“Yes,” said Boots. “That was too bad.”
“I am on my way,” she announced.
“Good luck!” he called.
She then, in accordance with a common Gorean theatrical convention, trekked about the stage in a circle, while Boots withdrew to one side. In a moment, of course, she had come into the vicinity of the two aforementioned fellows, they entering from the other side of the stage. So simply was the scene changed. These two fellows, of course, were Boots’s Chino and Lecchio, now largely garbed in tatters of yellow and white, the colors of the merchants.
“Greetings, noble merchants,” said the girl.
“Hah!” snarled the Chino to his fellow, Lecchio. “Our disguises are perfect! She takes us for merchants!”
“Would you please step aside, good sirs,” she said. “I desire to pass.”
“It is warm today,” said Chino.
“True,” she said.
“But even so,” he said, “it seems you are somewhat lightly clad.”
“My clothes, I fear, blew away,” she said.
“That is what they all say,” said Chino.
“That is not really what they all say,” said Lecchio, scratching his head, through the hood. “Some say other things. One said her clothes were dissolved by magic in the bushes. That must have been frightening for her, to have had her clothes dissolved by magic in the bushes.”
“No,” protested the girl.
“Doubtless they were torn from your body in a recent hurricane,” said Chino.
“No!” she cried.
“Removed from your body by an ardent suitor, then, who neglected to replace them?” asked Chino.
“No!” she cried.
“Eaten in a moment by ravenous insects?”
“No!”
“You were attacked by cloth workers with scissors, who desired to replenish their stores?”
“No!”
“Magic?” asked Lecchio.
“No, no!” she cried. “It is as I told you. They just blew away!”
“Do not lie to us, Girl,” said Chino, sternly.
“Girl?” she asked.
“This morning,” said Chino, “you were simply sent forth stripped.”
“‘Sent forth’?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Chino, folding his arms.
“I think that you are under a grave misapprehension, sirs,” she said, righteously. “Simply because I might be somewhat lightly clad this evening, do not mistake me for a slave.”
“Do I understand you correctly?” asked Chino. “Have we the honor of being in the presence of a free woman?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You mean that no one owns you, that you are totally unclaimed?”
“Yes,” she said, proudly.
“Excellent!” said Chino.
“Wonderful!” said Lecchio.
“Sirs,” she asked, “why is it that you are drawing forth coils of stout ropes from beneath your robes?”
“Why to bind your pretty arms to your sides, and to put a good rope on your neck, my dear,” said Chino.
“I do not understand!” she said.
“She will make a juicy morsel for our sleen, will she not, Lecchio, my friend?” inquired Chino.
“That she will,” agreed Lecchio.
“You are feed hunters!” cried the girl in horror.
“What is a feed hunter?” asked Lecchio of Chino.
“That is exactly right, my dear,” Chino confirmed her darkest suspicions.
“But you cannot feed me to sleen!” she cried.
“You are free to be taken,” Chino informed her. “It is all perfectly legal. You are neither claimed, nor owned.”
“But I am a slave in my heart!” she cried.
“That is not good enough,” said Chino. “All free women are merely uncollared slaves.”
At this line more than one man in the audience turned to look at the veiled free woman in the audience, she of the scribes. She, however, of course, her back stiff, pretended not to notice that she was the object of this rather obvious attention.
“Oh, misery, misery!” cried the Brigella.
“You do not have a legal master,” said Chino. “Thus you are eminently qualified for sleen feed. Come now. Do not be difficult. Let us get these ropes on you.”
“No, no!” she cried, and, turning, sped away. As she again retraced the circle on the stage, this time hastily, suggesting her journey, Chino and Lecchio watched her depart. “We must soon begin our fierce pursuit,” Chino informed the audience.
In a moment or two the Brigella had again reached the vicinity of Boots Tarsk-Bit who turned about, congenially enough, effecting some surprise at the sight of her. “Greetings,” he said.
“I kneel before you as a naked slave,” cried the girl. “I beg your collar! I beg your collar!”
“Your head is rather high,” said Boots.
Immediately the girl put her head to the ground.
“I wonder how you would look on your belly,” said Boots.
Immediately she lay on her belly before him.
“My feet and sandals are rather dusty, from the road,” said Boots.
Immediately the girl began to lick his feet and sandals, cleaning them.
“You may kiss them, as well,” Boots informed her.
Immediately the girl began to add fervent kisses to her ministrations.
“Did you wish to speak to me?” inquired Boots.
“I beg your collar!” she said hoarsely. “I beg your collar!”
“You may kneel before me, with your knees spread,” said Boots.
The men in the audience cried out with pleasure. The Brigella was so beautiful! Too, a woman is so marvelously vulnerable and attractive in this position. It is no wonder that it is a portion of a common position of a Gorean pleasure slave. The position, too, for various reasons having to do with depth psychology, such as her literal physical openness, her brazen exposure to casual scrutiny, her uncompromised vulnerability, her abject helplessness, and her total subjection to the will of another, tends to be profoundly stirring, both psychologically and sexually, to the female.
“Now,” said Boots, “what was it that you wanted to speak to me about?”
“I want your collar,” she said. “I beg it!”
“I have given some thought to this matter,” said Boots, “and I have decided against it.”
“No!” she cried.
“Yes,” he said. “I have decided that, after all, you are a free woman.”
“No, I am not,” she said. “I am only a miserable slave, a rightful slave, one pleading for her collar.”
“How can I know that you speak the truth?” he asked, thoughtfully.
“I am prepared to offer any evidences that you might suggest,” she said.
There was a cheer from the men in the audience.
The Brigella laughed.
“Are you?” asked one of the men in the audience to the free woman in the audience.
“Get her on her knees naked, too,” said another man of her.
“With her knees spread, and well,” added another.
“Collar her,” said another.
“Give her a taste of the whip,” said another.
“Teach her to lick and kiss,” said another.
“Teach her what being a woman is all about,” said another.
“Did you not see?” asked the free woman. “She laughed! She lost her characterization!”
“It is sometimes hard to keep one’s characterization in such a play,” I said.
“Perhaps,” she said.
“Do not be too hard on her,” I said. “She is only a slave.”
“Slaves are to be shown no mercy,” said the free woman coldly.
“Do I detect that you are critical in some respects of her performance?” I asked. The Brigella seemed to me to be very talented.
“She is undoubtedly quite good,” said the free woman, “but many of her lines, I
think, could have been better handled, or at least differently handled, particularly in this form of farce, more broadly, both verbally and gesturally.”
“Interesting,” I said.
“May we have Lady Telitsia’s permission to continue,” inquired Boots, not too pleased with the interruption.
“You may continue,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said. “You are very kind.” He then returned his attention to the Brigella. “No,” he said. “I am sure you are a free woman, not a slave.”
“No, no!” she said. “I am a slave! I swear it! I swear it!” She cast a wild glance back over her shoulder. As yet, supposedly, Chino and Lecchio were not in sight.
“It is true,” said Boots, “that at one time I thought you might be a slave.”
“Yes!” she said.
“But I think I was wrong,” said Boots.
“No, no,” she said. “You were right! You were right!”
“You are a slave, really?” asked Boots.
“Yes,” she said. “I am really a slave! I swear it!” Again she looked over her shoulder.
“You do have slave curves,” admitted Boots.
“Yes, yes!” she cried.
“Very well,” said Boots. “I acknowledge, unqualifiedly, with no reservations whatsoever, uncompromisingly, that you are a slave.”
“Collar me!” she cried.
“I think,” said Chino to Lecchio, at the other side of the stage, “that it is nearly time for us to begin our fierce pursuit.”
“Surely you must understand,” said Boots to the Brigella, “that two quite different matters are under consideration here. One is whether or not you are a slave, a matter which has now been settled in the affirmative, and the other is whether or not I might be interested, in the least, in having you as my own slave.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“Not every man wants to own every slave,” he said, “or, at least, it would not be too practical for a fellow to own every slave, for that would be a great many slaves.”
“Please,” she begged.
“Too, slaves can be expensive. One must feed them and, if one wishes, find them a rag to wear.”
“Our fierce pursuit begins,” announced Chino to the audience, and he and Lecchio began to describe a circle about the stage, carefully, bending over, hesitating now and then, apparently tracking the lovely fugitive.
“Disciplinary devices, such as whips and chains, too, can be expensive,” said Boots.
“I fear they are coming!” she cried, turning back from looking over her shoulder.
“Who?” asked Boots.
“Oh, no one,” she said.
“Oh,” said Boots.
“I am at your feet, a naked supplicant,” she said. “I entreat you, implore you, to show me mercy! Deign, in your graciousness, to consider my humble petition!”
“What was it again,” asked Boots. “I fear it may have slipped my mind.”
“Make me your slave!” she cried. “I beg to be made your slave!”
“Oh, yes,” said Boots. “That is it. Have you had any experience?”
“That is her, up there, ahead, I think,” called out Chino to Lecchio.
“No!” she wept.
“Then perhaps you should apply to another master,” said Boots.
“Train me!” she said. “We must all start somewhere! I will be zealous and obedient!”
“I think you are right,” said Lecchio to Chino, looking in the direction of Boots and the Brigella.
“Put your collar on me, please!” cried the Brigella. “There is little time!”
“I will give you my answer in the morning,” said Boots.
“No,” she cried. “No, please, no!”
“Or next week,” he said.
“No!” she cried.
“Yes,” said the Chino. “I am sure it is she. Let us hurry. We can have our ropes on her in a moment!” They then, apparently, began to hurry. To be sure, their new haste was largely a matter of marking time in place. Yet one had the distinct impression, in the lovely conventions involved, that they were getting closer and closer.
“Do you think you can be pleasing?” asked Boots. Free companions, after all, can be anything. But slaves must be pleasing.
“Yes,” she cried, “yes!”
“Good,” said Boots. “I shall let you know in the morning or in a few days.”
“No!” she cried.
“Why not?” asked Boots.
“Then you would miss a night’s pleasure,” she said, desperately, wildly, “or perhaps even my use, at your slightest whim, for a few days!”
“That is true,” mused Boots.
“Yes! There she is!” cried Chino to Lecchio. “Let us rush upon her! In an instant we will have her helpless in our bonds!”
“Oh, collar me, Master!” she cried. “Please, please, Master!”
“What did you call me?” asked Boots.
“‘Master, Master’!” she cried.
“Oh, very well,” said Boots.
Swiftly she thrust her neck forward, lifting her chin. Boots stood between her and the audience and seemed to reach into his pack. He seemed then to withdraw something from the pack and, in a moment, to fasten it on her neck. In this instant, of course, he had removed the scarf from about her neck, that concealing her collar. He then stepped back. Lo, there was steel on her neck! There was a cheer from the men in the audience.
“We have you now!” cried Chino, he and Lecchio arriving on the scene, ropes in hand.
“Who are you fellows?” called Boots. “What do you want?”
The Brigella, now collared, trembling, cowered beside Boots, clinging to one of his legs.
“Do not question us,” said the Chino. “Our profession is a dark one. I dare not mention it lest you faint in fear.”
“Assassins!” cried Boots.
“Far worse,” said the Chino.
“Feed hunters!” cried Boots, aghast.
“The same,” said Chino.
“The very same,” said the Lecchio, grimly.
“I am surprised, actually,” said the Chino, “that you have heard of our profession, as it is not well known.”
“I myself,” said the Lecchio, “heard of it but moments ago.”
“I heard that two such rascals as yourselves were about,” said Boots. “What do you want here?”
“Her!” said the Chino, pointing dramatically, menacingly, at the Brigella. She shrank back in fear.
“Her?” inquired Boots.
“Yes!” said the Chino. “Now if you will be so kind as to step aside, we will get our ropes on her.”
“Hold, rogues!” said Boots.
“What is wrong, sir?” inquired Chino.
“You cannot have her,” said Boots.
“We have been hunting her for some time,” said Chino. “She is our legitimate prey. It is all quite legal. We are honest fellows. We are entitled to her. Now please do not interfere. Come now, little vulo, put your head in this noose.”
“Desist!” cried Boots.
“What is wrong now?” asked Chino.
“Apparently,” said Boots, “you are under the delusion that this is a free woman, one that may simply be picked up, like a larma in a field, for whatever purposes you might please.”
“Of course,” said Chino.
“She is not a free woman,” said Boots.
“What!” cried Chino.
“Observe her pretty neck,” said Boots.
“It is collared!” cried Chino.
“Yes!” said Boots.
“She is a slave!” said Chino.
“Yes,” said Boots.
“Ah, well, an unclaimed slave is almost as good as a free woman,” said Chino, reaching forth again with the noose.
“Stop!” cried Boots.
“What now?” inquired Chino.
“Yes, what now?” inquired Lecchio.
“This woman is both claimed and collared,” said Boo
ts.
“What!” cried Chino.
“What?” asked Lecchio.
“Are you thieves?” asked Boots.
“No!” cried Chino.
“No?” asked Lecchio.
“No!” cried Chino.
“No!” said Lecchio, righteously.
“Then desist, scoundrels,” said Boots, “for this woman is my property!”
“Is it true?” asked Chino.
“Yes, Masters,” she said, “it is true. I am his property. He is my master. He owns me. I belong to him, legally and completely, in all ways, fully!”
“There are, of course, two of us,” said Chino, menacingly.
“I do not fear you!” said Boots. “Be off, you scurvy scamps, lest I feed you to your own sleen!”
“I did not know we had any sleen,” said Lecchio to Chino.
“Be gone, scamps, scoundrels, rogues!” cried Boots, with a vast, wild threatening gesture. Immediately Chino and Lecchio, in apparent terror, scampered away.
“You have saved me!” cried the Brigella.
“Yes,” said Boots.
“I wear your collar,” she said. “I am now yours, truly, you know.”
“Why, yes,” said Boots, interested. “That is true, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“And then anything may be commanded of you,” mused Boots, “absolutely anything, anything whatsoever, and you must obey, instantly and perfectly.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Assume,” said he, “standing, partly crouching, the position of a free woman, zealous to conceal her beauty.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. There was much laughter as she, the already-so-much-exposed slave, assumed this coy, silly position, one often associated with timid, scandalized, shocked, surprised free women. Indeed, it was the same as that which she had often assumed earlier in the farce, when she had supposedly been such a free female.
“Now, for the merest instant,” said Boots, “move your hands away, and then replace them, instantly, immediately, as they were.”
She complied. If one had not been watching closely, one might have missed the action.
“Yes, yes!” cried Boots ecstatically. “Oh, bliss! Bliss! That is it! That is it!”
“What?” she asked.
“A peep!” cried Boots. “A marvelous peep!”
“That is all?” she asked.
“Yes!” he cried, joyfully.
“Give me then,” she cried, suddenly, “the wondrous magic veil!”
Players of Gor Page 20