Silver Phoenix turned his attention to Parvin, colorless eyes focusing on the kneeling slave with as much dubiousness as he had gazed to the odd assortment of cushions. One booted foot was nudged against the slave's skirts lazily and he exhaled slowly. "You're wearing altogether too much, Parvin." He announced nonchalantly. The weather was warm enough to suffer a naked slave and he much preferred to view the beautiful flesh of the enslaved, even the rougher ones.
Xcept Atlas holds up the glass of hot tea on a small plate to the Scribe it's color is light amber a spoon on the side of the plate, almost impossible to kneel in the thick kilt, should have taken it off as soon as I had reached home, there were some blood stains down the front of it. Hands outstreched and not exactly a proper serve but a good try. "Master your tea, may it quench your thirst and heal your throat, with the sweetness of the south. " I don't look over to the Master in black but see him from the side of my eye. Sure Erion will serve him the stolen Scimitar paga, the worlds best. Noding as the Master talks of the kilt. "yes, Master" taking off the kilt the shorts still underneath. "Sorry, Master, snowing in Ar."
Erion Joseppe stands in front of the unknown counter. He tries to find the bowls to clean and finds them, using a cloth abandoned in a corner. He shakes his hand to put away some dirty things and under a clear flow of water, he cleans them carefully. Then the boy choses a bowl for the man wishing the paga. The boy finds a nice bowl, silver made with a nice and finely decorated golden band along the edge. He smiles when he finds that, not sure why that bowl is there. Erion does not take care of that and makes the bowl totally clean, his body naked lightlyu waving at his fast movements
Erion Joseppe finds a dark bottle with a cork closing that. He opens that by his teeth and splits the cork on the ground, then takes a long breath to be sure that is the good scimitar paga. "Yeah!", he whispers and pours the paga in the bowl, gently, taking care not to spill a drop of that golden and flavoured drink. The boy puts the bottle on the counter slowly and, with the full bowl in his hand, comes back to the black master
Silver Phoenix lifted the cup from Parvin's fingers, not really interested in the serve so much as the drink itself. Carefully balancing the cup in one hand he leaned gracefully and slid a stained fingertip into the waistband of Parvin's ragged shorts. "Still too much, I would say. You really should remedy that." He mentioned, then turned his attention to the pillows again, motioning Parvin to attend to him as he settled haphazardly onto a nearby pile of fluff and fur.
Erion Joseppe lowers his eyes, a little worrying for that unknown man, giving to him a fast glance when he approaches. he raises the arms and, offering the bowl to hi, he whispers "This is your paga, Master. I hope you'll be pleased, as i have been so happy to serve you"
Xcept Atlas is quite a dumb slave and finally got the hint. The last thing that the Arians wanted to see was the naked fighting slave. Heading into the back I strip off my shorts and fold them, returning to the Master and kneeling. My punctured hands and feet behind me. Rarely expecting company while in the forest, assuming the Master's have traveled quite along way, I catch a gimpse of Erion serving and kneel close to the Scribe, sure he won't kill me today.
Forsaken Demontrond looks to the boy presenting him the bowl of paga. As the liquid rocks in the vessel, Forsaken seems to blankly stare outwards at the open-vast greenlands. He was of the Tahari, where crystal sands replaced the moist-blades of grass. He brings the vessel to his lips drinking it down as he looks to the boy and says, "Lay on your back boy". thinking he would take advantage of the rare-male slaves of gor's more colorful lands. Staying nestled in the lounge chair, he awaits the boy to lay on his back, at which point he will be told to dance.
Erion Joseppe gives a fast glance to the naked body of the brother, a little worrying. He winks at him fastly, realizing the eyes of the man sitted in front of him is upon himself. He gulps feeling those words and blushes deeply, not being accustomed to serve unknown frees. He turns his body letting him to see his back and giving another glance to parvin. He does not know why that free wishes that ... but he offers himself to him ... he is a stranger in a far land in comparison to the land where he lives. His eyes looks at the ground, his cheeks become deeply red
Silver Phoenix gazed at the stranger, thinking he was familiar looking, but then again, as old as he was, everyone looked faintly familiar in one way or another. "So what's your story." He asked of the stranger though his eyes were on the tattooed slave, curious of how well he was trained, the boy had seemed reluctant, and he was curious to whom the creature belonged to.
Forsaken Demontrond gaze had been upon the boy presenting himself. looking at the detailed art-work that went up the boy's moist back. As he presented himself in the position he was asked to go in, he states "Now, I want you to dance without taking your head off that ground". As far as Forsaken was concerned, he had the perfect inward view and the view alone was all he wished along with his drink. He continued sipping down the bowl when the other free had tossed up the question. At that moment he pulled his gaze from the boy to the pale, light-haired man and says "Caravan travels, and yours?" he then turns his view to the slave, tipping his bowl towards the free in acknowledgement that he was still listening, simply wishing to gaze.
Xcept Atlas kept my eyes to the Master clad in black's boots and listened to the demand. Sure Erion would follow flawlessley, he was well trained far from the forest. I may have caught the wink but kept my face stoic. Unsure of the Master and the drunk captian's reason for bringing him here. Hands clasped behind my back and nub of my missing finger trying to intertwine but failing. Looking up to the Scribe and then back down to Erion as he lays out toned and buff. A small smile crosses my face as I fidget but stay quiet and look upon Erion with a set of caring eyes, unsure how Erion is going to do that.
Silver Phoenix reached out twin, slender fingers to twine them into Parvin's hair, pulling the slave closer until he could feel the heat of the slave's flesh. Satisfied, he took a ginger sip of his tea, colorless eyes settling on the strangers rough facade. "Not much to tell really. Just a scribe, traveling." It was odd for any of his ilk to randomly travel in such a fashion, but he wouldn't elaborate on his own reasons. "Selling anything?" He inquired then, fond of old scrolls and other oddities, he hoped the man had collected something of interest in his travels.
Erion Joseppe wonders how he can dance always with the head on a cushion. He narrows his eyes, trying to understand what that man he is saying, being borne vary far and having served in different places and in different ways. He opens lightly his mouth and, with a clear dialect from the south, he whispers "Yes, Master". Erion closes his eyes trying to lose his touch with the reality, being the first time he dances for someone, and begins to imagine to be in a far place, among waves. A hot sea surrounds his skin and he begins like the waves. His legs raises slowly, his hands moves along the body sizes. He opens lightly his legs letting him to see his secret parts, the internal legs hiding sweet secrets, more than that man can imagine
Xcept Atlas's head followed the twirl of the Master's fingers, pulling a bit, one of my eyes closed as I leaned into him, my hair was greasy some of the blood of the sleen heart I ate was dried along the side of my jaw. Coming to the realization that home did not exactly mean relaxation for a slave. The open eye going over to Erion as he spreads his legs and dances like Bagoas for Alexander. This time it's for a free of the wagon tribes. I put my hand to my thigh and slap it to a rhythm that Erion can follow, keeping a slow beat.
Forsaken Demontrond looked over to the other free, sipping upon the bowl as he says, "Not quite yet, I am in the business of Livestock though I am of the Red Caste". he continues to look upon the slave as he reaches back to his thick mane, wound behind his back. Pulling it to the side of his body he holds a hand on his locks as he begins to finish-off his drink. Once he does, he continues to watch the slutacious boy work his magic. Watching his thighs part, he takes the advantage and slides his bowl alongst the wooden planks, sliding the bowl between the boy's thighs for him to catch at whatever depth. Slowly licking his lips he puts his hands behind the back of his head and nestles furthermore into the seating.
Erion Joseppe 's body moves like a wave, a light wave gently wetting the river of a hot and sandy beach. The hands lowers more and more, touching his internal legs. The scrotum gently moves, letting him to see the testicles, well proportioned and hosting among them a nice manhood, also well proportioned. The lower body arches wildly letting him to see the moons back, when the legs opens abruptly and raises letting him to see his nice hole, clearly belong to a red silk. He blushes and then moans, feeling the warm air of nyundo flowing on all his skin. He relaxes to understand where that man lives and is sure to feel a clear sound of the south. His soul becomes crazy when he realizes that man comes from the real south of gor and enjoys what he is doinf for him. He raises more and more his body and begins to touch his ass, delicately, the hands dancing on that, opening and closing like inviting him to take for this night that body
Silver Phoenix settles his silvery eyes on the hair that's trapped between his fingers, curious of the odd texture of it and the rusty hue that stained the slave's features. One soft thumb rubbed over the stain, instantly identifying it as blood, though that only added to the allure of the roguish slave he kept near one leather-clad thigh. "That is a shame." He mentioned offhandedly. "I'm interested in things, but not common things." He said vaguely, one equally white brow lifting as he gazed through pale lashes to the stranger.
Xcept Atlas's shoulders hunched forward as I heard the Master's profession, a visible chill shook my skin. Keen eyes caught the bowl as it traveled towards Erion's thighs, the display Erion was putting on was one which I had never quiet seen up close, toes curling to my feet and then leaning my shoulders back, posturing but unsure why. As the Master rubs his thumb to my cheek again closing one eye and turning my head to the side. The rhythm still clapping at my thigh, speeding up as Erion's dance does.
Erion Joseppe 's hands touch tightly the internal legs, the scrotum, the ass. The legs comes back to ground, gently putting the feet on the ground. He arches his body like a wave, letting him to see all the muscles shaping the erion's body. A soft moan raises from the mouth of the boy, now gently opened. A soft moan, like a sort of wail. That moan becomes more and more deeper when the fingers reach the hole. The wave reach his secret parts and the thumbs work softly and sweetly on the hole, opening that slowly, letting him to see everything of him. Then the erion's hands move slowly to his balls and then to the hood, touching it and moving it like a wave, too. He realizes the presence of the bowl close to him. He takes that. The hand lets the bowl close to his lips. The tongue begins to work on the edges, wishing to taste the saliva left by that master. He is a sort of cat, wishing to taste everything is happening there. Not searched for ... just happened!
Forsaken Demontrond had been slightly impressed with the control the boy had over his body. Although he seemed quite jumpy, and somewhat jittery while he was serving he was clearly in-tune with his body's movements". The boy had gotten the Warrior interested, and with that came the removal of a musical instrument. As the boy slapped what flesh he had on his toned thighs, Forsaken began to play a beat and together, he expected the boy to dance more vigorously. He said, " You may move your head". as he continued the beating. The boy had enticed him with the rubbing of himself, and also with the licking of the bowl. He stared, awaiting the boy's next sway.
Xcept Atlas turned my body towards the silver haired Master and took my gaze off of Erion, it was too much not to become excited. Beaten into submission and having learned ways to attempt at least some control. Scars imbeded in my skin from those lessons learned. Of course staring at the Scribe's abs, the best in gor thus far was not helping the situation. Something primal echoing through me slowly jerking my head from right to left to the beat. Continuing the taps to my leg, my other hand goes to my right thigh and slaps in rhythm to the tamber of the Master's drum.
Erion Joseppe does not say anything. He begins to shake his head at the new sounds he is feeling in the tavern. He turns his body, putting his right side on the ground. Then he raises ahis right leg, moving that almost abruptly. He likes much that music and snaps his fingers. He shivers realizing he has made a movement he cannot do and comes back to his waves. Erion puts the bowl on the ground and gently turns the head towards him, winking and hiding a secret chuckle. He turns another time the body and raises the other leg, letting to see the master the other side of his own body. He moves more fastly, the waves cbecome more and more fast, the body shakes in deep ondulations, the balls, the hood move fastly too. His cock become a bit excited and accompanies the body in his flowing. The tongue goes out a bit from the mouth, licking the lips, then a finger reaching the mouth. He licks avidously that finger, moaning more and more
Silver Phoenix's tug on the slave's hair became painful. Distracted by the dance, though in an aloof sort of detached way; he was more interested then in sipping his tea and testing Parvin's pain threshold lazily.
Xcept Atlas keeps leaning into the Master as he tugs on the tendril of hair, After being impaled and losing a finger, whipped floogged and beating, the dumb slave barely felt a thing. I stop the slapping along to the tune thinking that is the reason the Master is pulling my hair. Having followed his tug my face is at those abs. "oooooo Master." I sound dumb but excited by the pull. "Yes, Master?" and attempt to drop my lips to his stomach.
Forsaken Demontrond had ended the drumming with one loud bang. Looking around he looked to the slave whom had given his all to dance. He dropped a few copper tarsks to the wooden planks and said, "Well done, slave of Nyundo". he then tosses his cloak over his shoulder as he looks to the free and says, "May your ink never run dry, Scribe". nodding on his way out to his caravan on his long, and harsh journey.
Xcept Atlas watched the Master slide up, hair still stuck in the Scribe's fingers I offer up, "I wish you well Master."
Erion Joseppe cannot control more his body. He has lost what he is doing. His arms lowers abruptly towards the ass. The body arches widely, the legs opens more and more. Erion lets him to see his naked internal legs, his no hairy skin, the balls dancing everywhere like nice stars in the sky. The hood is more and more excited and does not move like the body. It is evident in his strangthness. He does not take care of the parvin and of the other master looking at him and the fingers move slowly towards the hole, opening that slowly. The warm air of this long night enters there, letting the boy to moans. He cannot stop when the men raises and gulps. He stops abrutptly, his skin wet. "Master, I hope you liked" he whispers
Erion Joseppe stands up and kneel, still moaning. A drop flows on his cheeks from the forehead. "Lovely paths ... Master ...", he says, painting deeply
Silver Phoenix nodded in return to the dark stranger, wondering where the man was off to, and wishing to hear more of the man's story. "Safe travels." He said gently, proffering the man the briefest of smiles. He kept his colorless eyes trained on the tall figure, even as he tugs Parvin's hair again.
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