Mercenaries of Gor coc-21

by John Norman

  "Be silent, low slave," I said to her.

  "Low slave!" she cried.

  "I am now attending to this other woman," I said. "I find her of interest." "You are a free woman, Mother," said the girl. "You are not a slave. You do not have to yield to him. Resist him. Do not yield to him." "Do not fret, daughter," said the woman. "Can you not see? Even though he is a man, he consents to speak kindly to us. Appreciate such things, for you do not know when you will hear such words again."

  "He is a brute! said the daughter.

  "The master is merciful to me," said the mother. "Can you not see? In virtue of your presence, and in respect for the delicacy of our situation, he has permitted me to almost entirely subside."

  " "Subside'!" said the daughter, scandalized.

  "Yes," said the woman. "Thank you, Master."

  "Oh!" said the woman.

  "Do you think I am merciful?" I asked her. I feared she had misunderstood my intent.

  "He is touching me again! said the woman. She clutched the marble bench again. "Do you truly think I am merciful?" I asked.

  "No, no!" she said.

  "Do you think any true man would let a curvaceous, luscious beauty like you, a mere prisoner set out for pleasure, a future slave, off the hook in a situation like this, that he would not press home his advantage, so to speak," I said. "Tell him that that is exactly what a true man would do!" said the daughter. "Don't be stupid," said the woman. "We are not talking here about weaklings who call themselves "true men, trying to disguise their weakness under false titles, but true men." Then she suddenly moaned. I found that of interest. She had not, apparently, subsided to the extent that either of us had thought. The coals of slave heat, it seemed, had not ceased to glow in her belly.

  "I ask mercy," she said.

  "It is denied," I informed her.

  "Resist him!" said the daughter.

  "His hands are strong and powerful," said the woman. "He knows what he is doing! I am soft, and female!"

  "You wish to yield," I told her. "It is not difficult to tell." "I must not, Master," she said. "My daughter is here. She would never again respect me! Ohh!"

  "Is it so wrong for her to know that her mother is a hot slut?" I asked. "Please," she begged.

  "You are, you know," I said, commending her.

  "I can't help it!" she wept.

  "You are like a she-sleen in heat," I said. "You squirm well. You are almost as hot as a slave. It is interesting to consider what you might be like when truly in bondage."

  "Please," she wept.

  "You belong in a collar," I said.

  "I must try to resist," she whispered tensely.

  "You could, instead, of course," I said, "provide your daughter with an instructive exhibition of how a female can give incredible rapture to a man. She might profit from this lesson, carrying it to her advantage into slavery with her. You might even give her your impression, as far as your current understandings of such things might go, of such things as will soon be expected of her, of how a slave might respond to a master."

  "If you take me," she said, "I will remain inert. I will not participate in your pleasure."

  "You do not seem very inert to me," I said.

  She squirmed.

  "Was that a threat?" I asked. I lifted her head up by the hair, with both hands. The padlock on the collar swung free. I could dash her brains out on the marble bench.

  "No," she said. "No, Master!"

  I let her put her head down. The padlock again lay on the marble bench. There was a sound from the chains on her wrists. Beneath the bench the chain linking her ankles moved on the floor of the Semnium.

  "There are many ways to take a woman," I said. "All of them are pleasurable. Much depends on the situation, and the time of day, and the preferences of the master. If you think that the pleasure of the man is inextricably linked with the pleasure of the woman you are naA?ve. That is a common misunderstanding of the free woman. That is much (pg.194) like thinking that the fruit cannot be enjoyed if it has not first begged to be plucked from the tree. That is simply not true. One can simply take it and enjoy it. Indeed, there is something to be said for such takings. In them one simply imposes one's will upon the helpless other. In them one senses imperiousness and power. Those who have felt such things know their value."

  "I am yours to do with as you wish," she said, "and you know it well." "I wonder if I should force you to yield," I mused.

  She lay quietly now, tense, muchly aroused, not knowing what my decision would be. Whatever it was, helpless as she was, she would abide it.

  Her wrists suddenly jerked up, and were then stopped by the chain. The chain under the bench, on her ankles, moved, too, as her feet moved under the bench. "Lie still," I told her.

  I then began, with care, and exquisite delicacy, not hurrying, to exploit her profound needs, and the remarkable vitality of her body. I thought she would, in time, make a splendid slave. It would be a lucky fellow, who would have her in his collar.

  "He is making me yield!" she said.

  I continued to draw her gently, and as implacably as though she were bound and on a leash, up the long stairwell of her need and helplessness. It was as though, then, that I had brought her, whimpering and needful, with me, again in the Gorean fashion, down a long, patient, narrow-walled, heavily carpeted corridor, one in which her bare feet could feel the deep, soft piling of the carpeting, and through a heavy, barred door, one which I had locked behind me, showing her that there was no escape for her, and had then put her, mine, to her place at the foot of my couch.

  "Take me! she cried. "I beg you to take me!

  "I wonder if I should force you to yield," I said.

  "I beg to yield! she wept.

  "Mother!" cried the girl.

  "But your daughter is present," I reminded her.

  "I beg to yield! she wept, "I beg to yield!" "No, Mother!" cried the girl. "Do not permit him to so degrade you!" "Be silent," wept the mother. "He has put me in his power."

  "When you are instructed to do so," I said, "you will yield."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Do not yield, Mother!" cried the girl.

  "You will now yield," I told her.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I now rolled again in my blankets. It was an Ahn or so until dawn. I must try to catch a bit of sleep. I felt content. I felt good. The female on the bench had now been returned to the common chain. She had been the last placed on that bench this night. When I had finished with her I had sat for few Ehn on the bench, beside her, and had put my hand down before her. She had licked and kissed it, in gratitude, the padlock on her collar moving gently on the marble. I gathered that she had desperately needed what I had done to her. This was particularly interesting, as she was not even, as yet, a slave.

  "What a slut your are! the daughter whispered chidingly, angrily, to her mother. Her mother now lay near her, on her side, her legs drawn up.

  "Yes, my daughter," said the mother.

  "You were like a slave!" said the daughter.

  "I will soon be a slave, truly," said the mother, "and so, too, do not forget, will you, my darling daughter."

  "I do not respect you any longer," said the daughter. "You do not deserve respect any longer."

  "I do not ask for your respect," said the woman. "Neither do I need it, nor any longer want it. There are things better and deeper than respect. That I have now learned. Too, when we are both enslaved, neither of us will be entitled to that commodity. Our conditions then, I assure you, will be far deeper and more biological than respect. I ask, rather, your understanding, and a little love." "I hate you!" cried the girl. "As you will," said the woman.

  Suddenly the daughter lashed out and struck her. The mother cried out, softly, and drew her legs up more, but did not attempt to defend herself, nor to return the blow.

  "Hateful slut! hissed the daughter.

  "Is it so hard for you to understand that I, like you am a female," asked
the mother, "only that, and one now, like you, naked, and in a collar?"

  "Slut!" hissed the daughter.

  "Are you angry," asked the woman, "that some men might prefer me to you?" "No!" said the daughter, intensely.

  "Did you wish it was you, and not I, who was chained on your belly to the bench, helplessly put out for the pleasure of strangers?"

  "No!" she said angrily.

  "Are you truly so jealous of me?" asked the woman.

  "No, no!" said the daughter, almost crying out, wildly.

  "Be silent," said another woman on the chain. "You will get us all whipped." "Mother," whispered the girl. "I am chained, and naked, and afraid." "Of course you are, my dear," said the woman. She then sat up. "Come here, sweet," she said. She took her daughter gently in her arms, and held her head against her shoulder.

  "What is to become of us?" asked the girl.

  "We are to become slaves," said the woman softly, kissing her gently on the side of the head.

  "Men will have their way with us, fully," whispered the girl.

  "Of course," said the mother.

  "We will exist merely for their service and pleasure," said the girl.

  "Yes," said the mother, kissing her.

  "I want it, Mother," whispered the girl.

  "I know," said the mother, soothingly.

  "How terrible I am," whispered the girl.

  "No, no, you are not," smiled the mother, caressing the girl's head. "Are we slaves, Mother?" asked the girl.

  "Yes," said the mother, kissing her. "Now, rest."

  "I love you, Mother," said the girl.

  "I love you, too, very much," said the mother.

  "Good night, Mother," whispered the girl, "261."

  "Good night, 437," said the woman gently, "my daughter."

  * * *

  I awakened to the hand of Mincon on my shoulder. "It is time to rise," he said. I sat up in the blankets. I glanced over to where the fair prisoners had been kept. They were gone now. They had been moved out.

  Mincon handed me a packet of letter. "Here," he said. "They are all here." "How do you know I am going to carry them?" I asked.

  "Aren't you?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said, and thrust them into my tunic.

  "I have had your weapons, and other things, brought," he said. "Do you have the claim ticket for Feiqa?"

  "Yes," I said. "It is in my wallet."

  "Most of the other girls have already been picked up," he said.

  "Surely it is still early?" I said.

  "Not really, my friend," he said. "Even Hurtha is up."

  "That late?" I marveled. It was well known that Hurtha often slept past dawn. To be sure I occasionally permitted myself a similar indulgence, particularly after a pleasant evening with drink and slaves.

  "Yes," said Mincon. "He and Boabissia are waiting for you, outside." "I must speak to them," I said. "It is necessary to inform them of the dangers we might face. They might not wish to accompany me."

  "I have already spoken to them," said Mincon. "Boabissia is determined to go to Ar. It seems she seeks there the answer to some mystery pertaining to her past. Hurtha, too, naturally, is undeterred."

  "Naturally," I said.

  "He seeks adventure," said Mincon. "Wonderful," I said.

  "He likes you," said Mincon.

  "Oh?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Mincon. "He appreciates finding someone who listens gladly to his poetry."

  "Gladly?" I asked.

  "He has already composed a poem this morning," said Mincon. "He considers it a humorous poem. It is a jolly teasing of folks who sleep late."

  "Hurtha is composing such a poem?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Mincon. "Too, aside from adventure, and such, I think he regards himself as being on Alar business."

  "What is that?" I asked.

  "He plans on scouting out the territories of Ar, to see if they are worth seizing by Alars."

  "I think he does not quite understand what is involved," I said.

  "True," said Mincon.

  "I will pick up Feiqa," I said.

  "Your things are over there," said Mincon.

  In a few moments I was descending the outside steps of the Semnium, Feiqa heeling me, carrying my pack.

  "Tal Rarius!" called Hurtha, heartily.

  "Tal Rarius!" I said to him.

  "Greetings," said Boabissia.

  "Greetings," I said to her. She seemed to me very pretty this morning, smiling, in the long Alar dress. I think she was wearing it a little differently. I think she had corded it a bit more snugly. Clearly the delights of her figure were more evident now within it. Perhaps I should speak to her about that. She might not realize what that sort of thing might do to men, how it might stimulate and effect them, particularly strong men. Ever since we had set her out for the fellows at the wagon camp, making some coppers on her, a subtle change had seemed to come over her, indeed, a sort of transformation was becoming more and more evident every day. She seemed to be becoming more radiant, and female. I noted she even wore the yellow metal disk on her neck, on its thong, a bit more snugly than she had before. The thong was looped twice about her neck now.

  "I wish you well, all of you," said Mincon.

  We bade him farewell.

  "Even you, pretty, enslaved Feiqa," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," she said. "And I, too, wish you well."

  Mincon then motioned to a guard. The man approached. Mincon spoke to him as though we might be strangers, unknown to him, just emerged from the Semnium. "Put these civilians with the others," he said. "Usher them forth, with the others, from the city."

  "Move," said the guard, going behind us, prodding us with his spear. "Over there. Get over there, with the others."

  "Do not resist," I said to Hurtha.

  "Very well," he said, agreeably.

  "Oh!" said Feiqa, suddenly. The guard apparently, for his amusement, touched her with his spear blade, probably putting it between her legs and moving it upward, brushing it against the interior of her thigh.

  As we passed another guard she cried out, again, softly. He had apparently lifted her brief skirt with the blade of his sword, considering her. Then we were with the larger group.

  "Master," said Feiqa.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Let it be you," she said.

  I regarded her. I saw that the attentions she had received had much aroused her, the merciless weapon metal of men about her legs and belly. Her needs were much upon her. She had passed the night alone, a checked item, awaiting a morning pickup, on a holding chain. Such attentions as she had received, particularly when they literally touch the body, are sometimes called the caresses of the master's steel.

  She shuddered, facing away from me, hearing the draw of my steel. She stood very straight. She was quite pretty. I waited for a few moments, and then touched her, and then, after a time, lifted her skirt, that she could feel the air upon her, and then, after a longer time, when I was pleased to do so, let it fall. "Please, Master," she begged. "Perhaps tonight," I said. "All right," said a voice. "Now, move, all of you! I resheathed the steel and, with Hurtha and Boabissia, now again followed by Feiqa, moved along with the throng down the Avenue of Adminius toward the great gate of Torcadino.

  "How terrible it must be to be a slave," said Boabissia, "and to have to submit to whatever men choose to do to you."

  I did not respond.

  "Don't you think so?" she asked.

  "What do you have in mind?" I asked.

  "Like having your body touched with their steel," she said, "as poor, dear little Feiqa."

  "I did not realize you were so solicitous for her," I said.

  "She is a sweet little slave," said Boabissia, condescendingly.

  Feiqa, behind us, made a tiny, angry noise. She had been, of course, at one time, before being collared, a free woman of high station, of the city of Samnium. This word, incidentally, is, in effect, the same word as "Semnium', although in th
e western coastal dialects it is commonly pronounced as I have given the spelling here. Its original meaning is apparently "Meeting Place," and its application to a building, or a hall for the meeting of councils, is, it seems, a later development. In Feiqa's opinion, of course, Boabissia, having come from the Alar camp, was little better, if any better, than a simple barbarian.

  "Did you say something, Feiqa?" I asked.

  "No, Master," she said, quickly, humbly. She did not want to be beaten. "The touching of the naked body of the slave with steel," I said, "helps her to understand that she is subject to the master in all things, totally."

  "I suppose you are right," said Boabissia.

  "Conceive of it touching your body," I said, "particularly as you might have to wait for it, expecting it, and knowing it was to come, and that you had to submit to it, the cool, cruel touch of it, the caress of it, and as you might be bound, or chained.

  "Yes, perhaps," said Boabissia, uneasily. "Sometimes slaves oil much more quickly after such a touch," I said. " «Oil' she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "What a horrid expression," she said.

  "Not at all," I said. "It is an intimate, wonderful, exciting, succulent expression. Her body is being prepared for use."

  " "Use'! " she said.

  "Of course," I said. "She is a slave."

  "That is true," granted Boabissia.

  "And the intimate and exciting odors attendant upon such oilings, those of the helplessly aroused female, prepared for the master's use, are quite stimulatory to a male."

  "Doubtless," she said.

  "And so," I said, "it is not uncommon that after such a touch, the caress of the master's steel, that the slave, cognizant then of her utter helplessness and the master's power, and her complete dependence upon his mercies, that she is totally and absolutely under his domination, yields to him quickly and lusciously."

  "I see," she said. Momentarily she trembled.

  We continued to move along the Avenue of Adminius. There were some two or three hundred of us. We were some two-thirds of the way, or so, back in the group. This seemed to me a good position. I thought it possible that any guards who might have the duty of supervising our exit from the city, or perhaps the duties of inspecting or searching us, might, given the numbers involved, be somewhat lax or a bit less diligent in their efforts by the time we reached them, and we were not so far back that, the guards perhaps perking up, the end of the group in sight, we might find ourselves the target of some burst of compensatory ardor. We were now beyond the lines of suspended bodies outside the Semnium. I was not sorry to leave them behind me.