Witness of Gor

by John Norman

  "Yes, Master," I said. I felt the chain from my wrists between my thighs. Thence it ran back to my shackled ankles.

  "Who are you?" he asked.

  "I am Janice, Master," I said.

  "Go to sleep now," he said, "Janice."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  In a bit he had returned to his furs. He blew out the tiny flame of the lamp.

  We were then in the utter darkness.

  I lay there for a time, and then lifted the chain on my wrists a little. I pressed my lips to it, and then to the manacles on my wrists, one after the other. I was ignorant of many things, but now, at least, I was no longer ignorant of my own name. I now knew who I was. I was Janice.

  I then fell asleep.

  14

  "How free slaves are!" she cried, delightedly.

  "Shhh, Mistress," I cautioned her.

  "You must not call me 'Mistress'!" she whispered.

  "Forgive me," I said. Such things, from training, and from force of habit, sometimes slip out.

  "And do not ask for my forgiveness," she whispered. "Please! Someone might hear! Think of me only as a slave in your charge."

  "I will try," I said. We had come from the bazaar with its sights and sounds, and booths and stalls, and the crowding, and the music. I much enjoyed that part of the city. We were now climbing steps to the upper terraces and courts. From there one may obtain a grand view of the mountains.

  "I am so grateful to you!" she said.

  I held her leash, preceding her. Her hands were braceleted behind her.

  "It was your idea," I said. "I only conveyed your pleas to the depth warden. Had I not done so, in some failure to comply with your request, I might have risked serious discipline."

  "Nonetheless, I am grateful!" she exclaimed. "You need not, I am sure, have conveyed my pleas. You might even have managed somehow to escape punishment for the inadvertence. Since my care was put in your keeping I have not even seen the depth warden. He might never have known. You might have pretended to misunderstand, or forget, or you might have denied that such pleas were made."

  "In such a matter," I said, "your word would be taken over mine."

  "How vulnerable are slaves!" she marveled.

  "Yes," I said, climbing upward. "We are vulnerable."

  "But you could have conveyed my pleas in such a manner as to have had them discounted, or rejected as haughty demands, or such."

  I was silent.

  "You must have enjoined them upon the depth warden with sympathy."

  I supposed that was possible. She had been so pathetic.

  "Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed, in pain.

  "Do you wish to pause?" I asked.

  "No," she said, looking at me, wincing, lifting one foot a little.

  "Your feet are not yet toughened," I said. She was barefoot, of course. This was in accord with her guise.

  "Do you wish to wait?" I asked.

  "Someone is coming," she said.

  Coming down the stairs was a man.

  "Come, slave!" I said. "Do not dawdle!"

  With a little cry of pain she followed me up the stairs, the leash straight between us. Little consideration is shown to slaves. The fellow glanced at us, sizing us up, as men do, as slave meat, in passing. We looked down. Had he stopped, we would have knelt.

  "Is your foot all right?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  I think that the very first day on which I had seen the free woman, several days ago, over the pool, had been the same day on which a transformation had begun to be wrought in her. There were doubtless several causes for this, not to mention a certain ripening of her understanding, of how she was fully, truly, even though a prisoner, at the mercy of men. Specifically, I think it was useful to have had to explicitly, frequently, and humbly address the depth warden as "Sir," which practice apparently, in its present authentic form, began on that day, to know that she was not permitted to attempt to interfere with the latching of the cage, and might thus, at any moment, waking or sleeping, be plunged into the pool, to the creatures which frequented it, and, perhaps most significantly, to learn that she, though a free woman, was being housed in a slave cage. This latter comprehension, in itself, it seemed, had acted profoundly upon her consciousness. She had begun soon after that, as I had learned from the brunette, Fina, she preferred by the pit master, who slept at his feet, to kneel in the cage at the approach of the pit master, the depth warden, who commonly attended to her. Further, she began, aside from the courtesy expressed in the use of the expression "Sir," to address him with great deference, and to importune him, when she dared, in suitable humility. Too, as she now used the word "Sir" there could be no hint within it, as there might have been, as I understand it, before the day of her instruction at the pool, of irony or insult. Now no longer did she use it exaggeratedly, or pointedly, or sneeringly. It now emerged from her lips with sincerity, with understanding and respect. I recalled that once, in my training, one of the girls in my group had dared to say the word "Master" to one of the guards in such a fashion that it was clear she did not mean it, in such a fashion that it constituted, in effect, a sneer. She was punished, terribly, and, in an instant, was blubbering for mercy, contrite, and fiercely instructed, begging with the utmost terror and authenticity to he who was then to her as master for mercy. Such insults, of course, are not tolerated for an instant in a slave. We quickly learn that the masters are truly "Master."

  "I am tired," she said, climbing the stairs. Too, I think her foot hurt her.

  I looked up and down the broad stairs. They were empty now, save for us.

  "Let us rest," I suggested.

  She sat on the stairs.

  "See," she said, proudly, "how I hold my legs together, and to the side. Is it not attractive?"

  "Seeing you thus," I said, "I would think a man might be tempted to seize your ankles and part them."

  "Oh?" she said, pleased.

  "It is more modest to kneel," I said, kneeling on the broad step, my legs together.

  "Should I be kneeling?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  Immediately she knelt.

  "As I hold the leash," I said, "you should be on a stair lower than I."

  She descended one stair, happily.

  "That is not how you kneel before men, is it?" she asked.

  "You are inquisitive," I said.

  "Is it?" she asked.

  "No," I said. "I am a slave of a sort which, I expect, you, as a free woman, may never have heard of."

  "You are a pleasure slave," she said, helpfully.

  "You have heard of us?" I asked.

  "Of course," she said. "My brother has two of you. He pits them against one another."

  "The beast!" I exclaimed.

  "He is well served," she said.

  "Doubtless," I agreed.

  "All the female slaves below are pleasure slaves," she said. "Fina told me."

  "Fina is also a pleasure slave!" I said.

  "Of course," she said.

  "The pit master will have it no other way," I said.

  "Of course not," she said. "He is a strong, powerful man."

  "We are worked as though we might be field slaves!" I said.

  "Oh, you are not worked so hard," she said.

  I knelt back, smiling. "Perhaps not," I said.

  "I think the pit master is kind," she said.

  "You have not felt his lash," I said.

  "It must be thrilling to be subject to the lash," she said.

  "I do not care for the lash," I said. The thought of it even frightened me.

  "But it must be thrilling," she said, "to know that you must please, and that you are subject to it."

  I was silent.

  "Is it not?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said. Why must she, a free woman, pry so closely into these things? Too, what could one such as she understand of such matters?"

  "But I think the pit master is kind," she said.

  "Perhaps,
" I said.

  "If he were not," she said, "he would not permit us to be here, or do this, would he?"

  "No," I said. "I do not think so."

  "So," she said, "that is not how you kneel before men, is it?"

  "No," I said. "I am a pleasure slave. It is expected, accordingly, that I will kneel before men with my legs spread, unless, perhaps, free women are present."

  "Like this?" she asked, eagerly.

  I looked about, quickly, determining that none were about. It was warm, and late in the afternoon.

  "No," I said. "More widely."

  "Oh!" she said, softly, trembling.

  "Yes," I said. "Like that."

  "Thusly," she asked, "and before men!"

  "Yes," I said, "or even more widely, depending on the master."

  "Ai!" she whispered.

  "Yes," I said.

  One of her knees was now off the stair.

  "How it must make you feel!" she breathed, delightedly.

  "Yes," I said.

  "How vulnerable you are!" she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "It is very exciting," she said.

  "It helps us to keep in mind that we are slaves, and the sort of slaves we are," I said.

  "It is exciting," she said.

  "'Exciting'?" I asked.

  "Surely the intent of this exceeds mere mnemonics and instruction," she said, "such things as a mere desire to demonstrate to the slave her vulnerability."

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "Surely at least a portion of its intent is to arouse the slave, to make her feel receptive, and helpless, kneeling thusly before a male."

  "I do not doubt," I said, "that something of that sort has entered into the thinking of the beasts, those who force us to assume such a position before them."

  "Ah!" she said.

  "It has its effect, too, upon the male," I assured her.

  "I am so pleased to hear it!" she said.

  She looked down at her knees. Her hands were braceleted behind her. Her leash went to my hand.

  "Janice," she said.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "Do you like to kneel thusly before men?"

  "Please!" I said.

  "Please, tell me," she said.

  "Must I speak?" I asked.

  "I cannot order you to do so, not now," she said. "I am now naught but as a slave in your charge. That is the understanding, and the condition. But please, Janice! Please speak!"

  "Yes," I said. "I do enjoy so kneeling before men. I find it sexually arousing. Too, I find it is right for me. I find that it is fitting and proper for me."

  "It must make you feel very female," she said.

  "Yes, it does," I said. "But it is all right for a woman to feel very female. There is nothing wrong with that."

  "I am a female," she said. "I want to feel very female."

  "But you are a free woman," I reminded her. She looked at me, agonized.

  "There are two sexes," I said. "One is dominant, and one is not. Each should be true to itself. On this world, this basic truth has been recognized, and, in a portion of the social sphere, institutionalized."

  "I want to be true to my sex," she whispered, "really true to it, fully true to it."

  "Beware," I said. "You are a free woman."

  She was silent.

  "Freedom is precious," I said.

  "I have had freedom," she said. "I know what it is like. Now I want love."

  "I am a slave," I said. "And I have not found love." A poignant memory gripped me, but I turned away from it.

  "What is wrong?" she asked.

  "Nothing," I said. I need not speak the truth to her as she was to me now naught but as slave.

  "I think you are a true slave, Janice," she said, softly.

  "Yes," I said. "I am a true slave. I was a true slave even before I was brought here and collared."

  "You love being a slave!" she said.

  "It can be terrifying to be a slave!" I said.

  "You love being a slave!" she said.

  "Yes," I said. "I love being a slave!"

  She looked down at her knees, so widely spread. She was "slave clad." One lovely thigh, her left, as she knelt, emerged from the brown rag which had been knotted about her waist. She wore a halter. We had improvised it from a twisted, matching piece of brown rag. In its simplicity and raggedness, it was surely believable as, and suitable for, a slave halter. It was I who had decided that she should be clothed in brief tatters. Too, it was I who had decided that her midriff would be bare, and considerably so. In these arrangements was expressed, doubtless, something of my view as to her condition, which was free. That is what I think of your condition, and what you really are, you free females! Take away your veils and robes, and we shall see what you are! There, see, you are no more than we, only more slaves! Yes, perhaps I had chanced to yield, to some extent, to the temptation to take a little vengeance on her, and, through her, on all free females. Too, how often does a slave get to dress a free woman, as the slave might choose to dress her? And how often will she have the opportunity to conduct one about, "slave clad," back-braceleted, and on a leash? What a turnabout is there! The pit master, when I had displayed her to him, had seemed startled. Certainly he had uttered a skeptical sound. Perhaps he had not realized before that the free woman was actually an attractive and desirable female, at least for a free woman, one who had not yet learned slave softness, slave helplessness. But he had let us leave the depths. She had not seemed to mind all this at all, but to find the whole matter delightful. Perhaps she would not have found it all so delightful if she had realized how she might now appear to men. Might she not then have been terrified? What free woman would dare to appear, as it is said, "slave desirable"?

  Some days ago she had been removed from the slave cage over the pool and given a cell not far from our quarters. It was a comfortable cell, some eight feet in width and height, some ten feet in depth. Though there were rings within it, she was not chained to them. She had a pallet filled with straw, a dish for food, a vessel for water, and a wastes bucket. The luxury of the straw-filled pallet was doubtless an acknowledgment of her status as a free woman. One morning I had been ordered to fold my blanket early and emerge from my kennel. I had followed the pit master to the free woman's cell. I had been uneasy doing so, as I was afraid of her. Female slaves learn early on this world to fear free women who, for some reason, seem to bear them great malice and hatred. But it was a far different free woman I encountered in the cell than she I had recalled from the cage. She knelt at our first approach.

  "I have heard nothing of your ransom, Lady," said the pit master to her.

  She nodded.

  I knelt behind the pit master, to his left. That is the common heeling position. I wore a typical slave tunic, brief and revealing.

  "I congratulate you on the improvement in your behavior," he said.

  "Thank you, Sir," she said.

  "You understand," he said, "that we may, if we wish, put you back over the pool, and I assure you that that is not the worst sort of accommodation in the pits."

  "Yes, Sir," she said. She bowed her head.

  "Your behavior is particularly to be commended," he said, "as you are not bond."

  She lifted her head, it seemed, as though puzzled.

  "When one is bond," he said, "one has absolutely no choice—instant and unquestioning perfection of service is required."

  "Sir?" she said.

  "Janice!" he snapped.

  "Master!" I cried, startled.

  "Obeisance!" he said.

  Instantly I knelt forward, the palms of my hands on the floor, my head to the floor.

  "Lick and kiss," he said.

  I scrambled forward and, head down, kissed and licked, swiftly, frightened, at his feet and sandals.

  "Enough!" he said. "Back!"

  I drew back, hastily. But he was no longer paying me attention.

  "You see?" he asked the free woman.

  "Yes, Si
r," she said, trembling.

  "You seem to have learned something of what it is to be in the keeping of men," he said.

  "Yes, Sir," she said.

  "Keep in mind," he said, "in the future, that you are still in their keeping, utterly."

  "Sir?" she said.

  "Though henceforth," said he, "more indirectly."

  "I do not understand," she said.

  "I am a free man," he said. "I have no intention continuing indefinitely to attend to you personally. It is not as though you were my slave, a girl whose hair I might comb, or in whose feeding and watering I might take some pleasure. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Sir," she said.

  "Unfortunately," he said, "we do not have free women to attend to such matters in the depths."

  "I understand," she said.

  "This, Janice," said he, "is the Lady Constanzia, of the city of Besnit."

  "Master," I whimpered, in misery.

  "Lady Constanzia," said he, "the bond-maid, Janice."

  "Janice," she said.

  "Mistress," I said.

  "You need not call her 'Mistress,'" said the depth warden. He then turned to the free woman. "Your care, for the most part, will be in her hands," he said. "Moreover, you will give her no trouble. And you will obey her."

  "Yes, Sir," she said.

  I marveled.

  "Incidentally," said he, females—"

  I was startled that he used the same expression to refer to us both. I supposed, of course, that we were both females, but, in a sense, within that genus, of two quite disparate species, one free, one slave. But, in another sense, of course, both of us were the same, both females, and were thus addressed, as only females, relative to his maleness.

  "—you are to exchange little or no political or military information."

  "I know little of such things," said the free woman.

  And I knew myself, of course, almost totally ignorant of such matters, certainly on this world. Further, a limitation on our discourse had now been imposed, a limitation which would doubtless be respected. This was not a world on which such as we, she a prisoner, I a slave, would be likely to transgress such an injunction. Who would want to be thrown, for example, to those terrible creatures in the pool?

  The pit master then turned about, and began to withdraw down the corridor. I had leapt up, and hurried to follow him. That was the first day on which I had begun the care of the free woman. That very night I took her her food and water. "Go to the back of the cell," I told her. She complied. She had not knelt, of course. I was not a man. Still, I was her keeper. I think she had not really known how she should behave with me. Nor, as a matter of fact, on the whole, did I. The pit master, however, had told me to have her kneel, and help her keep in mind that she was a prisoner. I had the key to the cell on a string. I put down the food and water, opened the cell, put the key back about my neck, and brought in the food.