Witness of Gor coc-26

by John Norman

  One of the guards, a handsome fellow, he who had looked up at me, and asked my name, regarded me. I looked away, and tossed my head.

  Let him understand that!

  What cared I for him!

  But he slapped his thigh in amusement.

  Had I not yet learned my collar?

  I feared suddenly that he might one day make me pay dearly for that expression, that gesture.

  But my jailer, preceded by the soldier, now again, continued on his way.

  On the leash I swiftly followed him.

  I heard laughter behind me.

  Those men might remember me, I feared.

  We passed though a portal, once again one less like a common door than a stout gate.

  I followed, leashed.

  Within was a long, dimly lit tunnel, with several opened gates within it, some of bars, some of metal-sheathed wood,with tiny apertures some eight to ten feet above the floor. These were tiny ports, used, I would learn, for the missiles of the crossbow. They are manned by platforms which are a part of the interior surface of the doors. I did not notice them at the time but there were other ports overhead from which missiles might be fired toward the doors, should foes achieve the dubious success of reaching them. I think there was no place in that corridor, or perhaps generally in the fortifications as a whole, which could not be reached my missile fire from at least two directions. Noxious materials might be emitted from such vents, as well, such as pitch, acids, and heated oil.

  When we went though the next gate, we were suddenly plunged in darkness, absolute darkness.

  For several minutes we made our way through a number of labyrinthine passages, occasionally stopping at various gates, which, after an exchange of signs and countersigns, were opened for us. I think there were side passages, too, for I occasionally sensed a difference in the air. If one did not know the passages, I supposed one might, lost and helpless, wander about in them for days. Once I silently screamed, and bit down, fiercely, on the gag, that I might not lose it, and wept in terror, for I felt my thigh brushed by a thick, greasy fur of a large, curious animal, one, I think, like that I had encountered earlier on the ledge. I do not know how many of them were in the passage. Though I could not see them I could often smell the. They were silent. Once I heard claws scraping on the stone. There was no reflection of light from their eyes fro in those passages there was no light to be reflected. The soldier, and the jailer, continued to move with assurance. I did not know if they had memorized the passages or not. Perhaps they guided themselves by touch, or by some irregularities in the flooring. My own passage was guided by the leash. Had I not been leashed I would have had to be led in some other way. A common slave-girl leading position is to grasp her by the hair and hold her head at your hip. Needless to say, we prefer the leash.

  Perhaps this is the reason for the leash, I thought, that I not be lost in the tunnel, or injure myself against the walls, or flee in terror, madly, upon the discovery that the tunnel is shared by beasts, whose function is doubtless to protect it from any to whom its passage might be prohibited. Such utilities were intelligible, and plausible.

  These things were doubtless true, but I would learn, as well, that the leash had additional purposes, later to become clear to me.

  Several times I lost my balance, and must struggle, stumbling, to regain it. This was not easy to do, as I could not make use of my body, within the sack, it strapped so tightly about me. One is not only helpless in such an arrangement, but one is very sensitive to one’s helplessness. One feels very vulnerable. You follow the leash as best you can. Twice I actually fell, bruising myself in the darkness on the stone flooring. Then the leash would pull against the sack ring, under my chin, and I must needs rise up, and again follow.

  My legs were tired. The bottoms of my feet were sore, mainly from the ledge.

  It had been, so far, a lengthy, wearing, mysterious peregrination.

  Surely we must be near its end.

  In the darkness, I had sensed that we were often climbing.

  I did not know how high we might be.

  We then passed though another door, and emerged, at last, into a lighted passage, though it was lighted but dimly, with two torches, one at each end of the passage. The light was not bright, but it hurt my eyes. We paused, all of us, waiting for a bit, to allow our eyes to adjust to it.

  Then I shrank back, to the end of the leash.

  We had come, on the other side of the door, a few feet from the door, to a deep, narrow, moatlike depression. This extended in the corridor, from side to side, for the width of the corridor, perhaps for some five to seven yards, until it terminated several feet before the farther door, at the end of the passage. Bridging this moatlike depression, running parallel to the sides of the corridor, there lay a narrow, retractable metal beam or plank, perhaps two inches in width.

  I shook my head negatively, wildly, beggingly, piteously.

  Even were I not confined as I was, I would not have dared to essay that narrow span, that long, terrifyingly narrow beam. At best, unconfined, under duress, I might have tried to inch across it on my belly, trying to balance upon it, clinging desperately to it.

  I began to tremble.

  I feared I could not long remain on my feet, so weak and frightened I was.

  I looked at the soldier, the jailer.

  My eyes must have been wild with fear. I whimpered in terror. My legs buckled under me. I slipped down to the stone. I could not stand. I could not even begin to rise to my feet. I knelt down, and put my head to the stone. I could not speak a word, for the gag which I clenched between my teeth. But my mien, doubtless, was pathetic.

  I could not even stand.

  The jailer may have expected some such response from me. Perhaps he had brought other kajirae to this place.

  In any event he did not remonstrate with me, or order me to my feet, or lash me with the strap of the leash.

  Perhaps he had not expected more of me. Would a Gorean girl have been different? I did not think so.

  He roared with laughter, which much unsettled me.

  This was, it seemed, a joke of Masters?

  Of course, I suddenly realized, he had not expected me to negotiate that barrier. Perhaps some women might have managed it, even in constraints as I was, but I was not one of the.

  The soldier, I saw, made his way swiftly across the bridge.

  This startled me.

  The jailer then reached down and, to my misery, I helpless, scooped me up, and threw me over his shoulder. I bit down on the gag, that I might not scream with fear, and loose it in the moatlike depression. He carried me with my head to the rear, as women such as I are often carried. We are helpless in this carry, and cannot see to what we are being carried. I held my breath until we reached the other side. He moved across that narrow bridge swiftly and surely, as had the soldier. I saw, in the bottom of the depression, some forty feet below, numerous upward-pointing knives. Perhaps the bridge was wide enough and sturdy enough for those accustomed to such things, but it seemed terribly narrow to me, with the drop beneath, let alone the knives. Men, I knew, in carnivals, or circuses, traversed even narrower and far less steady surfaces. But I did not think those surfaces were likely to be suspended over knives. I then kept my eyes closed until we reached the other side. The bridge shook, and vibrated, with a ringing noise, as we crossed it.

  “Wait here,” said the soldier.

  I was then put on my knees to one side. The jailer lifted a chain from the side wall. It was attached to a ring there and was itself terminated with another ring. He clipped the ring on the back of my sack to that ring. I was thus, in the sack, kneeling, fastened to the wall.

  We waited.

  “Do you like our little bridge?” he asked.

  I shook my head, negatively.

  “There are far worse things in this place,” he said.

  I regarded him, frightened.

  “You are going to be a good little kajira, are you not?” he
asked.

  I nodded my head.

  “I wonder why you were purchased,” he said, looking down at me.

  I looked up at him. I did not know.

  “To be sure,” he said, “you are pretty.”

  I put my head down, quickly. One is sometimes wary when one hears one so spoken of, too, by such a man. The buckles of the sack were within his reach, of course. It was I who could not reach them.

  “We are in the vicinity of one of the high terraces,” he said.

  I thought I detected a freshness of air, and a draft from beneath the door.

  “You have not been a kajira long, have you?” he asked.

  I shook my head, negatively.

  “You are familiar with gag signals, are you not?” he asked.

  I whimpered once. When a woman is gagged, one whimper means “Yes,” and two, “No.”

  “That is better,” he said.

  I hoped he would not cuff me.

  “You wish to use them then, do you not?” he said.

  I whimpered once. Of course! Of course!

  “Good,” he said. “Have you been a kajira long?”

  I whimpered twice.

  “You have much to learn,” he said.

  I whimpered once.

  “Within,” he said, “you will find yourself in the presence of an officer. Do you understand?”

  I whimpered once. I did not really understand, fully, the import of what he was saying but I gathered enough to understand that he within, or he on the other side of that door, he before whom I might soon expect to appear, was of some importance in this place.

  This was, as you might suppose, a piece of very frightening intelligence for me.

  “You do wish to live, do you not?” asked the jailer.

  I whimpered once, earnestly, fervently. Tears sprang to my eyes.

  “Good,” he said.

  We continued to wait.

  “You do not know why you were purchased, do you?” he asked.

  I whimpered twice. I looked at him, pleadingly.

  “I do not know either,” he said. “Perhaps it is merely because you are pretty.”

  I looked down, frightened.

  “You are pretty,” he said.

  I whimpered a little, not in response, but rather in fear.

  I could hardly move in the sack. By means of it I was tethered to the wall.

  He looked down at me.

  I was within his power.

  But he did not unbuckle the sack. I wondered if I might be in some way special. I had certainly not been regarded as special in the pens, except perhaps insofar as I might have been thought to have been of “special interest” to strong men, or, in their rude humor, “specially delicious” as a “tasta” or “pudding.”

  I looked at the door, fearfully.

  I wondered what lay beyond it.

  Behind that door then, I would guess from some several yards behind it, there sounded a gong.

  I looked up, wildly, frightened.

  “Steady,” he said “It will be a few Ehn.”

  He then unclipped the leash ring from the ring on the straps, under my chin. He then, over the straps, pushed my chin up, and fastened the leash, by means of its own clip and ring, about my neck, a portion of the leash thus serving as its own collar. The loop fitted closely about my neck. Perhaps there was something like a half inch of play in the loop. He jerked the loop open, as far as it would go, to its limit, where it was stopped by the ring and guard. I then had something like an inch of play within the loop. I could not, of course, hope to slip such a tether.

  “Note,” he said.

  He then gave a slight tug on the leash and I looked up at him in terror. Where as the loop might widen to the point where I might have as much as a full inch between my throat and the leather, no limit, other then my throat itself, was imposed on its closure. As the leash was now arranged, it constituted a choke collar. This was quite different from the earlier arrangement, when the ring had been attached to the sack straps.

  “Do you like the choke collar?” he asked.

  I whimpered twice.

  “They are commonly used for dangerous male slaves,” he said, “sometimes for new girls, sometimes for arrogant free women, that they may immediately cease to be arrogant, sometimes for ignorant girls, sometimes for stupid girls. Sometimes women use them for controlling other women, for they have less strength.”

  I looked up at him. Such a collar terrified me.

  “Do you think it necessary for one such as you?”

  I whimpered twice.

  “No,” he said. “I do not think so, either. But I thought it useful that you should feel it, and understand that it can be sued on you here.”

  I trembled.

  I was not totally unfamiliar with choke collars, for they had occasionally been used in my training, in the pens. I did fear them.

  I shall elaborate on this matter briefly, at another point.

  “Good,” he said, “I see that you are an intelligent kajira, and that you understand. But have no fear, or no more than is necessary. I will now make a simple adjustment.”

  He fixed the ring differently.

  “There,” he said.

  He then jerked the leash. But now it did not close on my throat. It had been adjusted, to be a normal collar.

  I looked at him, gratefully.

  I still could not slip it, of course.

  “That is better, is it not?” he asked.

  I whimpered once.

  “You do not now fear the leash, do you?” he asked.

  I whimpered twice.

  “You are mistaken,” he said.

  I regarded him, puzzled. What was there to fear from a common leash?

  He then freed the ring at the back of the sack from the chain on the wall.

  No longer was I attached to the wall.

  I felt him unbuckling the sack.

  I whimpered, begging him to speak to me.

  “You are perhaps concerned about the gong,” he said.

  I whimpered once.

  “That was the first signal,” he said.

  When the sack fell free from about my upper body I was put to all fours. My upper body suddenly felt cold. It had been uncomfortably warm in its tight canvas enclosure, from the pressure of my limbs held so closely to my body and the general heat and constraint of the sack. It had been covered with a sheen of perspiration, from its confinement and my exertions. Now it felt cold, from the air of the corridor. He then had me crawl forward, until my legs, too, were free of the sack. He then folded the sack and put it to one side. He then picked up the leash, looping its long end in three or four coils.

  We then waited, again.

  He was to my left. I was naked. I was on all fours. The tunic, in its small, neat folds, was grippedbetween my teeth.

  The leash, in his hand, looped down, and then up, to my neck.

  I regarded the closed door.

  “Remember that you would like to live,” said the jailer.

  I whimpered, once.

  He looked down upon me, as such men often look, and appropriately, upon women such as I.

  “You are a pretty little she-sleen,” he said.

  At that time, though I was familiar with sleen, or at least the one who had patrolled the ledge, I did not know the word.

  There are many varieties of sleen, incidentally, adapted to diverse environments; the most formidable, as far as I know, is the forest sleen. There is also a sand sleen, a snow sleen, even some aquatic varieties, types of sea sleen, and so on. They are very greatly in size, as well. Some sleen are quite small and silken, and sinuously graceful, no larger than domestic cats. They are sometimes kept as pets.

  It was easy enough to understand, of course, that a “pretty little she-sleen” must be some sort of domestic animal. I was on all fours. I was to be, apparently, marched forward, through the door, on all fours, leashed. How could it be made more clear to me that I was an animal?

 
At that time I did not know of the habit of some masters, usually imposed as punishment, to refuse an upright posture to their girls, and to refuse them, as well, the use of human language. They must go about on all fours, or their bellies, and communicate, as they can, by whimpers, moans, and such. They are naked, save for their collars. They are not permitted to use their hands to feed themselves, and so on. Needless to say, they also serve in this modality. There are various Gorean expressions for this; one is the “discipline of the she-tarsk.” A tarsk is a piglike animal. The boars are tusked, and can be quite large. They are also territorial and fierce. Many hunters have lost their lives in their pursuit. The sows are smaller and lack tusks. The male keeps them in his group, or, so to speak, in his harem.

  “Do you understand the leash?” he asked.

  I whimpered once.

  “I wonder,” he said.

  He then, suddenly, without warning, jerked the leash upward, and its leather was tight under my chin and I was jerked up to my knees, and I looked at him wildly, helplessly held in place; he then, with ease, with flicks of the leash, flung me to one side and the other, bruising me on the stone and the walls, and then put me to my back, and his booted sandal was on my belly; I looked up at him, in terror; the stone was hard beneath me; and then, with snaps of the leash and the sides of his feet, and gestures, he rolled me about on the stone, from one side to the other; and then he flung me to my belly; how hard was the stone! I shuddered, lying before him, on my belly, in his power. How well I had been controlled by the leash, even though my hands were free! I lay there prone, trembling, sweating on the stone, the tunic tight between my teeth; he then put his foot on my back, holding me down, pressing me to the stone, and, leaning forward, pulled up the leash, the leather again under my chin; my head was painfully back; always, as a practiced leash master, he avoided exerting pressure on the throat; that can be extremely dangerous; the pressure of a collar, of whatever sort of collar, is to be always high, under the chin, or at the back or sides of the neck; happily, he had adjusted the collar so that it was no longer a choke collar; else I might have been slain; most collars, of course, as mine now was, given the adjustment he had made, are not choke collars; such collars, as suggested, can be extremely dangerous; indeed, most masters eschew them; too, they commonly train their girls to such a point of perfection that there is no need for such a device; too, of course, the girls go to great lengths in diligence and perfection of service to avoid having such a device put on them; also, as a matter of fact, other devices are as much or more effective in girl training, even things as simple as bracelets and a switch; but even if a choke collar is used, the slave knows that she has nothing to fear fromit, unless she is in the least bit recalcitrant or disobedient; then, of course, there is much to fear from it; he then, with the free end of the leash, which was long, tied my hands behind my back, and then crossed my ankles, and pulled them up, painfully behind me, and tied them to my wrists. I reared up a little, but was helpless. I then, lay, subdued, on my belly, before him, my wrists tied behind me, my ankles pulled up and tied to my wrists.