by John Norman
Helplessly yielded, she would be exquisite.
She had not been completely open with me. I would have her sold in Port Kar.
I continued on.
Behind me I could hear her quick, light steps, and, behind me, farther back, I could hear the chain of the slave coffle. I would hear the chain, and then a silence, and then the chain again. The left leg of each girl moved in unison, the lovely left ankle of each locked in the clasp of the ankle ring, lifting and carrying the chain that bound them.
I looked back. They were beautiful, the panther girls. They walked straight, and they bore their burdens well. They were a splendid set of slaves.
The red-haired girl walked beside them, with her switch.
* * * *
I stood on the branch of a tree, concealed in foliage. The slave chain of the men of Tyros passed below me.
It was a long chain, containing ninety-six men. Each was double fastened, and the hands of each were manacled behind his back. Each was chained by the left ankle, and each too, by the throat. About the left ankle of each and the neck of each had been hammered a band of iron, each band with two welded rings. At two ends, then, of a given length of chain, links had been opened, thrust through the welded rings, and then hammered shut again. In this fashion, rude but effective, was formed the long slave chain.
Marlenus was first on the chain, followed by his men. Then came Rim, who had been captured at the time of the raid on the Tesephone. Then came Arn, and the other eight men of mine who had been in the camp of Marlenus when it had been attacked.
Following the men came a coffle of twenty-four slave girls. They were tied together by the neck, by binding fiber. Their wrists were bound behind their body by slave bracelets.
Men of Tyros, and panther girls, flanked the lines of slaves.
Many supplies had been tied on the backs and shoulders of the male slaves. Apparently the men of Tyros, and the panther girls, feared to free their hands. I did not blame them in this matter, for the men they guarded were dangerous. Some burdens were carried even by the men of Tyros. Others, lighter burdens, were carried by certain of the panther girls.
Eight men of Tyros, with whips, struck the male slaves. Four panther girls, with switches, hurried the lovely, tethered, braceleted bondswomen.
I looked down.
The slave girls now passed beneath me. Only Sheera had been stripped. I saw Cara and Tina, still in their white wool slave tunics, save that they were now dirtied and torn. To my surprise, also in a woolen slave tunic, in coffle, was Grenna, whom I had captured in the forest. She had stood high in the band of Hura. But they were keeping her slave. Panther girls have little patience for those of their number who fall slave. Grenna's neck knot was tied as tightly as that of any of the other girls; her wrists were confined no less securely behind her back. She was as much slave as they. Then there came six panther girls, who had been of Verna's band, in their skins, and then, still in lipstick and earrings, still in her bit of slave silk, came Verna, and then, following her, came the other eight girls who had been of her band. I saw the girl behind her, with her heel, kick at the back of Verna's knee. She fell back, twisting, strangling in the fiber. She struggled to her feet, muchly switched. One of the switches cut the silk on her body. She tried to turn to face the girl who had kicked her, but strangling, was pulled ahead by the girl in front of her. She was then struck more with switches.
"Hurry, Slave!" cried one of the girls of Hura, striking her twice again with a switch.
Verna hurried on, a slave girl under the switch.
It was no accident that Verna, garbed and adorned as she was, as a pleasure slave, had been tied among panther girls. She even still wore slave bells at her ankle. I suspected that, in the eyes of the men of Tyros, and those of the girls of Hura, her position in the slave coffle was regarded as, and intended as, a delicious cruelty. The remaining slave girls, who had been girls in Marlenus' camp, brought north for the recreation of his men, were safely tied behind the panther girls. They brought up the rear of the coffle.
I had seen, near the front of the march, Sarus, leader of the men of Tyros, and, near him, Hura, and her lieutenant, Mira, who had first betrayed Verna, and then Marlenus. I smiled to myself. Mira would betray Hura as well. I would see to that.
The men of Tyros and the girls of Hura had had scouts out, flanking their line of march, panther girls.
Two, whom I had encountered, were nearby. They were bound and gagged. I had tied them to a small Tur tree.
The last of the march passed beneath me. I would wait, for a time. Doubtless there would be rear points. They were not as far behind the main group as they should have been. They were doubtless apprehensive, nervous. They were separated by some fifty yards. I took them individually. It was not difficult in the heavy brush. I left them bound hand and foot, and gagged, near the trail, where I might get them later.
The rear of the march was now open to me. I would later use the flanks.
I carried with me four of the seven quivers of arrows taken from panther girls. Their arrows, their bows being smaller, are not as long as the common sheaf arrow of the long bow, but they would be satisfactory. The bow need not be fully drawn to effect a considerable penetration.
Sixteen men of Tyros, in single file, brought up the rear of the march.
One begins with the last man, and then the next to the last, and so on.
By the time a panther girl, looking back, screamed, fourteen had fallen.
I expected that men would now hesitate to bring up the rear of the march.
I returned and picked up the girls I had taken, the day's catch. I unbound their ankles, tied them together by the neck, and, with a switch, hurried them to the camp. There the dark-haired girl and the blond girl, two of my paga slaves, stripped the new prisoners and I, with Harl rings, part of the freight carried by the panther girls, not speaking, fastened them in the slave chain.
There were twenty-five girls now in the chain.
They fed from bowls of slave meal, mixed with water. Too, I cut each of them a piece of the dried, salted meat taken from the abandoned camp of the men of Tyros and the girls of Hura.
"What if the food is poisoned?" asked the blond girl, in her ankle ring.
"Eat," I told her.
She looked at me.
"Eat, Slave," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
Looking at me, apprehensive, she chewed and swallowed.
"Quickly," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
Swiftly, frightened, she finished the bowl of slave meal and the piece of salted, dried meat.
I observed her. She suffered no ill effects. The food had not been poisoned. Later, when the moons were high, the paga slaves and I partook of it as well. I was pleased that we had this food, much of it, because I did not wish to be distracted by the need to seek out supplies.
In the forest I was hunting game other than tabuk.
The loose end of the slave chain, attached to the front of the first girl's ankle ring, I took from her wrist. I fastened it about a small tree, thus tethering the entire chain of girls to the tree.
"Lie down," I told the girls. "Closely together."
They did so.
I then, with the aid of the paga slaves, covered them with the tarpaulin and pegged it down.
* * * *
I lay awake, looking up at the moons.
I turned my head to one side and saw, some yards away, at the edge of our camp, in her yellow silk, Ilene. She was standing with her back against the trunk of a tree, her hands behind her back. Her head was turned toward me. Her hair was long and dark. She was very lightly complexioned. She was slender.
I rose and went to her.
"You are of Earth," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"The others are asleep," she said. "I must talk to you."
"Speak," I said.
"Not here," she said, "surely."
"Precede me," I told he
r.
She turned and, I following her, walked some distance from the camp.
Then, in a small clearing, she turned to face me. Her fists were clenched.
"Return me to Earth," she said.
"There is no escape for a Gorean slave girl," I said.
"I will not accept being a Gorean slave girl!" she said.
"You have not been long on Gor," I said.
"No," she said.
"You will learn the collar," I told her.
"No!" she cried.
I shrugged, and went to turn away.
"I am not a slave girl!" she said.
I turned and faced her. "How did you come to this world?" I asked.
She looked down. "I awakened one night. I found myself bound and gagged. My hands were tied behind my back. My ankles were tied to the bedposts. I could not free myself. I had been stripped. For an hour I struggled, helpless. Then, at two A.M., by the clock on my dresser, a dark, disklike shape, not more than five feet in thickness and eight feet in width, black, appeared before the window. It was a small ship. A man emerged, in strange garb. The window lock was, from the outside, disengaged, perhaps magnetically or electronically. The window slid upward. The man swiftly used me, brutally. He then hooded me. I felt my ankles released and then crossed and bound together. I then felt myself being lifted through the window and thrust into the small ship. I felt a needle being entered in my back. I lost consciousness, and I remember nothing more until I awakened, I do not know how much later, in a Gorean slave pen."
"How were you sold?" I asked.
"I was sold privately to Hesius of Laura," she said. "I then served his customers in his paga tavern."
"How is it," I asked, "that you think you are free?"
"Is it not clear from my story?" she asked angrily. "I am a free woman of Earth!"
"Once, perhaps," I said. "Then you were taken by Gorean slavers."
"I was taken by force," she said.
"Most slaves are taken by force," I told her. "To be sure, some are bred, some seized for the nonpayment of debts, such things."
She looked at me, angrily.
"How were you brought to this world?" I asked.
"As a slave," she said.
"Where did you awaken?" I asked.
"In a slave pen," she said.
"Are you branded?" I asked.
"In the pen," she said, "I was branded."
"I see that you wear a collar," I said. She wore the collar of Hesius of Laura, a tavern keeper in that city.
She tried to tear the collar from her throat. She could not, of course, do so. It remained fixed upon her, snug, beautiful, gleaming.
She threw back her head, haughtily. "It means nothing," she said.
I smiled.
"A slave collar," she said, lightly, "might be snapped on the throat of any pretty girl."
"That is true," I said.
She reacted as if struck.
"You do not understand," she said.
"What is it that I do not understand?" I asked.
"Gorean girls," she hissed, "may be slaves! Not the women of Earth! Earth women are different! They are better, finer, nobler, more refined, more delicate! You cannot make them common slaves!"
"You regard yourself as better than Gorean girls?" I asked.
She looked at me, astonished. "Of course," she said.
"That is interesting," I said. "To me you seem less worthy, more slavish."
"You needn't play games with me," she said. "The others are asleep. We can speak frankly. We are compatriots of Earth. If you wish, for your vanity, I shall play the role of a slave girl when they are about, but I assure you that I am not a slave. I am not a slave! I am a free woman of Earth, different from them, and superior to them! I am better than they!"
"And so," I said, "I should show you special consideration?"
"Certainly," she said.
"I should be particularly kind to you," I said. "And you should, doubtless, be accorded special privileges."
"Yes," she said. She smiled. "Be cruel to them," she said, "but not to me. Be harsh to them, but not to me. Treat them as slaves, but not me."
"Why should I treat them as slaves?" I asked.
She looked at me, puzzled. "Because they are slaves," she said.
"And you are not?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"How should one treat slaves?" I asked.
"With great harshness and cruelty," she said.
I looked at her. She stood in brief, diaphanous yellow slave silk, that of the paga slave. Her hair was very long and dark. Her skin was very light. She was slender.
"I do not accept being a slave girl," she said.
"Your legs," I said, "are beautiful enough to be those of a Gorean slave girl."
"Thank you," she said.
I strode to her and pulled away the bit of silk. She gasped, but dared not interfere.
I walked about her. "You are beautiful enough," I said, "to be a Gorean slave girl."
She was silent.
"You were brought by slavers to this world," I said. "You were sold. You have been branded. You wear a collar."
She dared not speak.
I examined her, candidly. "I congratulate the slavers on their taste," I said.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I looked at her, standing in the clearing, the bit of silk at her ankles, beautiful in the light of the three moons.
She was now frightened.
"I am glad," I told her, "that the slavers brought you to Gor."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because," I said, "it is a pleasure to own you."
"I cannot be owned," she said. "I am not a slave girl!"
"Are you aware that the men of Gor look upon the women of Earth as natural slaves?" I asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"How should one treat slaves?" I asked.
"I am not a slave," she said.
"How should one treat slaves?" I asked.
"With great harshness and cruelty," she said, her head high.
"You wear a collar," I said.
"I am not a slave!" she said.
"You are an exquisite slave," I said.
"No!" she cried.
"Quite exquisite," I said.
"Return me to Earth!" she cried.
"There is no escape," I said, "for a Gorean slave girl."
"I know what you want," she said. "I will purchase my passage back to Earth!"
"What have you to offer?" I asked.
"Myself," she said. She shook her hair. "Obviously myself!" She looked at me. "I will serve your pleasure," she said.
"As a slave girl?" I asked.
She tossed her head. "If you wish," she said.
"Kneel, Slave," said I, not pleasantly.
Uncertain of herself, she knelt. She looked up at me. There was fear in her eyes.
"Am I playing a role?" she asked.
"No," I told her.
She tried to leap to her feet, but my hand was in her hair, painfully.
When she stopped struggling, I released her. She knelt before me.
She shook her head, and lifted it to regard me. She smiled. "I'm not a slave girl," she said.
"Do you know the penalty," I asked, "for a slave girl who lies to her master?"
She looked at me, no longer smiling. She was now apprehensive. "Whatever the master wishes," she said.
"For the first offense," I said, "the penalty is not usually severe, commonly only a whipping."
She looked down.
"Will it be necessary in the morning to have you trussed and switched?" I asked.
She looked up, suddenly. There were tears in her eyes. "Why are you not kind and solicitous like the men of Earth?" she asked.
"I am a Gorean," I told her.
"Will you show me no mercy?" she begged.
"No," I told her.
She put her head down.
"I shall now ask you a question," I said. "I advise you
to think carefully before you answer."
She looked up at me.
"What are you, Ilene?" I asked.
She put down her head. "A Gorean slave girl," she whispered.
I knelt then beside her and took her in my arms, and put her back to the grass.
"Slaves," I told her, "are to be treated with great harshness and cruelty, and you are a slave."
She moaned.
She lay on her back on the grass, and looked up at me. "Am I to receive nothing?" she asked. "Nothing?"
"You are to receive nothing," I told her. "Nothing."
In half an Ahn she was wild, moaning, weeping, submissive in my arms.
And when in another half of an Ahn she yielded it was with the helpless, uncontrollable yielding of the utterly vanquished Gorean slave girl. "I am a slave," she wept, "a slave, only a slave."
An Ahn later, as she lay in my arms, she looked at me, helplessly. "Now that you have made me totally your slave," she wept, "what will you do with me?"
I did not respond to her.
"Will you return me to Earth?" she asked.
"No," I told her.
"Will you free me?" she asked.
"No," I told her.
"I am now totally your slave," she wept. "What will you do with me, Master?"
"I will sell you in Port Kar," I told her. I then left her.
* * * *
I awakened shortly before dawn. It was muchly dark, but not as dark as the night. I was cold, and wet. I heard the calls of some horned gims.
I rose on one elbow.
At my feet, to one side, a yard or two away, lay Ilene. Her head was on her right arm, and her eyes were open. She was watching me.
I knew the eyes of a slave girl in need.
I looked about. There was already, though before dawn, a dim filtering of light in the forest, the false dawn, the inchoate, fractionated light preceding the true dawn, when Tor-tu-Gor, the common star of two worlds, would, as a Gorean poet once said, fling its straight, warming, undeflected spears of the morning among the wet, cool branches of the forest.
I lay on my back.
The sky was now a darkish gray. I could see the edges of the trees quite clearly against it. I could detect dim, whitish clouds overhead.