by John Norman
There was no simulation of moonlight in the cylinder that night.
On Gor, given the three moons, and the differences in their phases, moonlight was frequent.
Cabot was standing on the shore, looking out over the waters of the lake. It seemed placid. He looked up, but could not see the overhead forests for the dimness of the light. Some days earlier they had been in that area, now above them, the more populated area of the cylinder, where were found many of the domiciles of Kurii, the arena, the palace, and such.
He heard the girl behind him.
He turned to see the slave.
Three times in the afternoon he had put her to slave use.
She smiled in the dusk, and lifted two handfuls of berries, her gleanings in the forest.
Cabot was pleased with the slave.
Each time her heat had increased.
But that is not unusual with slaves.
She put the berries down, on a flat rock.
Cabot looked to the side. There was a pile of dry wood there, chips, branches, and bark. This trove of combustibles had been fetched earlier by the slave, while Cabot had investigated the beach, and prowled within the forest, discovering however no sign of Lord Grendel or the Lady Bina.
Perhaps Grendel had not come to this place. Perhaps he had been already taken and was already slain, or incarcerated, heavily chained, in some foul pit or tiny cell.
While in the forest Cabot had procured a long, sharpened stick. It would serve as a weapon.
As yet, Cabot had kindled no fire, but expected to do so later, perhaps the next evening, and then withdraw from it, to the forest, to see who might come, if any, to inquire.
Cabot wondered if, overhead, the revolution had begun. Surely the men of Peisistratus had been about their errands.
Had Lord Arcesilaus been warned?
Presumably so, unless the messenger had been anticipated, or intercepted.
Eventually the stick's point might be hardened in the fire.
This place is muchly uninhabited, he thought.
He then approached Lita, who, seeing him approaching, knelt.
He opened his right hand, palm upward, and lifted it, slightly, and the slave stood.
He saw the glint of the collar on her neck.
"Lift your tunic,” he said, “over your breasts, and hold it there."
"You stand well,” he said.
"Master is close to his slave,” she said.
Cabot was silent.
They were but inches from one another. He put down his head, and she felt his breath on her body.
"It is my hope to be pleasing,” she said.
He put his hands on the sides of her waist.
"Oh, yes!” she said, softly, eagerly. “Yes, yes, Master!"
Gently he lowered her to the sand.
* * * *
"You will not sell me, will you?” she begged.
"Certainly,” he said, “if I tire of you."
"Do not tire of me!” she begged.
"We shall see,” he said. “See, look, there are no stars here."
"Do not sell me!"
"You are goods,” he said. “Who knows. I might get a good price for you."
She moaned.
"Do not fret,” he said. “You are a slave. You will leap obediently in any man's hands."
"I cannot help what you have done to me,” she wept.
"But you need it now,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said. “I need it now!"
"Be silent,” he said. “Kneel beside me, and please me."
"Yes, Master!"
"Ah!” he said. “If only your young men of Earth could see you now!"
"Oh, Master!” she wept.
"They would doubtless relate to you differently."
"Yes, Master!” she wept.
Presumably this was an allusion to the effect the sight of a female slave may have upon a male, for such a sight can be so violent a spur to manhood as to transform a life, for who who has had a woman as a slave will be content thereafter to do with less?
"Continue,” said Cabot.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
* * * *
"It is late,” said Cabot, “and it is time to retire."
She lay beside him, her head at his waist.
"Do you know bara, Lita?” he asked.
"Yes, Master, from the cylinder."
"Bara,” he said.
She went to her stomach and crossed her wrists behind her back, and crossed her ankles.
"I am to be bound, Master?” she asked.
He did not respond to her, but in a moment, with two short cords, whipped free, she was trussed, hand and foot.
"Open your mouth, widely,” he said.
She then, in a moment, regarded Cabot, wide-eyed, the packing secured in her mouth, held in place with its straps.
"You obviously did not hear it,” whispered Cabot to the slave. “It is approaching, slowly, coming out of the water."
Her body stiffened in terror.
"I did not want you to scream,” he said. “We do not know who, or what, might be about. Do not fear. I will not let it come too close."
Cabot then lifted her in his arms, and turned toward the lake.
Her entire body began to squirm in terror. He could scarcely hold her.
In the tiny bit of light remaining she detected a large head, perhaps a yard across, wet, glistening from the water, on a long, thick neck, wet, glistening, the head some fifteen feet away, moving on the neck, weaving almost as might have the head of the giant hith, Gor's mightiest constrictor.
"Steady, Lita,” soothed Cabot. “See the jaws. It is herbivorous, probably a grazer on lake plants, perhaps a threat to small fish."
The beast inched forward, on huge, paddlelike appendages. A long tail moved in the sand behind it.
"Do you know gag signals?” asked Cabot.
The beast came a bit closer.
The slave shook her head, negatively, desperately.
"One tiny sound,” said Cabot, “for ‘Yes', two such sounds for ‘No'. Do you understand?"
She nodded affirmatively, vigorously. Her eyes were wide, stricken with terror, over the gag.
"Would you like to withdraw?” he inquired.
She uttered a tiny sound, desperately. In a moment, she uttered another, more fearfully."
"That is two sounds,” said Cabot.
The slave squirmed in protest, in terror.
The head of the beast was something like a yard from them.
She uttered another sound, her body writhing in terror.
"That is one sound,” said Cabot. He then put the slave over his shoulder, her head to the rear, as slaves are commonly carried, and bent down to pick up his stick. He turned, and hit the large head twice, lightly, playfully, on the side. “It is safer for you out here, at night, is it not, big fellow?” Cabot asked the saurian, and he then turned about and climbed the slope toward the forest edge. On his shoulder, the girl was unconscious.
Chapter, the Thirtieth:
A SLAVE LEARNS MORE OF GOR
Cabot looked about.
"I am hungry for meat,” he said.
A breeze was moving inward, gently, from the lake.
This was a function not of fans but of the differential heatings of cylinder surfaces.
The cylinder world, you see, is much like a natural world. It has its exchanges of gases, its alternations of day and night, its diversities of seasons, of temperatures and weathers. Most of the world's environment, too, was parklike, or soft with meadows, hills, and forests. Its agriculture, save for gardening and floriculture, and its industry, save for some traditional smithies and shops, is removed to its auxiliary cylinders, in particular those for agriculture and that for industry. Many Kurii had never been outside the cylinder.
Cabot looked down.
Lying at his feet was an object.
It squirmed in the sand, and Cabot put his foot on it, gently, to quiet it.
It was a female slave.
He removed his foot from the girl's belly.
He had not permitted her her tunic this morning.
Some sand from his bared foot adhered to her belly.
The slave at his feet was no longer gagged, but she was bound hand and foot. Slaves are often bound, or braceleted, or chained, or fastened in one way or another. There is, of course, a great variety of slave ties, and they have little in common other than the fact that in them the slave is absolutely helpless, and left in no doubt as to the fact that she is a bound slave.
The slave looked up at her master. She was frightened, certainly apprehensive. She squirmed a little, in the bonds, but could in no way lessen, reduce or mitigate their perfection.
"Have I displeased you?” she asked.
"No,” he said.
"But I am bound, helplessly,” she said.
"That is because you are a slave,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
He then lay on the beach, beside her, and she inched to him, and pressed her body against his.
She then inched downward, and kissed him on the thigh.
"May I confess something, Master?” she asked.
"If you wish,” he said.
"I love being bound, helplessly,” she whispered.
"That is because you are a slave,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said. “I am then so mastered. I am then so dominated, so much at your mercy, so helpless, so categorically yours, so uncompromisingly and categorically owned."
Masters, incidentally, not unoften caress their helpless slaves to ecstasy. It apparently amuses and pleases them.
"Free yourself,” he said.
"Master well knows I cannot,” she said.
"Try,” he said.
She squirmed, and struggled, for a time, and then subsided. “I cannot free myself,” she said. “I am helplessly bound."
"It is true,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
Among the instructions accorded to young Gorean males, incidentally, is the binding of female slaves. It is something with which every Gorean male is to be familiar.
"Slaves,” he informed her, “are sometimes staked out, and used for bait."
She shuddered.
"Would you like that?"
"No, Master,” she said.
"Do not fear,” he said. “It is pot girls, and kettle-and-mat girls, such slaves, who would be used in such a fashion. Two-tarsk girls are not used for bait."
"I hope that I am a two-tarsk girl,” she said.
"You are, clearly,” he said.
"Thank you, Master,” she said.
"Tomorrow,” he said, “I think I will begin to leash train you."
She looked up at him.
"Beautiful slaves are often leashed,” he said. “Masters in the cities, visiting markets, places of business and such, often take their girls along, on leashes."
"Like dogs?” she said.
"The same idea, of course,” he said.
"I want to be leashed,” she said.
"Of course,” he said, “for you are a slave. Doubtless your young men of Earth would enjoy seeing you on a Gorean street, slave-clad, muchly bared, collared, leashed."
"Doubtless,” she said.
"I may teach you, too, how to kneel and kiss the whip."
"I learned something of that in the cylinder,” she said.
"It is a beautiful symbolic act,” he said. “How did you feel about it?"
"At first I was terrified,” she said, “but then, as I began to better understand its significance, and why I was on my knees, and kissing the whip, it moved me, and it stirred me, exciting my belly, profoundly."
"Excellent,” said Cabot.
"Soon,” she said, “I was eager to perform this act."
"Good,” said Cabot.
"Too,” she said, “I think I did it acceptably, with timidity, and tenderness, and deference, and hope, and awe, acknowledging my station as slave and the rightfulness of my submission to the might of men."
"And it continued to stir you, and excite you?” he asked.
"Oh, yes, Master,” she said, “terribly so. Yes Master!"
"Good,” he said.
"And eventually you might learn to do it,” said he, “piteously, beggingly, supplicatingly, with tiny noises, in such a way as to drive a master mad with passion."
"And with my hands tied, or braceleted behind my back!” she said.
"Quite possibly,” he said. “And you will improve in your skills, and learn the slow slave use of your tongue, and the slave use of your lips."
"Such things excite me,” she said. “In my training, even with the hint of such thoughts, I could barely remain on my knees."
"There are many ways to lick and kiss the whip,” he said, “tenderly and lovingly, humbly and gratefully, lasciviously and avidly, pleadingly, needfully, supplicatingly."
"Yes, Master,” she said. “Yes!"
"There are skills involved in all slave acts,” said Cabot, “even in so simple a thing as the kisses of slaves."
"Perhaps Master will teach me,” she said.
"It would doubtless improve your price,” he said.
"Oh, Master!” she protested.
"Incidentally,” said he, “being skilled in slave acts, such as kissing the whip, has saved many a girl a beating."
"Yes, Master,” she smiled. “I can understand that."
Many are the ways, incidentally, in which a girl learns to placate her masters. Most commonly it is no more than the placing of herself before him as his slave, perhaps putting herself to her knees, her head down, contritely, to his feet, perhaps ministering to them with her lips and tongue, perhaps placing his foot gently upon her head, perhaps approaching him penitently, on all fours, bringing him his whip in her teeth, such things.
"Master,” she said.
"Yes,” he said.
"I am restless, I am eager."
"You may speak,” he said.
"Have me,” she said. “Have me, please!"
"That sounds as though of Earth,” he said.
"Then use me, Master,” she said. “Please, use me! I beg it!"
"I gather,” he said, “you are begging to be put to slave use."
"Yes, Master!"
"You beg slave rape?"
"How can one rape a slave, Master?” she asked. “The slave is a property, an animal. She belongs to the master."
"In the legal sense,” said Cabot, “you are right. One cannot rape a slave, any more than one can rape a verr or tarsk."
"What if the slave were unwilling?"
"The same,” said he. “No more than a verr or tarsk."
"What if she were seized by one not her master?"
"The same,” said he. “No more than a verr or tarsk. But in such a case the master might object, and take action, perhaps charging a coin for the girl's use, or perhaps killing the thief."
"The thief?"
"Surely, has he not availed himself of another's property without authorization, has he not stolen a use?"
"But one can rape a free woman?"
"Surely,” he said, “and the penalties for that can be grievous, particularly if a Home Stone is shared."
"What is a Home Stone, Master?” she asked.
"You are a slave and may not have one,” he said. “Do not concern yourself with the matter."
"Yes, Master."
"Free women may be raped, of course,” he said, “by raiders, by warriors of foreign cities, by slavers, and such, for women are generally recognized on Gor as loot. But the rape of such women is usually no more than a prelude to their collaring."
"How humiliated they must be, and how shamed they must be, to be subjected to such a use when free."
"But after such a use,” he said, “they are commonly desperate to be collared."
The girl said nothing.
"Perhaps,” he said, “that is because afterwards they regard themse
lves, so reduced, and so stained, as never again being worthy of assuming the dignities and glories of the free woman."
"Oh, not at all, Master,” she said.
"Oh?” he said.
"No,” she said, “it is because they have been, doubtless for the first time, rather as a slave, in a man's arms."
"Interesting,” said Cabot.
"And they sense not only the labors and terrors of bondage, but its meaningfulness, its stark significance, and its secret fulfillments, of which one scarcely dares speak to a man, and its joys, its indescribable joys."
"So I have gathered, here and there,” he said.
"It is true, Master,” she said.
"Surely their feelings toward their bondage, at least at first, must be ambivalent."
"Doubtless,” she said, “but only at first, for later, as they learn what it is to be a female and a slave, they would not exchange their collars for all the dignities, glories, and freedoms of the world."
"I see,” he said.
"They find their meaning, and joy, at the feet of a master."
"As a slave, as you are."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
She was lovely, lying beside him, bound, hand and foot.
"With respect to the more general sense of ‘slave rape,'” he said, “putting aside the legalities, and such, the expression, I think, is intended to suggest the rightlessness of the slave, and her subjectability to the least whim of the master. Too, not unoften, she is simply unilaterally ravished. The meaning of the locution then is extended, metaphorically, to reflect the powerlessness, the unprotectedness, the defenselessness, of the slave, how she is absolutely vulnerable, how she has not the least say over the uses to which she will be put."
"I see, Master,” said the slave.
"But the term, too, I think,” said Cabot, “clearly reflects something of the harshness, the ruthlessness, with which she may be handled."
"I gather she may not play the games of the free woman,” she said.
"No,” said Cabot.
"Nor demand, and control, the nature of her uses."
"No,” said Cabot.
"Perhaps men sometimes grow impatient with the games, and play, of the free woman,” she speculated.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"Games, and play, not available to the slave,” she said.