by John Norman
I was certain she would strive humbly and zealously to pass that test. I gathered it would not go well with her if she failed.
Somewhere else, I gathered, at another time, she had been a free woman and, it seems, an important personage. They had even spoken of a mask of silver, or gold, or such. Here, of course, her face was naked, and she was only another slave.
The man with the fellow who had returned to the terrace was, as I would later learn to recognize at a glance by his garb, a member of the leather workers. In many of the Gorean cities there is a caste structure which is significant not only socially but politically. The leather workers are a "low caste." The high castes are normally accounted five in number—the Warriors, the Builders, the Physicians, the Scribes, and the Initiates. The Initiates are sometimes thought of as the highest of the five high castes, and the Warriors as the least of the five high castes. In actual fact, the Warriors commonly produce the administrators and ubars for a city. It is not easy in a world such as this to deprive those who are skilled with weapons their share of authority. If it is not given to them, they will take it. There are some ambiguities in the caste structure. For example, some rank the Merchants as a high caste, and some do not; and some rank the Slavers with the Merchants, and some see them as a separate caste, and so on. It is usually a very serious thing to lose caste in this society. To be sure, not everyone has caste. Priest-Kings, for example, whoever they may be, have no caste. They are said to be "above caste." Similarly, outlaws and slaves have no caste. Outlaws are thought to have relinquished caste, and, in a sense, thus, to be "out of caste," and slaves, of course, as animals, are "below caste," or, perhaps better, "aside from caste" or "apart from caste." To be sure, I think there are others who also lack caste, really. Some may not have been raised "in caste," some may decline or flee their castes before the initiations, and so on. Similarly, there are entire groups of people, as I understand it, barbarians, savages, and such, whose social arrangements are not based on caste. Very little on this world, and, I suppose, on others, is simple.
"Dorna is now a pierced-ear girl?" asked he in the chair of the fellow who had returned to the terrace.
"Yes, Captain," said the fellow.
The man in the chair smiled. There was laughter from the men about. Some smote their left shoulders in approval. I had gathered earlier that the piercing of the ears was regarded on this world as somehow rather significant. That surmise was now confirmed.
"Slave," said he in the chair to me.
"Yes, Master," I said.
I looked up at him from my side, where I lay. He had not ordered me to kneel. It seemed it was his will that I should retain my low position. It is difficult, of course, to get to one's knees, bound as I was, but it can be done. If ordered to do so one strives to do so as quickly and gracefully as possible. We are expected to obey unhesitantly and swiftly, subject, of course, to the proviso that we should do so as well, as beautifully, as possible. These people have, as I have suggested, a highly developed aesthetic sense. They require beauty in their slaves, both in appearance and movement.
"Dorna," said he, "has been a slave longer than you so it is fitting that it would be her ears which would first be pierced."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Accordingly," he said, "even though she is a high slave and you are a low slave, you are, at this moment, as your ears have not been pierced, a thousand times higher than she."
"Yes, Master," I said. I was, of course, puzzled by this. One thing seemed clear, once again, the apparent cultural momentousness of ear piercing on this world.
"But," said he, "as soon as your ears are pierced, you will be, again, a thousand times lower than she."
"Yes, Master," I said.
He then turned to the fellow in the apron. "Pierce her ears," he said.
I could not resist, of course, bound as I was.
The leather worker put his tiny kit of tools down beside me, and, undoing a string, opened it, and spread it out.
"Kneel her," he said.
A fellow seized me by the hair and pulled me up, painfully, to a kneeling position.
"Spread your knees," he said.
I obeyed.
"Hold her head," said the leather worker to the fellow who had knelt me.
He crouched behind me and fastened his hands in my hair, tightly. I could not move my head in the slightest without great pain. It hurt even as he held me. "Take her arms, you, and you," said the leather worker to two other fellows. "Hold her down, on her knees." The two fellows addressed then, one on each side of me, seized an arm. I was then held in place, bound hand and foot, down, on my knees, one man holding my head, by the hair, another holding my left arm, and another my right. Their grips were tight. I had little doubt that marks would be left on my arms. To me, of course, these precautions seemed not only unnecessary, but excessive. I did not much fear having my ears pierced. I gathered, however, that on this world many women might. Perhaps they would shriek and struggle, however futilely. I began to sense then, even more, how momentous ear piercing was on this world. This made me uneasy. If I had truly understood the meaning of ear piercing on this world perhaps I, too, I supposed, might have regarded it with horror, and striven to resist, however meaninglessly, however stupidly, however unavailingly and ineffectually. But I doubted it. As a slave it seemed to me fitting that my ears would be pierced, and that men would do with me as they wished. It was not lost on me, of course, that I was knelt. This was to make it clear, I gathered, that ear piercing was something that was done to slaves. Too, the fellow who had pulled me up to my knees had told me to spread my knees. Thus, I would be kneeling as a certain sort of slave, when this was done to me. I would thus, I suppose, associate these two things, my ear piercing and the sort of slave I was.
I saw the leather worker with a bright, long needle.
I felt my left ear lobe drawn downward, taut. It was then pierced. There must have been a drop of blood, as the worker rubbed the ear with his thumb. He then inserted a tiny object, like a droplet with a steel pin, through the wound and, on the other side of the ear lobe, snapped on a tiny disk. These operations were then, with suitable adjustments, repeated with respect to the right ear lobe, even to the wiping away of what must have been another drop of blood. I was then released and allowed to lie on my back. The leather worker was then wiping his needle and returning it to his kit, which he then did up, as it had been. There had been very little pain, though I had felt a prick each time, and I could now feel the tiny rods through my ear lobes. It was a strange feeling. My ear lobes felt a little sore. This soreness, I realized, would quickly pass.
"You are now a pierced-ear girl," the fellow in the apron informed me, grinning.
"Yes, Master," I said.
I sensed, frightened, he liked me that way.
"You are not to disturb this work," said the man in the chair.
"No, Master," I said. I gathered that some women, doubtless women of this world, might, perhaps in hysteria, try to tear such things from their ears.
The man in the apron stood up, and caught a coin in one hand, tossed to him by the fellow who had conducted him hither. The man in the apron then bowed, and, with another look at me, lying on my back, bound, on the flagging, took his leave.
One of the men looked down at me. "Pierced-ear girl," he sneered.
I turned my head away. I did not dare to look at him.
I suddenly sensed a new, pervasive, remarkable interest in me. I sensed powerful heat. It was almost like waves of flame. I lay there, small and helpless, a naked, bound slave at the mercy of masters. Was there now so much that was now so different about me?
"Tenrik," said the man in the chair, sharply.
"Yes, Captain!" said the jailer.
"This is not the time for us to amuse ourselves with a slave," said the man in the chair.
"No, Captain," said Tenrik.
In that moment it seemed that order was restored.
Whereas the remark had b
een ostensively addressed to Tenrik it had obviously not been intended for him, or for him in particular, but, by means of him, so to speak, had been a remark addressed to all.
I gathered from the remark, of course, that there might well be times when such as I might be given up for the amusement of men, but that this was not such a time.
Too, I gathered that there was discipline in this place, and here I do not speak of such things as the correctives and admonitives, however sure, strict and severe, to which an errant slave might find herself subjected, but of sterner stuff, the discipline of the military, that of the Warrior, that discipline necessary for the raid, the engagement, that required for decisive and coordinated action in highly dangerous circumstances, and, even, too, that other sort of discipline, the long, slow, staying sort of discipline, that which might be required for weeks and months, even years, that tenacity, that sturdiness, needed for the sometimes seemingly endless rigors and privations of campaigns, and wars.
I rose a bit, on my elbows, my wrists tied behind me.
I looked about a bit. Some of the men were still regarding me. But they would not act, not now.
I was safe now, at least for a time.
I looked away from the eyes of a man, frightened. His eyes might as well have been those of a lion.
But I was safe now.
The eyes of others, too, were as those of lions.
I shuddered.
How fearful it must be for any woman to be among such men, let alone one such as I, a slave!
I felt as though I might be a delicacy, one which, had it not been for a word from he in the chair, would by now have been seized and devoured. But on this world there were doubtless many such delicacies, silked and perfumed, combed and belled, deliciously curved, trained, eager to please. Might they not be encountered in any tavern? Indeed, I had at one time thought that I might be sent to such a tavern. Girls such as I, from my world, are apparently popular purchases with tavern keepers.
I lay there before the dais, helpless, but now, apparently, quite safe.
But I felt somehow angry, somehow vaguely dissatisfied, even irritated.
What sort of girl was I?
How pleased I was that I was now safe!
They could not touch me now!
But my belly seemed aflame. My ears had been pierced! I had some sense now as to what that might mean to men such as these. I could feel the tiny rods in my ear lobes.
But I was safe now. How pleased I was!
But I was somehow angry.
I went to my back, lying on my crossed wrists, they below the small of my back. This arched my body somewhat, lifting my belly up, having my head a bit down. I breathed quickly, deeply, prominently, two or three times, and moved my shoulders a little, twisting them, and lifted my knees a bit. I did this though I knew the eyes of several were upon me. How foolish this was, for would it not call attention to the slave at their feet? But surely this was all quite innocent, and quite unintentional, or, at least, must be seemingly so. What woman would dare to stir thusly before such men, even in all innocence, in all inadvertence, almost like a restless, frustrated, yearning, begging slave, one attempting to call attention to herself, surely only one naive, or one reckless, or one oblivious to, or heedless of, what she might be doing. Did she not understand how such things might be viewed? Had she not considered the danger of provoking them, of even in some subtle way perhaps igniting their heats and needs? How foolish must such a woman be! Might not such movements, all innocent and unintentional as they might be, be misconstrued? Might they not even be understood as slave movements? I glanced to one of the men. I am not sure then precisely what happened. I think an expression of irritation, or of annoyance, may have crossed my features, perhaps fleetingly, ending perhaps in a tiny smile, perhaps in an as-if-triumphant little smile, as I turned my head away. I was safe from him. He could not have me now! This was all subtle, you understand. Even now I am not quite certain of everything that occurred in that moment, or half moment. What I think I may have done was to convey, or seem to convey, my contempt for them, subtly, challengingly, that I had not been seized and ravished and, at the same time, slyly, vaunt my immunity from their predations. I was, I suppose, in my way, taunting them. This was, of course, a mistake. It was not one I would make again.
"Slut!" cried a man.
"Oh!" I cried in pain, kicked.
"Throw her to sleen!" called another.
"No, please, Masters!" I wept. "Oh! Oh!" I cried, twice more kicked.
"Take that, slave!" cried another.
"Oh!" I wept.
"And that!" cried another.
"And that!" cried yet another.
"Oh! Oh!" I wept.
"Bring the whip!" cried a man.
"No, Masters!" I begged.
"I have it," cried another.
"Please, no, Masters!" I begged.
Down came the lash!
"What have I done?" I cried.
"Stupid slave!" cried a man.
"Lying slave!" cried another.
Again and again the lash fell.
"Forgive me, Masters!" I cried, writhing bound under the lash. "Forgive me! Forgive me, Masters!"
"It is enough," announced the man in the chair. "She is new to her collar, and yet naive."
"She must learn quickly," snarled a man.
"Kneel, slave," said the man in the chair.
I struggled to my knees and knelt before the dais. I put my head down to the floor before the first step of the dais.
"You are a pathetic spectacle, Earth girl," said he in the great chair.
"Forgive me, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master!"
"In the future," said he, "you will be concerned to be more pleasing, will you not?"
"Yes, Master," I said. "Yes, Master!"
"Tenrik," said the man in the chair.
"Yes, Captain," said huge Tenrik.
"Lift up the state slave," said he.
Tenrik lifted me up, in his arms. My weight was as nothing to him.
"She is to be sent below, into the keeping of the pit master."
"The Tarsk?" asked a man.
"What a waste," said a man.
"It seems a pity," said one of the men, oddly enough the one who had just used the whip on me.
"This one is pretty," said a man. "And I think she will learn quickly to serve. Choose another."
"This one has not been particularly purchased because she is pretty," said the man in the chair, "though I do not expect the Tarsk will object to her particular configuration of visage and curves."
"I should think not," said a man.
"The Tarsk is a lucky beast," said a fellow.
"She has been purchased primarily for her ignorance," said the man in the chair.
"She is not as ignorant now as she was a few moments ago," said a man.
"No," laughed another.
"What are her duties?" asked a man.
"She will be one of the pit slaves," said the man in the chair, "kenneled like the others, serving like them, as the Tarsk directs."
"Beyond that, what are her special duties?" asked a man.
"These have been made clear to the Tarsk," said the man in the chair.
"I see," said the fellow.
"The Tarsk will see to it that she performs them," said the man in the chair.
"And doubtless others as well," said a man.
"Yes," smiled the man in the chair.
There was laughter.
"The descent is cleared, to the depths," said the man in the chair.
I understood very little, if anything of this. I was miserable. I lay on the stones. I was a bound, lashed slave. I knew only that I must strive to be more pleasing to the masters. I would so strive! I would so strive! Please Masters, I thought, I will try to be better! Please, Masters, do not lash me further! I will obey! I will try to be more pleasing!
A hood was put over my head and buckled shut under my chin.
Why was this do
ne?
The jailer turned about with me in his arms. He walked about for a bit, turning this way and that, at one angle or another, proceeding for one distance or another. Sometimes he reversed himself. At other times he spun about, accomplishing various numbers of rotations and partial rotations. I was totally disoriented. I no longer knew where I was with respect to the dais, even whether near it or not. I might have been somewhere near the center of the surface; I might have been at an edge; I did not know.
I heard a lifting of stone, almost at our feet, one or more of the tiles, or flaggings, apparently having been moved. I then heard what sounded like a wooden trap being lifted, one which had perhaps been hidden beneath the flaggings.
The jailer set me down on stone.
I felt a rope passed before me and then under my arms, the loose ends behind me. It was drawn back, tight against me.
"What of her tunic?" asked a man. I had put the tunic aside, a few feet before the dais, shortly after I had come to the surface of the tower. It had been the desire of the man in the great chair that the slave be bared. Too, he had had her turn before him, slowly. In this fashion may a woman be assessed. Later she had "performed." In this way a woman may be even better assessed. There are many names for this sort of performance. It is sometimes called the "dance of the displayed slave," though it is not really a dance; sometimes it is called "block movements" or "circle movements," from the fact that such movements are sometimes called for on the sales block or within the exhibition circle; sometimes they are called "cage movements," from the necessity of performing them upon request in the exhibition cages, and so on. If the man "calls" the movements, the activity is sometimes spoken of as putting the girl "through her paces," and so on. Perhaps the easiest way of thinking about them is to think of them simply as display movements or exhibition movements. Their most obvious purpose is to help make clear the beauty of a slave, by displaying it in a variety of movements, attitudes, and poses.
"It will be given to another," said a man.
"The Tarsk will now decide whether or not she is to be permitted clothing," said another man.