kajiruspet
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Joined: 6/18/2010
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A day in the life of draft kajirus 221, currently at least, ‘Property of Lady Dorna of Cos’
I always wake a few ehn before the Whip Mistress officially awoke her charges for their days’ labours. Squatting, chin pressed to my chest due to the limited height of the cage, over the open metal mesh that ran through the cage I relieved myself; listening for the sound of her boots across the tiles. I had not slept well, the preceding evening, the pens had been uncomfortably humid and, though the pens were below ground, the heat coming off bodies that had toiled all day had been intense. Even when the Whip Mistresses had sluiced the pens and their occupants down, our daily ablution, the respite from the climate had not lasted long.
As early as it was, I sensed that that the approaching day would be no different. Beneath me, a few feet below, my urine streamed down on to the cement floor, drops splashing my feet; to a surface I or any other of my fellows in the kennelled cages, would be assigned to wash down and clean. Usually given to those in need of punishment, it was a task I had managed to avoid for several months. Managing the Lady Dorna’s estate took many hundred draft slaves, clearing their wastes, especially in the current climate conditions was worth avoiding by any means.
Holding the stout leather that circumnavigated the root of my manhood, I shook off the last drops. I did not allow myself a caress of my manhood, the reasons for my self control were numerous. They all stemmed from the fact that lustful thoughts amongst their male charges was strictly forbidden by the Whip Mistresses, that ruled my world or the pens and work details, except when in direct service of a Mistress. To enforce their ruling, all draft kajirus were generally as a rule infibulated. Cruel and basic, their foreskins pulled down, and coupled by a thick metal ring piercing their flesh. It was also an effective method of enforced male chastity. Once fitted in a draft slave the ring was rarely removed, except for medical reasons or a rare reward.
I was a slight anomaly, one of the lucky few draft slaves, not infibulated. There was no reason for my difference from my fellows, other than that a previous owner, had liked all her kajirus to be circumcised. Thus, I escaped the cruelty of infibulation, although not the piercing. Rings were often used for securing us, so all kajiru required a ring fitting of some kind upon their manhood, so each of us ‘lucky ones’, wore the same type of ring, only through our flesh, through our urethra.
Keeping my chastity pure and complete, I and others like me, a mere handful, wore a tight and stout leather sleeve over their manhoods, secured with individual signature knots, to dissuade tampering. Each sleeve was unforgiving on a males flesh that chose to expand. For severe misdemeanours, the sleeves could additionally be attached with bands of sharp points to really dissuade lust. Sexual relief, and the restriction of it amongst the draft slaves, meant that it was a golden carrot forever dangled before them all; one that each and every one of them would do almost anything to be granted. As relief was rare treat, my lust was easily stoked, so the merest touch, thought or sight, even smell could fuel my desires. So as great my needs were, I knew to restrain my thoughts, to do so was unwise when a Whip Mistress was about to arrive.
Other than our manhood rings, nothing other than our intrinsic, identical metal lock collars, was afforded to us. We were draft kajiru, and as such were kept in a pretty raw state. Save for our body hair, to negate the need for regular cutting or shaving, and to prevent lice; we were all kept totally de-nuded of hair, some kind of depilating lotion applied to our hose downs, ensuring that our original total body shaves on entering the pens were maintained. Our identical collars all had a standard inscription: ‘Property of Lady Dorna of Cos’, we were individually identified by a numbered tag that was held by a small ring that ran though each collar. In my time as, ‘Property of Lady Dorna of Cos’, I had been number 364, number 233 and currently was marked as number 221.
Finished at my toilet, bored, I studied the fellow in the cage to my side. Though dimly lit, I could see he was a brute of a man. I did not know him, had no desire to know him. Slavery went better for males, when they kept themselves to themselves. At least that way, our illusion of maintained Gorean manliness could be maintained to a degree, however preposterous the self denial.
I heard boots moving quickly across the tiles. Then loud clangs that reverberated through the cages, as a Whip Mistress strode past the enclosures rapping. Placing my hands over my ears, I waited until she passed my vicinity.
After our rude awakening, the grates of each cage were lifted mechanically freeing the slaves for our daily chores. Each of us crawled out on all fours, muscles and limbs stiff and aching from the nights’ confinement. Hungry, I knelt, knees wide, forming a long straight line of kajiru across the pen tiles, food pans before us. Eyeing our pans, filled with our daily meal; one consisting of pellets mixed in gruel, we were sufficiently drilled to await permission to eat.
Before food was permitted, moving to a strict, staccato of directives, Whip Mistresses walking up and down the line, slapping quirts in their palms, against their thighs, against slackers; we moved through a practised variation of slave paces. One that was meant to waken our muscles and our minds for the days labours. I was well versed in the mind the games the Whip Mistresses played, so despite my eagerness for my one meal of the day, I disdained to give them the pleasure of witnessing my hunger. I actually enjoyed the exercise, it kept my body trim and supple, it was something I looked forward to, however exposing the positions.
Finally, our exercises over, we were permitted to eat. With haste, quietly more for the sound of eating, and the odd scrap of a metal pan against tiles, we ate, our faces buried in the pans, without As a kajirus, I ate for nourishment, where once I had consumed food and drink in pleasure, now it was for day to day survival. The water based gruel of cold waters, oats and vegetable scraps was appropriate enough, the pellets were a recent introduction to the meal and were clearly a form of animal feed. High fibre, low fat, glycaemically slow to breakdown and totally unsweetened, my diet was functional, in that it fuelled me and my fellows to work, nothing more, nothing less. With the introduction of the pellets, I also guessed it was cost efficient too. I consumed the feed quickly, a practice all fresh meat kajirus learn quickly in the pens, as the Whip Mistresses afforded us little time before they started assign our daily chores. Licking, sucking, chewing I would eat until my pan was spotless or I was assigned to a work team, whichever happened sooner.
**
Mid-morning the same day, Lady Chloe, chief of procurement for Lady Dorna’s entire estate, crossed the terrace on her way to a meeting with Lady Dorna. She walked in a hurry, her heels clacking loudly as crossed the tiled terrace. Midway along the terrace, she passed four male slaves, sweat glistening upon their naked and tanned flesh as they worked under the sun. A length of chain connecting each to the other, by the collars about their throats, they worked on their hands and knees, with sponges or rags held between their teeth, and buckets, cleaning the tiles of the terrace. Each male fell to his belly on the wet tiles, as she passed, and would only rise to resume their work again, after she had passed.
Earlier, as she had taken her breakfast overlooking the quadrant, the slaves had scrubbed and rinsed the tiles outside her apartments and, with rags, on their hands and knees, dried the area of terrace she had just walked over. Now some hours later, they had nearly completed the whole terrace walkway. The terrace could have been dried each day simply by mopping it down, but the use of the mop was not permitted to the males, of course. They were slaves. The terrace almost sparkled white. When they had finished the whole length, they would be replaced by another work detail, whom would start the whole process over again. Dorna and her partners kept a fine estate.
Such chores were the foundations for the whole business, not only did the work over time, demonstrate to the male slaves their place in life, thus contributing to their training on a mental level; but also on practical level it kept the estate clean and with so much training carried out on the sands of the quadrant, it helped keep the sand out of the buildings. It was also better for the condition of all those barefeet, palms and knees that scurried about each day. Such work details, four male slaves, one slave mistress were spread out across the estate, working in shifts, as the backbone of the business, keeping the estate running efficiently.
A Whip Mistress from the pens stood near, a quirt dangling from her right hand. Chloe knew she would not hesitate to use it on the kajiru, if they shirked. In her other hand, she held the ends of four slender chains that via a small metal clasp were attached to each of the male’s testicles. Again, Chloe knew the Whip Mistress would have no qualms on yanking the chain, and indeed via small tugs she would indicate to the male slaves where and how she wanted each to work. Controlling males in such a way, not only to demand immediate responses but also served to remind them of their station in the grand scheme of things. Learning such signals, i.e. a tug on the balls by a slave mistress, was one of the first lessons each male slave learnt when being trained. It was also one of the lessons they were most keen to succeed at quickly.
The Lady Chloe acknowledged the Whip Mistress, with a brief smile, the male slaves she ignored entirely. Upon the estate, the spectacle of such males was common place and warranted little thought, unless some transgression of duty or standards occurred. These males after all were purely a small group of many such male beasts, kept to maintain the estate; to her they were nothing more than a mark on a balance sheet. She grew attached to very few males and even then it was not a long term attachment. Her taste in men varied wildly depending upon her mood, and she was in exactly the business to cater for such eclectic tastes.
In the trade of buying, training and selling, male livestock formed only a small percentage of her trading, although she had to maintain a ready supply of males to the estate.
As they acknowledge each other, neither woman noticed one of the male slaves, pause and look up from his laborious task.
**
Half way through the task, one that I and my fellows had been at since our feeding at sunrise, I took the gamble, dangerous that it was, for some respite from my work and the opportunity to gaze at the shapely behind, legs and ankles of the beautiful Mistress who had breezed by in her flowing robes. She had passed closest to me and the scent of perfumes that she left in her wake was divine, spicy sweet, pungent enough to still reach my nose over the reeking rag I held between my teeth.
Although I allowed myself mere seconds, in case the overseer caught me looking, the sight of the woman was enough to stir my lust. I took in her shapely body, the start of the curve that was the bare flesh of her instep before it was covered by her footwear and her bare heel. Head back down, I gripped my teeth tightly on the reeking rag, filling my mouth, and resumed the polishing of the marble tiles, my head swaying side to side, the rag polishing where my fellow had just scrubbed. Eyes shut, protecting myself from the bright glare of the sun that bounced off the shiny marble, I saw only the shape of the Mistress before him. Despite the ache in my back, the intense heat of the sun and the soreness of my knees, I permitted myself to fantasise about being with the Mistress. Sweat dripped from my brow.
With only a brief glimpse of her bare female flesh, to fuel my thoughts, my blood burned with lust, and between my thighs, my manhood stirred, stiffening. Simultaneously, I felt the merciless bite of the manhood collar, Fitted snugly when each I was flaccid, even the slightest growth was punished.
Despite my denials, how I longed to serve a woman fully! I had long given up the hope that I would or could win my freedom. I would never make a fighting slave, not compared to some of the brutes I had seen in the pens, the ones avoided at all costs in the slave pens. Starved of sexual relief like the majority of male slaves, save as a reward for a great victory in the fighting pits, the fighting slaves thought nothing of forcing a silk slave to serve them intimately with their highly trained mouths. Silk slaves went to great lengths to avoid going anywhere in the vicinity of the stables, which while amusing meant us other draft slaves could also be targeted by default.
In addition to the automatic punishment by the manhood collar, I knew that if my lusting was noticed by the overseer, I would suffer further punishments, so with my fantasy rudely interrupted by the manhood collar, I focused on the task at hand and forced myself to once again lost myself in more and safe mundane thoughts. Gripping the rag more tightly, I scrubbed at the tiles vigorously.
**
Oblivious, to the fantasies a sight of her legs and feet had inspired in a sexually frustrated male slave, her heels still clacking loudly down the steps, the Lady Chloe descended from the terrace to sit on a shaded veranda. The Lady Dorna was already there and they greeted each other affectionately.
**
I guessed it was late morning now, my necked ached horrendously and my knees were as sore as ever. The Whip Mistress had separated us from our joined chain, assigning us each an area to complete. I had been allocated to the veranda.
As I approached it, holding the pale of water by it’s handle between my teeth, crawling carefully to ensure I spilt no suds on already polished tiles, I realised I would not be cleaning the area in solitude. Two Free Women, with a silk slave in attendance, sat at the table.
Approaching in trepidation, my heart beating rapidly, I recognised the footwear of the Mistress I had been lusting after earlier. I felt my face burning, and I hated myself in my self induced shame, the Mistress had not even looked at me or knew that I had looked at her. How a collar and a brand impose one’s slavery without a Mistress even lifting a finger.
**
Coming to the last point on the agenda, Dorna smiled, “And, I am most pleased with the savings on the live stock feed Chloe! What inspired you to research a suitable feed that the kajiru, the tharlion and the estate’s other beasts of burden could all consume? You know I had my doubts when you first brought the suggestion to me.”
Chloe smiled with the warm praise from her employer and confidant. “Well, the provisions for slaves,” she began, pausing on seeing a draft kajirus hovering in the vicinity.
“Excuse me Dorna, look a kajirus is having a dilemma!” Chloe giggled.
The Lady Dorna turned, her gaze finding the beast, half kneeling, half crouching, pale held between his teeth. “A comical sight indeed. Come now boy, fulfil your assigned duties, do not concern yourself about us,” she motioned. Then, she turned back, “Chloe, you were saying?”
“Yes, basically all kajirus feed is designed to keep them healthy, trim, and vital, fit to work or serve. I thought, it would be the same with other animals.” Chloe explained. “I asked about and got agreement from all the Heads of Pens.”
Nervously, as I realised who the more mature woman that had addressed me was, I put all my concentration into my job at hand, diligently polishing the tiles. Other than a Whip Mistress, I rarely came into close contact with Free Women, let alone had to work in their presence. For so long now, deprived off female flesh, I found concentration impossible. I kept sneaking glimpses at their feet and ankles, as I moved about. Occasionally, both would move their feet, and I would catch glimpses of their toes, nails and instep. What a frill!
Neither woman caught my stolen looks, but the attending silk slave did not miss a trick. Kneeling in the nadu position, to the side of the table, he was clearly a silk slave. So good looking he was almost pretty, he was slender, trim and lithe. I wondered if he was a dancer? On his thighs, I noticed his finger nails were well manicured. At least, I had something in common with him, as all silk slaves he was circumcised and ringed; although the head of his manhood was rouged, as were his lips and nipples. Between his thighs, his manhood rested as limp as my own, yet more considerable in girth and length, that even I had to bitterly accept how impressive it was.
Catching me looking at the women’s feet, he glared at me and stuck out his tongue. I ignored him, continuing to both work and sneak a look at the female feet that were so near, yet so far.
Now in ear shot of the Free Women’s discussion, I fumed at the “Animals” reference.
“The kajiru are exercised as before, are they not?”
“Yes, the change in diet does not negate the requirement for their exercise, so they are not more efficient from that point of view. Such is important for muscle tone, improvement of the figure, responsiveness, and such. We would not neglect such matters. It would be unproductive in the long run.”
“Indeed, well Chloe, I am very impressed. The saving from the bulk ordering of only one feed, has improved the bottom line by a few percent. It is the best efficiency saving someone has come up with since the combining of the depilating lotion into the hosing down of the slaves in the pens.”
“Do you have time to dine with me?”
I noticed the two women recline back in their chairs, relaxed. Lady Dorna, snapped her fingers, “Attend us kajirus.”
So intently was I listening to factors, that had impacted on my life in the pens, that I nearly jumped into action, but was luckily saved from a misdemeanour by the silk slave who sprang into action, kneeling at the feet of the two women. I looked on, amused at his behaviour.
“Have you met fifi Chloe?”
“No, I don’t think I have. A pretty little vulo.”
“Hmm, he is very attentive. I tend to keep him in my apartments rather than send him back to the pens. I hear some of the brutes, we met on at the fighting pits, also like him too!” the voice laughed. “So as long as he amuses me, I keep him in the relative protection of my robes.”
“Fifi, greet the Lady Chloe.”
The kajirus fell to his belly. With a passion he performed obeisance.
“You lick and kiss well, kajirus” she said.
“Thank you, Mistress,” he said.
“Is he vital?”
“Oh yes, I have much sport with him. Fifi loves to render such obeisance to women. He finds it very real, and fulfilling. In such a humble act he acknowledges, and honours, not only the femininity of a given Mistress, but, in a sense, all femininity, and expressed, lovingly, in joy and tenderness, his enslaved maleness. There is something profoundly symbolic in this simple act. Don’t you fifi?”
“Yes fifi does, Mistress,” he said.
I wanted to laugh at him, at his voice, at how he was spoken of, but knew better than to reveal in anyway that I was listening in to what did not concern me.
“You may serve us now fifi, fetch food and wines. Hurry now!”
“Once he has served us, I’ll demonstrate how vital he is.”
As he scampered off, I scrubbed harder, eager not to become the focus of their attention. I need not have worried, they began to chat and titter, gossiping about names of Free Women, Ladies of Cos or Ar that meant nothing to me.
**
“Excellent service fifi. Now I promised you a treat yesterday, did I not?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“Whilst we dine, I want you to tease yourself, I want you to show the Lady Chloe, how much you want us. If you desire relief, you must fill a whole tile with your pre-cum juices, whilst we dine. If and when we move our feet from our slippers, you will stop touching yourself. Do you understand?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“Then commence kajirus.”
I watched as the silk slave obediently brought his manhood to life, but I was the only one, the two women had returned to their intense conversation, already ignoring him.
Every now and again, I watched, as I worked, the two women played with the silk slave, occasionally bearing their feet before him, causing him to stop, as they ate and chatted, amusing themselves occasionally with the silk slave’s exploits to their side.
I was thrilled too bits at the sight of both their feet bared, and failed miserably to resist my manly urges. Both women had dainty, perfectly pedicured feet, pretty toes and high insteps.
Fearing discipline, I turned my back to hide, unable to control myself.
I only turned back to see what was happening, a considerable time later, when I heard one of them say he had twenty ehn, to finish himself off. I watched, as within ehn, the silk slave shuddered to a climax before them all over the tiles, I had previously cleaned.
The two women, mocked the silk slave much, patting is head and having him kiss their feet in gratitude, which only maintained the stiffness of his manhood. Even I was impressed at his stamina. How I envied him, such attention, special treatment and interaction with such women.
“Are you hungry fifi?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“I think after your performance, you might require some replenishment.”
The Lady Dorna held, in the palm of her left hand, some tidbits of meat, leftovers from her plate.
She took one of these between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand and held it out to fifi.
He took it, with his teeth and ate it.
He looked up at his and my owner.
He took the next piece of meat offered.
“You take your food from women,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said.
She then held another piece.
Finally, the Lady Dorna, stopped feeding her pet. “That is enough, fifi” she said. “We must be concerned with your figure. You are a little overweight, I think. In a paga tavern or brothel, you would have to be trimmed down a little. I must always think of your re-sale value.”
The Lady Chloe laughed.
As I watched on, I sensed with a dreadful unease that one of the two women now regarded me. Caught staring and doing anything but my work, I knelt forward instantly, the palms of my hands on the floor, my head to the floor.
“Lick and kiss,” she said.
I scrambled forward and, head down, kissed and licked, swiftly, frightened, at her feet and sandals. Privileged beyond belief.
“Enough!” she said.
I drew back, hastily. Unable to help myself, and despite the pain of the manhood restraint, I Knelt, displaying a full arousal.
In my terror, I saw her twiddle a tiny vulo bone between her fingers, regarding me as if I was dirt. Her feet were out of her sandals, oh how sweet they were, if only she knew how much just the sight of her heels, earlier in the morning had stoked my lust, let alone all of her foot.
She dropped the bone, sucked free of meat, onto the tiles. I heard it strike the tiles before me. I looked up at her, knowing not what to do.
With a pointed toe, she pointed out the tile that fifi had messed. “Oops, we seem to have messed up your sparkling tiles kajirus. We are finished here, you should clean up after us.” She commanded, adding, “For the insolence of your lust, you will do so with your tongue. Lick it all up!”
I went to say something, but only got as far as opening my mouth.
Seemingly, as an after thought, she added, “Once you have, you have permission to suck on the bone and consume any other scraps that might have fallen to the tiles, now be off with you. Back to work kajirus!”
I looked up pleading to not fulfil her task as directed, but she was no longer paying me attention. She had ordered something, she fully expected it to be completed.
About me, as I bent down to perform my unsavoury task, the women and even the silk slave rose. Two sets of bare feet found their footwear, one pair of barefeet remained bare.
“Heel fifi!”
The silk slave ran in to position behind his Mistress. All three of began to walk away. Back to the silk, cushioned, cool comforts of the living apartments. I listened as they left, bitter at what I had been left to do.
“Do you see?” Lady Dorna said. “As promised, he is sufficiently vital.”
“Indeed, the boy seems to have learned something of what it is to be owned by women,” the other remarked.
“Keep in mind,” she said, “in the future…..”
As, they walked, their voice drifted out of my hearing range, and I was left lapping at the tiles, cleaning up the silk slave’s spillage with my tongue, awaiting the return of my Whip Mistress. At least I had the vulo bone to look forward too, it would help rid the taste of the silk slave’s essence from my mouth, for that I was at least grateful.
**
This is a boy’s attempt at what life might be like for a draft slave on Gor, one that can have no illusions about sexual aspirations.
**
Assign the kajirus a task!
Please feel free to post assignments / draft chores for this kajirus to bring to life as the next task for draft kajirus 221 to do about his Mistresses' estate.
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A day in the life of draft kajirus 221, currently at le... - 
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