Story of Gor, the gelding of a male slave

Castration of Gorean males

Camp of Castrates – First Story

Dear readers, what follows is a collection of four short fan stories based in John Norman’s world of sci-fi, beasts, heroes and sexism – Gor  (†).

We start with a short story of how the panther girl (†) Red hair brings back a captive to her camp of slave castrates.

An Ahn (†) before darkness they entered the Panther Girl’s camp. Ivar had spent another day as a beast of burden, traversing the jungle, hooded and leashed. Only this one he had spent, in a whole world of discomfort, having been beaten for his failure in cleaning his mistress’ clothing. Even now, his bare body clearly showed an even mixture of bite marks and crisscross red stripes, a mixture of where she had put him through his paces the night before and where she had liberally used a stick upon him in the morning.  For the first ahn of the day, he had blubbered within in the hood,soaking it with his salty tears. He had forgotten to remind her about his beating before she had remembered herself, and as such she had deemed as being dishonest, so he had received double the beating. It was then, after cuffing his hands behind his back and attached his two leashes, but before hooding him or loading him up as her beast of burden, she had told him of his further digression from her will and set about teaching him his lesson.
Ignoring his tears, she had then hooded him, loaded him up with the baggage and with a hard tug on his testicles leash set off, without another word. Now, weary beyond belief, he welcomed the end of their journey, despite what implications of his introduction to her home and fellow sisters might have for him. At their last, brief pause to water him, she had left the hood off. Blinking in the sunlight, Ivar admired the lush vegetation about him.

Licking his lips, he knelt at her feet on the trail, as Red hair cupped her hands to her mouth and made a shrill bird noise, which shortly after was answered. Satisfied the camp was safe, Red hair, urged her slave up on his feet with a tug on both leashes, for the last part of their passage. Now, as he heeled her, approaching the camp, he could see it was situated back from the bank of a small brook, one of the many tiny streams that seemed to interlace the forest.
Eyes on a rough wooden gate, fastened with vines, gave entrance into the camp, Ivar was startled by a vivacious panther girl who eased herself from the branches of a nearby tree, greeting his captor with a hug. Though they talked rapidly, he heard himself, the details of the trap and attack on the hunting party, discussed.

Stepping back from their embrace, the panther girl, her every step full of energy and vitality, looked at him, automatically sending warning signals through his every fibre. He knew instinctively she was a woman to be wary of.
Her body was heavenly, she too like his captor, wore only brief animal skins about her waist, but her lovely breasts were bare and were a joy in their own right. About her neck, waist, ankles and wrists hung assortments of shell and tooth necklaces. Tucked in her waist band was a long hunting knife the blade bare, looking sharp and even longer than his captor’s blade.

Quicker than he could have thought possible, she was at him, his balls gripped in a vice like grip, her face hissing in his ear, “Red hair, let Sav geld the kajirus now?”
Red hair laughed aloud, but to Ivar’s relief, pulled her friends arm away, “Let us greet our sisters, there is time enough for determining the slave’s fate, today, tomorrow, next week, it is of no consequence. To rejoice, greet one another, to drink and fuck, well now that matters!”
The panther girl thankfully released his balls, leaving him traumatized and concerned about his near future.
Already forgetting him, the Panther Girl he knew as Sav, had her arm about Red hair’s shoulders, chatting. The two women entered the camp through the wooden gate, a very jumpy Ivar meekly followed on the end of his leash.
The Panther’s camp consisted of little more than tapering small huts, woven sapling and thatched, surrounded by a picket of sharpened saplings. In the centre of the camp there was a cooking hole, banked with a circle of flat stones. On a wooden spit, set on sticks, grease dropping into the fire and flaming, was a thigh of tabuk. A nude male
slave, tendered the meat, turning it. The toiling kajirus did not look up from the spit, as the two panther girls and their heeling kajirus approached. To Ivar underfed, his belly nauseous of the paste he had been fed on, the cooking meat smelt magnificent. The smoke, in a thin line, trickled upward into the sky. To permit such a clue to their encampment, told him all he knew about how far away he must be from any well travelled trails, otherwise the panther girls would not have been so brazen about their whereabouts. Here, deep within the forest, they felt confident of their security from the likes of the hunting party that he had been with. Due to his hooding for the majority of the passage, he had little idea of his location to either the shores of Thassa or the Laurius River.

Having used guides to take them into the forests, the hunting party had cared little of their location;only that, it was close to where Panther Girls traded. With the guides now either dead or enslaved, and his own location further removed from the attack location, he only knew that he was lost somewhere in the vast uncharted wilderness, which covered hundreds of thousands of square passangs (†). Escape as it stood currently looked remote, if achieved, in terms of getting outside of the encampment, it would involve a time of severe anxiety and possible death or  hamstringing, as he would be hunted down by the women who knew the territory all too well. Looking around the dwelling as much as he dared, Ivar noted, the kajirus, and ultimately the thigh of tabuk, were tended by a squatting panther girl, who, from time to time, picked bits of meat from it and thrust them in her mouth. Sucked her fingers clean, she rose, a cane in hand and then reviewed her other charges; another four male slaves,
all nude, all kneeling, working on a slave net, reworking and re-notting it’s weighted cords. The girl picked a section of net and studied it. Angrily, she barked out a harsh cry, bringing the cane down upon the slave, who’s work she had found wanting. Elsewhere two panther girls, sat cross-legged, either side of a staked out kajirus. The kajirus (†) was aroused and the girls were playing a derivative game of cats-cradle, matching one another’s intricate patterns with twine, centred about the slave’s erect manhood. The slave’s manhood, glistened with oil, and he was moaning uncontrollably with frustrated pleasure. The girls were skilful at the game, dexterous fingers, guiding the teasing twine all about, up and down the hapless kajirus. Ivar saw, clearly, no other panther girls in or about the enclosure. He did see, however, a movement within one of the huts, and he supposed that to be another girl. He saw no evidence of further male slaves. They might, of course, lie chained within one of the dark huts. Perhaps the movement he had seen within the hut had been a kajirus. He did not know.Finally noticing the return of their sister, all the panther girls dropped what they were doing, rushing over to greet their sister.Between the joyful shrieks and mirth, Ivar gathered the camp had considered his captor dead, a casualty of the raid. No such luck, he grimaced ruefully.

Abandoned, Ivar looked again about the camp, his new home. He saw some poles behind the huts, on which, drying, were stretched the skins of four panthers. There were some boxes, some kegs, near one of the huts. In the last set of poles, as equally stretched out as the skins, was another nude male, his head and lower belly were shaved as Ivar
had been, and this one was a man he thought he recognised from the caravan. The poor wretch looked uncomfortable, he hung about a foot above the ground, his wrists, secured, by leather binding fibre, fastened above his head, which hung limply on his chest but that was not the worst of it. Additionally, his legs had been widely spread and tied to the side poles and Ivar saw with dawning dread that at the slave’s groin, behind his limp and much shrivelled manhood, was nothing at all, just a darkened red smear. Ivar knew immediately that this male had been castrated, conveying a clear dose of reality to an already alarmed fresh slave. Beyond the castration, Ivar also registered that the man had been circumcised too. Perhaps, a victim of the all too eager Sav and her long blade? Ivar shuddered at the thought. His plans for escape, took on a new compelling motivation, they would have to be soon and successful. He began to plan, taking stock of his surroundings.

 Inspection of a Castrate – Second story

A few moon cycles (†) later some more castrates are inspected by the panther girls Red hair and Sav.

“Was he punished?” Asked Red hair.
“Oh yes,” Sav nodded in confirmation,“The slave concerned was gelded as a lesson to the others and chained in the kajira cages for a week. The girls had a great time teasing him whilst he healed,” Red hair smiled, amused that the male slave would have suffered terribly as the slave girls teased him with their bodies.
Red hair nodded, not blinking an eyelid, slavery and the gelding of male slaves had never really shocked her. Red hair saw castration of a kajirus as just another decision a Panther girl had to make with her property, on a par with choosing which cock ring a male slave should wear.
“I take it, you mean this one? ” Red hair said tapping the kneeling kajirus’s shaven head with her leather strap.
“Yes, it is,” Sav laughed. Nothing nestling between the kajirus’s muscular thighs , where once low hanging plump balls would have been. The slave ring he wore through his shriveled manhood glinted in the bright sunlight.
“Then sell him to a man!” she said to Sav, pointing to him, as the poor wretch knelt naked and chained.
Sav signaled to another panther girl to remove the male slave from the pole, his fate sealed. “Lesha!” barked Jen, the panther girl. At this command, the kajirus swiftly placed his hands behind his back, ready for binding, and with his head back and chin to the left, ready to have a leash snapped onto his collar. Jen the panther girl then marked his chest with a “O” with her marking stick (meaning the male had been nulled), before securing him and leading him away.
Impressed with his obedience, Red hair complemented Sav, “You have trained him well Sav, another batch of male slave meat to be sold at our trade post and trained to your highest standards.”
“Thank you,” Sav smiled and nodded, pleased with her sisters complement.
“Shall we proceed,” Red hair said, “I think we have a lively one here.”
Walking over to the next male slave, Red hair grinned, indicating the males stirring massive manhood.
“Your voice has such an effect on males!” Sav laughed, “Position, boi.”
With a swiftness defying his bulk, he rose, large bare feet widely spread, providing them with full and easy access to his naked body.
Reaching out, Red hair momentarily fondled the males huge manhood. It was all that was needed. Free of his restraints, probably for the longest time in his slavery, Red hair was experienced enough to know accidents could happen at this stage more than any other. Withdrawing her hand, she said, “I think he’s lively in more ways than one.”
“Indeed. I have named him Brutus, his magnificant manhood proved brutal to several of our slave girls” Sav replied closely watching the males mighty manhood pulse before them.
Her almond-shaped emerald eyes watched him intently, sparkling, challenging him, as her exploring, hand moved across his chest, down past his belly and back to his groin. He moaned softly as she cupped his massive balls, her finger tips exploring deeply, her forearm brushing the tip of his manhood. His knees nearly buckled by the time she took hold of the ring through his oversized manhood, her nimble fingers moving the ring around.
Annoyed at his lack of self-control, Red hair struck the back of his calves with her leather strap. “Stand still boi !”
Emitting a small cry when struck, he rocked on his toes. She waved her hand to Sav. “Prepare the beast and bring him to my hut later.”
Turning to the male slave, Sav regarded the him closely, looking him up and down, knowing  what red hair had seen that was so interesting. He was immensely developed in contrast to the other slaves that had been on display. Grinning to herself, she said, “Nadu, boi.”
As he knelt at her feet, knees widely spread, Sav gave him a swift kick in the groin. The bulky kajirus collapsed in pain, sobbing he curled up in a ball, dust from the sand pit sticking to the sweat of his body. Crouching before him, Sav retrieved his restraint and replaced it on his now shrunken and tender manhood. “I’m not sure if the others should envy or pity you boi. Red hair is a harsh one.”

 The Young Cutter – Third story

In the Oasis of Klima a young ‘cutter’ shows off his new gelding technique.

The Oasis of  Klima is a place like no other on Gor. It is a city where slave traders and slave buyers come, and the entire city with its ancient buildings and associated businesses are all linked to the slave trade. It is a place where the slave trade routes converge, and sometimes the slave auctions will trade as many as a hundred male and female slaves a day.

Oasis of Klima has existed since the first maps were drawn, and it is well known among those that deal in human flesh. However, the city is hidden deep within the  desert mountains, and it is surrounded by huge sand dunes. So, unless you know the way to the city, traveled in a caravan or hired a guide, you would get lost and never be able to find it. Red hair dressed in her green Healer Woman gown , face covered with a veil had traveled with one of these caravans, word of Klima had reached as far as the Northern Forests.

Red hair doesn’t usually go to the slave pens, as the auctions don’t hold her interest for long, even the male gelding that Klima is famous for is not something she would normally watch.  It’s not that it bothered her, as it didn’t, and she knew that snipping a male’s balls could turn a problematic male into a docile and willing kajirus. The male  slaves are all better for it, and while individually they don’t like losing their balls once it’s been done they do get used to it, and the drive and anger and competitive nature that defines most males simply disappears for them and in very short order. More importantly, they worry about tending the needs of a woman instead of the desire to fur a woman, and that alone makes taking their balls something worth doing.

There is a new ‘cutter’ in Klima, and it is him that Red hair had come to see and to learn from.  He is a young gelded slave,  and he is already gaining a reputation for a method that has not been seen in the city before yet apparently is proving its worth. He was not trained in Klima, but instead it is rumored that he learned his method from the Pygmies of Schendi.

So, Red hair  arrived early, so she could get a good place to stand near the slave pens. When she glimpses the cutter she is surprised, he is young with short cropped blond hair, just wearing a blue kilt and leather sandals.  He doesn’t look very strong either, and as Red hair stares at him it’s hard to visualize him taking off a males balls. The cutter is sharpening his knife and he has a big grin and bright, green eyes. He looks over and says something to one of his helpers. Red hair notices his helpers are all young females , they are kajira and wearing sexy see through blue camisks.  He seems confident, and his bright eyes shine as he works the steel and sharpens it against the spinning stone.

She watches and sees several male slaves are being strapped down on their backs over a long wooden castration bench that has been built very low to the ground. Their feet are individually secured to stone slabs. Once they are laid down their cuffed wrists are secured over their heads and hooked to an iron ring in the ground, so that they are trussed facing upwards with their legs spread wide.

The slaves stare, and watch the kajira, chained out and unable to do anything else. As they stare and watch there eventually comes a time when one of the kajira scrapes her razor over their genitals, removing the nest of pubic hair from each of them,  and then scraping the blade down their legs and through their armpits until they too feel as smooth as young girls skin.

The process makes them all look like boys, the male slaves smell of soap, and it is obvious that they have been well washed and scrubbed down to make them clean.

The  cutter finishes with his knife and pauses to wash his hands. Then he walks down the line of slaves who have already been washed, holding his knife, and as he passes each of them they nervously look away. They know he’s come to make his pick, to decide which of them he will geld first. Finally, he stops by a massive male, with a Warriors build, who is staring back at the boy and daring to look him in the eye. He’s a strong powerful male, and it is obvious he is used to being in a different position, in charge perhaps, and giving the orders.

The  cutter smiles, and then nods, and as he does five females unhook the big male and drag him by the leash around his cock to the bench. He tries to get away then, as soon as the chain is unlinked from the pole he was tied to, but it’s a useless gesture and five females wrestle with him and drag him onward to his fate.

He doesn’t like it, and as he realizes he can’t get free he starts to beg, knowing at that point that he can’t stop what has started. In less than twenty ihn he’s over the castration bench, the link of chain hooked to his wrist cuffs secured to a hook in the ground in front of him. His body is over the bench, and his two legs are then pulled apart, wide, stretched out and open until the links of chain on his ankles can be linked to two other hooks waiting for them.

The big male  pleads “Don’t…..don’t do this. You’re just a boi and you have no right.” The cutter frowns with that, and then he turns and nods to a kajira near him, and says simply “Milk this one.”

The kajira is holding a thick wooden rod, one end is wrapped with leather, to form a handle, the other end has a big rounded end,  and is well greased. She pushes the big greased end into the big male’s anus.

The big male doesn’t like it, and he whips his head around to try and see what is being done to him. Then he shouts “STOP….do not DARE to put that thing into me!” The kajira ignores him, and then, without warning she pushes on the rod. The male slave grunts, and at that moment the kajira just shoves the rod all the way in until the end pushes up against the slave’s prostate.

The male slave arches his back with the intrusion, and his eyes go wide. He gasps again, louder, making more of a grunting noise and then he winces. Then the kajira  begins to move the wooden rod in the males ass, pushing it in and out and rotating it up and down and side to side all at the same time.

The male is grunting as the cutter comes to him, almost as if he is attracted by these noises.  As the male slave shoots his load, the cutter grins, and as he does he rotates the knife and sets the angle of his blade. The rod is pulled out of the slave’s ass with a “plop,” and as it is removed the cutter steps behind the slave and lifts up his big balls which have just squirted their last and final load.

The big slave feels the  cutter grab his balls, and as he does he panics. The chains rattle with his desperation. He knows he is about to be unmanned, and the fear in his face is obvious. The cutter then pulls the loose scrotum skin down,  and hard. Almost in the same instant he jerks his right hand, which holds the knife, and as he does he slices it into the fold of skin, making a single perfect cut, right at the very bottom of the slave’s huge scrotum.

The male slave screams “ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” as he feels the cut, and he slams his head back and his big thigh muscles tighten. The cutter moves quickly, and with his left hand he grasps the males scrotum, near the top, and with a pulling down motion he literally strips the males two big balls right out of the scrotum, popping them out through the slit he has made. The man’s exposed balls are big, very big, like small vulo eggs hanging from their delicate cords.

With a careful flick of his knife he cuts the whitish cords, and as he does the male slave grunts and his legs shudder. The cutter pulls downward then on the slave’s twin eggs, pulling them backward and upwards at the same time, between his legs, stretching the remaining vessels. The slave grunts, and his chains rattle as he tries to struggle.

The cutter twists the male’s two exposed eggs, around and around, twisting the still attached blood vessels even as he stretches them. The very ihn he finishes, he lays the side of his blade up against the remaining tubes then, sideways, and rapidly begins to move his knife up and down along their exposed length. It’s the very opposite of a slicing motion, instead just scrapping the blade sideways up and down the side of the pulsating tubes.

The two tubes start to tear, shredding really, and then less than a ihn later the male’s eggs are free and no longer his. The cutter grins as he steals the eggs, his kajira helpers are laughing, and then with a toss he throws the eggs into a small wooden bucket that is waiting for them. The big slave grunts as it is done, and then he just collapses over the castration bench, all the fight and struggle gone with his severed manhood.

 The gelded Thrall (†)– Fourth story

A male slave gets more than he bargained for !

The Thrall wakes up still in the stock and shivers

Rae chewed, then swallowed, hurrying to say goodnight to the couple- Rest well both of you – she then turns to Reb- the only thing bruised so far is your pride

rune: “Most welcome, Mistress” she sats softrly then smiles to Hunter and Shurra, “Dream well, Jarl and Mistress”

Reb grumbles….”If I find out who left their cushions and books out in the floor, my pride won’t be the only thing black and blue.”

rune smiles to Shirra

The Thrall: My Mistress

Rae bit off a small corner of the bread- Mmmm, this is quite tasty

rune squeaks at the Jarl’s comment and her eyes steal to the pillows and books immediately. About to speak, she hears the thrall’s voice outside and her cheeks pale a little.

The Thrall tired of the stocks stretches hard against his bonds testing for weak spots in tth wood

Rae turned her head to the door, sure that was the direction from which the voice she heard was coming- Is that a..a thrall out there?- she looked at Reb, then shifted her eyes to Rune-

The Thrall pulling mightily with all his might makes the wood creak and groan

Reb hears the male voice coming from outside, then turns to answer Rae’s question with a shrug.

rune is snapped out of her frozen moment, her attention brught back from the creaking wood of the stocks and the thralls’s voice to the Mistress, “Y-yes, Mistress, yes it is… it is underconsideration by my Mistress…” she says softly, feeling like the air had lef the room.t

The Thrall the veins in his neck stretching as he shifts for better leverage but cannot make the cold iron and solid wood yeild to his strength

Rae nodded- I see… -she said slowly-… sounds like he is trying to break free of whatever holds him

rune takes an unconscious step back, “it sounds like it will break them, Mistress… oh Jarl, are they strong enough to hold a thrall? An angry one?” she swallows hard.

Reb shakes his head….”I rather doubt he’d be able to break loose.” he says

Rae eyed Reb. She knew how he felt about thralls and wondered if he would go outside to check the stocks-

The Thrall shivering in the cold now that his pants were taken, unable to exstricate himself, he slumps as much as he can…lehs

rune nods to the Jarl, trying to be reassured, “He has been there some time…”

Reb knits his brow……”And who restrained him?”

Rae listened to the conversation as she kept one eye on the door-

rune ‘s wide blue eyes never leave the direction of the thrall’s movement, “either my Mistress or my Jarl, i am not sure…”

Reb scratches his beard with his free hand….”I wonder if its just to break him, or if he did something displeasing.”

The Thrall panting gets an idea and kicks off his boots to get better traction

rune chews her lip a little, “it mentioned stealing spices…”

The Thrall placing his toes by the post instantly regrets it as a large splinter gets into his foot

Rae: I think someone should check on him… just to make sure that he is still secure. It sounds like he has given all he has to escape

Reb turns around to regard Rune….”He did, did he?” he says, more a statement than a question, then downs the rest of his mead before rising from his seat.

Rae quickly got to her feet, following after Rayzor. She couldnt help but wonder what he would do –

Reb glances back as Rae quickly rose….”Don’t get so excited.” he says calmly as he walks toward the door.

Reb exits the longhouse to find the male slave naked in the stocks….”Well, isn’t that a sight.” he says sarcastically. Reb didn’t like the sight of clothed thralls, much less nude ones.

Rae stepped out behind Red, her eyes washing over the boy- Isn’t it though?- she said more to herself than to Reb-

rune pulls her kirtle on as she exits the hall and comes to stand next to Jarl

The Thrall stops struggling and looks down humiliated
The Thrall on seein rune suddenly feels his body betray him as if of its own volition his slave heat begins to get hard

Reb frowns deeply, but notes the air of humiliation the thrall felt upon noticing his arrival…..”Looks like he received a thorough lashing.” he says more to himself than anyone, then speaks directly to the slave……”What is the reason for your punishment?”

Rae blinked, then quickly turned away- I would say with all that iron about him, he looks pretty secure

The Thrall: I took some spices and then showed anger

Reb nods sternly…..”You do realize that you’re lucky to be alive, do you not?”

The Thrall: but that kajira took more than I would ever dare …she tried to poison me
The Thrall deflated nods

Rae: What kajira- she asked, wondering who he meant-

rune notices the thrall’s pertness and feels her cheeks get flushed. She lowers her lashes. When the thrall accuses her, she looks up suddenly, her brow knit. She narrows her eyes at him but stays silent

Reb arches his eyebrow sharply….”Do not nod to me, boy.” he states sternly. “Address me as you should.”

The Thrall smiles suddenly, “perhalps I have made a mistake”

Rae: I think you have made many and will lose that tongue if you do not learn to address people properly

Reb reaches behind himself as if on cue, grasping the handle of his knife. Drawing it out, he tests the edge with his thumb.

The Thrall suddenly his eyes go wide in fear “I….” he stammers unsure of what to do or say
The Thrall: Boy begs forgiveness Ma…Jarl

Rae: Amazing what the blade of a knife can make one do- she said sarcastically-

The Thrall: Yes Mistress

Reb smirks….”So you fear the blade.” he states matter-of-factly. Keeping the blade in view, he continues. “Now, what kajira do you speak of? I assume that either she was from the south, or you are.”

The Thrall almost beyond belief his heat twiches with excitement at his predicament
The Thrall: Yes Jarl a kajira from the south
The Thrall licks his dry lips d flips his hair and slyly winks at rune when the man isnt looking

Reb looks around, this way and that…….”And what became of this silk girl?” he asks, using the favored reference of northerners.

rune catches the thrall’s wink and a strangled little squeak catches in her throat as she reflexivey takes a step back, this thrall in particular challenging her efforts to not fear or loathe the man-slaves.

The Thrall: Oh I caught her with no free around
The Thrall: taught her the error she had made
The Thrall: poor kajira became confussed when I was done

Reb knits his brow….”Is that a fact?” he responds.”And where is she now?”

Rae almost laughs- You ..taught.. her.. the error of her ways?

The Thrall: I’m not sure
The Thrall: I can be a very good teacher Mistress
The Thrall a sudden hardness behind his eyes , before he looks at the ground to hide it

Rae: But obviously not a good student if you managed to get yourself here for stealing and showing anger

The Thrall: a good point Mistress

Reb begins walking around the stocks slowly….”I’m beginning to think you are wishing to pawn off your ……” his voice stops suddenly as he notices the way the thrall looked at Rae.

Rae remained silent, noticing that Reb had seen the hardness the thrall cast at her. She shook her head slowly, waiting to see what Reb would do

Reb coming to a stop behind the thrall, he wipes the blade of his knife across his trousered knee as if to clean it…..”Perhaps we should make your punishment more…..permanent.” he says as he places the tip of his boot between the slave’s ankles, kicking them apart.

The Thrall gasps “Boy begs Jarl. Boy meant no harm>”

Reb places the flat of the blade beneath the slave’s scrotum and lifts on the handle, pressing the metal to the skin….”It would be just like taming a wild bull bosk.” he comments offhandedly, then looks toward his woman. “You might want to turn around.” he says to her.

The Thrall braces himself, helpless in his bonds.

Rae watched, her eyes shifting from Reb to the boy and back again. She knew how he hated thralls, but would he really do this?- Ummm…Reb…..- she closed her eyes and turned around. If he did do this, she would know as the boys screams would surely fill her ears-

rune ‘s eyes widened and she steps back again, her belly clenched tight but she can’t move her gaze.

Reb pats the dangling jewels with the flat of the blade, just enough to make solid contact with the tender pendulums.

The Thrall makes a sharp intake of breath , trying to hold very still so as not to anger the man …knowing that struggle will be futile
The Thrall begins to pray silently for a quick albeit humiliating death

Rae closed her eyes, every ihn pasing like an ahn as she waited to hear the painful cries of the boy-

Reb grins broadly….”Interesting, isn’t it? How simply touching a slave’s balls will make him stop talking.” Reb was obviously enjoying the suspense this was causing the thrall, but anyone who knew him would not be surprised in the least.

The Thrall winces as the sheen of sweat covering his body begins to run into his bloody whip wounds

rune furrows her brow. Perhaps being a Free Man made all the difference when touching a slave’s balls, as that was never the response she had. She swallows hard, her eyes flitting once up to the Jarl and back to the slave’s vulnerable valuables.

The Thrall the pain from the salt in his wounds almost as unbearable as the suspense of his demise

Reb glances over toward Rune….”You better get some rags. I’ve heard this bleeds a lot, and I don’t want him dying.” he says to her. “You’ll have to apply pressure to the wound, of course.”

Rae turned back around at the sound of Reb’s voice- If you are going to castrate him, let’s get this over with already.

Reb smirks at Rae. He was enjoying this too much and she knew it.

The Thrall in his desperation suddenly laughs. A cruel low laugh almost otherworldly

rune blinks her eyes wider, “P=pressure…rags….. yes Jarl” she nods and runs off.

Rae: Yes, she knew indeed. this was not quite how she pictured spending her first day ashore, then again, was anything ever how one pictured it?

Reb smirks as he regards the thrall’s burst of otherwordly laughter….”I’m sure you’re enjoying the thought of her hands on your crotch, but I assure you, it won’t be pleasant with your balls missing.”

The Thrall: Oh yes Mighty Jarl threatening a naked bound slave
The Thrall: Death would be preferable to this

Rae’s eyes went wide, her lips forming a perfect ” O”. Was this boy just begging to be killed or what?- He did not just speak to you like that Reb, did he? -she asked stunned-

The Thrall shaking with fear, braces himself for the end

Reb narrows his eyes. Yes, that was it, the one thing that would fortify this man who had never done this to a bosk, much less a human. “Yes, yes he did.” he replies as he flips the knife in his palm, positioning it for the cut. Reaching under the man’s pelvis, he grasps the scrotum and begins making the incision with the tip of the blade.

The Thrall: hols back his scream and yells “You wouldnt dare release me”
The Thrall: face me only bound and helpless
The Thrall: Mighty Jarl
The Thrall screaming in pain and frustration as he starts to thrash around

Rae: Oh dear gods- she muttered softly as she watched him begin to slice through the boy’s sack. Quickly, she spun around, the blood and screaming making her sick-

The Thrall the pain making his struggles harder as he fights kicking out his legs

Reb ignores the taunts of the slave. Bound or not was no consequence to him. The thrall was only a lowly beast in his eyes. Finishing the incision, his hand warm with the flow of blood, he grasps the exposed testicles just as his body begins thrashing about, making them slip from his hand.

The Thrall feels his thigh cut as he struggles and suddenly goes weak his femeral artery cut and bleeding
The Thrall: nghhhh

rune exhales slowly, her eyes still unmoving witness to the blade’s work and she doesn’t even notice gripping the wad of towels harder and harder, til her hands were white-knuckled.

The Thrall he vomits all over as hsi life blood gushes out of him quickly

Reb grumbles….”By Odin and Thor!” he exclaims, as he sees the self-inflicted wound caused by his thrashing about. “Now you’ve gone and done it.”

The Thrall suddenly looses his footing and falls and with a sickening “snap’ his neck is broken and he ceases

Reb motions toward Rune….”Quickly!” he shouts.

Reb sighs as he hears the sickening snap of the spinal cord.

Rae turned back around, the scene a grisly one-

rune goes to the thrall, her hands moving blindly as she works to bind the wound, preparing a tournquet. Hearing the thrall’s neck snap she stops, frozen and unmoving, her eyes slowly wandering to Jarl Reb

Reb looks down at her….”Get up, it’s useless now.” he says nonchalantly. “Tell your Jarl I’ll gladly compensate him for the loss of his beast.”

Rae’s eyes wash over Reb, her lips locked in a tight line-

rune nods to Him quickly, “Yes, Jarl” she her eyes drop to the broken and bloody thrall, her gaze impassionate and without affect. “Yes, Jarl. Will the sleen eat it?”

Reb looks down at the blade covered in blood, his hands barely distinguishable from the weapon by mere color alone. Reaching down for one of the rags the bond-maid brought out, he begins cleaning the blade….”Most likely, and if he turns his nose up at it, the sharks will surely dispose of his carcass.”

Rae: You need to get the key to the stocks and get it out of here. I am sure everyone entering the hall will not want to see this

Reb nods to Rae, then motions to Rune….”See to it that the body is removed quickly.” he says, then begins to walk toward the shore to wash the blood from his hands.

(†) Gor /ˈɡɔːr/ is the Counter-Earth setting for John Norman‘s extended series of sword and planet novels. (†)  Ahn is one Gorean ‘hour’ (†) A Pasang is approximately .7 of a mile (1.12km).(†)  Moon cycle. In the first book, Tarl says all three moons are “small” but this might be in comparison to Earth’s moon. They usually seem to be full but do have individual phases and there are lunar eclipses. (†) Panthergirls are the fabled panther girls of many of the Gorean forests, such bands being comprised of wildwomen of the forest. (†) Kajirus or Thrall is a servant slave.

© Lunacaleengpanthers/various


One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s