by John Norman
Marlenus looked up. "Put her from your mind," he said. "She is unworthy of a free man."
I nodded. It was true what he had said. Talena, once the beautiful daughter of a great Ubar, shamed and disowned, was now nothing. No longer did she have family. No longer did she have position, wealth and power. She was now nothing. She now had only her beauty, and that wore a brand. Even if she were freed she would not, in virtue of the disownment, have a caste. The lowest peasant wench on Gor, secure in her caste rights, would be far above her. Talena, once the marvelous and beautiful Talena, was now nothing. She was nothing, nothing.
No longer was she a desirable match. No longer was she acceptable, no longer was she suitable.
She was nothing.
Marlenus and I, Goreans, sat across the board from one another.
"A slave," said a man, standing outside the tent.
"Send her in," said Marlenus, studying the board.
I looked up.
Verna was stunningly beautiful. Her hair, long and blond, was loose and combed back. She wore a bit of yellow pleasure silk, very short and diaphanous. It clung to her, sweet with her breathing. On her left ankle, locked, were slave bells. I caught the scent of her perfume, a delicate Torian scent, feminine. She wore lipstick. She carried wine.
She was one of the most beautiful female slaves I had ever seen.
Marlenus lifted his head and regarded her. Her breathing quickened.
"Put down the wine," said Marlenus, "and step before us."
The girl did so.
"Lift your hair away from your ears," said Marlenus, "and turn your head from side to side."
Verna displayed the earrings, large and gold, which had been fastened in her ears.
They were beautiful.
"Remove the silk," said Marlenus, "and face us."
The slave did so.
She stood beautifully. She did not stand as might have Cara, or another girl, who had well known the touch of a man, but she did stand as though owned. The resistance was gone from her shoulders and the diaphragm. Even the palms of her hands, naturally, now fell at her thighs, her left palm over her brand. She had not been taught to stand in this fashion. The difference, subtle and interesting, had been accomplished in the enslavement of the afternoon. Now, naturally, unaware of it, she stood as a slave girl. She knew now she stood before the man who was her complete master, open to him, his slave. She stood as a slave, because she now knew herself as a slave, and this knowledge was reflected, inevitably, in her stance. It was natural that she now stand as a slave. She was a slave.
"Turn," said Marlenus.
Verna did so, gracefully, obediently. She stood, facing away from us.
"You see?" asked Marlenus.
"Yes," I said.
Verna knew that she was beautiful. Moreover, she knew that her beauty was now being surveyed, candidly, by two free men. I could sense, in her breathing, and her carriage, that this excited her. It may well have excited her, for she was a mere slave, and belonged to one of the men present. A girl in a collar, as it is said, is not permitted inhibitions.
We observed her.
She stood on the ball of her left foot. The left leg was slightly, subtly, flexed, and her right leg was flexed, too, and much more than the left. Her head was turned slightly to the right, as though she might wish, did she dare, to look over her right shoulder. I noted the hamstrings. They were not tight. They were lovely, beautifully resilient. Marlenus played a savage game. I was pleased that they had not been severed.
"You see?" asked Marlenus.
"Yes," I said.
"There is now a readiness," said Marlenus. "She is still a raw girl, an ignorant girl, but now there is a readiness."
I nodded.
"Face us," said Marlenus.
"Yes, Master," said Verna. I marveled. Her lips were parted. She faced Marlenus. I saw her breathing. She was excited. A girl in a collar is not permitted inhibitions. Simply standing before her master, in his collar, she was visibly excited. I could scarcely conjecture the helplessness and violence of her responses to Marlenus, should he deign to touch her.
"Do you sense in yourself a readiness," Marlenus asked her, "to serve as what you now are, as a slave girl?"
"Yes," she said, "yes, Master!"
"Clothe yourself," said Marlenus.
Unsteadily, tears in her eyes, she did so.
Marlenus' attention was again upon the board of the game.
"Ubara's Builder to Ubara's Builder Nine," said Marlenus. He moved the piece.
I responded to this with Scribe to Ubara's Builder Two.
Marlenus looked up. He glanced to the girl, absently.
"Serve us wine," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I observed the board.
I wondered at women. It seems that they, at least on my former world, Earth, claim to wish to relate to, and profess to esteem, as is prescribed for them, only weak men, soft men, little men, pleasant, sensitive, charming, predictable males, insecure, deferential, docile, accommodating fellows, trained to view their masculinity with suspicion and disdain, taught to fear the howling and power of even their diluted blood, conforming fellows zealously, desperately, concerned to treat them with great consideration and solicitude. Yet, in their dreams, it seems they find themselves forced to surrender, totally, to fierce, dominating masters, masters emerging like welcome, long-awaited, long-sought beasts from another reality, imperious, hungry men striding into their lives with ropes and chains, looking for a capture, a woman, themselves, masters who insolently and cruelly, though often with ironic courtesy and tenderness, will exact from their bodies, over a period of hours, every last minute sensation of response of which their bodies are capable, strong men, warriors, who, patiently, permit them no shield, who permit them to withhold nothing, who permit them to save not a particle of their honor, who will force them to yield themselves totally, helplessly, in complete and utter surrender. They then, devastated and vanquished, awed and grateful, know themselves the claimed, unquestioning slaves of such men. Gorean culture, of course, differs greatly from Earth culture. On Gor, for better or for worse, the reality in which a woman, terrified, might find herself is not altogether unlike that of her most feared dreams on Earth, but on Gor it is not a dream; it is as real as the steel of slave bracelets and the commanding touch of a master.
I looked at Marlenus of Ar.
He was lost in the game, his attention on the board. I had not thought much of it before, but I now realized that he must be attractive, enormously attractive, to women. He was broad and strong. He was fierce and highly intelligent. He was as insolent, and rugged and handsome as the crags of the mighty Voltai. He was uncompromising; he was powerful; he was wealthy; he controlled cities and men; he was a tarnsman, master of the great, predatory saddlebirds of Gor. He had taken, and owned, many women. He seemed a natural master of female flesh. Many women, just seeing him, had a spontaneous desire to yield to him. Some high-born beauties of Ar, I knew, had begged for his collar.
"Ubara to Ubara Four," said Marlenus.
I moved my Ubar's Physician to my Ubara Six, interposing it between the Ubara and the Home Stone.
Marlenus and I watched her pour the wine. She poured it differently than she had before. She knelt, her head down, the hair forward. I could see it in her shoulders. She, a slave girl, poured wine for masters. That she was owned was revealed, beautifully, in her serving.
I saw his collar gleaming at her throat.
Marlenus looked at me and smiled. I nodded. Verna was a slave.
She lifted her eyes to him, helplessly.
"Later," said Marlenus. "I must finish this game."
"Yes, Master!" she whispered.
She withdrew, kneeling, and watched. Her eyes were on the board, but I could see that she did not understand the game. It was only pieces to her. Yet she sensed the struggle.
Sometimes she looked away from the board. She was breathing deeply. Her fists would clen
ch and unclench. There was a light sheen of sweat on her body. The slave silk clung to her the more closely. She put her head back. Her thighs moved. She was in the torment of her need, often visible in a female slave.
"Tarnsman to Ubara Six," said Marlenus. He moved his tarnsman to his Ubara Six, my Ubara Five.
"Capture of Home Stone," said Marlenus.
I had been crushed.
I shrugged. I stood up.
Verna's eyes shone. I had been defeated, and devastatingly, by her master. She did not play the game, but this much she knew. She could read it in the tone of Marlenus, the swiftness with which he had moved, his insolent handling of the pieces, the vigor and arrogance of his carriage. Marlenus had played with ferocity, exactness and clarity. I had been driven before his attack, stumbling and reeling before him. I could not defend myself. I had been helpless. He had crushed me.
This Verna knew. She could not take her eyes from him.
Marlenus set aside the board, and looked upon her. He had now set aside the things of men, and was ready for her, a woman.
I walked to one side of the tent.
"Remove the silk," said Marlenus, "and come to my arms."
Verna parted the slave silk, and dropped it to the side. He was sitting cross-legged, and she crept to him, trembling. He took her and held her across his knees, cradling her in his left arm. She looked up at him, vulnerable, helpless. His right hand was at her thigh, over her brand. There was the slight sound of slave bells, locked on her left ankle.
"You seem a woman," said Marlenus.
"I am a woman," said Verna.
"Are you free?" asked Marlenus.
"No," she whispered. "I am a slave. I am your slave."
With his hand Marlenus turned her head from side to side. Her hair was back.
"These are lovely earrings," he said.
I could see, from across the tent, the tiny shadows, where the small golden wires were thrust through the softness of her ear lobes.
They were indeed beautiful.
"Yes," whispered Verna, a lowly pierced-ear girl in the arms of her master.
"Do you like them?" asked Marlenus.
"Yes," whispered Verna. "They excite me. They excite me as a woman."
"That is one of their purposes," said Marlenus.
She attempted to lift her lips, delicately, to his, but his hand prevented them from touching his.
"Do you like your lipstick?" asked Marlenus.
"Yes," she whispered, "yes, Master!"
"It, too, excites you, does it not?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"How is that?" he asked.
"It, like the earrings," she whispered, "makes me feel more female, more slave."
"You are female, and slave," said Marlenus.
"Yes, Master," she whispered. "I know. I have been taught."
He then, with his right hand, brushed hair across her face and mouth, and drew her to him, thrusting his lips across the hair to hers.
It was a brutal kiss, this first kiss that he placed upon the lips of his slave girl, a kiss in which she was, by intent, permitted no part, save to feel the bruising of it in her body. When he thrust her back there was blood at her mouth, and fear in her eyes. She was now frightened of him, terribly frightened. But he put her to her back, swiftly, casually, and his hand was at her body. Then, though there was fear in her eyes, her body, as though of its own will, began to leap to his touch, that of her master. Her body, as though of its own will, obeyed the touch of Marlenus. Then she cried out, "Oh yes, Master, yes!" Her head was back. Her eyes were closed. She twisted. "I love you, Master!" she wept. "I love you!"
"Tomorrow," said Marlenus, "you will put a talender in your hair."
"Yes, Master," she cried. "I will. I will."
I slipped from the tent. I looked back once. I saw, to one side, a bowl of scarlet, five-petaled flaminiums.
As I walked into the darkness I heard Verna's helpless cries of joy. I heard, too, the sound of slave bells. They had been locked on her left ankle. They could not be removed, save by a key in the keeping of Marlenus.
"I love you, Master," I heard her cry. "I love you. I cannot help myself. I love you, Master! I love you, my Master!"
I envied Marlenus his girl, Verna. She was a beauty, and, in time, would be a prize slave. I thought of Sheera. Many times the thought of her had crossed my mind. I had told her I was going to sell her in Lydius. Perhaps I would not. I found myself lonely for Sheera. I called myself a fool. She was only a slave. But she was a slave not without promise. I recalled her in my shelter beside the Tesephone, in the darkness, and in the following day. She was not displeasing. Perhaps, with training, something could be made of her. I reminded myself that it was said that panther girls, once conquered, made excellent slaves.
Lying in the darkness, wrapped in my blankets, I heard, in the distance, Verna's cries of pleasure.
I threw away the blankets. I walked through the camp, until I came to the chain of Verna's girls, they in their skins, each chained by the left ankle, the long chain fastened between two stakes.
They were asleep, on the ground. Marlenus had told me that any of the women in the camp, save Verna, were free to me.
I looked along the chain, until I found one that pleased me.
She was sweet-bodied, wide-shouldered, dark-haired, like Sheera.
I knelt beside her and placed my hand over her mouth. She squirmed helplessly. I held her. Her eyes, over my hand, were wild.
"Be silent," I told her.
Then I removed my hand from her mouth. She looked up at me.
I took her skins by the shoulders, and drew them from her body, leaving them about her left ankle, where it was fastened to the chain.
She lifted her arms to me, and her lips. I held her, gently, and then began to touch her. I felt her lips on mine. "Be silent," I whispered to her.
"Yes, Master," she whispered. "Yes, Master."
It was nearly dawn when I left her side. At times I had had to keep her mouth covered with my hand.
"What is your name?" I asked her.
She turned her head to the side. With my thumb I felt a tear on her cheek.
"Do you have a name?" I asked.
"They took my name away!" she said.
"What was it?" I asked.
"Serena," she said. "I was the Lady Serena of Besnit. I fled an unwanted, arranged companionship."
"And sought refuge in the forests?"
"Yes."
"All such things are in the past now, girl," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"Have you been given a name?" I asked.
"Yes," she sobbed. "A slave name!"
"Then you have a name," I said.
"Yes," she said, bitterly.
"And you understand that that is now your name, and your only name?" I said.
"Yes," she wept.
"And that it is one which is yours only by the generosity and indulgence of masters?"
"Yes," she said.
"It is part of your slavery," I said.
"Yes," she said, "like the brand and collar."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Rena," she whispered.
"That is a lovely name," I said.
"Do you think so?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Does it not seem to you too simple, too familiar, too common?" she asked.
"It is a slave name," I granted her.
She sobbed.
"But," I said, "it seems to me a delicious name, a splendid, tasty name for a well-curved property-girl, for an attractive slave."
"Oh?" she said.
"Certainly," I said.
"Then I think I like it," she said.
"You must answer to it, quickly and well."
"I know," she said.
Instant, unquestioning obedience is required of female slaves.
"Rena!" I said, abruptly.
"Yes, Master!" she said.
"You see?
" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she smiled.
"It is a lovely name," I said. "You must strive to live up to it."
"I shall, Master," she said.
"A lovely name," I said, "and you, Rena, are a lovely slave."
"Thank you, Master," she whispered.
I made as though to leave her, but she clutched at me, piteously.
"Please, no," she wept. "Do not leave me! Touch Rena yet again, please, oh, please, Master!"
"A slave begs?" I asked.
"Yes, Master!"
I glanced at her collar, glinting in the light of one of the camp torches, and took pity upon her.
I later returned to my blankets, to get an Ahn's sleep, if I could, before the camp became too much astir.
I looked up at the moons. I recalled Sheera. Yes, I did not think I would sell her in Lydius.
I recalled her, as I had seen her chained at the bar in Lydius. Even then I had wanted her. And I recalled her in the hold of the Tesephone, and later, in the camp, in my shelter beside the Tesephone, that hot night, and the sweet day that had followed.
No, when I returned, I would be in no hurry to sell her. She was a juicy slave, and one of high intelligence. She was not without interest. I rather liked the look of my collar on her throat.
I reminded myself that it was said that panther girls, once conquered, make excellent slaves.
I think it is a true saying.
Certainly Rena, gasping, sobbing, pleading, squirming piteously in my arms, had begun to learn her collar.
I rolled over in the blankets, and fell asleep. In the morning I must make my way back to the Tesephone.
12
I Return to my Camp on the Banks of the Laurius
My emotions were much mixed as I made my way through the tall forest toward the banks of the Laurius.
I had left my men at the camp of Marlenus, Arn, his outlaws, and the five men from the Tesephone. I had wished to be alone on this journey. They would follow me, in two days.
I carried my weapons, even the great bow, recovered from Verna's camp, days before.
I had come to the forest rich in my prides and my plans. I would, from under the nose of Marlenus, preferably by trade, snatch Talena, thus evening the score for his banishment of me from Ar, thus regaining her, thus winning glory, thus setting my ladder against the political heights of the planet Gor, for, with such a woman at my side, there were few doors and cylinders that would be locked against me, and I, only a merchant of Port Kar, might have ascended unimpeded the stairs of influence and power. At a stroke, companionship with such a woman, coupled with my position and riches in Port Kar, would have made me one of the most significant and prominent men on Gor.