Witness of Gor

by John Norman

  "Yet," I said, "perhaps now you have a sense of what might be involved."

  "Yes," she whispered, in awe. "Thank you, Janice."

  "Do you not now regret your request?" I asked.

  "No," she said.

  "Are you not now outraged and humiliated?" I asked.

  "No," she said.

  I had then left the cell, locking the door behind me. I looked back, once, at her. She still lay on the floor, in the tiny sliplike garment she had worn. She had lovely legs. She seemed in awe.

  The next night she had wanted to know something of the intimate exercises of female slaves. I did not even know how she, a free woman, had heard of them. I described them to her.

  "How helpless you are!" she breathed.

  "Yes," I said. "We are helpless."

  I had then again left the cell, locking the door behind me. When I looked back at her, she knelt. "I would put on again the veil and the robes of concealment," I said.

  "Janice?" she said.

  "The guard will be making his rounds," I said. "I do not think it would do to let him see you as you are."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "It is better, I think," I said, "that he not realize how beautiful you are."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "He might take you for a slave," I said.

  "I see," she smiled.

  "Do you not find that thought frightful," I asked.

  "No," she said.

  "Oh," I said.

  "What if he did?" she asked.

  "You do not know what it is to be the object of such inordinate, uncontrollable, raging desire," I said. "You do not realize what it is to be the object of such lust and passion, such as may be stimulated only by a woman in bondage."

  She looked at me, startled.

  "Men kill for us," I said.

  "I see," she whispered, frightened.

  "Wars have been fought for us," I said.

  "I see," she said.

  "To be sure," I said, "some men may prefer gold, but even gold is usually valued for its uses, one of which is to buy such as we."

  "I understand," she whispered.

  "Doubtless the bars would hold," I said.

  "You could always stay back from them, so that he could not reach you. I do not think the pit master would permit him the key."

  "But what if he could open the cell?"

  "And took you for a slave?"

  "Yes."

  "Inquire not into such a dreadful possibility," I said.

  "Janice!" she protested.

  "You would doubtless be treated as what he had taken you to be, a slave," I said.

  "What would he do?"

  "I do not know," I said. "He might cuff you and throw you to the straw, where you might quickly learn what it is for a man to take his pleasure in you. And that would be but the beginning."

  "I would have to serve him?"

  "Utterly, lengthily," I said, "and as his least whim might dictate."

  "But you are not behind bars," she said, "and you are not, surely, frequently and indiscriminately seized."

  "There is a roster for my usage," I said. To be sure, in my view my usage was too closely restricted. It seemed there were two reasons for this, one, to make of me something of a prize for guards, a delight which they were accorded less frequently than they might wish, thus serving as an instrument in their control, and, two, to serve as an instrument in my own control. Needless to say, I did not approve of this second reason. There was little doubt, however, as to its effectiveness. There are many ways to control a girl. Among them, of course, is that, the control of her gratifications.

  "In my city, Besnit," she said, "slave girls are numerous. One sees many of them. One thinks little of it. In most parts of the city they go about in relative safety."

  "Doubtless many men in your city own their own," I said, "or have access to them, perhaps in taverns or brothels."

  "Yes," she said. "But would it not be so, too, here, in the city above?"

  "Yes," I said. I smiled. "There is no dearth of slave girls in this city." That was surely true. I had been startled by their number and beauty. This seemed to me an extremely rich city. It was only to be expected then, I supposed, particularly given the nature of the men on this world, that many of its riches would wear collars. I had been permitted, of course, from time to time, like the others, out of the pits. The city above was quite beautiful. It was like a lovely, lofty jewel set in the mountains.

  "It would then be possible to be out of the cell, as a slave, and be in relative safety?"

  "I suppose so," I said.

  "As safe as a slave can ever be," she said.

  "I suppose so," I said, "assuming she is suitably collared, and owned, and such."

  "Are you ever permitted to go above?" she asked.

  "Sometimes," I said.

  "To the city?" she asked.

  "Sometimes," I said.

  "May I rise to my feet?" she begged.

  I regarded her through the bars.

  "Yes," I said.

  She rose to her feet and hurried to the bars. She grasped them. "You have been so kind to me, Janice," she said. "You let me bathe, you let me clean my clothing, you have showed me how to exercise!"

  "As a slave," I said.

  "Yes!" she said.

  "It is the pit master, the depth warden, really, ultimately," I said, "who permits such things."

  She then knelt behind the bars, looking up at me.

  I had not ordered her to kneel.

  I looked down, into her eyes.

  She was before me, she, a free woman, on her knees, before me, before a slave!

  I did not understand this.

  But it is not unpleasant for a slave to have a free woman before one, so.

  There were tears in her eyes.

  "Janice," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "I beg!" she said. "I beg!"

  I supposed she might want a hard candy, or a bit of pastry. I thought the pit master might permit that.

  Her behavior had been much improved of late.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "I long to see the sun, Janice," she said. "I want to see the sun!"

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "I want to go to the surface," she said. "Take me to the surface! I want to see the sun! I want to see the sun!"

  "How can that be?" I asked. "This is not a trading city, some sort of multifaceted commercial metropolis. This is a city of thieves, of raiders and warriors. One does not have free women from foreign cities wandering about above."

  "I have thought carefully about the matter!" she said. "I must needs be disguised!"

  "As what?" I asked.

  "As a female slave, of course!" she said. "I would then attract little attention. There must be many of them above."

  "There are," I granted her.

  "Please, Janice!" she said.

  "There is no escape for you," I said.

  "I know," she said.

  "And there would be even less chance of escape," I said, "if you were clad as a slave."

  "I know," she said.

  "And your body would be muchly bared," I said, "and men could look upon you, even casually."

  "Yes," she said.

  "You find that acceptable?"

  "Yes!"

  "I do not think you understand," I said, "what it is to be looked upon by men, as a slave."

  "Please!"

  "You would not be permitted your veil," I said. "Your features would be bared, publicly."

  "But no one would know me," she said. "Do you not see? They would not understand that they were looking upon a free woman, especially one such as the Lady Constanzia of Besnit! Some wear masks that their features not be recognized. But I, contrariwise, conceal my identity by going unveiled!"

  "The depth warden would not hear of it," I said.

  "Ask him for me, beg it of him, I beg of you. Please, Janice!"

  "If the pit master should prove acco
mmodating," I said, "are you prepared, actually, to go through with this?"

  "Yes," she said. "Yes!"

  "But we have no slave garment for you," I said.

  "Surely something might be devised!" she said. "Anything will do!"

  "Even a rag?" I asked.

  "Yes!" she said.

  That thought amused me—to put a free woman in a rag!

  "You would have to wear a collar," I said.

  "A collar!" she cried, softly. She put her hand to her throat, frightened.

  "Yes," I said.

  She stiffened.

  "Never," she said. "Impossible!"

  Clearly she understood the symbolism, the significance, of such a thing.

  She was, after all, a free woman.

  I, too, as a slave, understood the symbolism, the significance, of this. How momentously it marked the difference between us, between the slave and free!

  "It would have to be," I said.

  She seemed then to shake with ambivalence. Within her two women warred, I thought, one who wanted her to be as she was expected to be, the other who wanted her to be as she wanted to be.

  "In this city an uncollared girl," I said, "would immediately attract attention, and suspicion." And I supposed that would hold for other towns and cities on this world, as well. Indeed, how could one be "slave clad" without a collar? Men expect to find collars on slaves.

  "I would not dare take you to the surface without having a collar on you," I said.

  "I do not know if I have that much courage—to go that far," she said.

  I shrugged.

  "Is that really necessary," she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "What sort of collar?" she said.

  "A slave collar," I said, "the collar of a slave."

  "Might there not be something else?" she asked. "Something which might resemble such a collar?"

  "No," I said. "It would have to be a slave collar, an authentic slave collar."

  She turned pale.

  That is the end of that, I thought.

  Then it seemed she came to some sort of resolution. And it seemed her entire body suddenly shuddered with delight, thrilled. A bridge, it seemed, had been crossed.

  "Of course," she said. "Of course, I would have to be collared. Of course! Have me collared! And it must be the collar of a slave. Of course! Yes! Put me in a slave collar!"

  "It would have to be an authentic slave collar," I said, "an actual slave collar."

  "Of course," she said.

  "And it would be on you, truly on you," I said.

  "Of course," she said.

  "You would be in it," I said.

  "Of course," she said.

  "It would have to be locked," I said, "and you would be unable to remove it."

  I would take no chances with her, if it was not locked on her, if she were not well fastened within it.

  It would perfect my custody of her.

  If she were to escape my charge for even an Ahn I would be held responsible.

  Too, it would be dreadfully dangerous if someone should, either routinely or on provocation, perhaps a guardsman, discover that it was not locked.

  "Let it be locked!" she said. "Let me be helpless in it!"

  "You want it to be locked?" I said.

  "Yes," she said. "I want to be helpless in it!"

  "You would be," I said.

  "Yes," she said. "Yes!"

  "There is one compensation for the degradation," I said, "though it is nothing in which you would be interested."

  "What is that?" she asked.

  "The slave collar is very pretty on a woman," I said. "The beasts who design them doubtless have that in mind. It much enhances the beauty, the attractiveness, and interest, of a woman."

  "That is, of course, of no interest to me," she said.

  "Certainly not," I said.

  "But do you think I would be pretty in such a collar?"

  "Strikingly so," I said. "You would be stunning in one."

  "Oh?" she said.

  "Yes," I said. "But, too, you must recognize its effect on men, for it says to them that you are such as belong to them, that you are lovely and helpless, that you are kajira, that you exist for their service and pleasure."

  "Perhaps it has, too, its effect on the woman," she speculated.

  "Yes, it does," I said, "clearly." But I thought it unnecessary, and perhaps improper, to elaborate on this, as she was a free woman.

  "Such things are, of course, of no interest to me," she said.

  "Of course not," I said. As she was a free woman, she could lie with impunity. I myself, if caught in a lie, could be switched mercilessly.

  "Please, dear Janice," she said, earnestly. "Please convey my petition to the pit master!"

  I regarded her. I did not really wish to risk the wrath of the pit master.

  "I want to see the sun!" she wept.

  Could there be more to it than that?

  "I am not sure of this," I said.

  "Please, Janice!" she wept.

  "I will ask him," I said.

  That night I had knelt before the pit master. "Master," I had asked, "may I speak?"

  "Yes," he had said.

  I conveyed to him the petition of the Lady Constanzia. I feared I might be cuffed.

  "She wants to see the sun," I said.

  "Undoubtedly," he said, "but she also wishes to have her body bared and to have it looked upon, it adorned in the rags of a slave."

  "Master!" I cried, scandalized.

  "Is it not what all women want?" he asked.

  "I do not know, Master," I said.

  "Is it not what you want?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said, boldly. Then I added, in a whisper, "But I am a slave."

  "And so, too, are all women," he said.

  I put my head down, trembling. I did not know if what he had said were true or not. Certainly some of the women who had been in my training group had denied it vehemently, particularly in the first day or two. But sometimes, at night, I heard them crying out with gratitude to masters in their sleep. Too, they had soon trained excellently. A little later I had often heard them conversing among themselves eagerly, looking forward to their sales, discussing what they hoped for in the way of masters.

  "Master," I had asked, "may I again speak?"

  "Yes," he had said.

  "I do not know the reason for which I was brought here."

  "You have not yet been informed," he said.

  "Was I brought here to take care of the free woman, Lady Constanzia?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  "For what, then?" I asked.

  "You will learn, in time," he said.

  "Master!" I begged.

  "Curiosity," he said, "is not becoming in a kajira."

  "Yes, Master," I whispered. "Forgive me, Master!"

  Two days later, for the first time, I had knotted the rag about the hips of the Lady Constanzia and, as she had straightened her body, had cinched the halter on her.

  "Oh!" she had said.

  She was kneeling.

  "Must it be so tight?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "To better display you," I said.

  "I see," she said.

  "Certainly you do not object?"

  "No."

  "When you walk, or move, try to do so with some care," I said.

  "I will," she said.

  The rag about her hips had, in its authenticity, no nether closure.

  The female slave is commonly denied even a minimum of shielding for her delicious intimacies. She is to be vulnerable, and instantly available, with a minimum of inconvenience, to the attentions of the master.

  "I am frightened," she said.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "I fear I do not even know how to walk," she said.

  "Of course you know how to walk," I said.

  "—as a slave," she said.

  "It is just a matter
of walking freely, and well, beautifully, attractively gracefully, with ease and loveliness, showing your joy in your bondage and womanhood, with vulnerable femininity."

  "I am afraid," she said.

  "You will have no difficulty," I said.

  "It is so different," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "In the robes of concealment, we must walk sedately, with carefully measured tread, with dignity."

  How else could one walk in such impediments, I wondered, so ornate and heavy, so confining and cumbersome? One is, of course, free.

  How different were such garments from the usual scanty lightness of the slave's garmenture, usually a brief, revealing garmenture permitting her the luxurious freedom of her limbs, a garmenture in which she finds herself permitted a joyous and uninhibited freedom of movement. To be sure, she is in her collar.

  "Do you think, truly," she asked, apprehensively, "that we can be successful in this?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Do you think that anyone might take me, truly, for a slave?" she asked.

  "Without the least difficulty," I said.

  "I see," she said.

  "Your movements, of course," I said, "as you have not been trained, and have not felt the whip, and such, will not have the grace and beauty of a more experienced girl, one who has been fully taught her collar." I recalled that my own posture, slovenly from Earth, had been corrected in the pens with the stroke of a switch. Men like their slaves to be beautiful before them. "But," I said, "I do not think that will matter. We will pass you off as a new slave. That will be all right. You will be seen, however, as fetchingly exciting, and doubtless men will see you in terms more of your potential, than your present, will see you in terms of what they can do with you and make of you."

  "What they can do with me, and make of me?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "I see," she said.

  I had then showed her the collar which had been kindly provided by the pit master. "The name on it, I am told," I said, "is 'Tuta'."

  "You cannot read?" she asked.

  "No," I said.

  She took the collar and looked at it. "Yes," she said. "It says 'Tuta'."

  "I am sorry it is such a name," I said. "I had hoped for something more aristocratic, more prestigious."

  "It is fine," she said.

  "I am told," I said, "that it is a common slave name."

  "Yes," she said. "I have heard it many times. It is commonly worn by low girls."

  "I am sorry," I said.

  "Rather sensual sluts," she said.

  "I am sorry," I said.