Story of Gor, Eowyynn and the Di Jan pirates

I am a Panther, more free than any woman you are used to!

Part one of story of Gor, click here for part two Story of Gor, Eo is collared

Day One

I groggily start to come to, everything is a blur, colours swirling in the dim light. My head throbs, like a war drum beating out a cadence. My body feels of tingles and needles, and I smell the earthy damp wood beneath me. Sounds start to filter in, waves crashing against rocks, some dim sounds of people muffled by the waves and the walls around me. A foul taste in my mouth, of stale vomit and a sharp metallic bitterness. 

I try to move, my muscles ache, like daggers plunged into them and I let out a small moan. That Is also when I feel the binds digging into my wrists and ankles. I am bound up and laying on the floor, the coarse wood beneath me. That is when I realize some of the noises are words filtering into my brain. 

“…ee you are waking up.” Still foggy I dont catch all the words but as I listen they become clearer. “…put up quite a fight after we captured you, the Captain decided it was easier to keep you drugged for the voyage.” 

The voice tickles my thoughts, as I start to become more aware. I knew that voice, I was sure of it, but where. It had a distinct gravelly sound. Slowly it dawned on  me, it was the voice of that visiting blacksmith. He had been in the village near our camp a few times. He had seemed friendly enough, but not the usual sort to be a blacksmith, there was an edge to him, a hardness not normally seen in simple artisans. 

He had continued talking as my mind had wondered, still affected by the drugs and not yet working properly, but better with each passing moment. I blinked and though everything was still somewhat out of focus I could see the building I was in, then I realized he was still talking. ” …oo options. We have nice days, or I will teach you a lesson.” 

My mouth is dry, despite the various unsavory tastes , I lick my lips and start to talk, all that comes out is a rasp. I swallow and try again, putting as much defiance into it as i can, narrowing my eyes I manage to get out “You have two options, free me or get a dagger in your throat” 

My head spins and I droop a bit and, once again, miss his first few words “…butt is mine” He says with a chuckle. I can only counter with a soft , weakened reply of “My butt is my own” 

He hauls me up roughly, but with no malice, treating me as an object, a piece of livestock and pushes me against the wall, so I am somewhat sitting. My head swirls crazily and everything blurs again, darkness threatens to block my vision, but slowly it comes back.  

“I am a Panther, more free than any woman you are used to.” I manage to snarl out. The snarl comes out more the mewling of a kitten as I recover from the drugs in my system. He laughs, not a mocking laugh, but one who finds my defiance humorous. Like a Larl to a small cub. 

“That is fine, we learn together”  He grabs my arm and brins me to my feet, holding me as I stand unsteadily. His hand then slams down on my backside, my rear stings and burns from the slap and he continues “and now behave and address me correctly.” 

I let out a small, involuntary yelp as his hand smacks my backside. My reddened butt flushing off heat from the smack. I look up at him and shoot out “Manling”. I spit at his feet “Weak southern man thing” I add to it, my green eyes blazing with all the fury with in me. 

The large man stares at me, his lips twitch slightly before he pulls me to some shackles afixed in the wall and pushes me down harshly onto my knees. He grabs my hands and roughly takes the ropes off them. I struggle in vain, still weakened and physically overpowered by this large man as He clicks one wrist, then another into the manacles. I slide down onto my ass, my arms raised over my head, tethered to the wall.

 I glare at him before I add “Go ahead, tie me, I am still free”. I do not even see the hand coming as it strikes me across my face. My head rocks back and to the side from the force of the blow.  My teeth snap against each other and I taste blood as I bite my tongue.. 

“What is you’re name, huntress?” He asks, no hint of anger in his voice, a calm steady rasp. I feel the blood trickling from my nose and across my face, my cheek pulsing where his hand had impacted me. 

“I am Eowyynn, a scout of the Valkyrie Torva”  

He smiles and looks at me, his eyes lingering over my body. I hear him mutter “A beauty”. He then dips a rag in a nearby cup, some alcoholic swill as I feel its sting as he wipes the blood from my face.  His hand grasps me by the chin and pulls it so he looking at me eye to eye. His piercing blue eyes, staring he adds “We can avoid that Eo.” 

He doesn’t have to say what it is we can avoid, but we both know with my cheek tender and aching. He carries on in his deep, rasping voice “That is what I will call you now….Eo” 

It seems surreal to hear him call me Eo, the nick name my sisters in the tribe use. A perversion of the bond we share when used by this man who has me in chains. I feign indifference and reply, “Call me whatever you will, I will soon be free.” 

My bravado has no effect on him whatsoever. He starts to strip me down. Unbuckling my weapons belt, I falls to the floor. my scabbard, now empty, makes a thud as it hits the floor. I am naked now down to my boots as my loin clothing was attached to my belt. 

“My tribe is the greatest in the north, they will not allow some man to hold me so.” I continue saying, my body openly displayed like a bosk in the market awaiting slaughter. 

He ignores my words and takes my belt. He retrieves a key from around his neck and opens a sea trunk, battered and salt stained. He places my belt inside, I see a gleam and see my scimitar inside already, along with my bow and quiver. It lights a faint spark of hope in my chest, that is only slightly dimmed when the lid closes with a click.  

My weapons, my life as a panther reside in that box, so near yet it may as well be in distant Ar, or even the almost forgotten Earth. Still, I vow to myself to get them back, to get them back and be free. 

While I had been thinking this, he had returned and loomed over me, He leaned down and his hand slapped me again. This was not a hard slap to the face but a soft one, all the worst for it being across my mound. His casual possessing of my sex was a message aimed right at my primal core. 

“Sooner or later we come along, behave and you will have a nice life; challenge ME and you will have a hard life” His voice grinding out and accentuating his comment.  

There is nothing I can do. His casual possession, however briefly, of my womanhood, showed that for now I was at his mercy, no matter how furious I was. I simply stared my hatred at him. 

His only reaction was to grab first one leg and then another and pull my boots off. The nice supple leather that ran to my knees sliding off. I recall how I had traded a Sa Di Sani Panther, who had loosened a few arrows at me, for those boots. I had trussed her up and given her to a ship’s Captain for the boots, forcing her to a life of slavery, now here I was forced into slavery as those same boots slid off. 

Silently He took my boots and added them to that same weathered sea chest. That sea chest was the way back to my freedom, my life,  I simply stared at him as he stripped me so and plotted to slip a dagger into his neck. 

“So Eo” he started then after a small pause he continued, “You will stay on those rings until I collar you and then you get leashed on a leashpole” A small smile flickered across his bearded face as he watched me. 

I have never been the wisest, more prone to let my passions run free as they will, so with out thought I blurted out “Collars, leashes, they mean nothing. I am still a Valkyrie and will be free soon enough” I let out in a snarl. 

Once again his hand flew out and slapped my face. I briefly saw an explosion of lights as my head crashed back against the wood of the walls.  He stood there, emotion finally showing on his face and he grabbed my hair and yelled in my face. 

“You are MINE.” He thundered “And I will do as it please ME”. With his words he tore the feathers from my hair, beads flew out and bounced on the floor. My symbol of sisterhood, of belonging in the tribe was torn from me, the beads of my accomplishments scattered. 

“You mean you have been a proud valkyrie huntress. Now you are a plain slut” His chest heaving, he throws the feathers upon the floor and crushes them under his heel. 

“Not my feathers” I let out weakly, stunned by there loss

My eyes watered as I looked at the destroyed feathers, crushed under his boots. “Now Eo, still risking giving lip?”. I barely hear his question as I slump down in the chains, lost and disheartened. My feathers, I had worked so hard to obtain, lost. The symbol of my belonging, of being a part of the tribe, of being, so easily destroyed. A single tear rolls down my cheek and I say nothing. 

“I will show you your place” He says as I stare, unseeing, at the remains of my feathers. “So, when I return I will collar you and show you the housework you have to do.” He paused, his eyes on me like a tarn about to swoop upon prey “And I will explain my expectations. Comply and this will be a nice living.” 

I just continue to stare and say nothing. Other than my eyes slowly blinking and the slight rise and fall of my chest, I may as well be a statue, unmoving, not saying a word. 

“If you want to drink or eat, you will have to earn it so get used to your situation. You will be my slave” He pauses then adds “face your destiny” 

Some small spark is relight and I lightly mumble, softly, so quiet it is almost just mouthing the words “I will never be a slave.” 

He did not appear to have even heard me as he said “Well anyhow, I have to check an issue to be solved. Don’t go away” He then burst ot into a laugh at his own joke, before his calloused and rough skinned hands run over my breast and roughly pinch my nipple. Chuckling he adds “see you soon.” 

He is gone and I sit alone, chained to the wall, enslaved. My naked body exposed and helpless, my life ripped from me, my symbols destroyed and scattered across the rough wooden floor. A few sniffles and tears streak down my face, yet my mind is on one thing, obsessing, and that is how to escape.

Would you also like your story published online? Then send your story on a note card to Marlies Dasmijn.









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