Kajira of Gor

by Norman, John;

  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.

  "I had long considered bringing you to this place, Lady Sheila," he said, "even before you yourself expressed an interest in the walls, but, again and again, I forced the thought from my mind. This thought I resisted further, even more tenaciously, when you yourself broached it, now and again. Then, finally, after much troubled thought, it seemed to me that perhaps it was best that I let myself accompany you here."

  "I do not understand what you are saying," I said.

  "Here I would be alone with the Tatrix of Corcyrus, near saddled tarns," he said. "It seemed then that I knew what I should do. It seemed then that a given course of action would be appropriate. It would be easy enough to execute. Indeed, I could undertake it now. It is perhaps what I should do. I shall not, however, do it. I contravene no orders. Rather I will let the game take its course."

  "You speak in riddles," I chided him.

  "Let us now descend from the wall," he said. "Let us now return to the palace."

  I glanced at the tarns. They were gigantic, fierce birds. Drusus Rencius stood close behind me. I thought for a moment he might take me in his arms. I felt faint. I wanted him to do so.

  "What is that sound from within your cloak?" I asked.

  "Nothing," he said.

  "Show me," I said. I turned. He held open the side of the cloak, it then like a curtain between me and the city. The parapet was at my back.

  There, held by a snap catch against the silken lining of the great cloak, looped, in coils, there hung a set of light chains. I could not determine the exact arrangement of the chains, coiled as they were. There seemed, however, to be a longer chain, which was a base chain, and two smaller, subsidiary chains. At one end the base chain was attached to a rather small neck ring, but suitable for closing about a woman's neck; at the other end it was attached to one of the subsidiary chains, about a foot long, and terminating on each end with a ring; those rings looked as though they might fit snugly about a woman's ankles; the other subsidiary chain seemed to be placed about two feet or so below the neck ring; at its terminations were smaller rings, which looked as though they might close snugly, locking, about a woman's wrists.

  "What is that?" I asked.

  "It is called a sirik," he said.

  "Do men carry such things?" I asked.

  "Sometimes," he said.

  I wondered what chains like that would feel like on my body. They looked very graceful. They were doubtless flattering. Too, they would hold me quite well.

  "Let us descend from the wall," said Drusus Rencius. "Let us return to the palace."

  "Very well," I said.

  7

  Bracelets

  "It is so skimpy," I said, "so tiny."

  "Retire behind the screen," he said, "and put it on."

  I hurried behind the three-part screen in one corner of the large, well-lit room in the inn of Lysias, off the square of Perimines, on the street of Philebus. It is not far from the house of the slaver, Kliomenes, on Milo Street. We had entered the inn through its front door. We would leave it through its back door, which opened onto an alley. Later, we would return to it through this same back door. We would then take our final exit, once again, later, through the front door.

  I put the small garment on the broad, dark-stained, polished boards of the floor near my feet, behind the screen. I then began to remove the veils and robes of concealment. "There is no place back here," I said, "to put my garments."

  "Put them on the top of the screen," he said. "I will fold them and place them on the chest." I did this, reaching above my head to place them on the top of the screen. He then removed them from this location.

  "You are to be barefoot," he said.

  I removed my slippers and put them to the left side of the screen. I saw his hand take them.

  I then removed the remainder of my garments, and s
aw them, from the top of the screen disappear. Now, behind the screen, I was naked. Only an inch of wood separated me from such a man. I wished that I had retained some of my other garments behind the screen, if only for psychological security. I felt the dark, polished floor beneath my bare feet. I felt the air of the room, behind the screen, on my body. I touched the screen lightly with my finger tips.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  "No!" I said. I hastily, trembling, crouched down and seized up the small bit of cloth I had placed at my feet. I moaned, inwardly. It was so light, tiny and short. It would be dismayingly revealing. Surely such garments are an insult to a woman, I thought, forcing her to show how beautiful she is, to anyone who might care to look upon her. I drew it over my head and pulled it down, desperately, about my body. It was a gray, beltless, one-piece garment of rep cloth, with inch-wide straps over the shoulders. I tugged it down, at the hem, at the sides, trying to make it cover more of my thighs.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said, faltering.

  "Step forth," he said.

  I came forth, from about the edge of the screen.

  "Aiiii," he said, softly, to himself.

  This response pleased me.

  "Stand there," he said, indicating a place on the floor.

  I went to where he had indicated.

  "Now turn, slowly, and then face me," he said.

  I did so.

  "Are my legs pretty?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "But your face and figure, as a whole, are also quite pretty."

  "You find me pleasing, then?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "Indeed, I had not supposed that the Tatrix of Corcyrus would prove to be such a beauty."

  "Surely, then," I smiled, "I would be worth at least a silver tarsk."

  "There are many beautiful women in the markets," he said. "You are untrained."

  "Oh," I said.

  "Come here," he said, "and remove my cloak. Then fold it, and place it on the chest."

  I did so.

  "Now return to where you were, facing me."

  I did so.

  "The Tatrix of Corcyrus does not often remove cloaks for gentlemen," I informed him. I did not tell him, of course, how I had almost trembled being so near him, and how pleased I was to have performed this small service for him.

  He did not respond but continued to gaze upon me, as though studying me. My scanty garb, of course, I understood, invited such scrutiny.

  "Few men," I said, "have looked upon the Tatrix of Corcyrus clad in this fashion."

  "Stand straighter," he said.

  I did so.

  "Doubtless they would think of her somewhat differently, if they saw her clad like this," I said.

  "Or any woman," he said.

  "Of course," I said. I shuddered to think how men might think of women clad like this.

  "The garment," he said, "is perhaps too modest."

  "Too modest?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, "but it will perhaps do. I tried to find a garment which would be both serviceable for our purposes and, at the same time, considerate, within the limitations of our project, of your modesty. That explains the neckline which does not plunge to your belly, revealing much of the beauty of your breasts, and the hemline, which is surely something less than slave short."

  I pulled down the sides of the garment. It seemed quite short to me.

  "It does not even have a nether closure," I said to him.

  "In that it is authentic," he said. "Such a closure, or the lines of a lower garment, affording such a closure, would be instantly detected by slaves."

  "I see," I said.

  "The slave, at any instant," he said, "is to be available to the master."

  "I see," I said.

  How easily, I thought, might such a garment be thrust up, to my waist, over my hips!

  How vulnerable would be slaves to the attentions of masters!

  How might such women feel?

  I considered on the whole how I was clothed, or scarcely clothed.

  How keenly must slaves be aware, I thought, of the nature of their attire, and its meaning, of its revelatory brevity and its lack of a nether closure, of how such an apparel publicly brandished their beauty and, dismayingly, denied to their sweetest and most delicious intimacies the least of shieldings, even a wisp of silk; such intimacies, I understood,, in a slave, such receptivities and sensitivities, were to be unguarded, and defenseless; they must be, in all their inviting helplessness, available to a master's most casually sought access.

  She, and all of her, you see, willing or no, belongs to her master.

  "Do you wish to continue with this project?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "I will take you into the house as though you might be a new girl or a fresh capture. This will explain why you are not yet in a collar. It will also make plausible your lack of a brand, should the matter arise. Your garment, incidentally, is long enough to cover most common brand sites. That you are a totally free woman, and not a slave, or a capture enroute to the collar, will be known to several members of the staff. They will, accordingly, refrain from handling you as though you were such a slave or capture, for example, stripping you, hurrying you through the halls with whips, and so on. Certain other members of the staff will not know that you are free. I shall take it upon myself to protect you from them. The pose of a jealous captor should suffice. The slaves, of course, will not know you are free. They will think you are merely a new girl, either a slave or one who, optionless, will soon be reduced to their status, one who will then be no more than they."

  "No one will know, even high members of the staff, will they," I asked, "that I am actually the Tatrix of Corcyrus."

  "No," he said. "They will know only that you are a free woman."

  "Good," I said.

  "Come here," he said, pointing to a place before him. I went there and stood there, before him. It was not far from the couch, behind him. The couch was a large, square one, with, in its foot, the slave ring, an almost inevitable feature, it seemed, in Gorean domiciles. There was a small mat, and blanket, both rolled up, beneath the slave ring. They would doubtless be used there by a chained slave, if the master permitted it.

  I glanced about the room. It was spacious, well-lit, comfortable and private. I wondered if free men and free women ever met in such places, for affairs. But then I glanced again at the slave ring. It seemed more likely that a man might bring a slave here, perhaps one rented for the afternoon or evening. I looked at Drusus Rencius. How could a free woman, I thought, ever compete with a slave?

  "Drink this," said Drusus Rencius.

  "What is it?" I asked, startled. It seemed he had produced this almost by magic. It was a soft, leather botalike flask, drawn from within his tunic.

  "Slave wine," he said.

  "Need I drink that?" I asked, apprehensively.

  "Unless you have had slave wine," he said, "I have no intention of taking you through the streets clad as you are. Suppose you are raped."

  I put the flask, which he had opened, to my lips. Its opening was large enough to drink freely from. "It is bitter!" I said, touching my lips to it.

  "It is the standard concentration, and dosage," he said, "plus a little more, for assurance. Its effect is indefinite, but it is normally renewed annually, primarily for symbolic purposes."

  I could not believe how bitter it was. I had learned from Susan, whom I had once questioned on the matter, the objectives and nature of slave wine. It is prepared from a derivative of sip root. The formula, too, I had learned, at the insistence of masters and slavers, had been improved by the caste of physicians within the last few years. It was now, for most practical purposes, universally effective. Too, as Drusus Rencius had mentioned, its effects, at least for most practical purposes, lasted indefinitely.

  "Have no fear," said Drusus Rencius. "The abatement of its effects is reliably achieved by the ingestion of a releaser."

  "Oh," I
said. I knew this, of course. Susan had told me. When a female slave is given the releaser she knows that she may soon expect to be hooded, and bred.

  "Could it not be sweetened?" I asked.

  "I have chosen that you drink it as it is," he said, "as it is normally drunk."

  "You would have the Tatrix of Corcyrus drink unsweetened slave wine?" I asked.

  "Shall we return to the palace?" he asked.

  "I will drink it," I said. I was a bit irritated with Drusus Rencius. Clad as I was before him, he had seemed to become much more domineering, much more aggressive with me, than he had before. Something in me resented this, but I felt something else, something deeper within me, how deep I did not know, excited and deeply moved, responding to it.

  "Do you wish help in drinking it?" he asked.

  "How could you help me drink it?" I asked, puzzled.

  "The female is put on her knees," he said. "The man crouches behind her. Her head and body are bent back. Her nostrils are pinched shut. The liquid is then poured into her mouth. Before she can breathe, she must swallow. In this way even a frightened or stubborn girl, early in her bondage, learns that she must, if her master wishes it, accept nourishment."

  "What if she keeps her mouth closed, her teeth clenched?" I asked. "What if she chooses to expel the nourishment later?"

  "A mouth may be forced open," he said. "Too, it is difficult to induce gagging if the hands are tied behind one."

  "I see," I said.

  "To be sure," he said, "this method, for its best results, requires two men. Do you wish help?"

  "No, thank you," I said. "I shall manage very nicely by myself."

  I then, grimacing, forcing myself, a little at a time, and then, desperately, tears in my eyes, hurrying, in great swallows, downed the foul beverage.

  "Very good," he said.

  I thrust the soft leather flask back to him. Gasping, half choking, I wiped my mouth with the back of my forearm.

  "Go stand there," he said, pointing to a place near the door, "facing me."

  I went to where he had indicated and turned, then, facing him.

  He tossed the soft flask to the top of the chest, atop his cloak, which I, earlier, bidden, had folded and placed there.

  "Why did you make me drink unsweetened slave wine?" I asked.