by John Norman
"I am a free woman!" the woman at the counter cried.
"That condition," said the innkeeper, "could prove temporary."
"I have nowhere to go," she said. "I am safe here. River pirates may still be within the city. It is not safe for me to be put out."
"You owe me a silver tarsk," said he, "for your last night's lodging. Too, if you would stay here this night, you must pay me another tarsk."
"I do not have them," she wept.
"Then you must be ejected," said he.
"Take my baggage," she said, "my trunks!"
"I do not want them," he said.
It was my plan to arrange transportation downriver in the morning. My business lay not in Lara but further west on the river. Many refugees, incidentally, had not remained in Lara. It was too close, for them, to the war zone. It lay well within the striking distance of a tarn cavalry, such as that which had been employed so devastatingly on the fields and hills south of Vonda. Small ships, coming and going, made their trips between Lara and the nearer downriver towns, such as White Water and Tancred's Landing.
"You cannot put me out into the street!" she cried.
Strobius, the innkeeper, then, in irritation, motioned to one of his assistants. The fellow came up behind the free woman and took her by the upper arms, holding her from behind. She was helpless.
"Eject her," said Strobius.
"You cannot put me out into the street!" she cried.
"Rejoice," said Strobius, "that I do not strip you and sell you into slavery."
"What is going on here?" I had asked, rising to my feet and going to the counter.
"We are putting her out," said Strobius. "She owes me money. She cannot pay."
"But she is a free woman," I said.
"She cannot pay," he said.
"What does she owe?" I asked.
"A silver tarsk for last night," he said, "and, if she would stay here this night, another tarsk, and in advance."
"I believe this is the proper sum," I said. I placed two silver tarsks on the counter.
"Indeed it is," said Strobius. He swept the coins from the counter into his hand, and put them in his apron.
"There is your money, Fellow," said the free woman to Strobius, haughtily, as haughtily as she could manage, still the helpless prisoner of his assistant's grip.
"Yes, Lady," said he, bowing deferentially to her.
"Perhaps, now," she said, squirming in the assistant's grip, "you will have this ruffian unhand me."
He regarded her.
She shuddered. Her Home Stone was not that of Lara, times were troubled, and Strobius was master in his own inn. Too, she had, for a time, owed him money. Would he like to see her stripped, and collared?
"Please, Kind Sir," she said. Gorean men are sometimes slow to release their grip on the bodies of females. They enjoy holding them. They are men.
"Of course, Lady," said Strobius, smiling, again bowing. He then signaled the fellow to release the woman, which he did. She then drew back, angrily, and smoothed down her garments. Then, straightening herself, she came regally to where I stood.
"My thanks, Sir," she said, looking up at me.
"It is nothing," I said.
"I am grateful," she said.
"Perhaps you would care to join me at my table," I suggested. "There is little but sul porridge, but I could order you a bowl," I said.
"One must make do in trying circumstances," she said, "with what there is."
"Do you have any wine?" I asked Strobius.
He smiled. "Yes," he said.
"Would you care for some wine?" I asked her.
Her eyes glistened over her veil. It had been some days, I gathered, since she had been able to afford or had had wine. "Yes," she said, "it would give me great pleasure to drink your wine."
"Please go to the table," I said, indicating the table, "and I will make the arrangements."
"Very well," she said, and turned away, going to the table.
"Sul porridge," said Strobius, "is ten copper tarsks. I will charge you forty copper tarsks for the wine, two cups."
"Very well," I said.
In a few moments he had had a fellow bring a tray with the sul porridge and two cups of wine to the counter. I paid him.
"Oh, by the way," I asked, "do you have a packet of Tassa powder?"
He grinned, and reached under the counter. "Yes," he said, handing it to me.
"How much do I owe you for this?" I asked.
"For that one," he said, "it is free. Take it with the compliments of the house."
"Very well," I said.
* * * *
The girl turned uneasily on the mat. She was then again on her side. Her legs were again drawn up. She moaned. I saw the small fingers of her right hand touch the mat. Her finger tips were soft against the rough fibers. On her legs, where she had lain, there were markings from the mat.
I saved a part of the crust of bread I was eating.
She moved uneasily, and made a small noise. She must now sense that it was morning.
I looked about myself. The inn was deserted. It bore the signs of having been hastily evacuated. Tarnsmen of Ar, the rumors had had it, were soon to be aflight toward Lara. The evacuation of the inn had been a portion of the evacuation of the entire city. Outside the streets were empty, and quiet. There were few persons, I conjectured, now left in Lara. There were, of course, the girl and myself.
She rolled onto her belly on the mat. She lay there, the left side of her face against the mat, her small hands at the sides of her head.
I watched her.
I saw her small fingers move slightly, and her finger tips touch the fibers of the mat.
Then, suddenly, I saw her finger tips press down on the mat, and then, suddenly, her fingernails, frightened, dug at it. Her entire body suddenly stiffened.
"You are awake," I observed.
"What is this on which I find myself?" she asked, frightened.
"Is it not obvious?" I asked. "It is a slave mat."
"Where am I?" she asked, lifting her head.
"In the main room of the inn of Strobius," I said, "in the city of Lara."
She rose to her hands and knees. I noticed that her breasts were lovely, inside the rag she wore. "What happened?" she asked.
"You were drugged," I told her.
She shook her head. She looked at me. I did not think she could yet well focus on me.
"You should not have drunk my wine," I told her.
"Where are my clothes?" she asked.
"I discarded, burned or destroyed your luggage and your things," I said, "with the exception of what you now wear, a Ta-Teera and a collar."
"I am collared," she whispered, disbelievingly. She tried the steel.
"It is locked," I assured her.
I saw her hand, subtly, furtively, touch the side of her Ta-Teera.
"The key is no longer there," I informed her. "Too, I have ripped away and discarded the tiny pocket which you had had sewn there. Girls are not permitted to carry things in their Ta-Teera. Surely you know that."
"Where is the key?" she whispered.
"I threw it away," I told her.
She shook her head. "I remember you," she said. "You paid for my lodging. You gave me wine."
"Yes," I said.
"It was drugged," she said.
"Of course," I said.
"Give me the key to this collar!" she cried, suddenly. She sprang to her feet, her hands pulling at the collar.
"Do not leave the slave mat," I cautioned her. "I threw the key away," I reminded her.
"Threw it away?" she said.
"Yes," I said.
"But it is a real collar," she said. "I cannot remove it."
"No," I said, "it has not been designed to be removed by a girl."
She regarded me with horror.
"Do not leave the mat," I told her.
She stepped back more on the mat.
"Kneel down," I suggested.
She knelt, her knees pressed closely together.
"I found both the Ta-Teera and the collar among your belongings," I told her. "Surely they are unusual objects to be found among the belongings of a free woman."
She said nothing.
"Perhaps you are an escaped slave," I said.
"No!" she cried. "I am not a slave! I am not branded!"
"Reveal your thigh to me," I said, "that I may see whether or not you are branded."
"No!" she said. Then she said, angrily, "It was you, was it not, who put me in the Ta-Teera?"
"Yes," I said.
"Then you know well that I am not branded!"
"That is true," I smiled.
"Beast!"
"You are rather fetching in it," I said.
"It is a rag!" she cried.
"I have a reason for permitting you that much," I said. "Otherwise you would have only the steel on your neck."
"I do not understand!"
"Perhaps, later, you will," I said.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked. "Who are you? Is this some bizarre joke?"
"No," I said, "it is not a joke."
She turned white.
"Let me go," she said.
"Are you hungry?" I asked.
"Yes, terribly," she said, uncertainly.
I threw her what was left of the crust of bread. It struck the slave mat before her.
"You throw me food!" she said.
"Yes," I said.
She reached for it.
"Do not use your hands," I told her.
"I am a free woman," she said.
"Place the palms of your hands down on the mat, and lower your head, and eat," I told her.
"I am a free woman," she said.
"Eat," I told her.
She ate, as I had instructed her, not using her hands. I then placed a pan of water within her reach. "Drink," I told her. She then drank, as she had eaten, not using her hands. I then removed the pan of water from her, threw out the water that had been left and put the pan aside. I then again returned to my place and sat down, cross-legged, behind the small table. She looked at me. I did not think she was displeased to have eaten and drunk.
"What do you want of me?" she asked. "Who are you?"
"Spread your knees," I told her.
Angrily she did so.
"How is it," I asked, "that a free woman should have among her belongings such unusual articles as a Ta-Teera and a collar?"
"I have been associated," she said, "with female slavers, of the house of Tima. I have occasionally used such articles in my work."
"I see," I said.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
"Do you?" I asked.
"You are masked," she said. "You have me at a disadvantage."
"It is true that you are well exposed before me," I said.
She reddened.
"Do you know me from somewhere?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"From where?" she asked.
"Vonda," I said.
She shrugged, angrily. "You could be any one of a thousand men," she said.
"But I am not," I said.
"No," she said, "I suppose not."
"Come over here," I said, "and lie down on the table, on your back, before me."
She did so.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
"You will learn," I said. The table was low, and sturdy.
"Obviously you intend to treat me as a slave," she said.
"Perhaps," I said.
"I see you have prepared lengths of rope," she said.
"Yes," I said.
Then, slowly, not hurrying, I began to tie her down across the table. I began with her left wrist, fastening it over her head and behind her, to one of the short legs of the table.
"Where are the others?" she asked.
"The city has been evacuated," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"It was feared there would be an attack of tarnsmen from Ar," I said.
I then jerked tight the rope pulling her right wrist over her head and behind her. I secured it in place.
I thrust up the Ta-Teera, that I might spread her legs.
"Did you truly throw away the key to the collar?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Then you must help me to get out of it soon," she said, "perhaps with tools."
"Why?" I asked. I fastened down her left leg.
"Surely you have read it?" she asked. Such collars usually bear a legend. Usually the legend identifies the master, that the slave, if fled, or lost or strayed, may be promptly returned.
"No," I said. "I cannot read Gorean."
"Does it tell who your master is?" I asked.
"No," she said. "Oh!" she cried, as I pulled her right ankle to the right corner of the table and there, with two loops of the slim, coarse rope, tied it down.
I then jerked apart the Ta-Teera, that she be well revealed to me. She gasped. She squirmed, and trembled. I then stood up and looked down upon her, observing my handiwork.
She pulled at the ropes, and knew herself helpless. She looked up at me. "You have apprehended me boldly," she said.
I said nothing.
She pulled again at the ropes. Then she lay back, helpless. "You have tied me well," she said.
I shrugged.
"I suppose now," she said, "you will wish me to address you as 'Master'."
"As you wish," I said. "It does not matter."
"Tied as I am," she said, "it seems to me not unfitting that I should call you 'Master'."
I said nothing.
"I request your permission to do so," she said.
"It is granted," I said. "What does your collar say?" I asked.
Suddenly she reared in the ropes. "You must help me to remove it!" she said.
"What does it say?" I asked.
"It says, 'I am the slave, Darlene,'" she said.
"It is an Earth-girl name," I said.
"Precisely," she said. "You can well imagine what might be done with me if I were caught in such a collar. Men might think that I was an Earth girl, or one of those girls like an Earth girl, and was thus given such a name!"
I smiled.
"Surely you understand my fears," she said.
"Of course," I said.
"I used to train Earth girls," she said. "I know how men look upon them."
I nodded. Gorean men were not gentle with Earth girls. They regarded them as natural slaves, and treated them accordingly, fully. Some of the most abject slaveries on Gor were assigned to Earth girls.
"So you will help me out of this collar as soon as possible, will you not?" she asked.
"I will if it pleases me," I said.
She lay back. "I am in your ropes," she shrugged.
I crouched then beside her.
"You know me, don't you?" she said.
"Yes," I said.
"You heard my name about the inn," she said.
"Yes," I said, "but even aside from that I would have known you."
"Even veiled?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
She pulled at the ropes. "You have then," she said, "a shrewd eye for the flesh of women."
"Perhaps," I said.
"Are you a slaver?" she asked, apprehensively.
"No," I said.
"Good," she said. "Good!"
"Why 'good'?" I asked.
"Because then," she said, "I have less to fear."
"Perhaps you are mistaken," I said.
"Oh?" she said.
"Why did you ask?"
"I thought you might be," she said.
"Why?"
"You seemed capable of detecting and assessing my lineaments, even though I was veiled and robed," she said.
"That is something slavers are supposedly good at?" I said.
"Yes," she said.
"Seeing the slave within the robes?"
"If you want it put it that way," she said.
"It seems to me an excellent way of putting it," I said.
"Doubtless," she said, angrily.
"I think many men have that ability," I said.
"I trust not!" she said.
I smiled.
"But, too, the authority with which you have handled me and so well bound my limbs."
She looked up at me, and struggled a little, in her bonds.
"I see," I said.
I regarded her.
She was well tied.
This, of course, at least the binding part of it, had nothing to do with the slavers' caste, though they well know their business. It is not at all unusual on Gor for a male, any male, and not simply a warrior, a guardsman, a raider, a slaver, or such, to be familiar with the binding of women. Indeed, boys are commonly trained in these skills once they reach adolescence. It is thought, correctly I suppose, that they will not be likely to need these skills until that time. Indeed, this sort of thing is one of those things that Gorean boys look forward to as it is not only pleasant in itself, but is, in its way, a sign that they are now regarded as having grown up. It is a rite of passage, in its way, one of several toward Gorean manhood. Soon, too, at least in the high cities, they may be able to put away the tunic of boyhood and don their first robe of manhood. Sometimes the manhood robe is associated, as well, with the ceremony of the Home Stone. About this, however, I do not know a great deal, as Goreans tend not to be loquacious in such matters. But, of course, in general, to return to our point, having to do with the binding of women, anyone who owns a slave, or has anything to do with them, would be expected to be familiar with this sort of thing, with a variety of interesting and efficient ties, useful for various purposes, in all of which the woman is utterly helpless, totally at one's mercy. These are, of course, obvious and practical skills, simply called for and to be expected, in a social milieu of the nature of Gorean society. I wondered if it were frightening to be a woman, and to know oneself smaller and weaker than the male, and subduable and leashable by the male, and to recognize, on some level, that one was in nature his rightful property, the smaller, lovelier goods of the larger, stronger beast. This sort of thing, this sort of training, however, is commonly, as much as possible, kept outside the ken of free women, who might find the matter disturbing. On the other hand, some free women doubtless become apprised of such things, one way or another, even if only by rumor. Thus, one supposes, when some free women meet a free male, even under the most innocuous and benign of conditions, at banquets, in the market, at public gatherings, at the song dramas, and so on, they must realize, doubtless uneasily somewhere beneath their cumbersome robes and veils, that they are in the presence of an individual who for all his gentleness and respect could, if he wished, quickly and efficiently, in a matter of moments, render them stark naked and slave helpless, trussed at his feet. Too, obviously the male, at least occasionally, must speculate pertaining to such matters. For example, how would that pretentious, annoying, young lady fare, should she find herself naked, bound hand and foot, at the foot of his couch? Would she not look well there? Might it not be pleasant to look upon the annoying little thing, yours in such straits? Would she then be so irritating, so pretentious and vain? Is she intended for your collar? Is that the destiny you have decided upon for her? Or perhaps you will sell her? As painful and worthless as a free woman she might have been, she would doubtless have some value as a slave. Free women might be good for little or nothing, but one can always see to it that slaves are good for a great deal, for many things. Perhaps this sort of thing gives an interesting undercurrent to some male-female relations on Gor. It is hard to know. But undoubtedly the great majority of Gorean free women do not know of these things. Certainly they are little publicized. And it is doubtless best that they do not know. I myself had received some instruction in these matters from Kenneth, who had been my trainer and friend, when I had been slave in the stables of the Lady Florence of Vonda. We had practiced, of course, on the stable sluts. In these trainings, of course, slaves are used. It would not do at all, obviously, to utilize free women for such purposes.