by John Norman
“Three silver tarsks, of course,” said he.
“Oh,” I said, angrily.
“There is little doubt what she would look like at the slave ring,” he said, “and, too, she has doubtless received some training.”
I did not doubt but what Susan, the little slut, had received some training. There was not a detail about her which did not seem, in its way, a perfection.
This morning she had again, in entering my quarters, discovered me near the foot of the couch. Usually, early in the morning, before she entered, I would try to be elsewhere.
“I do not know what is wrong with me,” I confessed to her, desperately needing someone to talk to, as she served my breakfast. “I sometimes feel so empty, so miserable, so uncomfortable, so meaningless, so restless.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she had said, deferentially.
“I just do not know what is wrong with me,” I had lamented.
“No, Mistress,” she had said.
“You,” I said, “on the other hand, seem contrastingly content and serene, even fulfilled and happy.”
“Perhaps, Mistress,” she smiled.
“What is wrong with me?” I asked.
“Your symptoms are clear, Mistress,” she said.
“Oh?” I said.
“I have seen them in many women,” she said.
“And just what is wrong with me?” I asked, irritably.
“I would prefer not to speak,” she said.
“Speak!” I had said.
“Must I?” she asked.
“Yes!” I said.
“Mistress needs a master,” she said.
“Get out!” I had screamed, leaping to my feet, kicking aside the small table, sobbing. “Get out! Get out!”
The girl had fled from the room, terrified.
I had sobbed then in the room, and thrown things about and run to the wall, and struck it with my fists, weeping.
“No!” I had cried. “That is stupid, stupid! She is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!”
Only later had I been able to wash and compose myself, and prepare to accompany Drusus Rencius to the height of the walls, to enjoy the view, as we had planned. I had recalled that he had not, initially, wished to take me to the walls, and then, rather suddenly, it had seemed, had agreed to do so.
“I am a larger woman than Susan,” I informed Drusus Rencius, on the wall, acidly. “I am taller, and my breasts are larger, and my hips are wider.”
“These things being equal, such things might somewhat improve your price,” he admitted.
“I scorn slaves,” I said. “I despise them.”
“Quite properly,” said he.
I looked out, over the wall.
How pleased I was that I was free! How frightful, how terrible, it would be, to be a slave!
“Is Lady Sheila crying?” he asked.
“No!” I said.
I fought the wild needs within me, seeming to well up from my very depths, needs which seemed to be to surrender, to submit and love, totally irreservedly, giving all, asking nothing. How superficial, suddenly, seemed then the dispositions to selfishness and egotism in me. From whence could these other emotions, so overwhelming within me, have derived, I asked myself. Surely they, frightening me in their way, seemed directly at odds with the Earth conditionings which I had been subjected. I feared they could have their source only in the very depths of my nature and being.
I dabbed at my eyes with the corner of my veil. “I am not crying,” I said, “It is the wind.” I then turned about, to look back from the wall over the city of Corcyrus. “There,” I said. “That is better.”
The tarns on their perches were now on my left.
I looked over the roofs of Corcyrus. I could see, among trees, the various theaters, and the stadium. I could see the palace from where we stood. I could see, too, some of the gardens, and the roof of the library, on the avenue of Iphicrates.
“The city is beautiful,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, joining me in surveying it.
I was in love with the Gorean world, though I found it in some ways rather fearful, primarily, I suppose, because it permitted female slavery.
I wondered if Susan were right, if I needed a master. Then I put such thoughts from my mind, as absurd.
I was not a cringing, groveling slave, a girl locked in a collar, who must hope that some brute might see fit to throw her a crust of bread. I was quite different. I was a woman of Earth. I was proud and free. Indeed, on this world I even enjoyed a particularly exalted status, one a thousand times beyond that of my imbonded sisters in the city below. I was a Tatrix!
I looked down from the wall, over the many roofs of Corcyrus.
Why was Susan happy, and I miserable? She was only a collared slave. I was free.
I surveyed Corcyrus. In the Gorean world, and I sometimes still had difficulty coping with this comprehension, female slavery was permitted. How horrifying! Yet something deeply within me, undeniably, was profoundly stirred and excited by this comprehension. This stirring within me troubled me. It did not seem to be a response which I had been taught.
“There is the palace,” said Drusus Rencius, pointing.
“I see,” I said.
Given the sovereignty of males in nature, general among the mammals and universal among the primates, it was natural enough, I supposed, that in a civilization congenial to nature, rather than in one opposed to it, that an institution such as female slavery might exist. This might be regarded as the civilized expression of the biological relationship, a recognition of that relationship, and perhaps an enhancement, refinement and celebration of it, and, within the context of custom and law, of course, a clarification and consolidation of it.
But why, I asked myself, irritatedly, should a civilization be congenial to nature? Is it not far better, I asked my self, for a civilization to contradict and frustrate nature; is it not far better for it to deny and subvert nature; is it not far better for it to blur natural distinctions and confuse identities; is it not far better for it, ignoring human happiness and fulfillment, to produce anxiety, guilt, frustration, misery and pain?
“There is the theater of Kleitos,” said Drusus Rencius, “the library, the stadium.”
“Yes,” I said.
But whatever might be the truth about such matters, or the optimum ways of viewing them, female slavery, on Gor, was a fact. There were, as I had long ago learned, slaves here. I looked out, over the city. In the city, within these very walls, there were women, perhaps not much different from myself, in collars, who were literally held in categorical, uncompromised bondage. I had seen several of them, in their distinctive garb, in their collars. I had even seen one who, naked and in her collar, had been locked in an iron belt. Such women were owned, literally owned, with all that that might mean.
“There, where you see the trees,” said Drusus Rencius, “is the garden of Antisthenes.”
“How many slave girls do you suppose there are in Corcyrus?” I asked, as though idly.
“I do not know,” he said. “Probably several hundred. We do not count them.”
“Do such women seem happy?” I asked.
“As they are only slaves,” said Drusus Rencius, “their feelings and happiness are unimportant.”
“Of course,” I said. Men are such brutes! How helpless are the slaves!
“There, where you see the trees,” said Drusus Rencius, again, “is the garden of Antisthenes.”
“Yes,” I said. We had visited it twice. It was there, on our second visit, that I had first tried to entice Drusus Rencius to kiss me. The second time had been after we had witnessed the fencing matches. I had been rejected both times. I wondered if I would have been rejected had I been a collared slave. To be sure, he might have made me whimper and beg for his kiss.
I rejected an impulse to kneel before Drusus Rencius. How I hated him!
“There are places you have not taken me in Corcyrus,” I said.
“
Perhaps,” he granted me.
“There was a place two days ago,” I said, “which we passed in the afternoon.”
“Surely you heard the music which was coming from within?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. It would not be easy to forget that music, so melodious, so exciting and sensual.
“A girl was dancing within,” he said. “It was a paga tavern.”
“You did not let me enter,” I said.
“Such girls often dance in little more than jewels, or chains,” he said. “It is better, I think, too, that free women not see how they look at men and how they move before them.”
“I see,” I said. “And how do men find such women?”
“It is in the best interests of the woman,” said he, “that the men find her pleasing, very pleasing.”
“I see,” I said, shuddering. I wondered if I could be pleasing to a man in that way, dancing before him, and then, later, if he had paid my owner my price, in an alcove. Most girls in such a place, I had heard from Susan, but generally not the dancers, came merely with the price of the drink itself. I supposed that if one were a dancer, and was then serving in an alcove, an additional price having been paid for one’s use, one would have to strive to be particularly good.
Gorean men, I was sure, would see to it that they got their money’s worth.
“Sometimes I feel sorry for slaves, mere slaves,” I said.
“Do not,” he said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“As you suggest,” he said, “they are merely slaves.”
“Of course,” I said, bitterly.
“Does Lady Sheila identify with slaves?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Of course not!”
“Good,” he said.
“Why is it good?” I asked.
“It is said,” he said, “that she who identifies with slaves wants the collar on her own neck.”
“No!” I cried.
“It is only a saying,” he said. “Another such saying is that she who identifies with slaves is a slave.”
“Absurd!” I said.
“Doubtless,” her said.
“But if I were a slave,” I said, poutingly, “I suppose I would have to obey. I would have to do what I was told.” I stood quite close to him. I was quite small compared to him.
His size and masculinity made me feel weak.
“Yes,” he said, looking down into my eyes. “In such circumstances, you would have to obey. You would have to do what you were told.”
I turned away from him, suddenly, frightened, and looked again out over the wall, toward the fields. The tarns, now, were again on my right.
“It is fortunate that I am not a slave,” I laughed.
“Yes,” he said.
“Soldiers, too, are to obey, are they not?” I asked.
“Lady?” he asked.
“Hereafter,” I said, “when I wish to go somewhere, or do something, I shall expect you to respect my wishes.”
“If Lady Sheila is dissatisfied with my services,” he said, “she need only call this to the attention of Ligurious, first minister of Corcyrus. A replacement, perhaps one more pleasing to her, may then be assigned.”
“While you are assigned as my guard,” I said, “you will obey me. I shall decide if, or when, you are relieved of your duties, or even if you are to be discharged entirely from the service of Corcyrus.”
“Yes, Tatrix,” he said.
“Your services are not entirely displeasing to me,” I said, “but it is my intention to see that they are improved. I am Tatrix of Corcyrus.”
“Yes, Tatrix,” he said.
“Should I wish to enter a paga tavern, for example,” I said, you will accompany me.”
“In most paga taverns,” he said, “free women are not permitted. In some they are.”
“I see,” I said. To force an entry to such a place, I then understood, might necessitate an altercation, one perhaps ensuing in the exposure of my identity as the Tatrix. A common free woman, for example, might simply be forbidden to cross certain thresholds.
“Too,” he said, “even if commanded, I could not knowingly lead you into danger, for example, into certain sections of the city at night. It is my duty to protect the Tatrix, not to place her in jeopardy.”
“You are an excellent guard, Drusus,” I said. “You are right, of course.”
“I could take you to a tavern in which families are served,” he said.
“It was not such a tavern I had in mind,” I said.
“Oh,” he said.
“Slaves can enter taverns, can they not?” I asked.
“If on an errand, or in the company of a free person,” he said.
“There seems little concern for their sensibilities,” I observed.
“Sometimes,” said he, “they are even taken to such places by their masters, that they may see the paga slaves, and the dancers, and thus learn from them how to serve even more deliciously and lasciviously in the privacy of their own quarters.”
“What if I were clothed as a slave?” I asked.
“It is unthinkable!” he said.
I was pleased that this thought, obviously, had touched a nerve in him. I wondered if he had speculated, privately, on what I might look like clad as a slave, or perhaps, in chains, not clad at all. Many men had probably wondered what I looked like, naked. I had always been rather jealous, rather private, about my body, though. I had never had a master who might simply order me to strip. I had been seen naked, of course, by the men in my apartment, when they had removed the towel from me. I remembered how casually and efficiently they had handled me, how I had been injected with the contents of the syringe, how I had been secured with leather straps, helpless and gagged, in the heavy metal box, with air holes.
“Too,” he said, “in so public a place you might, unveiled as is a slave, be recognized. Your resemblance to the Tatrix, at least, would surely be noted.”
“You are right again, of course,” I said. He was.
He was silent.
“Drusus,” I said.
“Yes,” said he.
“I would like to see a slaver’s house, inside. I would like to see the ‘pens’.”
“Such are not fit for the sensibilities of a free woman,” he said.
“I would like to see them,” I said. “That would not be dangerous, would it?”
“No,” he admitted, reluctantly. Such places, I gathered, might be among the safest on Gor. I could scarcely conjecture the effectiveness of the security that might be practiced within them, how helplessly the slaves might be confined.
Too, a free person on Gor is almost never in any danger from a slave unless it be a guard slave, and he is attacking its master. In some cities a slave can be slain for so much as touching a weapon. Insubordination, slaves are quickly taught, is not acceptable, in any way, to the Gorean master.
“Then,” I said, triumphantly, “I shall expect you to arrange a tour.”
“Are there any particular pens of interest to Lady Sheila?” he asked.
“The choice,” I told him, airily, “may be yours.”
“Did you merely wish to see girls in the grated pits, or chained in their kennels, or at their rings,” he asked, or did you wish, perhaps, to gain also an idea of what goes on in such a house?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“How, for example,” he said, “girls might be trained.”
“That might be interesting,” I said, as though considering it, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. The thought of women being trained, actually trained, as Susan might have been trained, almost made me faint with excitement. I wondered if I might train well. I supposed I might be punished if I did not. Under such conditions I suspected I would train quite well. I would do my best to be a diligent and apt pupil.
“Your presence, of course,” he said, “as you may be aware, may inhibit the slaves.”
“You are an intelligent man,” I said. �
��Perhaps you can figure out a way to prevent that.”
“It might be possible,” he said, “in the privacy of the house, where few would know you.”
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
“Do you have pretty legs?” he asked.
“Yes!” I said. I thought I had very pretty legs.
“It might be possible,” he mused.
“Tomorrow!” I said.
“So soon?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Why should you wish to see such a place?” he asked. “Why should it be of interest to you?”
“I am merely curious,” I said, tossing my head.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I shall attempt to make the arrangements,” he said.
“Do so,” I said. “I shall be totally cooperative.” I then heard again that small sound, as of metal, from within his cloak.
“Why did you wait so long to bring me to the height of the wall?” I asked. That small sound of metal had reminded me of his reticence with respect to its origin. That had puzzled me. Too, I recalled his earlier nervousness, though now that had seemed to pass. Too, I had not understood why he had brought me to this particular place on the wall. Its proximity to those fearful tarns, only feet away, had been unsettling.
He shrugged. Too suddenly, it had seemed, after earlier demurrings, he had brought me to the wall. It had almost been as though he had decided on some action. His nervousness, too, had seemed uncharacteristic. What was there here, other than the tarns, which need not be closely approached, to be nervous about?
“You seem strange today, Drusus Rencius,” I said. “You seem less communicative than usual. There are many things here I do not understand. I do not know why you hesitated so long to bring me here. It is a lovely view. Then why would you have so suddenly, so belatedly, have found my suggestion agreeable? Had something happened to make you change your mind? Why, too, earlier, did you seem so distracted, as though your thoughts were elsewhere? Too, of all these places on the wall, why did you bring me here, so close to those terrible birds? They frighten me.”
“I am a poor guard, Lady Sheila,” he said. “Too, I am poor company this day. Forgive me. Worse, I fear I am a poor soldier.”
“Why should you say that?” I asked. That genuinely puzzled me.