kajirus

*Note: For those of you unfamiliar with Gorean culture – a kajirus is the male equivalent of a kajira — basically a male slave. However, where this differs from conventional D/s is in the role of the kajirus. In Gorean culture all men are dominant, all the time. And though it is disgraceful and uncommon for a man to be enslaved it still happens. But this doesn’t erase his underlying Gorean nature to be tough, assured, and dominant. Just a quick note to keep in mind while reading. *



*



“I hear you’re being sold to some haggle toothed Free woman stupid slave boy. I bet she is covered in warts and hair,” the tiny blonde tavern slut called at me.



They had been sent out here to entice the Free men back to their Master’s tavern to spend coins. But the crowd had thinned out as everyone had gone back to the market and to work for the afternoon. So the tavern sluts seemed to be content to amuse themselves by teasing me in the mean time. Cock starved little whores that they were; somehow they seemed to mistake myself and the other dock and ship slaves for cowed and dickless boy things.



“Yeah. That’s what you deserve. Some ugly crone who’ll touch you with her bony fingers and make you lick her wrinkled and smelly feet!”



The cropped hair girl called out after me, unable to hide the excitement in her voice as they continued their teasing. She must have been recently off of a boat judging by the short length of her tresses or a very bad slave. They only reasons a Free would shave a girl’s hair would be as punishment, or to keep it clear of the lice and infestations found on the boats below deck.



“But she’ll not even want a thing to do with you since your dick will be shriveled and useless once you look at her without her veils on!”



My new bet was that she was a very bad slave.



A Free man had rounded the corner just then, catching some of the insults. He sent his eyes briefly to the sluts, but otherwise didn’t pause or acknowledge the circumstances since the matters of slaves were beneath him. But just as he passed me he turned and gave me the slightest nod. I took it as obvious permission to punish the little tarts.



I stayed relaxed and comfortably leaned against the stack of crates, my arms crossed over my chest as I waited very patiently for the man to be completely gone from sight. Silent permission or not, he didn’t want accountability for whatever would befall the mouthy sluts. But once he turned the corner, all was fair game.



I slowly pushed away from the crates, twisting my head first to one side then the other as I tried to loosen my stiff neck, the crackling of joints sounded in the air. I stood to my full height, which was considerable even by Gorean standards; then slowly stalked forward towards the suddenly silent and wide eyed tavern sluts, pressing first one fist into my palm and then the other as I cracked my knuckles and loomed towards them.



The stupid bosks shrieked and jumped from their perches, making a break for it. I continued to stalk ever slowly towards them. Just as I anticipated they ran to the end of the dock and then stumbled to a halt as though they hit an invisible wall. They couldn’t leave the dock for fear of facing their Master’s wrath, which would be much more cruel than mine as he didn’t have to worry about leaving marks or whether he damaged them permanently since they were his to do with as he pleased. I grinned a vicious smile at them, letting them know I knew what tethered them and I planned to take full advantage of their entrapment.



“We were just giving you are hard time kajirus. It wasn’t a thing..”



They were back pedaling now. Tripping over themselves to placate me with their hollow words. Seeing some look in my eye as I walked ever closer, they must have realized I would not be so easily charmed and forgiving. So the blonde tried another tactic.



“Now see here ‘boyyy’.” She drew out the syllables for emphasis. “You wouldn’t dare touch us. You are far too lowly and wouldn’t risk our Master’s wrath. ” Her pointed little emaciated chin tilted up proudly.



I chuckled.



I reached out grabbing a wrist of each of them in my hands, having to almost completely clench my large hands just to keep a tight grip on the tiny things. I twisted their arms until the pressure would be excruciating but not break their delicate little slave bones as I hauled them into me. I had to bend from my considerable height in order to place my face near theirs, letting my scruffy cheeks scrape against their soft ones.



I growled into their ears, “I could hurt you in ways that wouldn’t leave marks, sluts. And even if there were marks left, it would be your word against mine… and I, sluts, am a man. You seem to have forgotten this…” my voice almost a hiss by the end of my monologue, barely heard over their cries and whimpers of protest.



I used their twisted arms to push them down to their knees, only eliciting more cries of pain. I threw their red and undoubtedly sore arms at them as I released them. I unfastened the lacings of my simple breaches, baring my rigid cock without much artifice. The sluts groaned and cried all the harder. Good.



I wrapped my fist in the locks of the blonde, pulling her forward with the painful grip to her hair, forcing her mouth on to my cock as I began to fuck her face and throat while she gagged and nearly retched. I palmed the prickly head of the other slave girl, digging my nails into her scalp as I pushed her forward at the same time as the blonde, juggling them until the mostly-bald one was fitted between my legs and her mouth was forcefully pressed to my balls. She could suffocate in them or suck on them. Lucky for her she decided to open up her pretty little mouth and suck them. It couldn’t have been pleasant for them — I’d been working hard in the hot sun all day after all.



I tilted my head back and kept my hold on both sluts firm and unforgiving, fucking their faces. My cock would twitch every time I heard them gasping for air, the poor blondes face turning red with the effort to take all of my cock down her throat and simultaneously breath through her nose.



“He’ll do,” called out a feminine but confident voice to the side of me on the cobbles surrounding the dock.



I turned to face the intrusion, with more than a little annoyance in my expression, but didn’t stop my hands from pumping the slave girls on my various parts.



I was surprised to see the stoic figure of a veiled and completely covered Free woman staring back at me. She was the picture of modesty with even her hair covered; her cold eyes looking down at me were the only visible part of her, even the outline of her body was obscured by the shapeless dress she wore.



The man that owned me stood to one side of her, while a few other burly sailors stood to the other side. But they were secondary to the woman they dwarfed with their size, although she was tall by women’s standards. She just kept staring at me with those cold commanding eyes, the Free man leftover in me couldn’t help but take it as a challenge.



I growled while I stared back at her, pulling my cock out of the blonde’s throat and mouth. I used my hold on them to knock their heads together with a loud hollow thunk. They shrieked in pain while I shot my seed all over their sobbing faces and the one’s mangled hair. I let go of them finally, letting them melt into a sobbing pile of chagrined slave girls. I didn’t bother to tuck my spent cock back into my breeches, instead letting it swing lewdly before me as I stalked towards the Free woman.



Just as I stood close enough to her that my dick might brush her skirts, the sailors at her side grabbed me and knocked me over their head with something blunt. As my vision started to fade at the edges, I fuzzily heard my thought’s amazement that the Free woman never stepped back, never hid behind the figures of the men as I moved towards her, never blinked.







I woke up later that night. A quick glance out the windows of the cylinder told me it was dark outside now.



I was naked and must have been cleaned, as the dirt and grime was gone from my skin, and my smell no longer offended my own senses. But I was unbound. That was a mistake.



“Good morning slave.” That same cold but somehow melodic voice called out from behind me.



I spun to face the bitch, sucking in a breath as I ended the aggressive spin, losing some of my combative stance as I caught sight of her.



In the flickering light of the fire, she was naked and bathed in shadows and dim light. Her skin was flawless and pale, smooth like verr butter. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown and as cold as ever. Her breasts were more than a handful by my estimate, but not overly large. Her waist was narrow; her hips were wide and thick, perfect for grabbing on to as I fucked her mercilessly… if I had to guess. She sat comfortably- leaned back against her expensive looking high-backed chair, her legs crossed, her arms reclined on the arms of the chair. Her jaw was sculpted but soft, her lips were full and pink with the tenderest pout to them.



I shook my head to clear it of the bewitchery of her body. Then I began to take long strides towards her, closing the distance of the room between us shortly with my long legs.



It was simple enough. I would rape and discard her. Find some clothing and be on my way. She couldn’t afford to report it for fear that her reputation would be ruined once it was discovered a slave had used her body. My old owner no longer had any hand in my fate or any care of it for that matter, I was as good as free. Stupid woman.



When I was a moment away from being able to reach out and swing a hand to grab her, her hand tucked to the side of the chair and wrapped around something leaned against it. Lightening fast her arm flew, sending the tip of a long, thin metallic switch into my shoulder.



I fell to my knees convulsing as the electricity shot through me, sizzling my nerves. It was a slave goad. My eyes rolled back into my head as I tried to remain conscious against the pain. I relented to it somewhat as I retched on to the floor, my arms straining to hold me up. She kept that point trained against my shoulder, unrelenting in her cruelty, proving that she would not be at the disadvantage.



I started the slow progression of crawling forward as I coughed and choked on my own bile and pain. Just as I stopped with my head hung low by her foot, she pulled the goad away and gave me reprieve. She twitched her bare foot as a silent signal that I should kiss it and acknowledge her as my Mistress.



I lifted my heavy and pain fogged head enough to press my vomit wetted lips to her delicate foot. She angled it and uncrossed her legs in order to push at my face with her foot, kicking my off balance so that I rolled bonelessly to my back. I lay prone on the floor, barely able to breathe as I recovered. Then suddenly her majestic and cold form stood towering above me.



“Who am I?” she asked, the goad poised at her side.



“my Mistress…” I choked out.

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