Blood Brothers of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "You are right," said Cuwignaka.

  I thought of the slender, lovely, red-haired Winyela, the former debutante from Pennsylvania, Canka's slave. She had been brought into the Barrens by Grunt, chained in his coffle, all the way from Kailiauk, near the Ihanke. She was to have been sold to Mahpiyasapa, who was interested in such a woman, white and red-haired, for five hides of the yellow kailiauk. Last year he had, in effect, put in an order for such a woman, an order which Grunt had agreed, to the best of his ability, to fill.

  Cuwignaka and I, and Grunt, then turned our attention to survey the Pte, the kailiauk.

  "It seems there is no end to them," I said.

  "They are glorious," said Cuwignaka.

  "Yes," said Grunt, "glorious." Grunt, short-bodied, thick and muscular, still wore the broad-brimmed hat I remembered so well. Indeed, interestingly, I had never seen him without it.

  "We must be going," said Cuwignaka. "We must return to camp."

  I looked again in the direction in which Hci had disappeared. He had killed the man who had struck him.

  "They are glorious!" exclaimed Cuwignaka, and then he turned his kaiila and descended the small rise, moving towards the camp.

  Grunt and I remained for a moment on the rise, gazing on the awesome sight in the distance.

  "You are sure?" I asked him.

  "Yes," he said, "it is the Bento herd."

  "It is early," I said. It was not due in the country of the Kaiila until Kantasawi, the moon in which the plums become red. This was only Takiyuhawi, the moon in which the tabuk rut, or, as some call it, Canpasapawi, the moon in which the chokecherries are ripe.

  "Yes," he said. "It is early."

  "Why?" I asked.

  "I do not know," he said.

  We then brought our kaiila about and, descending the rise, followed Cuwignaka toward the camp.

  2

  The Procession of the Isanna

  Wasnapohdi, or Pimples, naked, her dark hair loose and wild behind her, strings of glass beads about her throat, put there by Grunt, marking her as his, in the tattered lodge I shared with Cuwignaka, clutched me, gasping, half rearing under me.

  "Do not bite," I warned her, "or you will be beaten."

  She moaned. I felt her fingernails in my arms.

  She sobbed, helplessly, begging wordlessly in my arms for a new thrust.

  She had the helpless passion of a woman broken to slavery. I was pleased that Grunt, her master, let me use her. Canka, too, had encouraged me, Grunt being willing, to please myself with her. The desperate tensions of the strong male must be relieved, and well, else health must be replaced with illness, eccentricity or neurosis. Perhaps the cruelest deprivation which a master or mistress can inflict on a male slave is to deny him access to soft, warm, yielding female flesh. Every strong man needs one or more slaves.

  "Finish with her, quickly," said Cuwignaka, entering the lodge. "There is much to see. The Isanna, already, have come to the camp. They are in long lines. You must see them! Too, in moments, the medicine party will go forth to cut the pole. Many are going to accompany them. Hurry!"

  Pimples looked at me, wildly, clutching me.

  "Hurry! Finish with her!" said Cuwignaka.

  My hands were hard on the upper arms of Pimples. I made as though to thrust her from me. Tears sprang into her eyes. She whimpered.

  "Hurry!" said Cuwignaka, happily.

  Then ruthlessly, with power, I did master rites upon the helpless slave, and she lay sobbing, and shuddering, her legs then drawn up, on the robes on the floor of the lodge. I drew on my tunic and slipped into the moccasins. Cuwignaka thrust back the flap at the entrance to the lodge, on its wooden frame. I glanced back into the lodge. The hides, in places, were worn. Here and there tiny pinpricklike holes admitted spots of light. Light, too, came through the smoke hole at the apex of the lodge. Later in the day we might roll up the sides of the lodge, some four or five feet. The lodge then, open and airy, becomes transformed into little more than a summery canopy. In the winter it can be insulated with a kailiauk-hide liner. I looked back at the girl. Her skin was mottled deeply with red blotches. Her nipples were in lovely erection. The six strands of heavy, cheap glass beads about her throat glinted. They took the light nicely.

  Grunt had had her kneel, naked, head up, facing away from him. He had then knelt behind her and slowly, ceremoniously, encircled her throat six times with the beads, once for each letter of the expression 'Kajira', the most common Gorean expression for a female slave.

  Pimples was illiterate, but she knew of writing, and Grunt was kind enough to explain things to her, so that she could better understand the ceremonial aspect of what he had done. Collaring, in itself, of course, is perfectly clear to any woman. There is no mistaking its import. For example, she is likely to be familiar with collars on other forms of domestic animals. This sort of thing is also, when six loops are used, occasionally, done with verbal formulas; some formulas in English which would be similar to some of the Gorean formulas might be: 'You—wear—my—collar—my—slave', 'I—collar—you—I—own—you', 'With—this—collar—I—thee—enslave', and so on. After the last word the collar is fastened shut. Most collars, of course, are not done with encirclements of strings, thongs, straps, beads or such. Most collars, at least in the high cities, are lovely, single-encirclement, metal collars; they are of various designs, and lock shut on the girl's neck, the lock usually behind the back of the neck. Needless to say there are a large number of enslavement formulas and ceremonies; too, these things can vary interestingly from group to group, from area to area, and from city to city.

  Perhaps two further remarks may be helpful in understanding these matters, one with respect to literacy, the other with respect to collars, and such.

  The Gorean free woman, particularly those of high caste, is likely to be literate. Thus, if she is embonded, her master will have acquired a slave who can read and write. Some masters prefer such women; others do not. Many Goreans, incidentally, particularly of the lower castes, and particularly in rural areas, are illiterate. They may, of course, have recourse to scribes, some of whom are itinerant, or traveling merchants, usually peddlers, who, for a modest fee, or in the case of the merchants, or peddlers, sometimes for free, for good will, will read letters for them, write letters, and so on. On the other hand, before one is moved to pity or contempt, it should be recognized that most Goreans, for example, have access to a complex oral tradition, abetted by singers, story tellers, and such, and, too, that literacy is not as needed on Gor, nor is it as prized on Gor, as it is in certain other cultures. I would suppose that almost any Gorean, even of the Peasants, who wishes to learn to read or write could do so, but many find these skills of little interest or use. Too, for example, many warriors, despite being of high caste, take great pride in being strangers to letters. Many seem to feel that literacy is something to conceal if one is a warrior; that literacy is for, say, poets, or scribes, and not something appropriate for those trained to the mud of the field or the reins of the tarn, for those whose province it is to do war, to command, to fight and rule. "One can always buy a slave for such things." In the high cities, of course, in an urbanized environment, literacy is far more common than in the countryside, even among the lower castes. It might be mentioned that literacy in a slave girl can improve her price, but it does not always do so. Few men buy a slave for her literacy; her intelligence is another matter. Some highly intelligent men who hold reading and writing in contempt, however unreasonably, enjoy buying a sophisticated, beautiful, literate slave girl, once of high caste, and take great pleasure in ruthlessly mastering every cell in her beautiful body; though literate, and doubtless initially contemptuous of him, she soon learns in his arms that he is her master; too, it will take her little time to suspect, or learn, that his own intelligence, raw and untutored though it may be, is far superior to her own; it is pleasant then to have her, begging, at one's feet. But then have not barbarians often used the sophisticated, educated
women of the enemy, embonded, in such a way? Earth-girl slaves brought to Gor will not have such problems, as they will be illiterate in Gorean; their Earth literacy counts for naught; in this respect literate Gorean slave girls have little to fear from them. Whereas Earth girls are swiftly taught to understand and speak Gorean, they are seldom, if ever, taught to read and write it. Slaves do not need to know how to read and write. They are slaves. Too, it is a common practice to keep slaves ignorant. It makes them feel more helpless, more slave. Curiosity, as it is said, is not becoming in a kajira. To be sure, these shapely little beasts are among the most inquisitive of all animals. It might be mentioned, in passing, that most Earth girls brought to Gor for the collar soon learn Gorean. The swift strokes of the supple switch will have it no other way. Indeed, most speak it well in a matter of weeks, or two to three months at most, and many with scarcely the trace of an accent. Women seem to have a gift for languages; this may have been selected for, over hundreds of generations, given wars, abductions, piracies, slave raids, and such, as it is clearly in their best interests to learn quickly the languages of their new masters. It is interesting to call to mind, briefly, the case of the Earth girl slave brought to Gor. Almost always, of course, she is intelligent and beautiful; and has profound latencies for exploitable, uncontrollable passion; this, incidentally, can be learned in chains; but, too, often, she is informed, sophisticated, highly literate and well-educated. Gorean slavers, you see, are judicious in their selections. Conceive if you can then such a woman extracted from her familiar environs and suddenly, seemingly inexplicably, finding herself an illiterate, despised, half-clad slave girl on an exotic, alien world, at the mercy of masters to whose will and ways she must instantly, selflessly and fully succumb. And to the masters, of course, their former stations, accomplishments, and such, if any, are meaningless. Clearly this is a sudden and radical transition for the Earth girl! What an enormous adjustment she must make! She may not even have thought of slavery before, and now she finds herself branded, and on her knees before masters, on a world in which such relationships have been tested for hundreds of years and found fitting, on a world in which such relationships are sanctioned and celebrated. The transition then from free woman of Earth to slave girl of Gor is one likely to be not only radical and sudden for the Earth girl, but one astonishing and startling, disconcerting and alarming, one almost incomprehensible, and doubtless one profoundly emotionally traumatic. What an enormous adjustment for the Earth girl to make! But she will do well for within the deepest and most secret dungeon of her heart, already known to her, there is a ready, eager, and waiting slave, one longing to serve, one longing to love, one longing for her release. There is an interesting contrast here with the Gorean slave girl whose station and accomplishments may be well known to, and understood by, the master. In her case there is a cultural continuity between her former life and her present life, and her background and that of her master. Her background then is now understood to be superseded by, obliterated by, expunged by, the brand and collar. She is now no more than a slave. In the case of the Earth girl she is conceived of differently. She comes to understand herself as, in Gorean eyes, no more than an animal obtained from afar and brought to a market. In her case then the brand and collar are not really understood as superseding anything of interest, no more than might be a brand and collar on a kaiila. If a Gorean had known her from Earth, he would have thought of the collar as her appropriate destiny. Her meaning would not have begun to be realized until she was brought to civilization. Before that time she was no more than a loose, meaningless, wandering, unclaimed animal. Thus, she is likely to be viewed in one way, and her Gorean sister is likely to be viewed in another. Initially, then, these understandings may color each girl's understanding of her own bondage. Later, of course, presumably both will understand themselves as no more than what they are, slaves.

  It is a common observation that women often affect throat adornments. This is more seldom the case with Gorean free women than with the free women of Earth, but it is certainly not unknown amongst Gorean free women. They can prize a lovely necklace, or such adornment, as well as any other woman. On the other hand, statistically, Gorean free women, particularly of the lower castes, are less given to such adornments. On the streets this is understandable, given the common veiling of women, particularly of the upper castes, but what of more informal situations, and such? The usual explanation given is that the necklace is reminiscent of the slave collar. Thus it makes many Gorean free women, even those who would desire to wear one, uneasy to wear one. It seems to say something to them, so to speak. Indeed, there is some speculation that the Gorean free woman who wears a necklace, or such throat adornment, is asking for the collar. Surely she must know what the sight of such an encirclement on her neck will instantly suggest to a man. The fact that necklaces, and such, are very common among Earth women is usually taken as a sign of their readiness for, and desire for, the collar. It is interesting to think about these things. Certainly necklaces, and such, are lovely on a woman's throat, and constitute a lovely adornment. On the other hand, they are, in their way, clearly, a collar. One wonders if women's fondness for, and fascination with, such jewelry, does not speak on a subconscious level of an invitation to their collaring, and mastering. Do they not want on some level to be overwhelmed, subdued, and owned? Certainly they are well aware of the pervasiveness of, and meaningfulness of, animal collars. How is it then that they should put such attractive, lovely collars on their own necks? Does this say, perhaps, "Look upon me. I am a woman. I am in a collar. What do you think? Do you not think I belong in a collar? Would you not like to have me in your collar?"

  He had then fastened the beads shut on her neck.

  In this way she would be recognized in the camp as belonging to him. There were several other white females in the camp, some clothed and some not, but these wore the normal leather collars, laced shut. To be sure, as white females in the camp, even though they had not been collared, they would be understood as slaves. What else could they be, in the camp of the red savages? The red savages do not brand their white female slaves, though they often acquire branded girls in trade, brought from the west, from the other side of the Ihanke. The whiteness of a girl's skin, not the brand, in particular, marks the girl as a slave.

  When Grunt put the collar on Pimples he had not made her a slave, of course, as she was already a slave. He had, however, in his way of doing it, reminded her of her bondage. And had she not been a slave hitherto she would then, in her collaring, have become a slave. The collaring, in such a case, would have been an act of embondment. The collar, of course, or any collar, might be worn or not. The collar is not essential to bondage. It does however mark her slave, and, often, identifies her master. The collar is recommended, of course, and branding, by Merchant Law, for obvious reasons.

  And Grunt, as suggested, thought it might be useful for others to understand that Pimples was his. An uncollared white female in the camp might raise questions, obviously as to whom she belonged. Too, in this way, being collared, and by Grunt, Pimples herself was well reminded that she was his slave. To be sure, an occasional quirting or lashing across the back of the thighs, and such things, may be used to supply a similarly useful mnemonic lesson.

  Grunt, of course, was a merchant.

  I am sure, if a good offer had been made, he would have traded off Pimples' collar, with its trade beads, for, say, a well-beaded parfleche or a sash of ornamented sleen skin. It could always be replaced with a rawhide string looped six times about her throat and tied, or even once about her throat, and then tied. One can always improvise something, if one wishes, and, from the point of view of what it means, its reality, and significance, any collar is a collar. Even a piece of cloth can be understood as such. Some of the beaded leather collars, incidentally, are quite beautiful. The red savages have, in these matters, a developed aesthetic sense. I prefer, of course, both in point of beauty and security, the collars of the cities, for example, th
e narrow, flat bands, often engraved with the master's name, and sometimes with that of the slave, as well, which fit closely about the girl's neck and lock in the back, the most common sort of Gorean collar, and the Turian collar, which is somewhat looser and rounded, which also locks behind the back of the neck. A metal collar, locked, whether it be a band, or a loop, or a circlet of chain, or whatever, leaves no doubt in the slave's mind that she is collared.

  Slaves, incidentally, are often quite concerned about their appearance, and, occasionally, are quite vain about it. They tend to be fond of their brands and collars, as they usually are of their masters. It is a rare slave who does not adjust her hair and collar, and tunic, in the mirror before venturing into the streets.

  She wants to be admired, and exciting and beautiful. She wants to make it clear to all that she is well worth every coin her master paid for her. And, hopefully, she will not meet a free woman. A beautiful slave will often go well out of her way to avoid such. An encounter with a free woman is almost always unpleasant for her, and sometimes painful. Little love is lost between the jealous, haughty, veiled free woman and the well-displayed beautiful slave girl.

  "Get dressed, if you wish," I said, "and come with us."

  "If master is through with the slave," she said, angrily, "the slave must report back to her master."

  "On your hands and knees," I said. I had not cared for her tone of voice.

  Frightened, she got on her hands and knees, and looked at me. Would she be lashed? Her breasts depended, beautifully.

  I smiled. It is pleasant to see a woman in such a position. It is also a position which is commonly used for neck-chaining them.

  She smiled at me.

  I returned to the interior of the lodge and lifted her up, to her knees. Our lips met. She kissed me avidly, twice. I pressed her back.