Renegades of Gor

by Norman, John;

  I looked into the tarncot. The tarn was finished feeding now, and was being watered. The bone which had been within the meat lay to one side, with a tatter of rope, amidst straw. It was deeply scratched and furrowed. The bird thrust its beak into a tall, narrow vessel. It would draw water into that dreadful recess. It would then put its head back. Then, shaking its head, it would hasten the water down its throat.

  “Ah,” I said, suddenly bethinking myself of proprieties, “though you are a free woman I have you on your knees before me, as though you might be a slave. How rude! How boorish of me! I am sorry. Forgive me, Lady.” I hastened to lift her to her feet.

  “No,” she said, quickly, again, frightened, kneeling.

  I stepped back, puzzled.

  “It is here that I belong,” she said, “on my knees, before a man such as you.”

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “You disarmed me,” she said. “You gagged me. You made me helpless, putting me in a trussing suitable for a slave. You pulled my hood down about my face. You made it so I could not see without risking my own face-stripping. You made my garments such that they were mere covers, strips and pieces, such that I dared not move, lest I be lying naked in a public place, such, too, that they might be lifted from me at a man’s pleasure.”

  “I had not found you pleasing,” I explained to her.

  “It is my hope that in the future,” she said, “I may be found more pleasing.”

  “The tarn is ready,” said the attendant. He led it from the cot, it stalking beside him, its head moving about, its eyes round, bright and sharp.

  The woman, at the sight of the bird, shrank back, frightened.

  “Farewell, free woman,” I said.

  “No,” she said. “Please!”

  “Take it to the tarn gate,” I said. It was there that I should mount.

  “Please!” said the free woman.

  The attendant led the bird about the cot and shed, toward the tarn gate. I followed him. There he led the bird up the ramp to the landing platform. Again I followed him. From this height I could see the countryside for pasangs about. The air was exhilarating. The tarn was excited. It opened its wings. The beams of the platform were very sturdy. The attendant untied the mounting ladder at the saddle.

  I think it must have taken the girl great courage to follow me up the ramp, onto the landing platform, in the vicinity of that winged monster.

  When I turned about, to regard her, she knelt swiftly, spreading her knees. It was in this fashion that I had had her kneel earlier, in the inn yard, before me, when I had assumed she was slave.

  “Farewell,” I said.

  “No,” she said. “Take me with you!”

  “What?” I said.

  “I have sold my things,” she said. “I have now no more than what you see upon me, two slender black cords, and a strip of yellow cloth, and these coins!” She held them out.

  “The purse is heavy,” I said. “Buy what you need with it.”

  “I will give you them all,” she said. “Take me with you!”

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “You have conquered me,” she said. “You have taught me that I am a female!”

  I regarded her. She did look well on her knees.

  “Oh, this did not just happen,” she said. “I have known this about myself for years. I fought it for years. And now I surrender!”

  “Completely, and without reservation?” I inquired.

  “Yes!” she said. “Yes!”

  “I see,” I said.

  “I am tired of living a lie,” she said. “I am feminine, truly.”

  “Oh?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said, “I am feminine, truly!”

  “You know yourself?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said, “yes!”

  “I see,” I said.

  “I belong to men such as you,” she said.

  That did not seem to me unlikely.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I am Phoebe, Lady of Telnus,” she said.

  I smiled inwardly. Cosian beauties make excellent slaves. They are not unusual in Port Kar.

  “That is a pretty name,” I said.

  “Take me with you!” she said. “I will pay!”

  “In the direction I ride,” I said, “there lies danger.”

  “I accept the risks,” she said.

  “Even as you are?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “yes!”

  To be sure, the risks were doubtless less for women than for men, for the dangers would threaten primarily from men, and men would know what to do with women. Perhaps the worst that might happen to her would be that she would find herself in the chains of a slave, and laboring, under whips, as a female beast of burden. To be sure, she did face danger, as she was free. Free women, being persons, are far more likely to be killed than slaves, who are animals. Sackers, for example, particularly when the blood lust has passed from them, would not be likely to slay slaves, assuming they are docile and desperately concerned to be totally pleasing, any more than kaiila. They would simply appropriate them for their own.

  “I do not need a slave at present,” I said. Such did not accord with the first portion of my plan for entering Ar’s Station.

  “Take me as your servant,” she begged.

  “My servant?” I asked, looking upon the slim, kneeling, half-naked beauty.

  “Yes!” she said.

  “The tarn is ready,” said the attendant.

  “I beg female fulfillment!” she said.

  “You will not receive full female fulfillment as a mere servant,” I said. Such is not totally owned.

  “Take me then as a slave!” she said.

  “I do not need a slave at present,” I said.

  “Take me then as a servant,” she said. She held out the coins. “I will pay you to do so.”

  I considered her, her needs, her beauty, her desperation.

  “And if I serve well,” she said, “perhaps later I will prove worthy of the collar.”

  She lifted the coins higher, pleadingly.

  “What sort of servant is it which you wish to be?” I asked.

  “Whatever sort of servant you desire,” she said.

  “A servant without restriction, or reservation?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “such a servant!”

  “A full servant?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “a full servant!”

  “It is only as such a servant that I would consider taking you,” I said.

  “Take me as a full servant,” she said.

  “In whose name do you ask this?” I asked.

  “In the name of all women such as I, and all men such as you,” she said.

  “You are but a hair’s breadth from slavery,” I said.

  “It is my hope that you will eventually permit me to traverse that hair’s breadth,” she said.

  The tarn opened and closed its wings, and she lowered her head, turning it to the side, and shrank down, frightened, cringing, so low that her head was but inches from the ground. She was terrified of the bird.

  I considered the mounting ladder.

  “Take me with you,” she begged, lifting her head.

  I saw the desperation in her.

  “I want to be myself,” she said, “what I really am!”

  “Do you know what you are asking?” I asked.

  She shuddered.

  “Where I am going,” I said, “men do not compromise with females.”

  She looked up at me, trembling.

  “And clad as you are,” I said, “I assure you men will see you as a female.”

  “It is what I am,” she said.

  “Do you understand the nature of such men?” I asked.

  “I do not desire a relationship with any other sort of man,” she said.

  “Such men prefer slaves,” I said.

  “I will serve them as such!” she said.

  “A
mong such men,” I said, “you would be held as an animal, under discipline. You would be held as of less account to them than a kaiila. They might even deny you speech. You would have to obey perfectly in all things. You would have to strive to be fully pleasing. You could be commanded to any service, and would then have to comply, immediately and to the best of your abilities.”

  “I understand such things,” she said.

  “If you were not pleasing,” I said, “then, like a slave, you would have to expect to be punished.”

  “Punished?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “literally punished.”

  She looked up at me.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Remain here,” I said.

  “No,” she said. “Please!”

  The tarn moved again, shifting about, and she cried out, frightened, again shrinking small.

  How terrified she was of the tarn!

  But then again she lifted her head. “Please!” she begged.

  I regarded her, my arms folded.

  “Please,” she said. “Take me with you! Have mercy!”

  “That is your concept of mercy?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Last night I found the truth of my being confirmed upon me. Now I shall be forever empty unless I am permitted to live my truth, what I truly am.”

  “And what is it that you are, truly?” I asked.

  “A woman,” she said.

  “A woman?” I asked.

  “A woman, a slave,” she said.

  She was very beautiful, so slim and piteous, kneeling on the heavy beams of the platform.

  “No slave need I now,” I said.

  “Take me then now only as your servant,” she said.

  “My full servant?” I smiled.

  “Yes,” she said. “Then afterwards do with me what you will.”

  “You tempt me,” I said. “You are a beautiful female, one worthy to be sold from a slave block.”

  “Let me buy my servitude,” she said.

  “I hesitate to carry a free woman into danger,” I said.

  “You would surely hesitate less,” she said, “if I were a captive, or servant.”

  “True,” I said.

  “Then,” said she, lifting the coins, “let me buy my captivity, and servitude.”

  I took the coins from her, and put them in my pouch.

  “Stand,” I said. “Put your head back. Open your mouth, widely.”

  I determined in a moment or two that she was not concealing any small coins or tiny jewels in her nostrils, her ears, her hair or mouth. I then conducted her by the arm to the side of the threshold of the tarn gate and stood her there, her feet well back, her arms extended, the palms of her hands leaning against the wood. There was nothing concealed beneath her arms, as was easy to determine, she in this position. I lifted her feet one at a time, checking the insteps and between the toes for any taped materials. I then examined the rest of her body. “Oh!” she said. “Oh!” I then pulled the cloth up again, snugly, as it had been. I then pulled her back from the side of the gate, standing her again on her feet.

  She looked up at me, reproachfully.

  “It would appear that you are coinless,” I said.

  “I am,” she said.

  “For two days,” I said, “your feces will be examined.”

  She looked at me with awe. I think she had not understood until then the care with which a female can be kept, how helpless she can be truly made.

  “Put out your hands,” I said.

  She did so, and cried out, suddenly, startled, as slave bracelets danced upon her wrists.

  She lifted her wrists before her, as if not understanding how they could be so suddenly clasped in steel.

  “You are now my captive,” I told her, “and I am going to keep you, for a time, though for perhaps no more than a few Ehn, as merely my servant, though a full servant. At the end of that time, however long I choose for it to be, I will do with you as I wish, perhaps making you a slave, perhaps giving you to another, perhaps selling you into slavery, whatever I please.”

  She looked at me, frightened.

  “Do you understand?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  I then thrust her, not gently, toward the tarn, until she stood near the foot of the mounting ladder, it dangling from the saddle.

  There, in the proximity of the winged giant, she trembled.

  “Hold still,” I said. I then, with a piece of scarflike cloth taken from my pouch, a wind veil, sometimes bound across the mouth and nostrils of a tarnsman, usually at high altitudes, blindfolded her. A great many women, particularly the most sensitive and intelligent among them, fear tarns greatly. It is not unusual for them to become hysterical in their vicinity. It is not uncommon then for the tarnsman to hood or blindfold them. This aids in their control and management. Too, of course, if the woman is a captive, or slave, one may not wish her to understand where she is, or be able to retrace her route, or know where she is being taken. It is enough for her to know, when the blindfold or hood is removed, that she is in perfect custody. Sometimes a woman does not learn for weeks, sometimes until, say, the very night of her sale, where she is, in what city she finds herself.

  “I cannot see!” she said.

  “That is the purpose of a blindfold,” I said.

  “You could punish me, could you not?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And you would, would you not?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I then put her to my shoulder, her head to the rear, as a slave is carried, and mounted the ladder. I put her before me on the saddle. She grasped the pommel desperately. At the sides of the saddle there are various rings, and straps, which may be used in fastening things to it, or across it. Needless to say, such may be used to fasten females in place. Lady Phoebe of Telnus was, of course, a free woman, and though she was a capture, in a sense, she had a special status with me. I did not, thus, throw her across the saddle, on her belly, or back, fastening her there in utter helplessness as I might have a common capture. I did, however, loop a left strap about her left wrist, and tie it back to its ring, and loop a right strap about her right wrist, tying it back to its ring. In this way, as she wore slave bracelets, although she might slip, she could not fall, and her hands would be kept in the vicinity of the pommel. I then put the safety strap about myself, and buckled it shut. Once before, long ago, in the vicinity of the city of Ar, I had been lax in doing that. It had been fortunate that I had survived. It was a precaution which, if time permitted, I had seldom neglected thereafter. I thought of lithe, sinuous, olive-skinned Talena, the daughter of Marlenus of Ar until disowned, she having given evidence that she was a slave. After she had been returned to Ar by Samos, of Port Kar, into whose chains she had fallen, Marlenus, shamed, had had her sequestered, freed, but statusless, in the Central Cylinder. Now, in his absence, he having vanished in the Voltai Mountains, on a punitive raid against the tarnsmen of Treve, it seemed that her fortunes were recovering. She had appeared at public functions. Her palanquin was now again seen abroad in the streets. Doubtless she was once again becoming proud and haughty. I had not seen the slave in her. On the other hand, Rask of Treve, and others, had. I, too, now, I suspected, might be more perceptive. Though she had been the daughter of a Ubar, and now, again, it seemed, stood high in Ar, she was, after all, only a female. I wondered what she might look like, naked and in chains, or writhing at my feet, trying to interest me.

  “Oh!” said Lady Phoebe, softly.

  “You are slim,” I said, “but you are well curved.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “It is pleasant to caress you,” I said.

  She was silent.

  “Do you object?” I asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I am a full servant,” she said.

  Her body was unusually se
nsitive for that of a free woman. It was not slave hot, of course, but then she was not a slave. Such transformations in her, of course, might easily come with the collar, and discipline.

  “And you are going to have me serve you fully, are you not?” she asked.

  “You may count upon it,” I said.

  “Oh!” she said.

  “Do you object?” I asked.

  “I am blindfolded,” she said. “I am braceleted. I am half naked. I am astride a tarn!”

  “Do you object?” I asked.

  “No!” she said.

  “And if you were not a servant, and a full servant,” I asked, “would you object?”

  “No,” she sobbed. “No!”

  I again, briefly, considered the proud, haughty Talena, who had been the daughter of a Ubar, and who now, again, it seemed, stood high in Ar. Yes, she would, I thought, considering the matter carefully, look well in chains, or writhing at my feet, trying to interest me. Too, I recalled she had been contemptuous of me, and haughty and cruel to me, in Port Kar, scorning even the memory of my love, when I had been paralyzed, helpless to move from a chair, the victim of the poison of Sullius Maximus, once one of the five Ubars of Port Kar, before the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains. I wondered if she thought that I was still in Port Kar, perhaps huddled before a fire in that same chair, an invalid, its prisoner. But I had recovered, fully, receiving even the antidote for the poison in Torvaldsland. I suspected, however, she might have seen me from her palanquin in Ar. The following night an attempt had been made on my life in the Tunnels, one of the slave brothels of Ludmilla, from which the street called the Alley of the Slave Brothels of Ludmilla is named. Too, I had come upon evidence near Brundisium that she was guilty of treason against Ar.

  “Oh!” said Lady Phoebe.

  Ah, yes, Talena, I thought. Yes, I thought, now, upon reflection, that there had been a slave in her. Perhaps I had been a fool to let it get away. Yes, she might make an interesting slave, perhaps a low slave. Then I dismissed thoughts of her from my mind.

  “Ohh!” gasped Lady Phoebe, crying out in the blindfold, squirming on the saddle before me. I heard the tiny sounds of the linkage of the slave bracelets. Her white thighs contrasted nicely with the smooth, dark, glossy leather. Sometimes they were flattened against the leather, as though gripping it for dear life, and, at other times, they rubbed, and squirmed, and moved helplessly, piteously, against it. I considered the glossiness of the saddle leather. I did not think she was the first woman who had been carried on it, or so handled. Her knees suddenly bent and she almost climbed up, almost to the height of the saddle. I wondered if I should have fastened her ankles to rings, holding her thighs down and apart, on the saddle, forcing her to endure her sensations, for the most part relieflessly, within physical-restraint limits of my choosing.