John Norman

by Time Slave

  Then his lean body, band over hand, disappeared up the knotted rawhide rope, which he drew up after him.

  Brenda Hamilton extended her hand after him. “Come back to me, Master,” she cried. “Come back to me, soon!”

  In the cave Brenda Hamilton threw herself on the hides and cried out for joy. “I love him!” she cried. “I love him!” And then she moaned, “Come back to me, soon, Master!”

  Not only had the incompleted sensation in her body, which the hunter had long ago induced in her, been completed, but it had led to a thousand other rhapsodies of pleasure, dimensions of feeling, of emotion, of tissue sentience, of body awareness, of which before in her life she had never suspected the existence. Her body, for the first time, seemed rich and glorious, and saturated with excitement and feeling. She wanted to kiss his hands and lips and manhood for what they had done to her. For the first time in her life she felt the fantastic sentience of an owned, loving female. And, too, she had begun to suspect, in his touchings and lovings, that even beyond these dimensions of joy, like thousands of doors and horizons, there might lie others, and more. She wanted to train herself, and to grow, from day to day, from year to year, eagerly exploring and learning, in sentience and feeling. She knew women could improve themselves in such matters, as in any others. She must give attention to them. She must train herself to become more responsive, perhaps more swiftly reflexive, to feel more rapidly and more deeply. She had just begun to sense the possible depths of her feelings, the possible heights of her ecstasies. She had just begun, under the hands of a primeval hunter, to learn the possibilities, the capacities, of her femaleness.

  “I love you, Master!” she cried.

  That night, bringing a piece of hot meat in his teeth, Tree returned to the lovely slave.

  He did not tie her hands.

  He offered her the meat. She threw it aside and fell to her knees before him, thrusting her head beneath his skins, kissing his manhood.

  Tree took her in his arms and, laughing, threw her back to the hides on the floor of the cave.

  Four days more was the lovely Brenda Hamilton kept a helpless love slave in the primeval cave.

  In this time the hunter spent much time with her, day and night, only leaving her to fetch food and water. When he returned she would welcome him, helplessly, deliciously, and melt into his arms.

  “Tree keeps his little bird long on her perch,” said Spear to Old Woman.

  “He is training her well,” said Old Woman.

  Spear had laughed, and turned away.

  Old Woman smiled to herself. She remembered that, years ago, though it was still fresh in her memory, when she had been a young and beautiful woman, Drawer had similarly trained her, and superbly.

  Above, in her high, prison cave, Brenda Hamilton lay in the arms of her hunter. “I love you, Master,” she whispered to him. “I love you.”

  Had she known of the conversation of Spear and Old Woman, and could she have spoken the language of the Men, she would have stood brazenly before Tree, laughing, her hands behind her head, her body thrust toward him. “Yes, Master,” she would have laughed. “You have trained me well. I am now a well-trained slave.”

  And Tree would have seized her by the ankle and again pulled her to the hides, laughing, and she, in his arms, looking up at him, a lovely, eager slave, would, lifting her lips and body again to his, have again addressed herself to her duties, those of his pleasure.

  “Thank you, oh thank you, Master!” cried Brenda Hamilton. She reached out and took the rectangle of soft deerskin, about a foot wide, and some two feet long, beveled inward on each end. Both edges, and the beveled sides, were turned and sewn, and through the top edge, through perforations, was drawn, as though stitched through, a slender rawhide strap, serving as a belt. Delightedly she wrapped this simple skirt about her, and tied the ends of the strap belt, as she had seen the women do, over her left hip. Because of the inwardly beveled edges, her left leg was muchly revealed, and thrust provocatively from the skirt. Many of the younger women wore such garments. Flower, and Antelope, did. Cloud did not.

  Brenda Hamilton, delighted, proud, walked and posed, and turned, before her hunter, her master.

  He, she saw, was startled to see her thusly.

  Then she walked before him as one of the women, as she had seen the women walk, displaying themselves in their walk to men.

  She saw him grin widely.

  He gestured her to him, and she ran, barefoot, to him..

  He jerked on the knot at her left hip. It could not be immediately loosened.

  “Tie this properly,” he said to her in the language of the Men.

  “Yes, Master,” she said in English, shyly, well understanding him. Obediently she tied the knot in the fashion of the younger women. She lifted her lips to him, and kissed him. “You beast,” she whispered. Now, at a single tug, she could be stripped. “You make your slave feel very vulnerable, Master,” she whispered to him. She kissed him again, excited. Then she darted away, and turned to face him. She then, in her movements, well displayed her legs. They were marvelous. Tree regarded them as the best legs of any female in the camp, except perhaps those of Flower or Butter fly. “The slave thanks her master for her beautiful gown,” said Brenda Hamilton. She then, looking demurely down, her left index finger beneath her chin, holding with her right hand the deerskin from her right thigh, curtsied to him.

  Tree had never seen such a movement. It made him laugh.

  “Come here,” said he, in the language of the Men, gesturing to her.

  Brenda Hamilton quickly sped to her master. She knew that he, like any powerful male brute of these times, must be obeyed swiftly and well by his females. Too, unaccountably perhaps, she found herself eager to be promptly obedient to him.

  From his pouch he drew forth a long tangle of claws, shells and thongs.

  He untangled it and held it out, up before his face, smiling.

  It was an ornament, a necklace, of the sort that the females of the Men often wore about their neck.

  Brenda Hamilton put forth her hand, but she did not touch it. “It is beautiful, Master,” she whispered.

  “See,” said Tree, in the language of the Men, pointing to a small rectangle of leather, about an inch square, one of five, threaded into the thongs, with the claws and shells. Brenda Hamilton looked. On it she saw, drawn, scratched into the leather and pigmented in red, the sign of the Men. The same sign, identically, appeared on the other four rectangles. Tree turned her about and then, standing quite closely behind her, wrapped the necklace, in four loops, snugly, about her neck. He then tied it behind the back of her neck, tightly. She knew it identified her, by means of the rectangles, as a woman of the Men. She put back her head, to touch the hunter. She wondered if this sort of thing were the origin of the necklace, that it served in the beginning not simply as an ornament but as, in its way, an identifying slave collar. Tree turned her roughly about. Eagerly her lips met his, those of her master.

  She felt his hand reach to her hip.

  An hour later, in his arms, pushing back his hair at his neck, kissing him, Brenda Hamilton saw again the tiny, strange mark on his neck. She had seen this before. It intrigued her. It was a birthmark. It was like a tiny bluish stem, with branches reaching upward. It was from this mark that her hunter had had his name, “Tree.”

  She kissed the tiny mark.

  He smiled and pointed to the mark, and to himself. “I am Tree,” he said, in the language of the Men. “Tree.”

  She kissed him beneath the chin. “I am Brenda,” she said. She kissed him again. “Your slave’s name is Brenda, Master, unless you wish to give her another name. Then the other name would be hers, and not Brenda.”

  “Brenda?” he asked, picking the name from her words.

  She knelt beside him, and pointed to herself. “I am Brenda,” she said. “Brenda.”

  “Brenda,” he said. She smiled.

  The word “Brenda,” of course, in the language
of the Men, had no meaning. Tree, or Spear, or one of the other men, could eventually give her a name in the language of the Men. In the meantime the noise “Brenda” would do. It provided a means by which, when she was wished, the beautiful slave could be summoned.

  Tree rose to his feet. He indicated that the beauty should clothe herself.

  Hamilton wrapped the brief skirt about her and tied it over the left hip, tying it as she knew her master desired, that it might be loosened with a single pull.

  She stood across from him, some eight feet from him, on the floor of the high cave. She was barefoot. She wore a brief skirt of tanned deerskin. She was bare-breasted. Her hair was long, loose and dark. About her neck, twisted and looped, four times, was a necklace of claws, shells and thongs, and, threaded among them, part of the necklace itself, the small squares of leather, bearing on them, clearly, the sign of the Men. Brenda Hamilton stood proudly, a primeval female, one of the women, facing a primeval man, one of the Men, one of her masters.

  “Come, female,” said Tree, turning about and going to the ledge.

  He grasped the knotted rope.

  Brenda Hamilton came, too, to the ledge, and put her arms about his neck.

  In an instant she was swinging, clinging to him, over a drop of more than one hundred and seventy-five feet. But she was not afraid. Quickly, seeming hardly impeded by her weight, he climbed up the knotted rope. He drew the rope up after him, freed it from a small, stunted tree, and looped it over his shoulder. Then, scrambling and climbing, moving from ledge to ledge, he gained the height of the cliff. To Hamilton the view was breathtaking, the sight of the fields and forests, and two rivers, extending to the horizon. Then, rapidly, she followed him.. He was moving across the top of the cliff, one of a series of such, and, then, making his way downwards, in a roundabout fashion. In some places steps had been chipped from the stone. In other places a branch of a small tree provided a handhold. Taken with care the descent was not dangerous.

  Brenda Hamilton smelled meat cooking.

  The slave, hungry, no longer fearful, delightedly, followed her master.

  18

  Tree, kneeling beside the roasted carcass, cut with the edge of his stone knife through the hot meat, fat streaking and bubbling at the edge of the flint blade, severing a huge, steaming chunk.

  Antelope and Cloud knelt behind him. Then another woman thrust herself in front of. them, kneeling behind the hunter.

  Cloud, with a cry of anger, seized Brenda Hamilton by the hair and pulled her back. Like a tigress, screaming with fury, Hamilton turned on her, striking her with her fists across the face. Cloud stumbled back, startled, scrambling, and Hamilton followed her, striking her twice again, and kicking her. Then Cloud whimpered, and fell back, astonishment in her eyes, and tears, and fear. Hamilton took a step toward her and, crying out, Cloud, on her hands and knees, scrambled away. Then, seeing Hamilton did not pursue her, she crept away, shrinking back, driven from the side of the hunter.

  Hamilton felt the swift, hissing slash of a switch on her back, and turned, wildly, in fury, to see Antelope, her hand again raised. Hamilton’s back stung. But Antelope did not have time to strike again for Hamilton had leapt on her, and the two females rolled, screaming, scratching, biting, pulling hair, clawing, over and over, among the bodies, even to the edge of the fire. The men and women, and children, separated, to let the females fight. Then, panting, bleeding, hair awry, scratched, bitten the two females, now naked, rose to their feet and circled one another. Then with a scream of rage Hamilton leaped on Antelope, and had her hands, both hands, in the other’s hair. She jerked Antelope back and forth, and swung her about, while Antelope, screaming in pain, tried vainly to free Hamilton’s hands from her dark hair. And then Hamilton threw her by the hair to her feet on her back and seized up the switch, and began to lash at her, and Antelope rolled to her stomach, weeping, head twisted, Hamilton’s left hand still fastened in her hair, Antelope’s hands futilely on Hamilton’s wrist. Hamilton, with the switch, again and again, struck Antelope’s extended, exposed body, and then Antelope, weeping, struggled to her knees and put her head down, her hands over her head. Twenty more times Hamilton struck her and then, by the hair, she hurled her to her feet. Then Hamilton stood over Antelope, her hand no longer in her hair, but the switch raised.

  Antelope shook her head, tears in her eyes, and held her hands out before her, to shield her from any blows which might fall.

  “Please,” she cried in the language of the Men, “don’t hit me again.”

  Hamilton lowered the switch.

  Antelope, tears in her eyes, crept away.

  Suddenly Hamilton saw Short Leg, first woman of Spear, leader of the women, facing her.

  Short Leg put out her hand for the switch.

  Hamilton, frightened, sought the eyes of Tree.

  Hamilton put the switch into Short Leg’s hand and then Hamilton, naked and bleeding, knelt before Short Leg and, submissively, put her head to the ground, her hair in the dirt before Short Leg’s feet.

  Short Leg turned away, and threw the switch into the darkness, and returned to her place behind Spear.

  Suddenly the Men, looking upon Antelope, and Cloud and Hamilton, began to laugh, with the exception of Stone, who, too this time, once again, seemed amused. The women reddened and were much discomfited. It pleased the men to see the women fight. They looked so foolish. Hamilton and Antelope tied their brief skirts about their hips.

  Then Hamilton knelt down behind Tree, smoothing her hair.

  Runner said to Cloud. “Kneel behind me. I will feed you.”

  Cloud went and knelt behind Runner. Runner had long had his eye on Cloud. He relished her short, thick body, her sturdy ankles. He found her juicy. He wanted to feel her hair on his manhood.

  Antelope looked about from face to face. She seemed agonized.

  “Lift your body to me,” said Wolf, “and I will feed you.”

  Antelope lay before Wolf and lifted her body to him. He threw her a piece of meat.

  “Come to my cave later,” he said.

  “Yes, Wolf,” she said.

  Behind Tree Brenda Hamilton knelt. She opened her mouth and pointed her finger to it. He held meat to her in his mouth and she, biting into it and holding it, tore free her portion.

  The meat that the Men ate was always rare or almost rare. It was juicier that way, less crusted and burned. It was also, though they did not know this, more nutritious. Another thing that surprised Hamilton was the amount of fat eaten. The fat was very important, and she was hungry for it. She ate much of it. In her normal civilized diet fats had been available in dozens of sources, such as oils, milk, butter and cheese, but, among the Men these foods did not exist, and the essential need for fats must be, and was, satisfied by the fats of slain animals.

  Hamilton also noted the Men, and their women and children, splitting bones, and scraping and sucking out the marrow.

  Tree gave Hamilton a small piece of the animal’s liver. This, though she did not know it, was a rich source of vitamin A.

  Then Tree began to cut other meat from the carcass, and to gorge himself upon it.

  He paid the slave little more attention.

  “You beast,” she said, “I am still hungry.”

  After a time, smiling, Hamilton began to whimper, as she had heard the women doing sometimes.

  The hunter turned to regard her.

  She opened her mouth and pointed her finger to it.

  He turned away.

  “You beast,” said Hamilton. She really wanted more to eat. What did he want?

  Then she lay on her back, and whimpered. He turned and regarded her. She lifted her body to him. “There, you beast,” she laughed.

  She felt a piece of meat strike her body, and she took it and began, getting up and kneeling, to feed on it.

  He grinned at her, and she, chewing on the meat, smiled at him.

  “I am a prostitute,” she thought. “I, like the others, have lifted my body
for a piece of meat.” It was quite good.

  She saw his eyes. She knew he would make her pay him well later, for such meat, given to a female, was not without cost.

  She was not unhappy. She was, rather, much pleased. She knew she would be made to enjoy paying for it.

  Then the hunter turned about and, flint knife in hand, again fell on the meat.

  Hamilton looked about. She saw the men eating, and the women and children. The firelight cast wild shadows on the cliffs, containing the shelters, looming above them. The trees, behind her, the beginning of the forest, were dark. The men squatted, or sat cross-legged chewing, their bodies large, their hair long, powerful, intelligent men, like animals. Their females, their properties, knelt behind them, chewing on meat given to them by the men, the masters. Here and there there wandered a dirty, naked child, holding a bit of bone or gristle. Several of them clung about the large, fearsomely ugly fellow, with the extended canine, and he gave them bits of food. The girl, Butterfly, had distributed the meat to the children, with the exception of what she kept for herself, which seemed considerable. The older boy, to whom she had been cruel, crouched to one side, watching the hunters. He seemed hungry. The girl did not share the meat with him. It was hers, as oldest of the children, to divide and give out, except for the very young children, who were fed separately. Butterfly wore a garment like a simple, brief dress of deerskin, which covered her breasts. Hamilton noted that her legs were trim and shapely. Hamilton also noted that Spear watched her. She had little doubt that the girl Butterfly would, by the spring, be told to bare her breasts and beg with the other women. She would no longer be a child. She would be then only another woman of the Men. Doubtless, then, a necklace, too, would be found for her, one bearing the insignia of the Men.

  Hamilton studied the faces. She would learn later the names of Spear and Stone, and Wolf and Fox, and Arrow Maker, Runner, Knife, Tooth and Hyena. She already knew the name of Tree, though she knew only, of course, the sound in the language of the men, not what it meant. Too, she regarded Short Leg whom she feared, and Antelope and Cloud, and Nurse and Old Woman, and the others.