What is this then?" he shook my little can again, the silence of it mocking my efforts, "Why did he not put something in your slot?"

"I do not know...I do not know. Perhaps he had no money."

He growled, and pulled my head up a bit. "Do you see him? Point him out, slut. I will have a word with him, using the goods without paying. Point him out."

"I cannot. My hands are tied and I think he has gone."

I could not see him, and in any case pointing him out would have been impossible for me with my hands tied as they were. I dare say that I could have indicated verbally, or used some other physical sign, but from my cursory look around the man had gone from the immediate vicinity.

My handler presumably decided that there was nothing more to be done about the matter at present, and instead began to draw me along, bent over, by my hair.

"Useless slut. A man's seed all over your face, yet nothing in your slot. Next time cling onto him until he pays you, or call out to me."

I, bent over, wincing with the pain, tried to keep up with his pace as he strode. I wondered how I might cling on to someone when my hands were securely fastened behind me, but it was a point that I knew it should be profitless to dispute.

"You need to be cleaned," he said, "Come on."

He strode, purposefully, leading me bent over, my shins clattering painfully against my hanging coin box as it swung as I struggled to keep up with him, trying to avoid the chain getting tangled with my legs and tripping me into the filth of the market place.

We had returned to the small stone platform, and the fountain. My handler thrust me up the step that surrounded it.

"Wash your face." He commanded.

Thankfully I bent down and placing my head in the spurt of water, allowed it to wash the sexual discharge from my features. The water was shockingly cold, but I was relieved to feel it on me, refreshing me, cleaning me. I had little idea of how much of the scarred man's fluids still adhered to me, and once or twice my handler placed his fingers on parts of his own face, to show where I still needed to work. Eventually he seemed satisfied and nodded. I went to step back down to the general level of the market place.

He nodded, negatively, and turned me about with his hands, placing me so that my long legs were on either side of the gush of water. It streamed up between my limbs, making me gasp, as the rushing liquid splashed against my most private place. I was in a public square, on a raised dais, wantonly allowing a jet of water to spurt up between my legs! Was I to be allowed no dignity, no respite from the constant humiliation?

I sobbed, and squirmed, as the jet of cold splashed against my intimate softnesses, but did not break my position. I kept my eyes down, trying to restrain my tears. I did not dare to look round the market place, to see who was watching whilst a girl intimately cleaned herself in a public fountain. I did not want to think what sort of girl would behave thus. Eventually the brute seemed satisfied and motioned me down off the step. I complied, water dripping from me, pooling at my bare feet, forming a small puddle around my slim form.

I looked round. Coming across the market place, striding towards us, was the scarred man that I had pleasured, that had spurted his seed, and then his spittle, in my face. He began talking to my handler animatedly, pointing at me. He did not seem pleased.

I could not follow their discourse, but the man that I had pleasured pointed to me several times further. My handler also pointed to me, at my brand, the ring shape burned onto my thigh. Eventually the scarred man walked away, shaking his head. My handler regarded me and stroked his chin.

"So you really are a worthless slut. The one thing Professor Jones said that you were good at, it seems that you are unable to do. Perhaps we should simply save some time and money and sell you to be cut up for animal feed."

I gasped at his words, what could he mean? Was that even a possibility or just an empty threat?

"I pleasured him fully," I said, defensively, "If he was not happy then why did he...well...in my face?"

My handler shook his head almost sadly. "He said that he felt your teeth touch him. Did they?"

I felt my lower lip tremble "I....it might have been...he....he was so big! There....there was nothing I could do."

My handler sighed. "Are you aware of the penalties for such a thing? You are lucky you only wear a holding brand in your flesh, worthless little animal, else you would have the skin flogged from your clumsy body, and then every one of your teeth removed from your useless little mouth."

I quailed. I had not seen him angry before, but now it seemed that my infraction of allowing my teeth to brush lightly against the man's erect member had enraged him. However, he collected himself, and stroked his chin once more.

"Well," he said, "We will have to do something, won't we, if you are to continue to earn your keep?"

He grasped my empty can and pulled me on my chain into the main body of the market. The gaps between the stalls were narrow, and several times I felt myself touched, intimately, or pinched. I squealed in protest, but my handler paid me no attention, intent on finding his way. Eventually we entered a small stall of blue and yellow striped tenting and I looked around.

At the back of the stall was a solid wall, the tent evidently an awning against it. About me on wooden shelves were all manner of metallic restraints; cuffs and anklets, chains, necklaces of the locked type that I wore, earrings, and other devices that were unfamiliar to me.

Instinctively I went to my default position. A man approached my handler. He was small and wiry, his facial aspect unattractive, somewhat rodent-like. He regarded me leeringly, lustfully, almost hungrily. His hair was receding, sparse, and greying. He was not attractive. When such men regarded me thus formerly, they had had to do so guardedly, pretending that they were not doing so, but he showed no sign of any such furtiveness. His gaze was open and appraising. He looked at me fully in the eyes, and licked his thin lips. I looked away, trying not to meet his lascivious gaze.

My handler spoke to him, and the small man nodded, then went to a high shelf and pulled an item down, giving it to my handler. I had never seen such an item before. It consisted of a strap of black leather about half an inch wide and a foot or so in length, with a buckle, and some attached metal tubing. The tubing was in three basic rings. The central ring was perfectly circular, about two and a half inches in diameter, and from whence emanated six prongs. Four of these prongs, each about an inch long curled back slightly, then terminated, the other two were longer and secured to the leather strap by the other two, smaller rings.

My handler took the strange item and went behind me.

Suddenly I felt his hands at my mouth, pushing my lips apart. I groaned briefly, and quickly realised that he was attempting to secure the central ring, that of about two and a half inches in diameter, inside my mouth, just behind my teeth, almost like one might place a bit in the mouth of a horse.

The metal prongs brushed against my face, fixing the device in place, ensuring that I could neither expel the metal ring, nor pull it back into my mouth. I felt the strap tightened around my cheeks and neck. My mouth was opened widely, very widely, and I could not close it! It was uncomfortable, the metal tasting unpleasant in my mouth.

The stall keeper and my handler were discussing something now, as if they were haggling over a price. The small rodent-featured man pointed to me. My handler laughed. Eventually they seemed to conclude an agreement.

My handler spoke to me, "The original price for your new little toy was four coins. However you will be pleased to learn that I have managed to barter the price down. It is now two coins, and your use."

I looked at my handler wide eyed. I could not of course speak, the ring keeping my jaws painfully wide apart.

The stall holder was undoing his breeches, moving intently toward me. I felt his hands at my hips as I was backed against the wall, my arms and bottom pressed against the stone as he took his right hand from my hip, and undid the fastenings of his garment.

My body was to be used in part-exchange for the restraint that had been placed in my mouth.

I felt the stall holder at my intimate opening. I whimpered as he found his way into my softness, plunging into my moist intimacies.

My handler, seemingly uninterested was looking at the items in the shop, inspecting them cursorily.

The stall holder began to thrust within me. I moaned and felt a string of drool come from my mouth and dribble onto my breasts. He lifted my left leg high, and I responsively curled my knee around his back, forcing him more into me. Despite the humiliating circumstances it seemed that I was fully ready for him. I could feel a hotness and a wetness inside me. Once more it seemed that my body was betraying my sense of dignity and self-esteem. Was it the sight of the restraints around the shelving that thrilled me, or that some of the restraints were applied to my own nude self? Was it simply that I felt my own helplessness in the matter of my being utilised as part of the price for one of these items of restraint?

I did not know, but soon I began making incoherent sobbing noises, little sobs of desire, and the stall holder began pushing harder and faster inside my writhing body.

I bent my right leg a little, to feel him more deeply inside me, my back crushed against the unyielding wall at the back of the stall. His hands were on my shoulders, pushing me down so that I was more fully impaled on his questing manhood, forcefully pounding inside me.

I was moaning loudly, close to a precipice of desire and submissive lust that I had never encountered before. My right leg now I also wrapped around him, my body was off the ground, my long legs gripping his waist, his hands on my yielding body, the wall at my arms and back and bottom.

I wondered what sort of sight I made, a blonde, blue eyed, nude girl pressed against a wall at the back of a squalid little market stall selling bondage restraints, my mouth forced open, my arms pinioned, being crudely utilised by a market stall holder to pay for purchased goods used in her own subjugation.

My handler still did not seem particularly interested in what was happening; I wondered what it might be like to feel him inside me, rather than the balding market stall holder. This thought sent me tumbling over my personal precipice of desire and I called out incoherently, loudly, as I succumbed to my submissive urges, my body crushed between the rutting stall holder and the unyielding wall. I felt that my bottom and arms would be scratched as I was pushed up and down, both my legs wrapped around the stall holder's waist, pulling him into me as much as I could.

He then came to his own climax, and I felt his viscous fluids spurt deeply into me. He was a poor looking, unattractive, little man, rodent-featured and sparsely coiffured, and yet I had reacted to him more fully, and deeply, than I ever had to my sexual partners on earth.

I wondered at this. Was it the restraints, or the proximity of my handler? Or simply the overall context, that I was a helpless girl on a faraway planet, alone, nude, and available to any man that came by, no matter their eligibility or attractiveness.

I did not know the reason, but now I felt him extricate himself from my wetness and then I was pushed down to my knees, and instinctively licked his manhood clean of our mingled fluids. My jaw already aching from the cruel gag that had been inserted into me as my tongue worked delicately in its designated task.

Soon, I saw two small coins handed over to him, the remainder of the price for the cruel gag that I now wore, and my handler conducted me away from the stall and back to the vicinity of the fountain.

My jaw ached.

I had acquired a new accoutrement.

I wondered if it would improve my performance in my work.