Author Topic: Aggripina's Tale of Aries the Ramrod  (Read 658 times)

Offline Kimba~

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Aggripina's Tale of Aries the Ramrod
« on: July 20, 2015, 11:46:57 PM »
Many people are familiar with this passage from The Tales of Tarl Cabot:

The most intimate and deepest loves I have known have been between masters and their slaves, that between the love master and their love slave."

Although, Tarl Cabot is speaking in general terms here, those who are familiar with his Tales know that Tarl Cabot is also speaking from personal experience.  By the Tales, Tarl had at least one love-slave, Vella, whom he freed.

Loki and Odin were having a debate, about whether a being could change it's nature.  So Odin turned a gianni into a maiden and married her to one of his Warriors.

A few weeks later, they were watching in the Long Hall, and Odin said, “Look at her.  She proves my point.  Look how tame she is.”

So Loki said, “Now look, and watch her prove my point.”
And he tossed out half a dozen mice on the floor.

Conn was once a great Warrior.  Perhaps he was as great now as he had been then, just with less greatness available to be had in today's Gor.  He grew old in spirit, though the stabilization-serums kept him young-looking.  He had fought bigger battles for better causes, he had mastered better slaves, had conquered better Panthers.  He was bored, and the boredom became more and more a debilitating disease.

Sometimes he still went to the Northern Forest, more for nostalgia than to hunt.  He had been one of the great Panther Hunters.  He knew how to use shield and helmet to best advantage in Forest combat, and few Panthers upon whom he had set his sights did not wind up in his collar.  He also knew how to own women, to dominate them and make them like it.  Back in the day, he had hunted down, enslaved and conquered several notorious Panthers, and proved again and again, that a “conquered Panther is the most abject, and joyous and delicious of slaves.”

He had a woodsman's hut in the Forest, where he had taken captive Panthers over the years, and he would go there and make some charcoal, and remember those days, those women, those adventures, and those times.  The ghosts of many women lived between the boards of that hut in the Forest.

He was out fishing one day, not long ago, and a Panther came along, not knowing what she had happened across.  Her name was Sascha, and to her, there were two kinds of men in the Forest: Those who would cap her, use her and let her go; and those who were there to be capped, used, and let go.  This one was dark and handsome, muscular but not big, and lightly armed.  She was cocky and fearless, and sure she could take him; if need be.

She was pretty, with blonde hair that curled at the ends, which struck him as old-fashioned.  Her swagger and bravado reminded him of Segulah, one of the few Panthers he had hunted but never captured.  So he captured her.  She fought well, but was no match for a trained Warrior with better weapons.  He bound her and ravished her, and she resisted for a bit, but she was, after all, merely a Gorean woman.

They spent a week in that cabin, she in light chains, mostly for effect, and he enjoyed the sound they made when she walked or crawled, or when she quivered and squirmed.  He locked up his weapons at night; if she was going to turn the tables, she was going to have to do it barehanded, which chances were slim and none.  He branded her with the dina, and put a turian collar on her slim throat, because he liked kissing her under her jawline.  When it was time he was due back in his Home, there was no doubt he was taking her, in either of their minds.

When he returned to Ko-ro-ba, some laughed and mocked him.  “You will never make a decent slave out of that Panther-slut,” they said.  It seemed then that they both vowed to prove the critics wrong.

There was something about her that brought out the best in him, and maybe something else about her, or maybe the same thing; that made his cock harder than tur-wood when he furred her.  Maybe it was just built-up over time, too long since he had a good slave, fully owned a woman.  He thought she had the perfect butt, and he often had her walk in front of him, so he could watch it, rather than have her follow him.  But more than the sex, he found particularly that he felt her presence, even when she was not actually with him.

In his heart, he began to feel that there was something special about their relationship, that what they had each been through across the last decade of their time on Gor had somehow prepared each of them for this time and place in their lives to each have finally found what each had been searching for, without knowing they were searching.  As weeks turned into months he began to think of Sascha as more than a pleasure-slave, but as that semi-mythical love-slave, whose chains bind slave and Master both together.

She had been captured and had not submitted, so one night when they were cuddling contentedly in the furs after an outstanding session of fucking, he said, “If I asked you to submit, in front of witnesses, what would you do?”

* Kimba~ pauses a moment here, giving people a chance to ponder this query.*

She answered that she would, of course, submit to him in front of the whole city, if it would please him.  But she told me later that she was deep in the afterglow of the furring, and would have said anything, but thought about it all the following day, and could not decide what to do if he actually asked her to do it.

However, the next day, in the Main Hall of his City, he stood up and spoke.

He said, “Two months ago, I brought this girl Home, and many said that she would never be a good kajira.  I think she has proved them wrong.  Now, I am going to ask her to submit to me.

Sascha, do you wish to submit to me, fully, as my slave?”

She stood up and spoke.  “Master, what does the submission of a collared slave mean, in truth?

Free me, and then ask a fair question.”

* Kimba~ pauses significantly before continuing, letting people think about what they would do in his sandals.*

So, with all eyes upon him, confidently, he removed her collar and spoke again.  He said, “Sascha, I want you to submit to me as my slave.”

She answered: “I want to be free, to become your Companion.”

* Kimba~ pauses again, not quite as long before continuing.*

He was a man who held his Honor above nearly everything, and now he had freed her, and his Honor told him he was stuck with it.  But she came close and whispered quiet assurances to him that nothing between them would really change.  She was his woman, and she loved him, and all that would change would be how she related to others, their relationship would not change.

He told me that he knew it wasn't going to work.  The other Free Women would never accept her among them, and now the slaves would hate her too.  But he was Honor-bound, his sense of Honor left him no choices, that he could see then.

In time, Sascha's discontent soured their relationships with everybody else in the Home.  Now he was faced with a choice between Home and Heart, and eventually he decided that they needed to leave, and join an Outlaw group, where she could hunt with him and raid with him, and fit in better with the other women.  But now it was he who did not fit in, a man of genuine Honor, amongst Outlaws.

So, over time, they spent more and more of their time in that cabin where they had first fallen in love.  She told me that everything changed the first time she felt a bow in her hand again.  Like a bubble had burst.

One morning, he woke up, and she was gone, and her weapons gone.  So he weaponed-up, took his great-bow, and tracked her.  He found her as he came over a hill, looking down at her below, trussed up by a big dykey Panther.  It made him feel physically ill to see it, sick to his stomach, his heart in his throat.

He put an arrow to his bow, and sighted on the Panther, and thought about it for a moment.  Then he adjusted his aim to sight on Sascha.  Shooting Sascha might put HIM out of HIS misery.  Shooting the Panther would only free her until the next time she got snagged.  Maybe, if he shot this Panther, she would see the folly of her choices and come back to him.

And maybe not.  So, he just sheathed his arrow, and went back to the cabin, and started working on another batch of charcoal to cook his own supper, muttering to himself*:

“How did I forget that only a fool frees a loveslave?”
Kimba, PantherClaw Taluna Jungle, WM

We have it in our power to begin the world over again.~
Thomas Paine