Story of Gor, A Submission of a Taluna

By Isabelle


 

isabelle stalks with feline grace to the center of the pit where four weathered     spears are impaled into the sand. Each spear marks the gravesite of those who had either abducted her or saved her from servitude, no longer could she remember. They had taught her the ways of the Taluna… had loved her. It had been nine turns of the Moons since she had laid their broken bodies to rest, slain by Man.

…since that day her fate has been to walk alone…only to return each full moon to mourn her sisters. And to dance in lonely solitude…she tightens her grip on the spear, brushing the wood against the tiny pouch tied to her delicate wrist.

isabelle aligns her feet with her shoulders. Emblazoned across her back is a tatoo of a Herlit, it’s  wings span the width of her shoulders; the talons curled to strike. With a flick of her wrist, she twirls the spear, the shaft slides to the inside of her right arm, the blade gleaming in the moonlight as it points to the ground. Pushing her left arm out, her fingertips splay as she lowers her chin. The war drum pounds slowly.

she presses her left elbow to her side, then extends her slender arm to the throbbing rhythm of the drum, keeping her fingertips fanned as she thrusts them towards the Moons. her fingers flex out then clench to a fist, each powerful movement sharp and defined. Deadly sleen teeth strung by rawhide dangle from her gyrating hips, her sex covered by a tattered piece of Bosk hide. Sewn to the edge of the soft leather are glimmering moonstones.

her chest heaves with raw emotion, the fragile bones of her ribcage defined with each breath. Dangling from the diadem that rests above her delicate brow are three shimmering moonstones. Hundreds of tiny braids lash her statuesque form; each tied off with moonstones or a strip of cloth. Trophies originating from the cloaks of her conquests, all castes accounted for, with the exception of one…Red Caste

isabelle twists the spear up to her delicate shoulder; lifting it high in the air, loosening the grip of her right hand, the spear falls into her left. she grasps the instrument of death in both hands above her head, her magnificent features transformed into a mask of agony. she spins her lithe frame in a circle- stopping abruptly, pausing for less than a ehn, instinctively sensing the Presence of danger.

Lifting her knee she arches her back hard. her burnished braids slither across the white sand. The spear slides from her palms, falling to her slender thigh, she pops her knee up, kicks her pointed toes towards the heavens as she grasps the spear in mid air;  she whips the pole around her tiny waist then savagely thrusts it into the sand, growling as she spies a flash of red from the corner of her eye.

she raises her tempestuous eyes up to the full Moons, her high breasts sensually sway as she moves her upper body from left to right, extending her arms above her head, her fingertips bent back like claws, ripping into the darkness. Falling to all fours, she lifts her tantalizing buttocks invitingly up in the air. her nipples leave a trail in the sand as she inches closer to the spear, looking for Him through lowered lashes.

Arching her back provocatively…lean muscles rippling under her silky skin. she rotates her hips several times, each barbaric move speaks of sex. she flings her head back, her delicate nostrils flair as she inhales the musky smell of Him. her knees slide outward as she purrs, curling her pelvis up, a glimpse of her sweet passion can be seen before she pushes back to her heels and rises.

her heart throbs wildly beneath her glistening breasts. she pretends not to notice the Presence. she thrusts her head back, parting her exquisitely shaped lips and releases a savage scream that shatters the night.  her hand presses against the yellow strip of cloth that shrouds the past, which is ever present on her thigh. Unaware that it marks her for what she truly is. she thrusts her hips from side to side.

The long fingertips on her left hand fan out, then roll up into a tight fist. her shoulder blades press together as she pushes her tanned breasts out.  Large nipples erect, stained berry red…begging to be tasted. she thrusts her shoulders forward, her hips rocking in tandem. Repeating the movement in rapid succession as she drops to her haunches, bending one knee to the sand. The teachings of Taluna burning deep from within.

Gold ringed eyes smolder with fire as they cut over to the shadows. she places the tip of her pointed tongue to the edge of her perfect white teeth, snaking it out seductively, curling it as if to capture a drop of ambrosia, her lips turning up in a feral smile as she returns her luscious tongue to her mouth. she lifts her back and arches, hissing as she anticipates the taste of the One who wears Crimson.

isabelle grasps the spear…sliding the base across the sand, clamping the shaft with her knees. she lifts her chin arrogantly as she pulls her braids across her shoulder. her nimble fingers work quickly to knot her braids. she flashes Him a taunting smile, pointing her index finger to her chest, to the rape knot, then towards the Warrior. The lyrical laughter that springs forth from her red lips drips with venom.

isabelle`s  hand circles the spear, lovingly sliding her palm up and down the shaft. she jerks the spear to the deep valley of her breasts, holding her breath, assessing Him. she flattens her glistening tongue and draws it up the shaft as she stands tall. Tilting her head, her dimple creases her cheek; she purses her crimson lips together and kisses the air, then blows the kiss in His direction.
…a blank look covers her face as she hears the Shadow Warrior whisper, “nadu, My kajira”.

Stormy eyes look to the Shadow Warrior; her face fills with confusion. she shakes her head savagely, pushing back the desire to kneel before Him, embracing the anger. The flames leap in the fire pit, creating sparks of light and lengths of shadows to frame her delectable body. she throws her sleek body up into the air, bending a knee, kicking her free leg out as she thrusts the spear high into the air.

she squats, brazenly parting her thighs, shaking her ample breasts wantonly to the Warrior. Rocking her hips, trying to lure Him from the shadows. His whisper so familiar to her. she sneers as she hears His laughter. Fury explodes within her as He toys with her efforts to seduce. Releasing a guttural cry she becomes a prowling panther. her only thought to hunt and feed upon her Prey. she springs forward, jabbing the shadows.

she curls her lips back and snarls, the nectar of her desire streaming down her thighs. she writhes to the pagan beat of her heart…repeatedly thrusting her spear into the shadows before she pulls the spear close to her heaving body, inspecting the blade for blood…she cries out feeling the ache of passion in her loins, her desire to succumb so great. The greater need coming from the depth of her soul- to submit to Him.

Spitting out with vehemence, “NO!” her anger pointed towards her own traitorous heart. her hand reaching out as if to ward off the overpowering shadows from her. her wild eyes searching for a means of escape, to hide from His whispers…too afraid to see the truth. she fights the shadows with renewed vigor. The powerful Panther Girl viciously struggling for her very existence.

isabelle  feels the worn length of yellow cloth being ripped from her thigh revealing the kef, she stares down at the brand that He gave her so many years ago. A myriad of emotions wash over her exquisite features as she remembers the joy of being branded…of being kajira…of being His kajira…and He her beloved Master…

Stumbling backwards the spear slides from her numb fingertips. she stares at the death tool  in horror, as if just awakening from a nightmare. The locked memories flooding to the forefront of her mind. her hand reaches out imploringly to the Warrior, breathing the word, “Master?” she whimpers, dropping her hand helplessly to her side.
she cries out like a wounded animal, falling to the sand, quivering, wrapping her willow thin arms round her body, rocking back and forth. The drums ominous pounding marks time as The Taluna cunningly tries to turn away the heart of the kajira, her body wracked in pain from the war which rages from within her soul. she lifts her eyes to the spears of her beloved sisters, then to her Master. she rises to a proud stance.

her melodic voice floats on the soft breeze, “if this one is to die, she begs that her Master will allow her to die a kajira”. her hands move to the sides of her head, rolling her head to left and right. her body twists and turns. she cries out in anguish as she tears the loincloth from her body, thrusting it into the fire. her fingertips rip the pieces of cloth from her hair, flinging each into the firepit.

…the moonstones flutter like sparkling fireflies as she increases the momentum of her turns- creating a whirlwind of glittering light. whipping her sleek form in tight circles, she gracefully curls her arms up to the Moons. her hands rippling through the air. She opens the pouch at her wrist, showering sparkling crystals upon her, creating a brilliant kaleidoscope of light.

she floats to her knees like a fluttering wisp of shimmering silk released from a Masters hand, her sweet lips whisper, “thank You, Master.” she rolls her hips out and arches, her breasts lift high. she slides her knees across the sand parting her slender thighs. her hands gracefully fall to her silky thighs, palms kissing the heavens. she looks up to Him, glowing with devotion as she murmurs, “a kajira is now ready, Master”.

Slowly rolling her head back, exposing her slender throat, using every ounce of courage she possesses to hold position. her tears fall silenty down the sides of her face; closing her eyes tight as she hears the sound of steel rubbing against its sheathe. ehns seem like ahns as she awaits the death blow…she pants as she hears the whistle of the steel slicing through the air, flinching in anticipation of the blade.
Crying out as she feels the blade lightly caress her throat, then purrs, feeling the back of His hand lightly stroking her slender neck as He whispers, “I’ve come to take you Home, my kajira”.

isabelle sobs with joy as the Turian steel ko-lar is clasped about her fragile neck. Falling to her belly she presses her lush exotic lips to the boots of her Master, her heart filling to the point of bursting. she lays at His feet, conquered, enslaved, knowing only the bliss of returning to her Master. the One that fills her belly with fire, and made her once and always


©Isabelle

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