THE CAT AND THE SHACKLES

By Wardall Clark

Selina Kyle knelt naked in silence on the straw of the slave kennel. She wanted to be completely still but her shoulders kept trembling. Nor could she stop the tears running down her cheeks. She had awakened to two huge men pawing her body and had tried to fight them despite the chains on her arms and legs and the instructions from the English-speaking slave in the cell with her. When physical resistance had proved fruitless, she had cursed at the men, but they remorselessly continued forcing objects into her body to determine its potential for future sexual violation.

The green-eyed brunette had resisted out of instinct. Selina had quickly realized where she was: a lucky blow by Batgirl had left her helpless in the grasp of the team of Kurii slave takers whom Catwoman had been assisting. “I should have known immediately that I have awakened on Gor and that these hulks manipulating my body are professional slavers” Selina thinks silently, but it is too late to take back her initial reactions.

As soon as the slavers had finished their measurements, they had each picked up a five-stranded whip and applied it to Selina’s shackled body. Catwoman had been shot, stabbed, and beaten up more times than she cared to count in her life of crime, but she learned about a new dimension in pain when one of the whip strands struck the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. By the time they finished, her buttocks, legs, breasts and belly were also blazing with pain. Even as she knelt as they had instructed, the residual pain kept bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

They had shoved a whip handle deep into her anus and another down her throat. It was difficult to breathe but Selina was too completely terrorized to try and spit it out. She was now a Gorean kajira, a slave girl who had learned the whip. The minute she had kissed her new Master’s feet the beating had suddenly stopped. When they pulled her into a kneeling position and violated her with the whip handles Selina had acquiesced tamely.

She kept her head carefully down as she listened to Batgirl scoffing at the courage of the two huge slavers. Before her introduction to Gorean slave discipline Catwoman might have cheerfully issued her own taunts. Selina Kyle knew better now. She could no longer afford to be Catwoman; she was an alien on a planet whose laws made any such ‘barbarian’ women an automatic slave. “Rule number one of slave girl survival, dearest, is that you never ever deliberately invite a man to whip you.”

To Selina’s astonishment, Barbara’s challenge was accepted. Then followed a second surprise, this one unpleasant to think about. The fight that ensued showed the futility of the slender young redhead’s defiance. Both men were more than twice her mass, with longer arms and legs. They were fit men, obviously experienced in unarmed tandem combat. Batgirl was weak from days without food or exercise and still woozy from the strange atmosphere and gravity. It took about 10 Ehn as the Goreans measure time, but in the end the young crime-fighter was beaten into exhausted submission and wrapped in a capture net which pinned her arms to her sides.

At one point in the fight Batgirl had kicked Catwoman the set of keys, which the kajira Silvia had used to unchain Barbara. Selina carefully ignored them, reasoning “Together we might overcome the two men in the cell with us but this is no true opportunity for escape. Professional slavers are never careless with their property; more men with swords are waiting behind the closed cell door. Even unbranded, neither of us has any chance of escaping a Gorean slaver’s house.”

As they ruthlessly and skillfully stimulate their captive’s nipples and clit, Selina watched the flow of emotions across her enemy’s face: first surprise, then desire, then shame, then panic. Then more desire followed, and then shame and humiliation as Barbara’s needful body capitulated to her rapist’s sexual demands. By the time they forced a second powerful orgasm from her the erstwhile Batgirl was eagerly deep-throating the seven-foot Viking’s nine-inch throbber. Like the complete slut that Catwoman had always suspected Barbara was, the former crime-fighter swallowed his cum and lovingly licked the still erect manhood until it was clean.

“Gorean men must be overdosing on Viagra,” Selina mused, as they pulled their dazed fuck toy to her feet and again buried their erections within her body. Sandwiched between the men, Barbara cried out in pain and outrage at the penetration of her asshole. Then the Viking poled deeply inside her other opening and the young beauty’s slick needful pussy soon took control over her emotions once again. Though she wept with humiliation the whole time, Batgirl climaxed against her will when their hard cocks began to inject her with male seed.

Under different circumstances the beautiful raven-haired thief would have been delighted by this demonstration that her worst enemy was a woman for whom helplessness unleashed uncontrollable sexual passion. Indeed, in the not too distant past she had conditioned a captive Batgirl to achieve exactly this result. Such a predilection made Barbara Gordon a natural slave. Her submission, when eventually forced from her, would be totally irrevocable and completely abject.

But at that particular moment the revelation of Babs's weakness dismayed Catwoman. After the example the redheaded slut had set for them, the slavers would be especially determined to awaken and fully exploit Selina’s own sensuous nature.

Barbara was allowed to fall to the ground where she lay exhausted, sobbing softly, and making no effort to free herself from the net. Selina saw that all the men’s attention was then focused on her, their exquisite brunette captive. She wanted to run and hide even though she knew there was no place of safety on Gor. “Because of one lucky kick I wear slave chains in a society where men get their jollies exploiting the sexual needs of captive women.”

Chained as she was with her hands behind her back and shackled to her leg chains, Selina could not fight back as they extracted the whips from her body and pinned her to the straw so that the men could explore and claim every inch of her creamy smooth flesh. With the experienced slave girl Silvia kneeling on her thick raven curls and two powerful warriors controlling her limbs, Selina Kyle felt completely helpless, even more powerless than she had felt when she’d been sentenced to orphanage reformatory. Having discerned that their older new slave was braced for rape, the slavers opted to hold her down and torment her with desire without relief; kissing and stroking and nibbling until Selina thought she would go out of her mind in frenzy.

At that point they changed positions. The gigantic blonde Viking sat on Selina’s belly and cradled his raging erection in her deep cleavage. His partner moved Silvia out of the way and jerked back Selina’s head so that his manhood could thrust directly down into her throat. While Catwoman obediently suckled and licked and all but swallowed Arbus’s long thin sex, Silvia’s fingers kept up the slavers’ carefully measured stimulation of the increasingly desperate thief’s prominently throbbing clitoris from her new position between Selina’s spread knees.

Selina had been worried earlier. She had become terrified of the slavers’ sexual expertise by the time the Viking Giant moved into position for a missionary-style fucking. Although her channel was slick with her body’s fluids her muscles tried to lock in fear of further unwanted intimacy. Resistance only amused Rollo. He was an experienced rapist of virgins. He worked his way past her resistance with steady pressure and twists of his hips. Inch by inch he slid in deeper. Her tightness only increased his pleasure in Catwoman’s sexual conquest.

As soon as he completed his violation of Selina’s pussy Rollo gripped her face in his enormous hands and started another violation with his tongue and thumbs. Holding her teeth apart by raw force he plundered her mouth in the kiss of a master claiming a slave. Selina’s lips were bruised and bleeding by the time his tongue found the same rhythm as his churning hips.

Sometime during Rollo’s jarring use, Catwoman let her mind conjure a fantasy that the man on top of her was Gotham’s Dark Knight. She had never made love to either Batman or Bruce Wayne but she knew they were the same man by the kisses they had shared—kisses that had always set her blood on fire. Just to be around Batman always made her loins moisten. As if by magic, Selina Kyle’s body became softer and more receptive to the slaver’s ravishment. Her clit began to swell in anticipation of another orgasm.

Feeling the changes in his partner, Rollo shifted position so that he stroked against her G-spot going into her vagina and rubbed her clit on the way out. “This is heaven,” Selina thinks as she kisses her rapist with all the fervor she would have given Bruce Wayne if he had been holding her in his arms. Her orgasm began small, but it did not stop until after the spurting penis inside her was limp and still.

The new slave girl cried out in ecstasy one more time under the attentions of the dark-haired slaver called Arbus. His long penis was expertly plundering her backside while three of his fingers burrowed into her juicing cunt. Catwoman’s fantasy of being forcefully buggered by Batman had excited her to such a degree that she had begged the slaver for permission to come. He gave permission once he found his own relief and her subsequent orgasmic sensations deprived her of consciousness.

Despite her chains Selina was expected to imitate Silvia. Whenever she or Barbara was slow in following or imperfect in their postures they received a blow from the whip. Determined to cooperate as fully as possible, Selina scrambled to keep up. By the time the instruction ended she knew the right responses to a dozen different commands and her young cellmate had learned an exquisitely painful lesson in the price of disobedience.

After all three slave girls were fed and watered; Selina Kyle spent the night in silence. Barbara Gordon, the stupid slut, violated ‘quiet hours’ by trying to start a whispered conversation with Silvia: she ended up with her mouth gagged by her own hair. Catwoman did not need to discuss their predicament: for the past three years she had helped condemn beautiful young woman to this fate. At age thirty-four she simply had not imagined that it would happen to her. “I’m in the power of professional flesh merchants on a world where the penalty for a runaway slave is mutilation or torture or death. And it’s all the fault of a stupid naïve graduate student who fancied herself a super-heroine.”

Selina wondered how much their trainers knew about their latest acquisitions; it seemed certain that Arbus and Rollo knew something about her background. “Even when they used me my knees were hobbled and my wrists were in restraints. If they know the full truth I will wear these cursed chains until I have long since been completely broken to slavery.”

“Batgirl is a potential ally but she’s naïve and reckless.” Catwoman mused. “And I really don’t want to see Batcunt freed. I want to see her grovel at the feet of a master as the worthless fuck toy she really is. One way I can insure that result is to grovel and cooperate in my training. These slavers will almost certainly press her to keep up with me and in the meantime I’ll be pulling the wool over their eyes about their green-eyed brunette barbarian kajira.”

When she and Barbara were branded the next day, Selina kissed the feet of the man who held the iron to her body. She told herself that while Selina Kyle had legally died on that branding wrack, the Catwoman was lurking inside the newly renamed slave Kafka. She remained just as statuesque, athletic and exotically beautiful as before. If she trained well she would be quickly sold to a new owner who would never understand the true nature of his property.

Barbara tried to fight her guards despite her chains and got beaten up for her trouble before the mark of a kajira was burned indelibly into her flesh, too. She tried successfully to stifle her cry of pain until a second scorning iron nearly burned her breast. Then she screamed in rage and pain for all in the courtyard to hear.

The young redhead was renamed ‘Eta’ but she got into an argument with Arbus about her name and her condition as a natural slave girl. For her attitude she received a vivid demonstration of what it meant to be a slave on Gor. He ordered her returned to the wrack and a second ‘Kef’ brand was burned into her thigh. Then he stepped between her widely spread legs for a long session of rape. He fucked the former Batgirl until she came, once again entirely against her will. Eta wept bitterly in their joint cell for hours afterwards. She had been shown beyond all denial that she would be treated as just another kajira on Gor.

Week after week of training and indoctrination went by and still Kafka’s sale did not happen. Catwoman was becoming worried because Kafka’s training worked insidiously on the former Selina Kyle’s thought patterns. She played the part of the submitted slave with such fervor and attention to detail that it was difficult not to immerse her whole psyche in Kafka’s personality. Something inside her urged her to submit in truth to the men who held the whip over her. Selina Kyle, who had long controlled the men around her with her spirited beauty and sensuality, was learning to be a man’s perfect plaything and chattel.

Meanwhile Batgirl’s resistance grew steadily more meek with each whipping and subsequent ravishment. Eta remained sullenly resentful of what the slavers were teaching her, but first her body and then her mind began to welcome the attentions of men. The former goody-two-shoes was eagerly accepting their hard members into her juicing holes and screaming her pleasure when allowed to come. In Rollo’s massive arms Barbara was now entirely submissive, she begged permission to come and cried out her slave’s submission when given permission to yield to him. Although her slender body remained firm from the exercises demanded of her, Eta seemed to be a natural pleasure slave, soft and pliant in the arms of a man. “Given enough time under the slavers’ regime, the twenty-four year-old from Earth would be the total slave of any male able to fill her yearning pussy,” Selina observed.

Selina’s joy in Barbara Gordon’s descent into sexual slavery was ruined by Arbus’s change of plans. Their owner decreed that the two natural athletes would form a team of Pony girls. He kept them together round the clock and Selina was frankly sick of the young slut’s delusions about what lay ahead. Barbara did not know what pony girls were and Selina wasn’t yet sure whether it would be a good idea or a bad idea to enlighten her fully.

They were not merely being trained to be marvels of sexual delight; they were being conditioned to act as mute beasts of burden for some rich man’s chariot. Already, they were denied the use of spoken language for hours at a time and their trainers never bothered to correct Eta’s mispronunciations anymore. Someday soon, the barbarian kajiri’s voice boxes would be surgically altered so that neither girl would be able to articulate human speech, only whinny like a horse.

While Barbara/Eta had reached the stage where she relished the fact that men were now almost as eager to fuck her as they were the former Catwoman, Kafka was faking a sexual ardor that Selina Kyle did not feel. She fantasized that most of the horny Gorean males she serviced were Batman. Such a continuous deception was second nature to a career criminal with a secret identity to protect. Forthright Barbara Gordon was an open book to the men determined to reshape her psyche to acceptance of the status of a property animal without legal rights. Eta’s resistance level and her thoughts were tightly coordinated. Meanwhile, Kafka was obeying every order given her even as Catwoman formulated and refined her plans for life on Gor without slave chains.

Catwoman had never imagined that the process of training her would take more than a handful of Gorean weeks if she cooperated fully. Instead, months had now gone by without even the tiniest opportunity of escape. Instead of selling her, her twin owners had elected to seek a bigger profit by extending and intensifying Kafka and Eta’s training. From Silvia, who was of Earth origin, Kafka learned that in addition to specialized training and the usual basic course work in kajira skills, Rollo and Arbus considered it a point of pride that barbarian girls left their kennels completely broken to their slave collars. Rollo, whose enormous size and strength made even the statuesque Barbara Gordon seem like a child, was working to personally convert Eta into a cuddly fuck toy. Arbus was using his insight and experience to eradicate Kafka’s last vestiges of free personhood.

Each night before she was chained by the neck in her kennel, Kafka was brought to Arbus’s chambers to demonstrate her progress in obedience and sexual responsiveness. The dark-haired slaver liked Kafka’s personality and was enchanted by the contrast between her slender, muscled build and the lushness of her breasts and bottom. For her part she thought Arbus a very attractive man, as powerful and intelligent in his own way as Batman was. He certainly knew his way around a woman’s body far better than any of Selina’s previous lovers.

Except for his often cruelly dominant kisses, Selina did not begrudge him Kafka’s use. Whenever he got too rough or demanding she simply let herself fantasize that he was Bruce Wayne and she quickly grew suitably sexually exited. She kept her façade in place for several Gorean weeks, but one unforgettable night Arbus finally pushed her beyond fantasy and into true submission to his ownership.

As a test of her obedience and sexual self-control he had ordered Kafka to remain motionless while he poled deep inside her slick pussy. Such control had always been Selina’s particular weakness. On Earth her lovers had never dared deny her anything for fear she would go on to another after that night. Always before in her training she had used a squeeze, or a wiggle, or a kiss, or a caress, or whatever it took to hurry matters to mutual orgasm.

This time the statuesque brunette kajira was under strict orders to stay limp and pliant even as Arbus’s lips and teeth feasted on her throat and his beautiful hands gently yet possessively caressed her back and buttock. The fine hair in his massive chest tickled her nipples in a rhythm that matched the stroking of his manhood within her vaginal walls. Again and again his firm staff went so deep inside her that it seemed to prod her cervix.

She nodded her head vigorously, not daring even to voice agreement. This was no bluff, it was a promise. It was exactly the sort of thing a Gorean slaver would do: using even a favorite trainee as an example to all future kajiri. She started the required mantra and shifted her hips. The sensation was quite pleasant. Her clit remained hard and sensitive to contact. She rolled her abdominal muscles and felt Arbus throb within her. “This isn’t so bad” she decided and moved faster to build her excitement to a climax.

Despite her best efforts, the coupling went on and on. She tried at one point to add some sliding motion but arms like steel held her captive. With her lower muscles tiring rapidly she had begun to whimper from sexual frustration when it occurred to her to lock her ankles behind his back and squeeze herself tighter against his body.

Selina imagined herself on stage with Bruce in the audience. She let her whole body show the way she ached for him to touch her. She danced her entreaty to Batman to consummate the passion that had always flared between them. To her surprise she felt the trickle of slave oils on her upper thigh. “I am becoming as much a slut as Eta,” she giggled.

Giving no warning, Arbus leaped to his feet and pulled her from her dancing with a fist in her thick raven locks. Keeping his hand at his hip so she had to remain bent at the waist, she dragged her over to the rings and shackles set in one wall. With the click of a chain to her collar she was unable to straighten.

Then she felt something slide into her dripping cunt. She couldn’t see what it was, but it was hard, yet segmented so as to conform to the contractions of her sheath. It seemed to move and shift as she did and the sensation stimulated the walls of her vagina. The urge to touch her pussy grew overwhelming very quickly. She struggled against the manacles.

Arbus kept up the beating for ten more blows. He punctuated the process with stops for questions and answers so that the slave was kept continually on the brink of a powerful vaginal orgasm. He had experience in this technique. Kaka would not find release of the building tension in her body until he chose to grant it to a much-humbled kajira.

For twenty-five terrible Ehn, Arbus toyed with his kajira. He combed her hair and the sensation left her squirming despite her efforts to still all motion. He stroked her hips and legs and she gasped at the jolts of pleasure this evoked. Each wiggle or tensing from his touch intensified the actions of the goad. Then he sat on the floor beneath her bent-over body and teased her nipples with fingers and tongue.

That was too much to bear. She came, only to discover that the orgasm brought not relief but a yet higher level of arousal and sensitivity in her loins. At last, judging that she was fully ready for his mastery, he moved to stand between her parted ankles.

Kafka felt his body against the back of her thighs and willed her back channel to open for his sodomy. In her mind she was furiously conjuring a scene with her imprisoned in the Bat Cave. She gasped in total surprise when the goad was yanked out of her sopping-wet cunt and then jammed deeply between her bottom cheeks. She screamed in even greater shock when Arbus’s bone-hard erection surged into the over-stimulated entrance to her womb. Somehow her pussy had become tight as a virgin’s again. The sensation when the two intruding objects make contact through her sensitized vaginal wall was completely indescribable and overwhelming.

Arbus savored his own sensations; her slick walls were squeezing down on him far more tightly than ever before as she squirmed and bucked in complete thrall to the feeling he had forced upon her. She came sharply, and he decided it was time to start his Taking of his favorite slave girl.

He leaned forward onto her back and wrapped one arm across her chest. He bit into her shoulder to mark her, and then began the ravishment in earnest. He took her like an animal would, showing no concern for her feelings or comfort. She came anyway; the goad in her anus left her powerless to resist. He spoke to her as he pounded into her body, reminding her over and over that she is property, an animal being trained to give pleasure to men. At one point Kafka’s knees buckled from the strain and she collapsed to the floor. He followed her down, never ceasing to thrust and withdraw from her tight channel until she came for a third time and collapsed in complete exhaustion.

Arbus took that opportunity to reverse her shackles so that she sat facing him. As he was on the very verge of climax he positioned himself in front of his kajira’s lovely face. With a few jerks of his hand his cum exploded into her reflexively wide-open mouth.

That had been more than a century ago. As they counted time on Gor Arbus was neither old nor particularly young. He had been born shortly after the American Revolution. His father and a shipload of Spanish Armada survivors had come to Gor as part of the Priest Kings’ Voyages of Acquisition.

Selina tried her utmost to remain still as they talked but the presence of an attractive man and his ministrations to her body re-awakened her heat. She ached between her legs from his previous use but that ache only made her squirm worse from any motion by the goad still in her rectum. Bit by bit, her arousal grew, regardless of what events she was relating for him. Every squirm moved the tormenting device, sending a flash of heat to her vagina, which only made it more difficult to hold still. Arbus had spoken truly, a woman’s body made her the slave of any man who could force and hold a passion goad within her.

Several times she broke off her life’s story to entreat him to ease her. Each time he declined. Twice he pinned her to the mat by sitting on her belly and pulled her legs against her chest so that Selina’s writhing did not bring her to climax. In so doing he taught his slave that her orgasms were the sole prerogative of her master.

It was a slow and gentle stroking designed to give pleasure but deliberately calculated to increase her sexual tension rather than relieve it. Quickly her exhausted but still needful body tried to participate. With lips and abdominal muscles she sought to urge Arbus to faster motion, but restrained as she was, he was totally in control of their coupling. He stopped altogether.

The process was gradual, for Selina the Catwoman was still new to true submission, but Arbus’s control and use of his slave’s body steadily built on her feelings that he possessed and controlled her wildly spirally emotions as well. Soon Selina was fighting the chains holding her wrists above her head, not to get away, but because the urge to embrace him was irresistible. She wanted to close her legs tightly around his waist, but that too was impossible because of her restraints. She was a helpless Kajira completely at the sexual mercy of a master.

Prohibited by steel from participating physically Kafka sought to give back the pleasure she received by making Arbus’s required mantra into a poem of love and passion. As she made her increasingly breathy confessions that she was his slave she dared his wrath by kissing at whatever part of his body her lips could reach.

At last a new emotion, one that rejoiced in Selina’s powerlessness, found its way into her litany of submission and lust. The deeper and harder her powerful master stroked her, the more this feeling pushed all others aside. She had a mini-orgasm and the emotion only grew stronger. She had two more in rapid succession, as if the spasms of her body were pangs of birthing.

A much-chastened Kafka returned to her cell, deep in thought. She glanced at the sleeping Eta and suppressed the desire to awaken her compatriot to discuss what had just happened to her. Selina now deeply regretted a whispered conversation they had a few weeks before they began Pony slave training.

That prospect made Barbara very thoughtful for a while. Selina had smiled in the darkness, imagining how pale Eta must have gone as the thought of being lashed. After a pause for dramatic effect Selina tried to insert a little extra slaver’s propaganda; a tactic that triggered a quarrel.

Selina had spitefully recounted the conversation to Silvia and she relayed it to Arbus. Eta was given a whipping so harsh it left scars that faded only after application of a special cream several days later. Eta stopped talking to her cellmate, which suited Selina just fine at the time. Now the newly conquered slave Kafka needed someone to talk to and there was no one at all to whom she could turn.

She had just learned that her earlier whispered words to Barbara Gordon had not been defeatism but a stark realism their speaker had not recognized. “No woman of Earth can hold out indefinitely against techniques completely beyond her experience. Some of what Arbus did to me, such as that goddamn passion goad, was a surprise even though I worked with Kurii slave runners for years.” This night, the woman her masters called ‘Kafka’ had been taught beyond any denial that she was just as doomed to slavery as any other woman in the House of Arbus.

She settled down to rest, but deep sleep would not come anymore. An unpleasant consequence of Selina’s betrayal of Barbara’s confidences was that both the girls were frequently awakened by their guards in the middle of the night for kajira indoctrination sessions. If they did well, they were fucked to climax. If one of them faltered at any point in the response litanies, she was aroused but left unsatisfied, and given a brief whipping. Coming as it did at times when her mind’s resistance was at low ebb, the training had clearly undermined Selina’s ability to deal with her owner and his hateful devices for breaking women to his will.

Selina thought very hard about her new status. In her own name she had declared herself a slave and meant the words. Then her body had rejoiced in its new status, proclaiming the truth of those words. Arbus was indeed her Master. If he decided to keep her to enjoy sexually and used her to train other slaves then that might not be too bad a fate.

But slaves were rightless property, completely at the whims of their legal owners. Giving up her escape plans would mean exposing herself totally to those whims. True slave or not, it was not a risk that Selina/Kafka was willing to accept. Until she knew Arbus’s true plans for her, there was only one thing to do: from this point on she would think of herself solely as Batman’s kajira-in-training. “Every act of obedience, every orgasm, every word from my mouth will a slave’s offering to the man I is certain is worthy to be Master of the Catwoman.”

The two women were walking side by side in perfect unison one late afternoon. Kafka wore special sandals with wooden heel inserts to accentuate the lines of her long legs. Eta wore extra thick sandals with identical inserts so that their breasts were exactly the same height as her harness partner’s. They were a spectacular sight. Both were slender-waisted and athletically muscled, but with feminine hips and full breasts. Their shining locks and lightly furred loins were different colors, of course, but their now flawless complexions were the same shade. “Gorean Physicians knew makeup tricks Earth’s movie stars would kill to know,” Kafka mused. Barbara’s bat tattoo and every last one of her freckles were gone and Selina’s formerly pale skin was now two shades rosier after a painful but effective application of permanent skin die over most of her body.

With her exotic cat-green eyes and deeper cleavage Kafka was considered the prize of the pair. But by any lesser standard, Eta had blossomed into an exceptionally beautiful and sensuous kajira. Once fully trained as pony girls and completely broken to the will of men, Rollo and Arbus figured the girls might sell for hundreds of gold tarns. Eta continued to make temporary shows of resistance but some masters liked that in a Pony girl. Like Kafka, her trainers suspected that the former Barbara Gordon preferred being whipped and slave raped to gentler pleasuring because being overwhelmed allowed her to retain some scrap of pride.

Word had circulated on the streets of Ar that Arbus allowed potential bidders to sample his goods as a prelude to their auction. Kafka in particular was popular because she would use her hungry eyes to entreat her trainer to grant the supplicant the use of her sensually awakened body. Eta always looked aghast at such forwardness, but Kafka could smell Eta’s arousal and see that Eta’s thighs were soon slippery with her own oils whenever the red-head’s use was requested.

The slaves were marched up the stairs of a high tower that day. Rollo held their reins and he wanted to watch the sun setting over the great city. Ar was laid out before them through the window at which they stopped. Despite its size and recent defeat in war the great city was well maintained, so that the sight was breath-takingly beautiful. They stood there long enough that Catwoman, who had been carefully cataloging the streets for the past hand of days, was able to partially memorize the layout of the rooftops and tarn perches. ”We are alone with him here. Tomorrow might be too late. I have to act now.” She decided.

As they turned to leave, she stepped on Eta’s long ankle chain. The young redhead went down hard. Rollo kept walking until he stood over her and was looking down at Eta’s blushing face. Even though Catwoman was already somersaulting in the air before he saw her motion out of the corner of his eye, his warriors’ reflexes nearly saved him. With the momentum of her back flip behind them the hard wooden heels drove his protective hands into his chest hard enough to shatter bones in his wrists and crack two of his ribs.

Selina watched in deep satisfaction, as the back of the seven-foot tall slaver’s head hit the tile floor with a satisfying thunk. As she searched his pockets for a key to her shackles she was relieved to find that Rollo’s still figure was breathing. If he died, the pursuit would be more dogged and she would be eventually impaled on a sharpened wooden stake. She knew that Rollo had the right key; one of the men he gave her to earlier that day had used it to reposition her arms before penetrating her.

It took about three Ehn before she managed to get her hands and feet completely unshackled, but then Catwoman was free of chains for the first time since awakening on Gor. She remained enslaved; both in the eyes of Gorean Law and in her own heart, yet Catwoman would rather be a runaway slave calling herself Selina than a Pony girl called Kafka. With the help of her fantasizing and false submission she had been anticipating this moment all along.

She stretched to her full height and stared at her former partner in harness for a few seconds. She considered the situation. “Barbara is only about a week or two away from final subjugation to Rollo’s will, but she is still in good enough shape physically to fight with me if need be. That might be necessary before I’m safely out of Arbus’s reach. After that I will let Fate and my own ingenuity decide what to do with this hot cuddly fuck toy my enemy has become.” Selina threw Eta the set of keys.

Barbara Gordon, Batgirl, swept up the keys and unlocked her shackles. It was a matter of pride not to ask Catwoman for direct assistance. When she was also free of chains, Barbara followed the taller brunette out the window onto a tarn perch below. Together they disappeared into the gathering darkness.

After stealthily scaling the towering walls of Ar, their next step in their new lives was to ambush a party of free women returning to the city. The pair stole their clothes, their coin, their male slaves, and their papers of identity. They sold the male slaves after enjoying their use and had the woman branded and collared as a gift and distraction for Arbus and Rollo.

Selina used her steady hand and knowledge of the Gorean Language to leave a lovers’ note for the man who had so nearly made himself her Master in truth. If she read him correctly, a reminder of their special relationship would make Arbus even less apt to pursue them. Later that same day, a rented tarn took the pair of runaways from the area before pursuers could track them to the small tributary city where they had transacted their business.

After a series of joint crimes and weeks of traveling together the two female outlaws parted company. Selina relished the constant excitement of the life they were leading; even the recurring threat of recapture stimulated her. Barbara was increasingly unhappy under the strain of being on the wrong side of the Law. While neither woman was now comfortable without the attentions of men, Barbara, in particular, found raping the men they captured during crimes unsatisfying.

They quarreled constantly, as each was contemptuous of the other’s behavior in the slavers’ house. One day Selina announced that she was leaving. Barbara was horrified. She pleaded her own ignorance of Gorean culture and language yet Selina would not relent. She had had enough of Babs’ company. Catwoman sucker-punched her enemy/partner with a kick to the jaw.

Selina had already explained that her would-be partner was more liability than asset as an outlaw. She remarked that it was for Boopsie’s own good. Anyone who would follow her worst enemy around like a puppy dog needed to get a grip on life. She said a scornful good-bye to the sobbing Batgirl and walked away, leaving the newly re-enslaved heroine to face her unknown fate.

But Selina did not leave the area, which also contained a gang of male outlaws. She had planned this carefully. A fine powder in the hood acted to magnify Batgirl’s emotions of loneliness, fear and despair. As hours passed into days she knew that Barbara’s personality would be disintegrating. By the time the outlaws found her, Batgirl’s pride and self-confidence were a thing of the past. When the outlaws agreed to cut her loose if she would service them, it was Boopsie, the child-like but sexually needy slave slut, who took over as the dominant personality.

Barbara Gordon would have looked on those men with utter contempt. Batgirl could have easily bested them in minutes. Boopsie wore no chains but those in her mind. She crawled from outlaw to outlaw thinking of nothing but being used and pleasing her ‘rescuers.’ When the leader took full sexual possession of her cuddly body, Boopsie’s cry of slave orgasm signaled to all within earshot that the former Barbara Gordon had found a new place in life. Afterwards she licked his fingers as he fed the hot slut kneeling at his feet.

Meanwhile, a beautiful female outlaw turned to leave her place of concealment. Seeing that the Police Commissioner’s daughter was now the sex toy of a gang of scum, she knew Catwoman’s victory over Batgirl was irreversible. She quietly disappeared into the forest night, never thinking about ‘Boopsie’ again—except once a day to laugh until her sides hurt.

WANT TO KNOW MORE OF SELINA’S FATE?

WANT MORE DC HEROINES TO MEET A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH?