Witness of Gor coc-26

by John Norman

  How I had been intimidated, controlled and mastered!

  “Do you understand the leash now,” he asked, “a little better?”

  I whimpered once, fervently.

  I now understood the leash, and its power, as I had never understood it before.

  And as he had adjusted it, it had been only a common leash. How terrifying then would be a choke leash!

  I had received additional training.

  I gathered that he had though I needed it.

  Certainly I would be a better kajira for it.

  Another device which can be used for training, display, control, or such, is the slave harness, to which a leash may be attached. This does not touch the throat. Such a harness, well cinched on the slave, can be extremely attractive. There are usually two rings on such a harness, for the attachment of a leash; one is on the front of the harness and the other is on the back.

  He then unbound my hands and feet, and gestured that I should once again go to all fours.

  I did so, the leash still on me.

  I would be taken through the door leashed, on all fours. I was a slave, an animal. And thus I would be presented, as an animal, before whoever might be on the other side of that door. The leash was a common leash. I did not require a choke collar.

  “Soon, little tasta,” he said. “Soon.”

  We waited.

  My knees, and palms of my hands, were sore, from the stone. My body, too, was bruised from my leash training.

  I had a clearer notion now of what I was.

  I was more of a kajira now than I had been this morning.

  This was, I think, a kindness on the part of the jailer. He wanted me to live.

  Then I started as, from behind the door, from somewhere well behind it, once again, sounded the gong.

  The door opened.

  “Proceed, little tasta,” said the jailer.

  I then, on my leash, crawled toward the opening.

  11

  As soon as I crawled though the opening I felt fresh air, and my hair was blown back somewhat by the wind. I found myself on the stone flagging of a large, circular terracelike structure, perhaps some forty yards in diameter. It was apparently the roof of a bastion or tower of some sort. About its edges, facing outwards, were defensive works, some movable, some roofed. Above it, supported by beams, casting a pattern of almost intangible shadows, seeming to stir on the flagging, were numerous, swaying strands of fine wire.

  The sky was very bright, and very blue. In it billowing clouds scudded like speeding fleets. The air of this world is very clear, and rich.

  At the far side of the large area, away from the door, near the outer circumference of the circle, was a stone dais, reached by some three steps, on the top of which was a thronelike chair.

  I crawled forward, slightly in advance of the jailer, who, the leash in his hand, was to my left.

  “Stop,” he said, softly.

  I stopped.

  There were only a few individuals on the terrace, and these were on, or near, the dais.

  Their eyes were upon me.

  I put down my head.

  I wondered what was wanted of me.

  The jailer then, to my surprise, removed the leash from my neck.

  Perhaps he had received some sign from the dais to do so. I did not know.

  I stayed there, on all fours, my head down.

  What did they want of me?

  I wondered if I were worthy enough to have been brought here.

  Was I good enough? Would I prove to be satisfactory? My experience in the pens had suggested that I might do. I had been popular there, with most, if not with all, if not with one, in particular.

  I trusted that those who had made this decision, to bring me here, knew their business. I hoped they knew their business. I did not want to die!

  And there would be other women here, doubtless, women of this world. How would they view me? I gathered that they might view me as negligible, as far less then they, even if their own fair throats were enclosed in collars.

  There was one woman besides myself on the terrace. She wore scarlet silk. She was well bejeweled. She was not veiled. Her face, like mine, was bared. Any might look upon it, as they pleased. She was on her knees, to the left of the thronelike chair. She was chained to it by the neck. On the other side of the thronelike chair, lying there, stretched out, indolently, its large, triangular head down on its paws, was one of the sex-legged beasts, one such as that I had met on the ledges. It was chained to the right side of the thronelike chair. As the beast was at the right hand of the thronelike chair and the woman only at the left, that signified, in this world, that she was less then it.

  On the thronelike chair reclined a richly robed figure. His shoulders were of great breadth. His robes were largely of scarlet, liked with purple. He was strikingly handsome, and had large hands. On his feet were golden sandals; on his forehead was a golden circlet.

  He gestured that I should rise, and I did so. I then stood some fifty feet, or so, before the dais.

  He then indicated that I might remove the tunic from between my teeth. Gratefully I did so. I then held it in my right hand. It was very damp.

  He then said something to one of the men standing near him. Among them was the soldier who had brought us here, but it was not he to whom he spoke.

  I stood very well, naked before him. How different this was, the thought crossed my mind, from my old world. How far I was from the shops, the malls. I wondered how my old companions, Jean, and Priscilla, and Sandra, and Sally, might stand before such men, masters of women.

  I think he was pleased with me. I was sure that he had commented favorably concerning me to his fellow on the dais. The woman to his left, she kneeling, chained by the neck to his chair, had not seemed much pleased. That was surely a point in my favor. She would not like me. I was sure of that. She was, even now, regarding me angrily. I did not like her, either. Let her watch out for herself, and her place on a chain! I hated her!

  I considered the eyes of the men.

  I stood even straighter, more gracefully.

  “Slut,” said the woman.

  I pretended not to hear. I gathered that she must be a high slave, and that she had a general permission to speak. To be sure, such a permission may be instantly revoked, at so little as a world. If men do not wish to hear us, we must be silent.

  It seemed to me now that I could feel the interest of the men, reaching toward me, almost like heat, in waves of desire.

  I now felt less frightened. I was now more confident that the slavers who had taken me may have known the business after all, at least as far as externals were concerned. I was such, it seemed, as might quite plausibly appear upon a slave block. And I wondered if only I, at that time, had known the “internals,” so to speak, of these matters, that I was such as would be fittingly placed on such a block, indeed, that I was such that I, in a sense, belonged on such a block. Could they have known that, as well, from some clues I was not even fully aware of? It seemed possible. How skilled were they? Doubtless quite skilled. And certainly determinations, made with merciless thoroughness in the pens, had clarified such matters beyond all doubt. And entries pertinent to these matters, I gathered, and had gathered originally to my dismay, for I had regarded such things as my closely guarded secrets, now appeared explicitly on my papers.

  They man before me, regarded me, spoke again to some of those about him.

  The collars were removed from the monstrous beast on his right, which yawned, and rose to its feet, and from the woman, on his left, who remained kneeling, close to the arm of the thronelike chair.

  I was not too pleased to see that the beast was loose.

  The others, however, did not seem alarmed.

  The man then motioned to me, that I should approach. Timidly I began to do so. Then, suddenly, I stopped. I flung my hands before my face. I screamed. I could not move! The beast, descending lightly from the dais, had bounded toward me. It was now behind m
e, having circled about.

  I took down my hands from before my face. I opened my eyes. I was still alive!

  I heard some laughter. My terror had seemed to amuse them!

  “Stupid girl,” said the woman.

  There is a considerable difference between the killing charge of such a beast, direct, ferocious, energetic, savage, violent, ravening, once, after exploratory sallies, it initiates it, and this approach. But I knew nothing of these things. And I think that even one who is familiar with this world would find it quite alarming to be approached, even as I had been, by such an animal.

  “Do not be afraid,” said the fellow on the thronelike chair.

  I cast him a grateful glance.

  “He will not kill you unless I tell him to do so,” he said.

  I nodded, numbly.

  “She knows little, I think, of our world,” said the jailer.

  I saw glances exchange amongst some of the men near the chair.

  “She is stupid,” said the woman.

  I wondered then if the releasing of the beast, perhaps anticipating its curiosity, and its likely inquiry, had been a test of sorts, one assessing my familiarity with this world and its ways.

  I shuddered.

  I sensed the breath of the beast on my calves.

  “Come closer,” invited the man on the dais.

  I stopped, warned by his eyes, a few feet before the dais.

  “Put aside the tunic,” he said, “and turn about, fully, slowly.”

  I complied.

  Then I was again facing him.

  “Are you trained?” he asked.

  “To some extent, Master,” I said. I suspected he must know this.

  “Do you know where you were trained?” he asked.

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “Do you know where you are now?” he asked.

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “It is my understanding,” said he, “that you can move in fashions which may not be entirely without interest.”

  I looked at him, frightened.

  “But that is not inappropriate for what you are,” he said.

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “Move,” said he.

  And swiftly then did I comply, much as I had done in the house from which I had been sold, before the agents, or buyers.

  “Ah!” said a man.

  One learns to display oneself, and well, as the merchandise one is. Much of what I did I had learned in the pens, but much, too, comes from within one. Some movements I had done as long ago as my old world, in the secrecy of my bedroom, before the mirror. Sometimes in the midst of such presentations, in effect, the dance of a woman as a woman, as herself, her true self, so brazen, so forward, so honest, and yet, too, so pathetic, so vulnerable, so needful, and, above all, so totally and utterably different from a man, I had abruptly wheeled away, weeping, crying out, in shame, frightened, miserable and confused that I, only one such as I, might be so desirable, so beautiful, and, for my world, so exquisitely and forbiddenly feminine, but then, later, I had returned to them, determinedly, unabashedly, accepting at last, even angrily, what I was in truth, and should be, a woman, a total woman, in all her moving, exciting variety, in all her richness, in all her vulnerability, in all her marvelousness.

  “Excellent!” said a man.

  How pleased I was!

  It is dangerous, of course, to appear as a woman before strong men.

  But here I had no choice. I must be what I was.

  My performance must be concluded with “floor movements.”

  “Excellent!” said a man. “Excellent!” said another. Some of the men struck their left shoulders in commendation. I saw that the woman in scarlet silk, she kneeling at the left side of the thronelike chair, she who had been but moments before chained to it, was looking upon me with great anger.

  “Excellent!” called another man.

  I then lay before the dais, supine, gasping for breath, covered with sweat, even in the coolness of the elevation and wind. I turned my head to the right. I looked toward the thronelike chair.

  “Excellent, excellent,” said men.

  But I could not read the expression of the occupant of the thronelike chair.

  I went then to my stomach and lifted myself up, on my hands, and regarded him.

  Had I done well enough? Would I be acceptable?

  Those about the chair looked at its occupant. He regarded me. I looked down, and to the right, unable to meet his eyes.

  “Let her be fed,” he said.

  I sank to my belly. I was no longer capable of sustaining my weight on my arms. I lay before the dais, trembling. I was to be fed. I would then, at least for a time, be kept. He had not then, it seemed, been totally dissatisfied. It seemed then that, at least for a time, I would be permitted to live. This decision, I had sensed, had been welcomed by those about the dais, with doubtless one exception.

  The woman in scarlet silk rose somewhat angrily. She had a narrow steel collar on her neck, which had been covered by the earlier higher, heavier collar, that to which her chain had been attached. I was quite pleased to see that she was collared. She too then was only a slave! She went to the side, to a small table within one of the roofed defense works. There she shook some meal from a cloth sack into a shallow pan. She then, from an earthen pitcher, poured some water into the pan. She then shook the pan, mixing the ingredients. She held the pan in her left hand. From the table, she picked up, to my dismay, a long, supple switch. I did not care to see it in her possession. She now approached me, the pan in her left hand, the switch in her right. She put the pan down, on the stone flagging, before the dais, a bit to the right of its center, as I faced it. She pointed to the pan with the switch. I rose to all fours and crawled to the pan. I put down my head.

  “What do you think of her, my dear Dorna?” asked the man in the chair.

  “She is worthless,” said the woman.

  “Perhaps not entirely without worth,” he said.

  “She is worthy only to comb the hair of a true woman, if that,” she said.

  The fellow chuckled.

  “Giver her to me, as a slave’s slave,” she wheeled, “that I may do with her as I please.”

  “I do not think you will be displeased with her disposition,” he said.

  “Oh?” she asked, interested.

  “You will see,” he said.

  This exchange alarmed me somewhat.

  “Continue to feed,” said the woman to me.

  I continued to feed. It was slave gruel.

  Whereas the food was certainly feed, and true food, though plain fare, the function of this feeding, of course, was primarily symbolic or ceremonial. I was feeding as a certain sort of thing in a certain sort of way, on a certain sort of provender. I was under no delusions as to what I was, or how I fed, or on what I fed. Another lesson implicit in this matter, which might be noted, was that I was dependent on others for my feed, not only with respect to its quality, quantity and nature, but even with respect to whether I would to be fed or not. In this, of course, all slaves, even the highest, are similarly dependent. The people of this world are rich in traditions and symbolic behaviors, which are very meaningful and important to them. There are many such behaviors, traditions, ceremonies, and such, and there is, apparently, a considerable variety in such matters from place to place.

  I sensed a man moving about, behind me.

  “Keep your head down,” said she who had been called Dorna.

  There was some laughter.

  I continued to feed.

  One is, of course, vulnerable, so feeding. More than once in the pens I had been caught at such a pan.

  Then the man who had been behind me had ascended the dais. He had entered recently, apparently. He conferred with the occupant of the chair. He then left. He had paid me, as far could tell, little, or no, attention. Indeed, he may have scarcely noticed me. I was not important. I was only a kajira, feeding at the foot of the dais.

/>   “Lick the pan,” said Dorna.

  I did so. I was angry with her. She held the switch. Had my performance not been of interest? Could she have done better? Were her curves likely to be of more interest to men than mine? But it was I who was feeding, and she who held the switch. But I could set myself to please the men! Take away her switch! Let us compete as equals!

  “Lift your head,’ said Dorna. “How silly you look!”

  There were crumbs of meal about my mouth and lips.

  “Bring some meat,” said the occupant of the chair.

  Dorna, with an angry swirl of her silks, spun away, to return to the small table under the roofed defense work.

  I wondered that the fellow accepted, with such apparent tolerance, what appeared an obvious manifestation of annoyance on the part of the slave, if not of actual insolence. Did she not fear her silks would be removed and that she might be tied to a ring and whipped? I supposed she must have felt the whip at one time or another. She did move well, of course. That suggested that she was not totally unfamiliar with the whip. We must move well. We are not free women. If we do not move well, men, and their whips, see to it that we soon do. And whatever might have been her peripheral tokens of irritation or exasperation she did obey with alacrity. Yes, I thought, she undoubtedly knew something of the whip. Yet, too, undeniably, her behavior seemed to leave something to be desired. Perhaps she presumed too much on the status of a high slave, which status, it seemed, must be hers. Or perhaps she had been a high free woman, and her master, or masters, allowed her to act as she did, finding some amusement in the absurdity of it, she not understanding the joke, knowing they could in an instant bring her to her knees as a humbled, abject, servile, weeping slave. But, in any event, she was accustomed, it seemed, to being treated with some indulgence, perhaps even with permissiveness. How else would she have dared to exploit such latitudes of tolerance as seemed to be accorded to her? To be sure, she was a high slave. But are not such, in the final analysis, owned every bit as much as we? And is not one man’s high slave no more to another than the least of his bond maids, laboring shackled in his stables, her use a perquisite for rude grooms, and is it not the case that even for the same man she who is this evening a high slave may be tomorrow the least of his properties in the scullery?