Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt

by Marauders of Gor [lit]

  touch the daughter of Tho gard of Scagnar. She shrank back, terrified. The

  Forkbeard looked upon her, amused. "Would you n care to play in the furs?" he

  asked her. "No," she said, shuddering. "Let me play," whimpered Pudding. "Let me

  play," whi pered Gunnhild. "Do not misunderstand me, Ivar Forkbeard," whispere

  Hilda. If you order me to the furs I shall obey you, an swlftly. I will comply

  with your slightest wish, exactly an promptly. I will do whatever I am told."

  Pudding and Gunnhild laughed. Ottar stumbled up, putting his hand on one of the

  post~ By a length of ship's rope, he had tied Olga to his belt. Sh looked at me;

  her eyes shone; her lips were parted; she pu out her hand; I paid her no

  attention; she looked down, fis clenched, and whimpered. I smiled. I would use

  her befor the night was done. "It is said," intoned Ottar, "that Hilda the

  Haughty daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, is the coldest of women.' "Do you find

  men of interest?" asked the Forkbeard c "No," she said. "I do not." Ottar

  laughed. "Are you not curious," asked Ivar of the daughter of Thorgard of

  Scagnar, "what it would be to feel on your body their hands, their mouths?"

  'sMen are beasts!" she cried. "Their teeth?" he asked. "Men are hateful," she

  wept. "They are terrible beasts, using girls as their prey!" She looked about at

  the bondmaids. "Resist them!" she cried. "Resist them!" Pudding threw bac~ her

  head and laughed. "Resistance is not permitted," she laughed. "Throw her in the

  furs," cried Pretty Ankles. "Then she will learn whether she knows what she is

  taL~ing about or not. "Throw her in the furs," cried another bond-maid. "Thr~w

  her in the furs," called yet another. "Throw her in the furs," cried the

  bond-maids. Hilda shuddered, terrified. "Silence!" called out Ivar Forkbeard.

  There was silence. "What," asked Ivar Forkbeard of Hilda, "if I should order you

  to the furs?" "I would obey you immediately," she said. "I have felt the whip,"

  she explained. "But of your own free will you would be unlikely to enter upon

  the furs?" asked Ivar. "Of course not," she said. ~Gorm, who had now

  disentangled himself from Pouting Lips, joined the circle about the table, where

  we sat, others standing. She was behind him, combing her hair with a comb of

  horn. "She is Hilda the Haughty," laughed Ottar. "She is the coldest of women!"

  Hilda stood straight, her head high. "Ottar, Gorm," said the Forkbeard. "Take

  her to the ice shed. Leave her there, bound hand and foot." The bond-maids

  shrieked with pleasure. Men pounded 156 their left shoulders with the palms of

  their right hand ~ome pounded their plates on the heavy boards of t~ wooden

  table. Ottar delayed only long enough to untie Olga from h belt. He had tied her

  there by ship's rope, knotted about h~ stomach. He left the rope about her

  stomach, but, with i free end, pulling her arms about one of the roof posts, tie

  her hands together. He then left, following Gorm, who had dragged Hild from the

  hall. She tried futilely to free herself. She looked at me, agc nized. "Untie

  me," she begged. I looked at her. "My body wants you, Tarl Red Hair," she wept.

  "M~ body needs you!" I looked away from her, paying her no more attention. ]

  heard her moan, and rub her body on the post. "I need you Tarl Red Hair," she

  whimpered. I would let her smolder for another Ahn or two. By thal time her body

  would be ready. To my slightest touch it would leap, helpless, squirming, in my

  arms. I would use her twice, the second time in the lengthy use of the Gorean

  master, that use in which, over an Ahn, the female slave or bond-maid is shown

  no mercy. "Mead!" I called. Pretty Ankles rushed to serve me. I again bent to

  kiss the lips of Thyri. Late and fully were we feasting when the thrall-boy,

  tugging on the sleeve of Ivar ~orkbeard, said to him, "MyJarl, the wench in the

  ice shed begs to be freed." "How long has she begged?" asked the Forkbeard. "For

  more than two Ahn," said the boy, grinning. He was male. "Good boy," said the

  Forkbeard, and tore him a piece of neat. "Thank you, myJarl," said the boy. The

  boy, unlike the adult male thralls, was not chained at ~ight in the bosk shed

  Ivar was fond of him. He slept, chained, in the kitchen. "Red Hair, Gorrn," said

  the Forkbeard. "Fetch the littl~ Ubara of Scagnar." We smiled. "Gorm," said the

  Forkbeard. "Before she is freed, see that her thirst is assuaged." "Yes,

  Captain," said Gorm. We carried a torch to the ice shed. We opened the heavy

  door, lined with leather, and lifted the torch, closing the door behind us. In

  the light of the torch we saw Hilda. We approached more closely. She lay on her

  side, in misery, across great blocks of ice; she could lift her head and

  shoulders no more than six inches from the ice; she could draw her ankles toward

  her body no more than six inches; small chips of wood, in which the ice is

  packed, clung about her body; she was bound, hand and foot, her wrists behind

  her, her ankles crossed and tied. Two ropes prohibited her from struggling to

  either a sitting or kneeling position, one running from her right ankle across

  the ice to a ring in the side of the shed, the other runnin,~ from her throat

  across the ice to a similar ring on the other side of the shed. "Please," she

  wept. Her teeth chattered; her lips were blue. She lay before us, on her back.

  "Please," she wept, piteously, "I beg to be permitted to run to the furs of Ivar

  Forkbeard." We looked down on her. "I beg!" she cried. "I beg to be permitted to

  run to his furs!" Gorm unbound the rope from her ankle, that which hadheld her

  legs straight, and that on her throat, which had prevented her from lifting her

  shoulders and head. He did not unbind her wrists and ankles. He lifted her to a

  sitting position. She trembled with cold, whimpering. "I have brought you a

  drink," he said. 'Drink it eagerly, Hilda the Haughty." "Yes, yes!" she

  whispered, her teeth chattering. Then, holding her head back, and lifting the

  cup to her 158 mouth, he gave her of the drink he had brought with him. And

  eagerly, whimpering, shuddering with cold, did Hilda tke Haughty drink down the

  slave wine. Gorm unbound her and threw her over his shoulder; so stiff and

  trembling with cold, and stiff from the ropes, was she that she could not stand.

  I put my hand on her body; it was like ice. She was whimpering with cold, her

  head hanging down, over Gorm's back; her long hair fell to the back of his

  knees. I lit the way with the torch, and we took her to the hall of the

  Forkbeard. We carried her through the darkness and smoke of the hall, between

  the posts. The Forkbeard was sitting on the end of his couch, his boots on the

  fioor. Gorm threw her, on her knees, at the feet of the Forkbeard. Her head was

  down; her hair was over his boots. She trembled with cold. Men and bond-maids

  gathered about. The left side of her body was illuminated dully, redly, from the

  coals of the fire pit. The right side of her body was in darkness. "Who are

  you?" demanded the Forkbeard. "Hilda," she wept, "daughter of Thorgard of

  Scagnar." "Hilda the Haughty?" he asked. "Yes," she wept, head down, "Hilda the

  Haughty." "What do you want?" he asked. "To share your furs," she wept. "Are you

  not a free woman?" he asked. "I beg to share your
furs, Ivar Forkbeard," she

  wept. He rose to his feet and shoved back a long table, and a bench, on the

  other side of the fire pit. With his heel he drew in the dirt of the floor a

  bond-maid circle. She looked at him. Then he gestured that she might enter his

  couch. Gratefully, she crawled upon the couch, his section of that furcovered,

  dirt sleeping level, and, trembling, shuddering with cold, drawing her body up,

  drew the furs about her. She lay 159 ~'~ huddled in the furs. Her body shook

  beneath them. We heard her moan. "Mead!" called Ivar Forkbeard, returning to the

  table. Pudding was first to reach him, with a horn of mead. "Please come to my

  side, Ivar Forkbeard!" wept Hilda. "I freeze! Hold me! Please hold me!" "Let

  that be a lesson in passion to you other bond-maids," laughed Ottar. There was

  much laughter, and most from the beautiful, nude slaves of the men of

  TorvaldsIand, hot, collared, and eager in their brawny arms. The Forkbeard,

  laughing, drained the horn. "Mead!" he cried. Gunnhild served him. After this

  second horn of mead the Forkbeard, wiping his mouth with his arm, turned about

  and went to his furs. He howled with misery. "She is the coldest of women!"

  laughed Ottar. "Hold me, Forkbeard!" she wept. "Hold me please!" "Will you serve

  me well?" asked the Forkbeard. "Yes," she cried. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" But the

  Forkbeard did not make her serve him then but, firmIy, held her body, locked in

  his arms, that of his prisoner, to his, warming her. After half of an Ahn I saw

  her, delicately, eyes frightened, lift her head and put her lips to his

  shoulder; softly, timidly, she kissed him; and then looked into his eyes.

  Suddenly she was flung on her back and his huge hand, roughened from the hilt of

  the sword, the handle of the ax, was at her body. "Oh no!" she cried. "No!" Bets

  were made at the table. I bet on Ivar Forkbeard. Within an Ahn, Hilda the

  Haughty, to the jeers of men, the taunts of bond-maids, on her hands and knees,

  head down, hair falling forward, crept to the circle of the bond-maid, which

  Ivar Forkbeard had drawn in the dirt of the hall floor between the posts. The

  coals of the fire pit illuminated the left side of her body. She crawled before

  the bond-maids the oarsmen. She entered the circle, and then, within the circle,

  stood up. She stood very straight, and her head was up. "I am yours, Ivar

  Forkbeard," she said. "I am yours!" 160 He gestured to her, and she fled from

  the circle, to join him, to throw herself at his side, to beg his touch, his

  bondmaid. I collected nine tarn disks and two pieces of broken plate, plundered

  two years ago from a house on the eastern edge of Skjern. Gunnhild had been

  given by the Forkbeard to Gorm for the night. I saw him holding her by the arm

  and pushing her ahead of him to his furs. This night her ankle wouId be held by

  his fetter, -not that of the Forkbeard. The Forkbeard had offered me Pudding,

  but, generously, thinking to have Thyri, I had, after using her once, given her

  for the night to Ottar. Even now she was, kneeling on his furs, being fettered

  by the keeper of Ivar Forkbeard's farm. You can imagine my irritation when I saw

  Thyri led past me, her left wrist in the grip of an oarsman. She looked over her

  shoulder at me, agonized. I blew her a kiss in the Gorean fashion, kissing and

  gesturing, my fingers at the right side of my mouth, almost vertical, then, with

  the kiss, brushing gently toward her. I had no special claim on-the pretty

  little bond-maid, no more than any other among t~he Forkbeard's men. The

  delicious little thing, like the other goods of the hall, was, for most

  practical purposes, for the use of us all. I heard the movements of chain, the

  moans of the bondmaids in the arms of their masters, men of-Torvaldsland. I

  thought I would sleep alone this night. "Tarl Red Hair," I heard. I followed the

  sound of the voice and, to my delight, as Ottar had left her, she slipping his

  mind apparently, as she had mine, her hands still tied before her, about the

  post, kneeling in the dirt, was Olga. "I hate you, Tarl Red Hair," she said. I

  knelt beside her. I had intended to permit her to smolder for a time, she much

  aroused, and then later, when she had been much heated with need and desire,

  when, cruelly deprived, she had been aching to break into flame, throw her to my

  furs, but, unfortunately, I had forgotten about her. "I forgot about you," I

  told her. 161 "I hate you, Tarl Red Hair," she said. I reached out to touch her.

  She shrank back in fury. "Would you please untie me?" she asked. I did not wish

  to sleep alone. I wondered if the fires in Olga which, earlier, had burned so

  deeply, so hotly, could be truly out. I wondered if they might be rekindled. I

  slipped, kneeling, behind her. I heard her body move against the post. I pushed

  her collar up, under her chin, and, with two fingers of my right hand and two

  fingers of my left, rubhed the sides of her throat. "Please untie me," she

  whispered. Her hands writhed in the bonds; her body pressed against the post;

  her left cheek was at the right side of the post~ My hands lowered themselves on

  her body. And then, her hands tied about the post, we both kneelingg I caressed

  her. She tried to resist, in fury, but I was patient. At last I heard her sob.

  "You are master," she said, "Tarl Red Hair." I kissed her on the back of the

  right shoulder. She put back her head. "Take me to your filrs?'' she begged. I

  untied her hands from the post, taking, too, the rope from her b~lly, by which

  Ottar had fastened her to his belt, but lett the rope on her right wrist, its

  free end in my hand, to lead her. But I needed not lead her. She followed

  eagerly, trying to press her lips to my left shoulder. Before my sleeping area,

  my rude couch, my furs, ~ stopped. I stood behind her. She stood very still,

  facing the couch, at its foot. She was a bond-maid. She was property. She was

  owned. 'CForce me," she whispered. Bond-maids know they are chattel, and relish

  being treated as such. Deep in the belly, too, of e~ery female is a desire, more

  ancient than the caves, to be forced to yield to the ruthless domination of a

  magnificent, uncompromising male, a master; deep within them ths~y all wish to

  submit, vulnerably and completely. nude, tO such a beast. This is completely

  clear in their fantasies; Earth culture, of course, gives little scope to these

  blood needs of the beauties of our race; accordingly, these needs, frustrated,

  tend to ex 162 pre~s themselves in neurosis, hys~eria and hostility. Technology

  and social structures, lollowing their own dynamics, in~egral to their

  development and expansion, have left behind the pitiful, rational animals who

  are their builders and the~r vlc~ims. We have built our own cage, and de~end it

  against those who would shatter its locks M~, lett hand held her left arm, with

  my right hand I forc.ed her right wrist behind her back; I thrust it up. she

  cried out, suddenly, with misery; I threw her to the furs; scarcf ly had she

  struck them, crying out, belly down, than I had clasped the tetter of black iron

  about her ankle; chained, she turned to face me, sitting on the furs, tears in

  her eyes, her hands back, her legs flexed. I discarded the leather and tur of

  Torvaldsla
nd. With a movement of the chain she knelr on the turs, her head down.

  I entered up~n the furs. "To your belly," I said, "ankles a foot apart." "Yes,

  my Jarl," she said. I then began to caress her, beneath th~ ,hins, on the

  inside~ of her feet, behind the backs ~f her knees~ at the sides of her breasts,

  high between her thighs. By ~he ~ensility of her muscles, the movements of her

  body, sometin es her tiny cries, her breathing, she ir~structed me in her

  weakness, which I, as a warrior, might then exploit. When I was satisfied, I

  threw her to her back. "I am told," I told her, "that Olga is one of the best of

  the bond-maids." She lifted her body to me, begging for my touch. I fondled th~

  extent o~ her, kissing and licking. "What have you done to my body?" she

  whispered. "I have never felt this way, this deeply, this ~ully, before." "What

  does your body tell you?'; I asked. "Tha~ I will be a marvel to you, Tarl Red

  Hair," she whispered. "A marvel!" "Please me," I told her. "Yes, m~ Jarl," she

  wept. "Yes!" And when she had much pleased me, I finished with her, in the lirs~

  taking. "Hold me," she wept. "I shall hold you," I told her, "and then, in a

  time, bond-maid, you will be again used." She looLed at me, startled. "This," I

  told her, "is the first taking. It's purpose is only to warm you for the

  second." She clutched me, not speaking. I held her, tightly. "Can I endure such

  pleasure?" she asked, frightened. "You are bond," I told her. "You will have no

  choice." "I~Iy Jarl," she asked, frightened, "is it the second taking of the

  Gorean master, to which you intend to subject me?" "Yes," I told her. "I have

  heard of it," she wept. "In it," she gasped, "the girl is permitted no quarter,

  no mercy!" "That is true," I told her. We lay together, silently, I holding her,

  she against me, chained, for something like half of an Ahn. Then I touched "She

  lifted her head. "Is it beginning?" she asked. "Yes," I told her. "~lay a

  bond-maid beg one favor of her Jarl?" she asked. "Perhaps," I said. She leaned

  over me. I felt her hair brush my body. "Be merciless," she whispered. "Be

  merciless," she begged. "That is my intention," I told her, and threw her to he

  ~Never have I yielded as I yielded now," she wept. " would not exchange my