A Barbarian Girl on Gor Ch. 07

Chapter 7: Amelia Jane's night under the stars

At first all was quiet in the market place.

Darkness had fallen, and shadows and gloom crept around me. I could hear furtive rustling noises, as of tiny creatures.

The night sky was clearing, and I looked up to observe the moon. It seemed strangely smaller than normal. I gave this circumstance no great amount of consideration until, as the clouds broke further, to my surprise and shock, a second moon, rather similar in size to the first, became visible.

Even gagged as I was I let out a gasp of dismay, a consequent dribble of drool falling from my mouth onto my breasts.

I had suspected, even perhaps consciously accepted, that I was no longer on earth. My journey on the space ship had, in essence, revealed that to me. But here, for the first time, I had unequivocal confirmation that I was on a different planet, one with multiple satellites. I felt my eyes well with tears, as I realised that there was no easy escape from my predicament. It appeared that I was not in a part of my own world where girls such as myself were treated very differently, but a whole planet where such was the case.

I had to come to terms with a new cruel reality, one that had led to me finding myself bound, gagged, and tethered nude in a deserted marketplace with a coin box attached to a metal ring around my neck.

I looked around myself fearfully. My knees were tucked under me as I knelt. It was dark now, and the light had faded. I could dimly sense the stalls around the little square.

The temperature was dropping quickly. I wondered how cold it might get. I did not know where on the world I was, or even the season of the year. If I were in the tropics, a night out in the open might not be too bad, but what if it were winter, and the lands were temperate? I might freeze to death tethered nude. I reflected that I knew nothing about this world, but all too much about my place in the hierarchies and power structures that pertained upon it. It could be much colder or hotter than earth in any case, whether it was temperate or tropical having no bearing on my likelihood of survival.

My musings along this vein stopped as I heard footsteps. There were several and varied, as of a small group. I wondered at their purpose. A light came swaying round the corner into the square. Squinting into the gloom I discerned four dim shapes across the square from myself, one larger. As they came nearer, oblivious to my presence, I saw that the larger was a man, carrying a lantern, clothed in tunic and breeches of some indeterminate colour, the other three very much more lightly clad.

The three wore extremely short tunics, low cut, bare white limbs standing out in the gloom. Their shapely curves showed them to be girls. Each of them seemed to be manipulating some sort of stick, that I realised were brooms. From their silhouettes they all had extremely short hair. One carried a large sack on her back, attached somehow, as she was still sweeping. It looked fairly full and heavy. I pitied the poor girl, sweeping with a weight attached to her back. The man with them did not seem to pay them particular attention, yet seemed to be in charge. I hoped that I might evade their notice, and sat very still. They did not pay much attention to the square, seemingly intent on the stalls. They passed to the further edge of the square without noticing me.

I heard a scuffling sound, and then a small animal ran across my bare feet. I recognized it as the same as those on the floor of the pens, where I had been incarcerated. I moved my feet away quickly, unable to prevent myself making an incoherent screaming noise through my gag. I have a fear of such scuttling animals, a deep, though inchoate fear.

One of the girls came back into the square and peered around, intently. Then she saw me and called out. After a bit the man came ambling over, his lantern held high, looking around. The other two girls also returned to the square but at a shout from the man resumed their sweeping activities. The man came close to me, warily, then regarded me carefully in the light of the lantern. Without thinking, I went to the default position that I had been taught, spreading my legs, looking up at him as he loomed over me. It seemed natural to do that now, and yet it would have seemed horribly humiliating once.

With his free hand he pulled at one of the side rings of my mouth gag, finding it to be securely fastened about my face. He then, as if intrigued, gently pulled at my hair, not hard, to hurt me, but not particularly gently, and I gasped. I dribbled a little from my forcibly opened mouth. He shook the little box, attached to my neck-ring, now silent once more, the coins having been removed by Professor Jones and Diogenes. Then I felt him pull at the wrist chain behind my back.

Finally, he went to the chain they had attached to my ankle from the ring, and pulled at it firmly. It was not a thick chain, though certainly strong enough to secure me, and apparently unyielding to his one-handed grip.

He looked about, as if checking to see whether anyone else was in the square, aside from the two sweeping girls, and the third, with the sack, that stood beside him. He said something to me, a question. I could not of course understand him, and even had I been able to, could not have answered him, gagged as I was. I looked up at him piteously. He looked around the square again, shrugged his shoulders, gave the lantern to the girl, then undid his breeches, took out his manhood, and casually pushed himself into my mouth.

It was sudden and rather took me by surprise, and I gagged a little as the tip of him touched the back of my throat. I did my best to accommodate him. and tried to move my tongue about his organ as I could. His smell and taste were those of a man that did not often wash, but I had little choice in the matter, and knew that the sooner I could bring him to fulfilment, the sooner my mouth should be free of his unwelcome intrusion.

I sucked and licked clumsily, looking up at him. He was not looking down at me, but peering around the dark square, the short-haired girl with the sack was not sweeping, just holding the lantern and looking at me with a mixture of malice and disgust. I felt his right hand in my hair, cruelly curling it around his fist, hurting me, dictating the rhythm at which I should bob my head back and forth, in my efforts to orally please him.

I felt myself tremble slightly, and to my surprise and shame could sense a faint wetness at the opening of my vagina. Was I truly finding this degrading treatment arousing? I closed my eyes miserably. He was big now inside me, the smell and taste of him were overpowering, but I was growing more experienced with the nuances of pleasing men with my hands tied behind me and my mouth forcibly opened, and I soon felt him buck and jerk within me, then his creamy hot seed filling my throat. I swallowed his discharge and obediently leant forward and cleaned the residues from his softening member. I knew that my slit would be glistening, so aroused I felt, but hoped that this was not apparent in the darkness.

He seemed satisfied enough, and pulled himself back into his breeches. I looked up at him, wondering whether he might deign to put a coin into my little box. Instead he walked around behind me. I could not see what he was doing, but then I heard a slicing noise and realised that he was cutting loose the gag that I wore. He pulled the ring from my mouth with some difficulty.

At first I could not move my jaws at all, Then an intense pain surged through my mouth and jaws, as my muscles indicated their protest and my blood began to circulate properly again. I found that I could move my mouth a little, but was unable to articulate. He came round to stand again in front of me, and regarded me, his knife in one hand, and my gag in the other. He shouted at the girl and she brought the lantern closer, holding it near to my face.

I assumed that he would want me to thank him, but I did not know the words to do this. All I could say was my little catch-phrase, which I knew meant "I am a slave girl". Even this did not come out right, my jaw still aching terribly as I tried to move it to speak the brief utterance that was the sum total of my language capabilities. He addressed the girl nearby and she, with her free hand, pulled a drawstring that opened the sack that was slung around her neck at her back. There were obviously already a number of items therein. He dropped the gag into it and then turned back to me.

I tried again to speak my little phrase, and this time did somewhat better, I thought, but I still saw incomprehension on his face. Without anything else to say I spoke in English, making my eyes and mouth as grateful as possible "Thank you for freeing me!". It hurt just to say this.

Once again, of course, his face was blank and uncomprehending, but I noticed that the girl with the sack looked at me sharply, surprised. She spoke to the man excitedly. They then both looked at me expectantly. I kept silent, not wanting to say anything more, but the short-haired girl with the lantern and the sack spoke to me.

"Are you from earth, girl?"

I looked at her amazed, then stammering managed to blurt out "I..I am! From England! You too?" I immediately regretted it as a new wave of pain coursed through my aching jaw. I hoped that no permanent damage had been done to it.

She looked uneasily at the man, and then said quickly, "Yes, from America, but I am not allowed to chat with you. My Master wants to know what you are doing here, out in the market at night, alone."

The man was now fingering my hair again, as if it fascinated him. He spoke to the girl. She spoke to me.

"He wants an answer."

I considered what to say.

"My...my...er....owner left me here. I think it is a sort of punishment."

She spoke to him, briefly. He looked around then carried on fingering my hair.

"My Master likes your hair," she said.

I felt pleased. If my hands had been free I would probably have primped or teased my long blonde locks a little. I smiled finding it pained my jaw to do so. However I could not help myself. I always loved it when my hair was complimented.

"Tell your Master, thank you," I said, with difficulty "He is most kind."

I saw how short was her hair. How envious she must have been. I tried to keep the superiority out of my glance that took in her crop-haired, rather scrawny form, but I suspect I might have failed.

"Oh," she said, with a smirk on her face and more than a hint of malice in her voice, "That is not necessarily a good thing. Not for you at any rate, British bitch."

She had called me a 'British bitch'! She was from earth and probably a slave like me. Why would she be so hostile? Was it because her Master had used me and aroused me? Was it because I had looked at her as an inferior, with her cropped hair? But then I found that I had other matters to take into consideration as I felt a blade slicing through my tresses. The brute was cutting it with his knife!

"Oh no," I said, urgently, despite my sore jaw, "Tell your master to stop, he must not do that!"

She laughed. "Did you think he was merely admiring it? He can get a good price for it, you stupid slut!"

I felt the blade do its work swiftly. I could not tell how short he was cutting it, but I knew there was no care involved, no styling, or layering. He was simply cutting off as much as he could. In seconds, the long blonde tresses that had been my pride and joy were in his hand. He placed them carefully within the open sack, at the back of the American, joining the gag, and whatever other items were in there.

He regarded me again. I sobbed, horrified at what he had done to my hair. I saw his eyes now go to my ears, revealed by the shearing of my blonde locks. I felt his fingers touch my left ear lobe, pulling on the placer stud put therein to replace the earrings that I had been wearing when captured from earth. It was pulled from my piercing. I cried out a little. It was not particularly painful, but shocking to me. I then felt his hands at my right ear lobe, and the other placer was removed.

Then he talked to the American girl with the sack.

She smiled at me, although with a smile that did not extend to her eyes.

"My Master wants you to open your mouth," she said.

"Why," I asked, bemused.

"Just do it, bitch," she replied, "he's looking at your teeth."

I wondered at her request, but realised that it was better to comply. I shuddered. Was he going to take my teeth as well as my hair?

I opened my mouth and he took the lantern and looked carefully inside. He grunted something to the American.

"He can't see properly in this light," she said, "He wants to know if you have any gold teeth. You can close your mouth."

My teeth in fact, are perfect, one of my best features. I have never had so much as a filling, having always looked after them extremely carefully.

"N..no...," I said, "I don't have any gold teeth...why?"

"If you had a gold tooth, he would have punched it out," she said, "We keep the market clean, but we recycle things we find in it too."

I looked at her in surprise. Her Master, as she called him, pulled once more, now two-handed at the chain around my neck, and then the cuffs around my hands, but neither gave way, even though he pulled hard.

He called to the sweeping girls, took his lantern back, and they walked away, the girls still sweeping.

"Lucky for you that you are well chained, British bitch," said the American girl, "we can't recycle you. See you around, perhaps."

The man shouted at her, as if commanding her to silence. I was too shocked to reply.

The little party moved off, leaving me now without my gag, but also without the majority of my hair and my little ear placers. I wondered whether my ears were bleeding. They were not painful in particular, but he had not been gentle or careful in removing them.

I felt stunned. In meeting another girl from earth I would have thought to have found an ally, someone who might regard my plight with sympathy and kindness, and yet it seemed she had been intent on being my enemy.

The market square was quiet once more save for the burbling of the fountain and the occasional sounds and cries of tiny creatures. I recalled sometimes seeing cars abandoned in rough neighbourhoods on earth. They would be denuded, part by part. First their wheels being taken, then their doors and so on. I felt like a living equivalent of such an item. My hair already gone, and the accoutrement that had cost two coins and my use by the vendor. I recalled that my earrings had been removed, and replaced with simple studs at the slaving house. Yet even these had been deemed of enough value to the market cleaners for them to be taken for 'recycling'.

The loss of my hair began to sink in. My lower lip trembled. I was thankful, at least, for the fact that I had never had any precious metals inserted as fillings into my teeth. Even these, it seemed would have been removed from me, and painfully.

I went to my side in the cold market square and wept bitter tears.

For most of the rest of the night the marketplace saw little traffic. There was one party of drunken men that walked or staggered through, as if they had been drinking somewhere. I kept very still, and they did not see me. I do not know what they should have done to me if they had. Perhaps they would have used me, even put coins in my little box. Perhaps my lack of hair would have put them off, and led to me being rejected for their pleasures. I little cared.

I dozed fitfully once or twice, each time awakening cold and uncomfortable, with my shoulders and arms hurting terribly, from being trapped behind me. It was a shame, perhaps, that the cuffs had been secured more thoroughly than the gag. I would not have minded the cuffs being 'recycled', rather than my long blonde tresses.

I began to weep again.

I could not tell how much hair remained. I could not even feel or touch it, with my arms chained behind my back. My ears felt cold, and he had subsequently noticed my piercings, so I knew that my ears were now "out in the open" as it were. I hoped at least that he had cut it fairly evenly, some sort of basic symmetry would have been something, I thought, but I knew that this would be a mere matter of luck, rather than judgement. His sole objective had, no doubt, been to cut off as much as he could, as quickly as he could, with quick slashes of his knife. I wondered where my hair might end up. On the head of another? Perhaps used for some industrial process? I wondered how much it might fetch. I realised that whatever the amount, that would similarly impact my overall value, should I come to be sold.

I recalled at the investment bank, on earth, sometimes discussing the process of asset stripping. The bank or one of its associates would buy a failing company, then try to sell off the individual pieces at a profit, simply closing down the remaining parts that we could not sell off, without the least consideration for the people that we were making redundant, the lives we were ruining. We never took that into our financial considerations. How clever we felt were, to make money in this way.

It would seem now that I, too, was being asset stripped. My hair had gone, and the gag binding that had cost two coins and my use. Even the ear placers, although my more valuable earrings had already been stripped at the slaving house, now I realised in anticipation that such a circumstance might come about. My teeth had at least remained. Had everything of value about me now been asset-stripped? Perhaps all that was left was equivalent to the rump of the organisation that we, as a bank, would close down. I swallowed, hard, thinking of the consequences of that upon my future.

At last I saw a tiny amount of light in the sky. The moons had gone now, but I did not know if they had set, or were simply invisible in the better light. I wondered when Professor Jones or Diogenes would come back for me. I was so cold and hungry. I had though, not frozen to death. That was something, I supposed. I must be somewhere fairly near the tropics.

Surely they would not expect me to work as a coin girl in the coming day? I needed to rest. Surely they would take me back to the comparative comforts of the pens to recuperate a little. To gather my strength, as it were. But my hair was gone! Would I be punished for this? It was surely not my fault. Yet my value was undoubtedly reduced, and I very much doubted that they would be pleased at this.

Would they add the value of my hair to the coins that I had to accrue to 'earn my keep'? I feared that this would prove to be the case. I would have to work hard indeed.

I closed my eyes and tried to put out of my mind the loss of my blonde pride and joy. Perhaps there would be stylists at the pens who could at least 'make the best of a bad job'.

With careful layering and such my hair might be rescued as a cute little bob cut. But it was gone! My hair was gone! Surely nothing worse could happen to me?

I heard a noise.

I opened my eyes to see five men around me. They were uncouth looking, very shabbily dressed. Their bodies were scrawny, as of men who had little to survive upon, apart from their wits.

All of them were looking at me.

One of them had an eye patch.

One of them had a wooden leg.

One of them carried a cutting device, like a sturdy pair of shears.