by John Norman
“Yes, Mistress,” we said.
“I am going to send you forth now on the floor,” said Teela. I heard the slave bells on my ankle jangle. The sound, sensuous and barbaric, startled me. “If you are not both found sufficiently pleasing,” she said, “both of you, and certainly you, Tiffany, will be back in the mill by tomorrow night.”
“Yes, Mistress,” we said. I found myself wishing that Aemilianus had found me as fetching as he apparently had Emily. I thought my trial was likely to be harder than hers.
“Mistress!” said Emily.
“Yes?” asked Teela.
“Tiffany and I are self-confessed sluts and slaves. You have forced us to face this truth about ourselves, and admit it.”
“Yes?” said Teela.
“What of you?” asked Emily. “You are lovely, and beautiful, and in a collar. What are you?”
“A bold question,” said Teela.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” said Emily.
“I, too, of course, am only a slave and a slut,” said Teela. “And I love it!” Then she kissed us both. Then she drew back from us. “You will be slaves out there before free men,” she said. “Too, there will be no free women present. Revel in your womanhood and manifest it shamelessly!”
“Yes, Mistress!” we said.
“Go forth, Slaves,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress!” we said and, with a jangle of slave bells, hurried to join the other girls on the floor.
“Your knees,” I whispered to Emily, “open them.”
“Thank you, Tiffany,” said Emily, spreading her knees.
The knees of the pleasure slave, when she is in a kneeling position, are to be kept open before the master, and, indeed, before all free men. Emily, in the same room with Aemilianus, was still struggling with her modesty. In the mill, of course, Aemilianus had had her open her knees before him.
We knelt side by side at one side of the room. What little serving was being done was now being attended to by the other girls. How beautiful they were. And how natural, and perfect, and right and fitting it seemed that they, in their slightness and beauty, were serving men. I knelt there, with Emily, to one side, my knees open, in pleasure silk, a collar locked on my neck, a barbaric, golden, coiling ornament on my upper left arm, slave bells tied on my left ankle. I knelt there, ready to serve.
How strange it was, I thought. How far I had come! How far away, now, seemed the perfume counter in the department store on Long Island, the photographer’s studio, my apartment. I remembered that pretty, mercenary, greedy little clerk at the perfume counter. She was no longer free. She had now been made a collared slave girl. She had once been Miss Tiffany Collins. She was now an animal, and nameless in her own right, but masters had seen fit to put the name “Tiffany” on her.
“Tiffany,” whispered Emily.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Isn’t Aemilianus handsome?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said.
“I want to crawl to him,” she whispered, “and beg to serve his pleasure.”
“Do not break position,” I warned her.
“No,” she whispered.
“Perhaps he will let you serve him later,” I said.
“I hope so,” she whispered. “I hope so!”
“You like him,” I observed.
“I think that I am his love slave,” she whispered.
“It is too early for you to know something like that,” I said. I did not know, of course, whether it was or not. Sometimes these things can be told at a glance.
“I want him to whip me,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I love him,” she said.
Then, at a glance from Teela, across the room, we were both quiet.
I was somewhat upset. The men had had, on the whole, a very decorous supper. I had thought, given our garb and bells, that we might have been expected to serve in more exacting and intimate fashions than we had been called upon to do. The supper, on the other hand, had apparently been a rather normal one. To be sure, the men, being men, and no free women being present, had had the supper, for their pleasure, served to them by beautiful, revealingly clad women, collared slaves.
I glanced over at Emily. She could not keep her eyes off Aemilianus.
Some women desire occasionally, or at least once, to be whipped by the man they love. This has to do, it seems, with deep psychological feelings, feelings probably connected with the woman’s desire to submit and fulfill her biological destiny, this perhaps being a manifestation, within the human species, of the dominance/submission ratios endemic in nature. This involves, of course, an intense sentient interaction with the lover. Intense emotions, sensations and feelings are involved. In this situation the woman, who desires to surrender and yield, understands that she is now at the mercy of the lover, and is helpless under his will. It gives her an opportunity, too, of course, to show the lover that she, in her love, and in the intensity of her feelings, offers herself up to him.
I had once been Tiffany Collins, of Earth. I was now a collared slave girl on Gor. I touched the collar. It was light, but, too, it was efficient and inflexible. I supposed it would not do to tell anyone, but I loved it on me. I felt, somehow, it belonged on me. It was right, I felt, somehow, on me. But, too, sometimes I was terrified to wear it. I knew that it meant that I was owned, and at the mercy of men.
I knelt there. I was no longer free. I could now be bought and sold. I must obey.
My major fear now was that I might be sent back the mill. I, and, indeed, the other girls, had been given little or no opportunity to prove to the masters that the slave bells tied on our ankles were not an inadvertence or a mistake. At various times during the supper I had tried to be attentive to one man or another, and as a slave, and as my belly had seemed to beg, but, each time, I had been brushed away or dismissed.
I had been rejected. This stung my vanity, as well as increased the frustrations of my scorned femininity. I feared, too, it betokened that I, perhaps found insufficiently pleasing, might soon be returned to the mill.
I watched the men, talking, and finishing their liqueurs. I watched, too, the one or two girls still in attendance on them.
They were beautiful, in their grace and serving. How perfect and natural it seemed that they should be serving. I touched my collar. Women by nature belong to men, I thought, and I am a woman. Why had men on Earth, I wondered, allowed themselves to be tricked out of their sovereignty by man-hating and vicious women, abetted by frustrated, weakling males? When will they take us again in hand, I wondered, and own us? But the men, on Earth, with few exceptions, I feared, were lost to manhood.
Teela came and knelt down beside us, only another slave girl.
“May I speak?” I whispered.
“Yes,” she said.
“I have tried to be attractive,” I said. “I have tried to be desirable. I have tried to serve well. But no one has taken me. No one has used me.”
“No one has been taken. No one has been raped,” she said. “The men talk politics and business.”
“May I inquire as to the nature of these discussions?” I asked.
“The usual rumors about a truce between ourselves and Cos,” she said. “In business, the master is sounding out his colleagues about the plausibility of a venture involving feast slaves.”
“What are they?” I asked.
“Girls, maids, entertainers, dancers, rented in groups to private individuals or organizations for feasts, and such,” she said.
“Such enterprises exist now, do they not?” I asked.
“He is considering the desirability of investing in the area, and perhaps forming his own company to enter the field.”
“I see,” I said. “But trained girls are expensive, are they not?”
“Yes,” she said.
“But mill girls are cheap, and might be trained,” I said.
“Precisely,” said Teela.
I trembled.
“Emily! Tiffany!” called Aemilianus, sitting behind the long, low table, with his friends.
We quickly leapt up and ran to kneel on the tiles before him.
“These are mill girls?” asked a man.
“Yes,” said Aemilianus, “but now, as you can see, they are not in the company uniform.”
“Some silk, some cosmetics, makes quite a difference,” said a man.
“They cost me only twelve copper tarsks each,” said Aemilianus.
“But that is scarcely fair, Aemilianus,” said a man. “You purchased them from your uncle’s mill. Had you bought them in an open market they doubtless would have cost you more.”
“Something more, doubtless,” said Aemilianus.
“It is nice to know that such girls occasionally come to the mills,” said a man.
“I see that I shall have to make more inspections of uncle’s mills,” said another young man, one who, I gathered, must be a cousin of Aemilianus.
“It is not that rare, actually,” said Aemilianus. “Too, remember there are several mills. Too, almost any girl, with the proper diet, exercise and training, and properly costumed and made-up, and knowing herself subject to the whip, can become of considerable interest.”
“That is true,” said a man.
“Pausanias, who is the mill master in Mill 7,” said Aemilianus, has informed me that, in his opinion, there are many lovely girls even in Mill 7.”
“Interesting,” said a man.
“Are these two,” asked a man, “from Mill 7?”
“Yes,” said Aemilianus. “They are the two found there.”
“You needn’t depend on the mills, of course,” said a man. “You can buy in the market.”
“You could also buy trained slaves to begin with,” said a man.
“They are more expensive,” said a man.
“That is true,” he agreed.
“I shall show you one advantage of the mills,” said Aemilianus. “Emily,” he said, “do you wish to be returned to the mill?”
“No, Master!” she said.
“Tiffany?” he asked.
“No, Master!” I cried.
“The motivation of mill girls, as you can see,” said Aemilianus, “is high. Accordingly, they may be expected to train swiftly, desperately and superbly.”
“Have you discussed your ideas with Mintar?” asked a man.
“Yes,” said Aemilianus, “and he has given me license to proceed.”
“Would this be involved with the enterprises of Mintar?” asked a man.
“No,” said Aemilianus. “It would become one of the enterprises of Aemilianus.”
“I see,” said the man.
“My uncle, of course, will extend the initial loans at nominal rates,” said Aemilianus.
“I see,” said the man.
“I am not sure this is practical,” said a man.
“It will be a difficult field to break into,” said another man.
“It is a question,” said Aemilianus, “of providing a quality service at competitive prices.”
“Perhaps,” said a man.
“Emily, would you please come around the table and kneel here, beside me?” asked Aemilianus.
Emily instantly leapt to her feet and scurried to kneel in the indicated position.
This left me, somewhat disconcerting me, alone before the table.
“Would you please stand up and remove your silk, Tiffany?” said Aemilianus.
Immediately I stood and slipped from the silk. I held it dangling, from my right hand.
“That is a mill girl?” asked a man, skeptically.
“Yes,” said Aemilianus.
“Those are slave curves, if I have ever seen them,” said a man.
“True,” said another.
“You are very pretty, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“How long have you been enslaved?” he asked.
“Some five months, Master,” I said.
“And are you trained?” he asked.
“Only by the instructions of some men who have used me,” I said, “and, of course, to work the loom.”
There was laughter.
“We may then say, may we not,” asked Aemilianus, “that for most practical purposes you are untrained.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Drop the silk,” he said.
I did.
“Now get on your belly on the tiles, Tiffany,” he said.
Immediately I lowered myself to my belly on the tiles. I looked up at them, the palms of my hands on the floor.
“Are you familiar with floor movements, Tiffany?” he asked.
“A little, Master,” I said. “I saw some once in a slaver’s house.” This had been in the house of Kliomenes, when I had been taken on a tour there long ago by Drusus Runcius. I had been free then, of course. Now I was as much a slave as the girls I had seen there at the time.
“I am going to signal to the musicians, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus. “When they begin to play, you may begin your performance.”
“Yes, Master,” I whispered. When I had seen such movements in the house of Kliomenes I had never dreamed that they might, horrifyingly enough, one day be required of me. In few modalities is a woman’s slavery made clearer or more manifest than when she must perform floor movements, than when she must, in effect, dance before men, never rising higher than her knees.
Then the music began.
Almost as soon as I had begun to dance I saw Emily tear back her slave silk, exposing her breasts to Aemilianus, and to kiss him. He held her against him with his left arm about her body and held her two hands, their wrists crossed, in his grip, captured, across his body. He held her in this fashion, helpless. And both, then, were watching me.
Once I had been Tiffany Collins. I now writhed, a Gorean slave, at the feet of men.
I do not know how long the music lasted, perhaps only about four or five Ehn. Then, swirling and climaxing, it suddenly ended. I lay, gasping and sweating, on my belly on the tiles. I looked up. I hoped that I had pleased the masters.
“Very good, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.
“Superb,” said one man. “Superb!” said another.
“What do you want for her?” asked a man.
“I will give you a silver tarsk,” said another. I looked wildly at him. I wondered if I would be sold. A silver tarsk! I wished Drusus Rencius had heard that! He had thought I would only bring fifteen or twenty copper tarsks! And I was not even trained!
“You did very well, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Did you see, Gentlemen,” asked Aemilianus, “and she only an untrained mill girl.”
“Yes, Aemilianus,” said a man. “Yes,” said another. “Yes,” said yet another.
“Teela,” said Aemilianus.
“Yes, Master,” she said, quickly.
“Take Emily to my room and chain her by the neck to the foot of my couch.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Thank you, Master,” cried Emily.
“On your feet, Slave,” said Teela to Emily. “Cross your wrists, touching, behind your back, close your eyes and put down your head. You will uncross your wrists and open your eyes only when you feel the locking of the couch collar on your neck.”
“Yes, Mistress,” said Emily.
She was then led from the room, bent over, by the hair, her eyes closed and her wrists crossed, and touching, behind her back.
“You are going to be sent to school, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Does that please you?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said. “I have never been taught to read.”
There was laughter.
“It is not that sort of school,” he said.
“Gentlemen,” said Aemilianus, “and kind sirs, I thank you for your presence here this evening, and for your ki
nd attention. Your comments, your thoughts and your counsel have been much appreciated. If any of you wish to remain the night, feel free to make use of the rooms which were put at your disposal before supper. Similarly if any of the slaves interest you, any of those who served you, or any other in the house, with the exception of our little Tiffany, take her to your room. She is yours for the night. If you are not fully pleased in the morning, let me know and I will have her thoroughly punished, and then sent to you for the week, that she may learn to improve her service.”
“I will take this one,” said a man, indicating one of the girls.
“And I will take this one,” said another.
These two girls ran to their masters of the evening and knelt before them.
“I would like to have the one you call ‘Teela’ licking at my feet,” said a strong, mature fellow.
“She will be sent to your room,” said Aemilianus.
“My thanks, Aemilianus,” he said.
“And what of this meaningless, squirming little pleasure bundle?” asked one of the men looking at me.
I was now kneeling before the table. I blushed. I did not know if I appreciated being referred to as a meaningless, squirming little pleasure-bundle. On the other hand, these were Gorean men and I knew that I, in their hands, if they wished, would find myself transformed into little more than just such a squirming pleasure-bundle. I had learned this from Tenrak on the floor of a slave wagon.
“With your permission,” said Aemilianus, “I would rather she did not serve tonight. I would like her to get a good rest. I would like her to get a good start in the morning.”
“As you wish, Aemilianus,” said a man.
“I am not to serve tonight, Master?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “You must get up early tomorrow.”
“Master?” I asked.
“You must get up early for school,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
Chapter 27 – SCHOOL
I was pulled to the post, close to it and facing it. The heavy belt, with the ring on it, through which the loose post strap passed, that strap looping the post and threaded through the belt ring, was put about my belly, and buckled shut, tightly, behind the small of my back. I could now move about the post but, given the post strap and the belt ring, could not be further than six inches from it.