by John Norman
"You are at this time in your life," I said, "legally free. Do not forget it." "Yes," she said, "a€”Master."
"Do not call me "Master, I said. "That is for slaves."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You seem to have a curiosity as to the slave experience," I said.
"I am a slave," she said. "It is only natural that I would have some curiosity about what it is to be a slave." She put down her head. She wiped some of the blood from her mouth.
"You have no idea," I said, "about what it is like, truly, to be a slave." She did not respond.
"Perhaps I can change your mind about its desirability," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
I then took her by the hair and, twisting her about, as she cried out, flung her forcibly, on her back, on the mat. I then, ruthlessly, angrily, swiftly, caring nothing for her feelings or sensibilities, exploiting her, employing her for my pleasure. I then, in a moment or two, stood up beside her, and rolled her to her side, spurning her, with my foot. She lay there on the mat, gasping, her legs drawn up.
"So," I asked, "Free Woman, what do you think?"
She turned about and looked up at me, through her hair.
"It is thus that a slave may be used," I said.
She looked up at me. In her eyes there were tears.
"How did you like it?" I laughed.
She went to her belly and reached for my foot. She put her lips over it and kissed it tenderly. Then she looked up at me, again, her hair about her face. "I loved it," she said.
I cried out with rage, and pulled my foot away from her.
"Put on your garment," I told her, angrily.
"Yes, Master," she said. In a bit she had donned the brief leather garment. It amazed me that it could take her so long to get into so little. To be sure, she had had to smooth it out, and had not been hurrying. She looked down at the garment, now on her. She pulled down a bit at the sides. "It is not very large, is it?" she said.
"No," I said.
"But I suppose," she said, "if I were a slave, I might be given things much less than this to wear, and things far more revealing."
"Quite possibly," I said. I saw no point in telling her that that was almost a certainty.
"But I am a free woman," she smiled. She looked down at the garment, ruefully. "Are you really going to take me through the streets in this?"
"Yes," I said. "I certainly have no intention of buying you a new outfit." She laughed. "No," she said. "I suppose not." She looked at me. "Clad like this," she said, "I suppose I should heel you."
"No," I said.
"You will permit me to walk beside you, as a free woman, though I am clad so shamelessly?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"You are not going to accompany me then?" she asked, disappointed.
"I will come with you," I said.
"I do not understand," she said.
"You will precede me," I said.
"Of course," she laughed. "You do not know the way."
"Of course," I said.
"I have seen masters walking their girls before them in the streets," she laughed. "Doubtless they enjoy seeing them walk before them."
"Doubtless," I said.
"That is your reason, isn't it?" she laughed. "Yes," I said.
"You do find me attractive, don't you?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I will try to walk well before you, Master," she smiled.
"Do not call me Master," I said.
"Yes, Master," she smiled.
"Let us go," I said.
"I will never forget this place," she said. "It was here I became a woman, and learned my slavery."
"Let us go," I said.
"Take me to a slaver's," she said.
"No," I said.
"Shall I now precede my Master?" she asked.
"You may precede me," I said.
She then preceded me from the back passage, into the larger passage, running between the buildings, leading to the Avenue of Turia. She did walk well. I wondered why I had decided to accompany her to her dwelling. I was not certain about the matter. Surely she could have found her way there safely, and particularly now, in the full daylight. I did have extra binding fiber in my pouch.
On the Avenue of Turia, to the left, we saw a small crowd. "Wait," I said. "Let us investigate that." We went a bit closer. Then, between people, we saw the hostess from the Tunnels. She was still on her knees, tied to the slave ring. Though it must have been the tenth Ahn, she had not yet been released. Her head was down. Much, I gathered, had she been suitably mocked. "Look, Mother," said a child. "She is naked!"
"Come away," said the mother.
"I know her," said a man. "She is from the Tunnels."
"Look," said another fellow, "she has a tarsk bit tied on her belly!" "Yes!" laughed another. I did not think that that free woman would be likely to return to her work at the Tunnels. That sort of thing, I thought, was behind her. I did not think that she would be any longer wearing leather. Other garmentures would now be more appropriate for her, I speculated, such as tiny rags of rep-cloth or brief tunics of silk, bound with girdlings of binding fiber, and perhaps, about her neck, closed closely about it and locked shut, a graceful ornament of steel, a slave collar.
"Let us continue on our way," I said.
"Yes, Master," said the blonde.
She then took her way in the opposite direction, which would have been to the right, as we had emerged between the buildings. Behind her I was in an excellent position to see the looks she received, which were many, the admiring glances, the intakes of breath, the sudden delights at seeing such a female. To be sure, she walked well. She did belong in a collar, I thought. I put the binding fiber in my pouch from my mind. I must not think of it. She was a free woman. Yet, to be sure, she was desirable and exciting, and should be a slave.
"It is here," she said, after a long walk.
"In that tower?" I asked. We were on one of the lower bridges.
"Yes," she said.
It seemed to soar to the clouds.
"You must be wealthy," I said. We were in one of Ar's finest residential districts, that of the seventeen Tabidian Towers.
She shrugged.
"Quite wealthy," I said.
"Yesterday, I thought so," she smiled.
"That seems a strange thing to say," I said.
"Oh in one way I suppose I am one of the wealthiest women in Ar," she laughed. "But in another I think I am perhaps one of the most miserable and poorest." "I do not understand," I said.
"My life was unsatisfactory," she said. "It seemed empty and meaningless. I only this morning learned what happiness, and fulfillment could be."
"Helpless on the mat of a slave?" I said.
"Yes," she smiled.
"Perhaps it was the masculine domination, and you feeling yourself in your place in nature, as what you are, a female," I said. "Perhaps," she said.
"I wish you well, female," I said.
"I must climb the high bridge alone?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "I think it is better that I leave you now, quickly." "Why?" she asked.
"I think I do not trust myself," I said.
"Oh," she asked.
"You are an exciting female," I said.
"Do you really think so, truly?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
She came close to me. She looked up at me. "Bind me then," she whispered. "Take me to a slaver's."
"No," I said.
"You know I am a slave," she whispered, "that I am truly a slave, that I belong in a collar!"
I did not speak.
"Please!" she begged.
"Turn yourself over to a slaver," I said. She looked down in frustration. She kicked with her right foot at the flooring of the bridge. Her feet were bare. "I can't," she said. "I can't!"
"Farewell," I said.
"Do not go!" she pleaded.
I turned to face her.
"Some w
omen can do that!" she said. "I can't!
"Very well," I said.
"I am afraid!" she cried.
"I understand," I said.
"Please!" she said.
"Is freedom not precious?" I asked.
"Perhaps for others," she said. "To me it would be a thousand times less precious than my slavery."
I looked at her.
"I want my master to be free," she said, "but as for me, I want to belong to him, totally, to be his, fully, like a sandal or a sleen!"
I did not respond to her.
"Let him treat me as he pleases," she said. "I do not care. It is his prerogative. He is the master. Let him neglect me or be cruel to me. Let him whip me or chain me. Let him do with me as he wills. I do not care. I want to belong to him. I will kiss his whip with joy! I want to love him, with all that I have to give as a woman. I want to serve and love him, selflessly, only his mastered slave!"
"Turn yourself over to a slaver," I said.
"No!" she wept.
"Very well," I said.
"Help me!" she begged.
"No," I said.
She wept, and raised her fists as though to strike me, but then she put her hands down, quickly, frightened, thinking, perhaps fearing that I might not be pleased, and might punish her. She had learned earlier that not all men will accept humiliation at the hands of a woman, even a free woman.
"So," I said, "turn yourself over to a slaver."
"I do not want it done that way," she said, tears in her eyes.
"Farewell," I said.
"Farewell," said she, looking up at me with tears in her eyes, "Master," "I have told you about calling me Master," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
She turned about and began, slowly, to walk up the long bridge. The soaring, lovely tower, one of the seventeen Tabidian Towers, lay ahead of her. In it was located her residence. It would presumably be on the upper levels. Those are usually regarded as more exclusive, and safest from attack. They are usually approached only by the higher, narrower bridges. Her apartments, doubtless, would be luxurious and well appointed, perhaps involving portions of more than one level. Perhaps she might serve well as a slave in such a place, I thought. The particular bridge, colorfully paved, graceful, narrow and ascendant, on which she walked, barefoot, blonde, her hair moving in the wind, in her exquisitely brief leather, gave entrance to the tower at something over half its height, other bridges about, as well, some giving access at different levels, and others leading to other towers, and to other bridges, and down to the streets. Gorean cities, given the bridges, can be traversed, often, at different levels. She looked very small, and forlorn.
Part way up the bridge she turned about. She looked back. She lifted her hand. I did not deign to respond to this gesture. She was, after all, only a female. She then lowered her head and turned about, and, slowly, continued on her way up the bridge.
I caught up with her at the height of the bridge.
"Stop," I said.
She stopped, startled.
"Do not turn around," I said.
"You," she said. "I know your voice."
"Do not turn around," I said.
She did not turn, but continued to face the other way.
"The leather you are wearing is rather brief," I said.
"Yes!" she said.
"It seems more fitting for a slave than a free woman," I said.
"Yes!" she said.
"You may call me Master," I said.
"Master?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "Begin to form the habit of calling free men Master." "I do not understand!" she said.
"Place your wrists, crossed, behind your back," I said.
She did so. "Oh!" she said. I had whipped binding fiber about them, securing them in place. "It is so tight," she said.
"Now that you are bound," I said, "you may turn and face me."
She spun about, wildly, trying to free her hands.
"You cannot free yourself," I said.
"No!" she cried, elatedly. "I cannot! Oh, What are you doing?"
"Leashing you," I said.
"That is not necessary," she said.
I snapped the slave leash, taken from my pouch, about her neck.
"Be silent," I said. She looked up at me, startled.
"The proper response," I said, "is 'Yes Master'."
"Yes, Master," she said, wonderingly. "Master!"
"Did you ask permission to speak?" I asked.
"May I speak?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, jerking the leash twice, rather hard, against the back of her neck, testing it. The leash collar was a high, sturdy one, and fitted rather closely about her neck. Girls do not slip such leashes. It had two buckle fastenings. These I had fastened in the front and then turned to the back. This had brought the sturdy leading ring, on its plate, riveted into the leather, to the front, under her chin. This is the common position for front leading, the girl behind her, whether she is on her feet, as it was my intention to lead this girl, if only to save time, or, say, on her belly or all fours. The back position is commonly used when the girl is in front of you, and you are controlling her from behind, she either on her feet ahead of you, or, say, beside you or ahead of you on her belly or all fours. The front position is generally preferred as leash pressure is then received at the back and sides of the neck, not the front. To be sure, a girl is likely to be much more wary, and fearful, and docile, when the ring is at the back.
I had then snapped the leash strap on the leading ring. In one's pouch or pack the leash strap is normally coiled inside the collar, whether it is snapped on the leash ring or not. I usually do not keep it on the collar because in that way I am free to use it independently as a binding device or, doubled, as an admonitory lash. Also, I think it does a girl good, and it had seemed to do this girl good, to hear it snap on the collar ring, either at the back of her neck, when she is to be back-controlled, or just under her chin, when she is to be front-led, Leashing, of course, of either variety, is excellent psychologically for the female, as it confirms her bondage upon her and helps to make clear to her her animal status. Similarly, the jerking of the leash, to test its strength, is good for her. It helps her to understand that it is truly on her. This leash pressure, in testing, of course, either is done with the ring in the front position, to avoid damage to the throat, even if the collar is then to be turned and she is to be back-controlled, or, if the ring is left in the back position, in such a way, say, with a thumb or fingers inserted at the front of the leash collar, as to take the pressure of the testing, and protect the throat. The general consideration here, of course, is to avoid pressure to the front of the throat. It is general Gorean practice to avoid even the slightest of pressures here. This does not represent a relaxation of Gorean disciplinary practices incidentally, for discipline may be, and will be, if there is the least cause for it, inflicted outside the strictures of the leash. Too, if the ring is in the back position, if the girl is not compliant she puts this pressure on herself. An excellent example is the choke leash, which cannot be slipped, but can tighten. The least bit of resistance on the part of the girl closes the loop. In such a device, girls, after the first moment or two, follow without resistance.
"What are you going to do with me?" she said.
"I am going to take you to a slaver's," I said. "I think I know one who will not ask too many questions."
"To a slaver's!" she cried.
"Yes," I said.
"Why?" she cried.
"Why do you think?" I asked. "To make some money on you, of course. It will probably be the first time any man ever made any money on you, but I assure you, it will not be the last."
I then turned about and began to stride rapidly down the bridge. She was running behind me, on the leash, laughing and crying.
27 I Sell a Blonde
I threw the blonde to her knees before Tenalion, slaver of Ar. It was he to whom Boabissia had earlier, inadvertently, returned herself,
his slave. We were now, however, in his house of business, in his office there. She knelt inside an outlined yellow circle. It was a few feet before his desk. This circle had a diameter of about seven or eight feet. The border of this circle, delineating it, was about seven or eight inches in width, and was formed of yellow stones set mosaiclike into the smooth scarlet flooring.
"I bring you a woman," I said.
He rose from his desk and came about it, to stand a few feet from the blonde. I removed the leash from her neck. I separated the collar and strap. I coiled the strap, placing it within the collar. I then returned the two parts of the leash to my pouch. I glanced to the blonde. "Kneel with your knees more widely spread," I said.
She obeyed. I could see she was frightened, now that she was here. Perhaps she was having second thoughts. It was a bit late, however, for such thoughts. She squirmed a little, on her knees. She was attractive, doing so. This squirming, I think, was genuinely due to her fear and agitation, but, even so, I thought it might add to her price. She moved well. Her hands were still tied tightly behind her.
"Where is her brand?" asked Tenalion.
"She is a free woman," I said.
"I thought so," he said.
"You are in the house of a slaver," he said to the blonde.
"You kneel within a circle of assessment." She looked down at it. "I did not know," she whispered.
"It is about the size of a slave block," he said.
She nodded.
The circle, of course, was flush with the floor. The slave block, on the other hand, is normally about a yard to five feet high, and is designed to raise the girls above the crowd, so that they may be more easily seen by the bidders. "Have you ever seen a sale of female slaves?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"Perhaps you have some idea," he said, "of what they are like."
"Yes," she said.
"Usually the merchandise is exhibited stark naked and sold to the highest bidder," he said, "whose slave they then are, in all ways."
"I understand," she said.
"You are to be assessed," he said.
"I understand," she whispered.
"And eventually, doubtless," he said, "in one way or another, you will be sold as a slave."
"I understand," she said.
"Is she a virgin?" asked Tenalion.