A Paga Girl on Gor Ch. 06

I should have been mortified and shamed by this, I knew, and yet, with the slave-biscuit coursing through my veins I was helplessly aroused, yielding to my submissive ecstasies every few minutes, and at his least touches. I had lost count of the number of times I had found myself out of control, writhing nude as I pleasured the Masters gathered around the dance pit.

I felt him spurt in my mouth. Desperately, assiduously, I swallowed his discharge, feeling the salty tang of it in my throat. He was by no means the first man that I had pleasured so that evening.

Having swallowed him, I began to clean him. I whimpered, as I lost control of myself again. I heard him laugh.

"Does it excite you, just to clean me, slut?" he asked.

I could not speak, my mouth full of his softening organ, but I whimpered once, trying not to break off from my task.

He laughed again, then pulled me by the hair away away from him, and, without looking, flung my leash to the man on his left, as if I were nothing more than a dirty rag.

"Your turn again, Targon," he said.

He whom had been referred to as Targon caught the thrown leash, and pulled it to him. Thus I found myself hauled to the lap of another man, apparently one that I had serviced previously. I swiftly put my lips and teeth and tongue to work, undoing his belt and buttons.

He grunted. I felt my hips shudder uncontrollably once more. Why did such usage excite me so? I recalled the slave-biscuit, and realised my dilemma.

If I did not admit to eating the tavern's weekly supply of slave-biscuit, I would likely be thought of as nothing but the wanton slut that I presently appeared to be. However, if I admitted it, I could be severely punished as a thief. I could not even know the punishments that might be administered to a slave who had done what I had done.

Yet I did not want to be regarded as a the type of girl that utterly lost control of herself as she was spanked, or as she was thrown nude from man to man in a circle, pleasuring them in turn with her lips and tongue as they watched the gyrations of another.

I was not that sort of girl, I knew that at least.

"Steady, little slut," said he, who I now knew as Targon.

The other laughed.

"She is a hot little number," he said.

"She spasms at the slightest touch," said Targon.

He touched me, intimately, as if to prove this, and I, unable to prevent myself, called out again, my voice hoarse and inarticulate, my hips shuddering.

I heard laughter. and then felt my hair pulled, pulling me away from his groin.

"Does Draca not permit you to serve in the alcoves, slut?"

He regarded me quizzically.

I shook my head, negatively, frightened.

Lady Draca, my Mistress had announced after my spanking that I was to be used exclusively at the dance pit.

"A pity," he remarked, "Still, you can service me adequately here for now."

"Watch her," said the other, "that she not leak on your tunic."

"If she does, she can clean it up herself, well enough, can't you?" he said.

"Yes, Master," I replied, humbly, barely able to speak. I felt myself on fire, the slave-biscuit coursing in my veins, every beat of my heart pumping more of it into me, turning me into an utterly uncontrolled slut.

"Do you want me to touch you again?" he asked, as if unknowing of my answer.

"Please, Master, I beg it," I whispered hoarsely.

"Then do so," he replied.

"I beg your touch, Master, I beg it!" I besought him, then bucked and writhed as he consented to merely brush his finger between my legs, even this light caress sending bolts of electricity through my yielding flesh.

"More...please, Master, more," I begged. I wanted him inside me desperately, I could feel myself pulsating, trying to pull his finger into me.

"It is not yours to command, slut," he said, a harder edge to his voice.

"N..no, Master, p...please forgive me Master," I managed to stammer out desperately.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"S..suckslut, if it pleases Master," I replied.

He pulled me, by the hair, back over his organ.

"Lick, Suckslut," he commanded.

I parted my lips, obediently, and bent to serve his pleasure, trying to steel myself against further yieldings of my body.

****

"What do they call you?" asked the man.

"S...suckslut, Master," I replied, finding it difficult to even recall my own name, as I strived to retain my composure.

I could feel the effects of the slave-biscuit in me now, fully. I recalled Lady Draca's comments that it would overwhelm the small brain of one such as myself, and likely send me into madness. My brain indeed felt like mush, I could think of nothing except pleasing the men in the circle around the dance pit, and desperately hoping that they might deign to acknowledge me, even by as little as a touch.

I was on my third or fourth circuit of the pit now, I thought. I did not know if the men were the same as the first time round, or different.

"An appropriate name," he said. "Yet your accent marks you as barbarian."

"Y..yes, Master," I replied. I did not want to talk. I could hardly recall the words of my new language. All I wanted to do was please him, and feel him inside me.

"Are all barbarians as wild as you?" he asked.

"I...I do not know, Master, " I whimpered, "L...let me please you, Master, " I begged.

"Can you read what is written on your belly?" he asked.

"N..no, Master," I said. I could feel myself close to yielding again. I had long since lost count of the number of times this had happened.

"Have you been told what it says?" he asked.

"Y...es, Master...ooohh." I whimpered.

"What does it say?" he asked.

I desperately tried to remember what it said. "I...it says, 'I suck', Master," I managed to say.

He smiled.

"Then do so," he said, "swiftly"

My hips shuddered uncontrollably at his words. I bent to pleasure him, placing myself so that his hands might more easily seek out the folds of my intimacies.

***

I felt myself tossed to my back.

"I think she is spent," said a man.

"She is still juicing," pointed out another.

"The tavern is about to close for the night," I heard the voice of Lady Draca, my Mistress, "What did you think of the barbarian?"

"She proved an adequate suckslut," said a male voice.

"Her belly has certainly been well nourished by us tonight," said one.

"She will not need slave gruel for a good while," commented another.

There was laughter. It was true that I had swallowed many helpings of the Masters' sex fluids.

My head was upon the sand of the dance pit as I lay, utterly spent. I could feel discharge upon my chin, where I had been unable to swallow it.

I had ingested so much. Now, with the slice of slave-biscuit deep in my belly.

I looked up, to see Tela above me. She glowered down at me.

"Slut," she hissed, "Utter, utter slut."

She had of course watched me all night, whilst she danced. Although I had been placed at the pit so that the men might be pleasured by me whilst regarding her, I suspect that occasionally, although no match for the dancer, in my degradation, I had occasionally become the show.

I suspected that this would have annoyed one so proud as Tela.

I closed my eyes and moaned, arching my back, unable to stop myself spilling over once more. How I wished that my hands were not tied behind me.

***

I was barely conscious, but felt myself being half dragged, half led, back to my accommodation, that of the cage I shared with Heracles, by Tupp, my Lord, Overseer, and Master.

"Please use me, Master!" I sobbed, "I beg it, Master!"

I was desperate for the sensation of a Master inside me, even one such as Tupp.

"Not tonight, Suckslut." he said, "I still have work to do,"

He placed me within the cage. Heracles stirred from his slumber and grunted.

The dwarf pulled my leash through the bars of the cage, and then had me put my bare feet through the bars so that they were outside the cage. He tied the leash around them. It was an uncomfortable position, but one that ensured that I could not move from the bars.

He grinned. "This is in case you might be tempted to bother Heracles in the night," he said, "He needs his beauty sleep, as do you."

I moaned at his inference. Surely, even in my present state of arousal, such a thing would not have crossed my mind? However, I recalled the words of my Mistress, that the slave-biscuit could cause madness in the small brain of a slavegirl.

I whimpered as I saw Tupp make his way back into the tavern.

I cried imploringly after him, and then as he closed the door onto the yard, put my head against the bars and wept with frustration.

I wondered how long the effects of the slave-biscuit might last and whether I would retain my sanity.