"The Panther's Fire", By Neeve Barbosa, Edited Arealius the Sailor

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customs, and values may not align with modern societal standards or moral principles.

Gor is Copyrighted by John Norman

"The Panther's Fire"

By Neeve Barbosa, Edited Arealius the Sailor,

In the city of Turmus, Censorius Gelidus, a ruthless slaver, stood outside the city gates, inspecting the wares presented to him. Two panther women, Sturma and Freawaru, had arrived earlier, seeking to trade a captured girl, a member of a rival forest tribe. The girl, naked and uncollared, stood before them, her eyes downcast.

Sturma, confident and bold, had initiated the transaction. "I'm simply helping a girl out..." she said, ringing the bells at the gate. As they waited, she called out, "HELLO!!! WE HAVE A SLAVE TO TRADE?!!!!"

Censorius's gaze narrowed as he assessed the girl's value. "Who is she and how did you come by her?" he asked, his tone skeptical.

Freawaru, yawning, spoke up. "She's a slave, free man. Are you interested or not?"

Censorius's expression turned cold. "You have an inferior product. I won't be swindled."

The transaction quickly turned sour. Censorius, insulted by the panther women's audacity, called out to his men, "Lock the gates! There are panthers present!"

Sturma and Freawaru, anticipating trouble, bolted for the gates, but it was too late. Censorius's men overpowered them, binding their wrists and ankles.

Censorius approached the captured women, his eyes glinting with anger. "You should have left when you had the chance," he sneered, his hand caressing the whip at his side.

The panther women, proud and fierce, glared at him, their eyes flashing with defiance. Censorius, reveling in their submission, decided to make an example of them. He would brand them, marking them as slaves, and then sell them to the highest bidder.

As the branding iron seared their flesh, Sturma hissed, "You will live to regret that, male." Freawaru screamed, "YOU BASTARD MAN THAT HURTS!"

Censorius dragged them through the streets, their bound bodies bruised and battered, the women seething with anger and humiliation. Upon arriving at the cage, Censorius shoved the women inside, cutting their bindings and leaving them to suffer.

Morgana, a slave girl, watched the scene unfold, her expression a mix of curiosity and wariness. She had been watching Censorius, and she knew better than to cross him.

As the days passed, Sturma and Freawaru, now known as Butt and Hole, were subjected to regular punishments by Censorius's men. The whip cracked across their skin, leaving behind welts and scars. They were forced to perform menial tasks, their bodies bruised and battered from the relentless abuse.

Censorius, determined to break their spirits, kept them together, using one as a hostage to control the other. If one misbehaved, the other would be punished, and vice versa. This tactic proved effective, as the sisters were fiercely protective of each other.

Butt, once the proud and fierce Sturma, seethed with anger and resentment. She was forced to watch as Hole was whipped and beaten, her own helplessness fueling her rage. The fire within her burned brighter and brighter, a flame that threatened to consume her.

Censorius approached the cage, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Do you enjoy sleens?" he asked Sturma, his eyes glinting with malice. "Oh, and Osts?"

Sturma snorted, her eyes flashing with anger. "I killed a sleen - in fact, many Man. And held many an Ost too. I care not for them really, but they are not so scary."

Censorius raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her response. "Impressive. However, I am sure you had clothing, and weapons. Accouterments that aid you. Can you kill a beast so naked and bound and trapped in a cage?" He looked at Freawaru, then back at Sturma. "Can either of you?"

Sturma's gaze never wavered, her eyes burning with defiance. "Do whatever you wish, boy. We'll see what happens." Censorius's grin grew wider, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Very fierce you are. Well, then as you have no fear of larl's or sleen, I shall make sure that you have the company of one."

Censorius decided it was time to move them to a new holding pen. The pen was designed to showcase the slaves to potential buyers, and Censorius wanted to get the best price possible for his new acquisitions.

As they were led to the pen, Butt's eyes scanned the area, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. She noted the guards, the layout of the pen, and the men who ogled and leered at her and Hole.

The men of Turmus, gathered around the pen, discussed their value and possible sale prices. Some were interested in their fighting skills, while others were more interested in their physical attributes.

Butt's anger simmered as she listened to the men, her mind racing with plans of escape and revenge. She would not be sold, she would not be broken. The fire within her burned hotter, fueling her determination to survive and escape.

As the days turned into weeks, Butt and Hole became a regular attraction in the city, with men coming from all over to see the fierce panther women. But Censorius had underestimated the strength and resilience of the sisters. The flames of rebellion burned brighter, and it would take only a spark to set them a glowing.