| This is the land of the Tuchuks, where the word for enemy and stranger are the same. Those that enter with respect for the ways of the Wagon People may be offered dirt and grass as a token of Brotherhood and friendship to the Tuchuks. Those who enter this camp with the sole intent to mock or cause strife BEWARE!!! For it is said with Truth that the Tuchuk is the proudest, most honorable, deadliest, and fiercest of all the Peoples on Gor!!--alika{CR}-R
"Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I cannot accept,
And the wisdom to hide the bodies I had to kill today because they pissed me off
And finally, the Pride to walk tall wherever I may go,
For I am TUCHUK."
First Knight's bid for littletoy:
^ First Knight ^Chief GateKeeper MTC^ says to KnightStorm~WARDER~{sb}:
~Kneeling on one knee before You, pulling My sword out, and laying the point of the Blade and the handle in the open palms of My hands~ This sword, Ubar, was given to Me by a very powerful person whom I served for many years. This sword has saved My life many times and it's a part of Me.
It represents My past life, and since You are already holding in one hand My present life in trusting Me to serve Maze Tuchuk Camp, by giving You My Sword, You now hold in Your other hand My past life. By joining Your hands on the hilt with Mine, You now have My entire life in Your hands. I'm offering this precious gift because I consider the girl not as a possession but as a precious gift offered by the Camp and the Ubar, so it is only be proper to give a precious gift in exchange.
Soft furs, thick and warm
cushion and cover
master and girl,
entwined
moving warm flesh,
painted gold in the flickering candle light,
rises to meet the caress of His hands...
and mouth...
in turn, her mouth seeks His flesh...
to suckle
to nip
to pleasure...
'tis her sole purpose...
to serve and please Him...
to Honor...
her only wish...
and in return, she expects naught,
but knows He will protect...
and provide.--cariad poeni{Bh}~W~
Leather tails outstretched, soft and supple,
scented with years of use...
the oils, the soaps...
the sweat...
and the sweet honey of a wanton slave...
soft skin caressed to a rosy warmth...
streaks of tingling puffs...
not out of correction for foul deeds done...
but for the arousal of a body in preparation for domination...
the Master...strong of spirit...guiding...
taking what is His...
the slave...strong in conviction to serve and please...
receiving His gift...
and bestowing her own...
one of dedication...service...obedience...
a union of Hard and soft...
taking and giving...
hearts, souls, bodies and spirits...
one yielding to the other...
boundaries broached...tested...explored...
the slave shivers in anticipation as she watches her Master...
gently preparing...
the tools of His affection...
ones that make her FEEL...
He places each article lovingly at the base of the frame....
prepares the restraints for her...
then lays out the carefully prepared leather tails, soft and supple,
scented with years of use...
Calm the storm within this girl's soul...
bring about tranquility once again.
This girl's heart calls out to You...
seeking the union of body, mind and spirit.
This girl's body yearns for Your touch....
the heat it produces when the fire of passion is kindled,
catches and blazes out of control....
This girl's voice calls out...
anguished...
begging for the sweet release wrought by Your body upon and within hers...
The love shared...
her vision shatters...
in a thousand sparkling shards of starlight...
strewn across the heavens as our passion takes us to new heights,
rest...sated...tranquil...happy.
To us U bring them.
A lone girl enters camp for the first time...
cold...
frightened and alone...
she watches from the shadows...
Eventually, the fear abates...
she befriends a camp girl...
introductions are made...
The girl is welcomed.
With thundering heart,
she approaches the Ubar,
making known her desire to call His Camp her home.
His smile warms her...
eases her fears.
With a snap, she is given the Honor of a ko-lar...
kettle, to be sure,
but she belongs...
This is home.
her days are filled with observation and questions...
study...
preparation for the test that will allow her to enter training...
to change from black to yellow...
silence to service.
Bara, Sula, Tower, Nadu...
Leasha and Slaver's kiss...
Bowl, bota, goblet...
wyne, paga, tea...
bosk, vulo, verr and tabuk...
the girls head spins...
but each is lovingly committed to memory...
so that she may serve with Honor.
Finally...
the day comes...
she is tested...
she emerges in flowing yellow...
face beaming with pride...
her first serve...
done with trembling hands and thundering heart...
and a growing fire in her belly...
each serve.... each movement...
amplifies the heat...
until her honey flows...
now, her days are full of study...
and practice...a dance to entice a Master...
One who will take her at auction...
One she will belong to...fully.
On auction day, she trembles with excitement...
waits with her sisters...
running her dance through her head...
it is her turn...
her dance is seductive...hot...passionate...
she is purchased by a powerful, loving Master...
the girl is happy...
and will serve Him with Honor.
His ko-lar is placed around her throat...
His scarlet silks lay upon her soft skin...
and His mark will be there as well... soon.
she is escorted to the branding rack...
placed in manacles and restrained...
her thigh clamped...
she watches as her Master places His brand into the brazier...
sees it begin to glow red...then white.
she retreats within...
watching with the eyes of a stranger...
while the white hot steel is pressed to her satin flesh...
a searing pain...
a flash of light...
the smell of burnt flesh...
then the cool hands of a sister...
the tingle of the pain balm...
she looks down...
a perfect mark...
His mark...
permanent...
undeniable...
she is His.
she is His...
*eyes close*...
*sweet smile crosses lips*
finally...
she is kaji...
Silence the bitter tongue
calm the storm of emotion within
erase all feelings of self doubt
kneel
smile
accept
obey
serve with joy
dance with passion
Honor Camp
Honor Him
always...
There are paga-less souls that follow the paths
Where paga never flowed...
Let Me drink at the furs in the Tuchuk Camp,
And kick off the dust of the road...
Let Me drink on the furs in the Tuchuk Camp,
While the rest of Gor runs dry...
There are Men who drink kal-da and Men who drink wine,
Yet None Who loves paga like I!
I can watch from My furs in the Tuchuk Camp
As Initiates scream that I'm cursed,
And the Warriors sweat and Their needs are not met,
And They cry out and grimace with thirst...
And I know there are taverns in humid Port Kar,
And tankards of glorious height...
And the ka-la-na flows through the long afternoon,
And spills in the gutters at night...
But in Camp I swig paga with Others who crave it,
And water does not touch My lips...
And We guzzle it down, there's no reason to save it,
And dribble it out in small drips.
For initiates don't drink, so why should I count them?
Or praise the great priest kings on high?
Let Me live on the furs in the Tuchuk Camp,
My slaves... and My paga...and I!--~desire~{Br} | 