Captive of Gor coc-7

by John Norman

  I gasped.

  Incised deeply, precisely, in that slim, lovely, now bared thigh was a startling mark, beautiful, insolent, dramatically marking that beautiful thigh as that which it now could only be, that of a female slave.

  "It is beautiful," I whispered.

  Ena pulled away the clasp at the left shoulder of her garment, dropping it to her ankles.

  She was incredibly beautiful.

  "Can you read?" she asked.

  "No," I said.

  She regarded the brand. "It is the first letter, in cursive script," she said, "of the name of the city of Treve."

  "It is a beautiful mark," I said.

  "It enhances my beauty," she said.

  "Yes," I said. "Yes!" I found myself hoping, though I did not admit the thought to myself, that my brand might be as attractive on my body.

  Ena once again, gracefully, drew on her garment. "I like it," she said. She looked at me, and laughed. "So do men!" she laughed.

  I smiled.

  Then suddenly I was furious. What right had such brutes to brand us? To collar us? The Gorean right of the stronger, I told myself, to mark and claim the weaker as his own, should he choose to do so. I felt weak, and helpless. And then I was angry again, helplessly furious.

  I, the prisoner of Rask of Treve, in his war camp, struggled to control myself. I wanted to know more of the men who had captured me, whose saddle I had helplessly graced, whose locked collar I would tomorrow wear.

  "It is said that Rask of Treve," I said, "has a great appetite for women, and contempt, for them."

  "He is fond of us," smiled Ena, "that is true."

  "But he has contempt for us!" I cried, my fury, my helpless rage, my frustration, uncontrollably bursting forth.

  "Rask of Treve is a man, and a warrior," she said. "It is common for them to view us as mere women, and see us in terms of their sport and pleasure." "That is contempt!" I cried.

  Ena, kneeling, rocked back on her heels and laughed merrily. "Perhaps," she laughed.

  "I will not accept that!" I cried.

  "Pretty little Kajira," laughed Ena.

  I felt furious, and frustrated. I did not wish to be a mere sexual object! But I felt at my throat. It was bare now. Tomorrow it would wear a collar. What could a girl be, who wore a collar, but such an object!

  "I hate men!" I cried.

  Ena looked at me. "I wonder," she said, "if Rask of Treve will find you pleasing?"

  She removed the two pins which secured the garment I wore, stripping me. "Perhaps," she said.

  "I do not want to please him!" I cried.

  "He will make you want to please him," she said. "You will try, desperately, to please him. Whether or not you will be successful I do not know. Rask of Treve is a great warrior. He has had many women, and has many women. He is a connoisseur of us. He is, accordingly, difficult to please. You will perhaps not please him." "If I wanted to, I could," I cried.

  "Perhaps," said Ena.

  "But I shall resist him! I shall fight him!" I cried. "He will never tame me! He will never conquer me!"

  Ena looked at me.

  "I do not have the weaknesses of other women," I told her. I remembered the weakness of Verna, and of her girls, and of Inge, and Rena, and Ute! They were weak. I was not!

  "What a defiant girl you are," she said.

  I looked at her.

  "But we must rest now," she said, getting up and extinguishing the brass lamp in the tent.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Because tomorrow you will be collared," she said.

  I knelt, naked, on a large fur.

  "Am I not to be chained tonight?" I asked.

  "No," said Ena. Then her voice reached me in the darkness. "You will not escape."

  I lay down and pulled the fur about me. I clenched it in my fists and bit it with my teeth. Then I lay with my head against it, wetting it with my tears. I lifted my head. "You are a slave, Ena," I said. "Do you not hate men?" "No," said Ena.

  I heard her with irritation.

  "I find men very exciting," said Ena. "Often I wish to give myself to them." I heard her with horror. How shocking that she should speak so! Had she no pride? If such thoughts were entertained by her, surely she should have carefully concealed them, keeping them as her forbidden secret!

  I, at least, hated men!

  But tomorrow one of them would own mea€”fully. I would be his, by collar-right, by all the laws of Gor, to do with as he pleased.

  I had not been chained. I had expected to be chained, heavily, and in short chains, fastened to rings, but I had not been. But I was secured, well secured, locked within the tall smooth palisade. "You will not escape," had said Ena.

  Tomorrow I, Elinor Brinton, would be collared. For the first time on Gor I would wear the locked metal of a slave girl.

  * * *

  "You are lovely," said Ena.

  I knelt, naked, on the scarlet rug in the tent of the women. I had been washed, and my hair had been combed. The slave girl replaced the glass stopper in a small, ornate bottle of Torian scent. "I shall touch you again," she said, "twice, before you are led forth."

  Another girl, one of four near me, besides Ena, again knelt behind me and again began to pass the narrow, purple horn comb through my hair.

  "She is combed," said one of the other girls, laughing.

  "Aren't you excited," asked the girl combing my hair.

  I could not answer.

  "You know your part in the ceremony?" asked Ena, not for the first time. I nodded my head.

  It could not be I, Elinor Brinton, who knelt in this tent on this barbaric world!

  One of the girls ran to the tent flaps and looked out. I could see, outside, through the tied-back opening of the tent, men, and girls, passing back and forth. The day was sunny and warm. There were soft breezes.

  I was frightened.

  I could smell the scent of the perfume. It was superior to any I had ever worn on Earth, when I had been wealthy and could command the customized attentions of the finest continental perfumers, and yet her, on this barbaric planet, it was used without thought to adorn the body of Elinor Brinton, a mere slave girl. I had not been permitted cosmetics.

  I knelt.

  I waited. For better than a quarter of an Ahn I knelt, waiting. "Perhaps he will not collar her today," said one of the girls. Suddenly the girl at the tent flap whispered excitedly, gesturing back toward us, "Prepare her! Prepare her!"

  "Stand," said Ena.

  I did so.

  I gasped as they brought forth a long, exquisite garment, hooded, of shimmering scarlet silk.

  Behind me, swiftly, one of the girls wound my hair into a single braid and then, coiling it, fastened it at the back of my head with four pins. The pins would be undone by Rask of Treve.

  The garment was placed upon me. The hood fell at my back. The garment was sleeveless.

  "Place your hands behind your back and cross your wrists," said Ena. She had, in her hand, an eighteen-inch strip of purple binding fiber, about half an inch in width, flat, set with jewels.

  I felt my wrists lashed behind my back.

  Ena then gestured to the girl with the small, ornate bottle. The girl removed the stopper and, quickly, again, touched me with the scent, behind each ear, a tiny drop on her finger. I smelled the heady perfume. My heart was beating rapidly.

  Then Ena again approached me. This time she carried, coiled in her hand, some seven or eight feet of slender, coarse rope, simple camp rope. She knotted one end of this about my neck, tightly enough that I felt the knot. My wrists would be bound by jeweled binding fiber but I would be led forth on a simple camp rope.

  "You are very lovely," said Ena.

  "A lovely animal!" I cried, tethered.

  "Yes," said Ena, "a lovely, lovely animal."

  I looked at her with horror.

  But then I realized that Elinor Brinton was indeed an animal, for she was a slave.

  It was thus not inappropriate that s
he should find herself so, as she was, tethered, about her neck, knotted, a simple length of camp rope, slender and coarse, fir for leading verr or girls.

  I turned my head to one side.

  Ena drew the hood up from my back and over my head.

  "They are ready!" said the girl at the entrance to the tent.

  "Lead her forth," said Ena.

  I was led through the camp, and, here and there, some men and slave girls followed me.

  I came to a clearing, before the tent of Rask of Treve. He was waiting there. On my tether I was led before him. I looked at him, frightened.

  We stood facing one another, I about five feet from him.

  "Remove her tether," he said.

  Ena, who had accompanied me, unknotted the rope, and handed it to one of the girls.

  I wore the long, scarlet garment, hooded, sleeveless. My hands were bound behind my back with binding fiber.

  "Remove her bonds," said Rask of Treve.

  In his belt I saw that he had thrust an eighteen-inch strip of binding fiber. It was not jeweled. It was about three quarters of an inch in thickness; it was of flat, supple leather, plain and brown, of the sort commonly used by tarnsmen for binding female prisoners.

  Ena untied my wrists.

  Rask and I regarded one another.

  He approached me.

  With one hand he brushed back my hood, revealing my head and hair. I stood very straight.

  Carefully, one by one, he removed the four pins, handing them to one of the girls at the side.

  My hair fell about my shoulders, and he smoothed it over my back.

  One of the girls, she with the purple horn comb, combed the hair, arranging it. "She is pretty," said one of the girls in the crowd.

  Rask of Treve now stood some ten feet from me. He regarded me. "Remove her garment," he said.

  Ena and one of the girls from the tent parted the garment and let it fall about my ankles.

  Two or three of the girls in the crowd breathed their pleasure.

  Some of the warriors smote their shields with the blades of their spears. "Step before me naked," said Rask of Treve.

  I did so.

  We faced one another, not speaking, he with his blade, and in his leather. I with nothing, stripped at his command.

  "Submit," he said.

  I could not disobey him.

  I fell to my knees before him, resting back on my heels, extending my arms to him, wrists crossed, as though for binding, my head lowered, between my arms. I spoke in a clear voice. "I, Miss Elinor Brinton, of New York City, to the Warrior, Rask, of the High City of Treve, herewith submit myself as a slave girl. At his hands I accept my life and my name, declaring myself his to do with as he pleases."

  Suddenly I felt my wrists lashed swiftly, rudely, together. I drew back my wrists in fear. They were already bound! They were bound with incredible tightness. I had been bound by a tarnsman.

  I looked up at him in fear. I saw him take an object from a warrior at his side. It was an opened, steel slave collar.

  He held it before me.

  "Read the collar," said Rask of Treve.

  "I cannot," I whispered. "I cannot read."

  "She is illiterate," said Ena.

  "Ignorant barbarian!" I heard more than one girl laugh.

  I felt so ashamed. I regarded the engraving on the collar, tiny, in neat, cursive script. I could not read it.

  "Read it to her," said Rask of Treve to Ena.

  "It says," said Ena, "a€”I am the property of Rask of Treve."

  I said nothing. "Do you understand?" asked Ena.

  "Yes," I said. "Yes!"

  Now, with his two hands, he held the collar about my neck, but he did not yet close it. I was looking up at him. My throat was encircled by the collar, he holding it, but the collar was not yet shut. My eyes met his. His eyes were fierce, amused, mine were frightened. My eyes pleaded for mercy. I would receive none. The collar snapped shut. There was a shout of pleasure from the men and girls about. I heard hands striking the left shoulder in Gorean applause. Among the warriors, the flat of sword blades and the blades of spears rang on shields. I closed my eyes, shuddering.

  I opened my eyes. I could not hold up my head. I saw before me the dirt, and the sandals of Rask of Treve.

  Then I remembered that I must speak one more line. I lifted my head, tears in my eyes.

  "I am yours, Master," I said.

  He lifted me to my feet, one hand on each of my arms. My wrists were bound before my body. I wore his collar. He put his head to the left side of my face, and then to the right. He inhaled the perfume. Then he stood there, holding me. I looked up at him. Inadvertently my lips parted and I, standing on my toes, lifted my head, that I might delicately touch with my lips those of my master. But he did not bend to meet my lips. His arms held me from him.

  "Put her in a work tunic," he said, "and send her to the shed."

  15 My Master Will Have His Girl Please Him

  "Ute!" I cried.

  The guard, by the hair, threw me to her feet. I looked up at her with horror. The left side of her forehead was still discolored where I had struck her with a rock.

  "I thoughta€”" I whispered.

  She stood before the long, low shed, which I had seen before, when I had examined the camp. It was windowless, and formed of heavy logs. It had a heavy plank door, which was now open. When I had seen it before, it had been locked by two hasps and staples, secured by two heavy padlocks. A lovely girl, in brief work tunic, emerged, and went about the camp. I had supposed it a storage shed. I now realized it was a dormitory for female work slaves. And I realized, to my horror, that I would be such a slave.

  "You wear a collar," said Ute.

  "Yes," I whispered, knelling before her, my head down. I had seen that she, too, wore a collar. More importantly, about her forehead, tying back her dark hair, was a strip of rep cloth, brown, of the same material as the work tunic. I knew this meant that she had authority among the girls. Ena was high girl in the camp, but I suspected that Ute might be first among the work slaves. I began to shake.

  "She is frightened," said the guard. "Does she know you?"

  "She is known to me," said Ute.

  I put my head down to the dirt before me. My wrists were still bound, fastened by the leather knots of the tarnsman, Rask of Treve. I was still unclothed. I wore only my bonds and, locked about my throat, a collar of steel.

  "You may leave us," said Ute to the guard. "You have delivered the slave. She is now in my charge."

  The guard turned and left.

  I dared not look up. I was terrified.

  "On the first day of my capture, at the first camp of my captors," said Ute.:I fell to Rask of Treve." She paused. "Suddenly, from the darkness, he stood before them. "Yield to me the female slave," he said. They would choose to fight. "I am Rask of Treve, he said. They then did not choose to draw their blades. With their own tarn goads, Rask of Treve drove their tarns from their camp. He then lifted me, bound, in his arms, and backed from the camp. "I thank you for the female slave, he said. And one of them said to him, "And we thank you, Rask of Treve, for our lives. Their journey back to the camp of Haakon of Skjern, afoot, will be long. Rask of Treve then brought me to his camp, where he made me his slave."

  I looked up at Ute. "You wear the Kajira talmit," I said.

  "The first girl of the work slaves," said Ute, "had been sold shortly before my capture. There had been dissensions, factions, among the girls, each wanting one of their own party to be first girl. I was new. I had no allegiances. Rask of Treve, by his will, and because, for some reason, he trusted me, set me above them all."

  "Am I to be a work slave?" I asked.

  "Did you expect to be sent to the tent of the women? asked Ute.

  "Yes," I said. I had indeed expected to live in the tent of the women, not in a dark shed, among work girls.

  Ute laughed. "You are a work slave."

  I put my head down.

 
"You were captured, I understand," said Ute, "southwest of the village of Rorus."

  I did not speak.

  "Accordingly," said Ute, "you were still seeking my village of Rarir." "No!" I cried.

  "From whence," said Ute, "you would have sought the island of Teletus." "No, no!" I cried.

  "And on that island," she said, "you would have presented yourself to my foster parents, as my friend."

  I shook my head in terror.

  "Perhaps they might even have adopted you, in my place, as their daughter," suggested Ute.

  "Oh no, Ute!" I cried. "No! No!"

  "Your life would then have been quite easy, and pleasant," said Ute. I put my head down, in terror, to her feet.

  By the hair, Ute, bending over me, yanked my head painfully up. "Who betrayed Ute?" she demanded.

  I shook my head.

  Ute's fists were excruciating in my hair.

  "Who? she demanded.

  I could not speak, so terrified I was.

  She shook my head viciously.

  "Who?" she demanded.

  "I did," I cried. "I did!"

  "Speak as a slave! demanded Ute.

  "El-in-or betrayed Ute!" I cried. "El-in-or betrayed Ute!"

  "Worthless slave," I heard a voice behind me say.

  I turned, as well as I could, and saw, to my dismay, Rask of Treve. I closed my eyes, sobbing.

  "It is as you said," said Rask of Treve, to Ute, "she is worthless." Ute removed her hands from my hair, and I put my head down.

  "She is a liar, and a thief, and a traitress," said Rask of Treve. "She is utterly worthless."

  "Yet," said Ute, "in a camp such as this, we may find uses for such a girl, there are many menial tasks to which she might be well applied."

  "See that she is worked well," said Rask of Treve.

  "I shall," said Ute, "Master."

  Rask of Treve strode from where I knelt, leaving me with Ute.

  I looked up at her, tears in my eyes. I shook my head. "You told him? I whispered. "He commanded me to speak," said Ute, "and I, as a slave, must need obey."

  I shook my head.

  "Your master knows you well, Slave," said Ute, smiling.

  I put down my head, sobbing. "No, no."

  "Guard!" called Ute.

  A guard approached.