Dung Sack Bondage
When I first read the following as a young lad, it made a powerful impression on me. Most of the girls in my life were at least as verbally abusive as the lovely Aphris of Turia, and despite the obvious flaws in the plan, I was pretty impressed with the fantasy of stuffing them in a leather sack until their attitude improved:
“Do you not recall,” asked Kamchak, “the banquet of Saphrar?”
“Of course.” she said, warily.
“Do you not recall,” asked Kamchak, “the affair of the tiny bottles of perfume and the smell of bosk dung — how nobly you attempted to rid the banquet hall of that most unpleasant and distasteful odor?”
“Yes,” said the girl, very slowly.
“Do you not recall,” asked Kamchak, “What I then said to you — what I said at that time?”
“No!” cried the girl leaping up, but Kamchak had jumped toward her, scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. She squirmed and struggled on his shoulder, kicking and pounding on his back. “Sleen!” she cried. “Sleen! Sleen! Sleen!”
I followed Kamchak down the steps of the wagon and, blinking and still sensible of the effects of the Paga, gravely held open the large dung sack near the rear left wheel of the wagon.
“No, Master!” the girl wept. “You call no man Master,” Kamchak was reminding her. And then I saw the lovely Aphris of Turia pitched head first into the large, leather sack, screaming and sputtering, thrashing about.
“Master!” she cried. “Master! Master!” Sleepily I could see the sides of the sack bulging out wildly here and there as she squirmed about. Kamchak then tied shut the end of the leather sack and wearily stood up. “I am tired,” he said. ” I have had a difficult and exhausting day.” I followed him into the wagon where, in a short time, we had both fallen asleep.
— from “Nomads of Gor” by John Norman
Elsewhere on Bondage Blog:
I remember reading that part too, quite some time ago. The thought was most unappealing (being of the submissive persuasion, I have no desire to be stuffed into a bag of poop any time soon) to me, but it made me laugh none the less.
Next time I am shoveling out the hose barn I will no doubt remember this post with some amusement.
LOL, I believe it’s *supposed* to be most unappealing for the woman in question. To avoid that stinky fate, a girl must simply strive to be more pleasing than the supremely obnoxious Aphris of Turia. ;-)
Practical note: Although it’s hard to speculate on the odor of bosk dung, dried cattle dung collected by nomads for fuel tends to be very hard and fairly low-odor. So “bag of poop” is, though accurate, a fairly strong description — “bag of dried mud” might do a better job of capturing the essence of the moment.
[…] I was a furiously-wanking pimply-faced adolescent who had read Nomads of Gor one too many one-handed times, scenes like this used to illuminate my […]