Renegades of Gor coc-23

by John Norman

  "Why are you not kneeling, I asked her, "and with your knees spread?" she was, after all, in the presence of a free man. Too, clad as she was, I assumed she must be a pleasure slave. Such kneel before men in the open-kneed position. She sank to her knees on the stone, and hastily spread them. The cloth looked well, fallen between her thighs, on the damp stone.

  I looked upon her.

  She was now in a position of subservience and respect, suitable for a woman before a man. I replaced the blade in the sheath.

  She looked up at me, frightened.

  I regarded her.

  She had a beautiful face, exquisitely and sensitively feminine.

  She lowered her eyes before my gaze.

  She was slimly beautiful.

  I regarded her garbing. It did afford her a nether closure, but it was, at least, a precarious one. In compensation it well bared her thighs.

  "Are you frightened?" I asked.

  "Yes," she whispered.

  It seemed to me, interestingly enough, if I did not misread the matter, that she was extremely sensitive to, and timid concerning, the revealing nature of her garbing. I had the feeling, based on certain expressions and tiny movements, that she more than once resisted the impulse to huddle before me, her head down, covering herself with her hands. But she remained much as she was. Indeed, she even straightened herself, and lifted her body before me, timidly, as if for my consideration.

  "What is wrong?" I asked.

  It seemed she wanted to speak, but lacked the courage to do so.

  "What is that in your hand?" I asked. She had something clutched in her right hand.

  She opened her hand, holding it out a little, that I might see what she held. There, in the palm of her right hand, was a small sack, bulging, seemingly weighty for its size, from the look of it, a sack of coins. It was leather. It had strings.

  "Move your hand," I said.

  She did so.

  "I see now why you were so frightened," I said. "You have stolen a sack of coins."

  "No, no!" she said.

  "Many masters," I said, "do not permit a slave to so much as touch money. To be sure, they might let her carry coins in an errand capsule, or an errand sack, tied about her neck, instructions to a vendor perhaps also contained within it, her hands braceleted behind her."

  She looked up, frightened.

  "And few masters, indeed, I assure you," I said, "even if so lenient as to let her venture to a market with a coin or two in her mouth, on a specific errand, would permit her to scamper about with a trove such as that which now seems to be in your keeping."

  "You do not understand, she said.

  "Kneel more straightly," I said.

  She complied. I viewed her. I wondered what her master had paid for her. Probably a goodly price. She was worth such.

  "How did you expect to escape the palisade?" I asked.

  She looked at me, agonized.

  "Were you approaching me, intentionally? I asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "It was your intention, I gather," I said, "to attempt to bribe me, that I might abet your escape."

  Tears sprang into her eyes.

  "But do you think I would do other then to carry you into my own chains?" She trembled. She clutched the tiny sack.

  "You have been caught," I said. "You are a caught slave. I will now turn you over to an attendant, for binding and holding, pending what punishments your master might see fit to visit upon you."

  "You do not understand," she whispered.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "The coins are mine," she said.

  "Surely you are an inn girl," I said, "though your collar is now off. "I do not have a collar, she said.

  "That is surely an incredible oversight on the part of your master," I said. "I do not have a master, she whispered.

  I looked at her, puzzled, such a woman.

  "Am I truly pretty enough to be an inn girl? she said.

  "Of course," I said, "and a superb one."

  She looked up at me, elatedly, gratefully.

  "Who is your master?" I asked.

  "I do not have a master," she repeated.

  "Do you seek to compound your crime with deceit," I said. "I am not a slave," she whispered. "I am a free woman. Oh!" I had seized her, half lifted her, and turned her from side to side, examining her slim, attractive thighs for the tiny brand which would confirm the matter. The most common brand sites, that on the left thigh, the favorite, and that on the right thigh, lacked slave marks. This determination, given the nature of her garmenture, could be instantly made. I then put her on her feet. "Oh! she said. She was not branded on the lower left abdomen. That is perhaps the third most favored brand site. I then checked several other brand sites, such as the insides of the forearms, the left side of the neck, behind and below the left ear, the backs of her legs, and her buttocks. I even examined the insteps of her left and right feet. Her body was not branded.

  "I am a free woman," she said, so rudely handled.

  "It seems you have not yet been branded," I said.

  "I am not a slave," she said. "I am a free woman."

  This did not seem to me possible, of course, clad as she was, in this place. "Do you not recognize me?" she asked.

  "On your knees," I said.

  Swiftly, she knelt.

  "Don't you recognize me?" she asked.

  I looked at her, puzzled. To be sure, something about her seemed familiar. "Crouch before me," she said.

  I did so.

  She put her hands before her face, the strings of the sack looped twice now about her left wrist. As she held her hands before her, rather to the bridge of the nose, they concealed the lower portions of her face, much as would a veil. "Ah!" I said. It was not so much at first, however, that I recalled her upper facial features, as hey would have appeared over the veil, if only because it had been very dark in the upper level when I had sought my space last night, as I recalled immediately, vividly, the appearance and positioning of her small hands. The small palms of them, with their delicate, extremely sensitive, exposed openness, faced outwards. It was in this way that I first realized who she was. During the night she had perhaps realized what she had done. Perhaps, then, she had sobbed with shame. Yet now, in the morning, presumably by now fully aware of what she was doing, she dared to again so hold her hands before a man. Even last night, once she must have realized how her hands were positioned, I recalled she had not quickly, shamed, turned them about, presenting their backs to me. One expects a Gorean woman, attempting to conceal her features from a man, to place her hands, cuplike, over her nose and mouth. As I have indicated, the lips and mouth of a female are commonly regarded as extremely sensuous features to a Gorean, hence the concern of many free women, particularly of high caste, in the high cities, to conceal them. A simple way to uncup the woman's hands is to take the small finger of her left hand in your right hand and pull that hand to the side, and then take the small finger of the right hand in your left hand, and pull that, too, to the side. This opens the barrier and reveals the mouth and lips of the woman to you. In this case, however, as she held her hands, with the palms facing me, I simply took her wrists and, gently, drew them apart. This exposed her lips and mouth to me. Her lips were slightly parted. She was breathing quickly.

  "I remember," I said. Last night I had face-stripped her, before gagging her with her own veil. It had been very dark on the level last night, with only the tiny lamps far to the side and back, but I could see now, upon close examination, that it was indeed the same woman.

  "You gagged me," she said. "You made it so that your will was imposed upon mine. I could not cry out or speak. You did not choose to permit it."

  I nodded.

  "And you tied me!" she said.

  "Of course," I said. I had done so with her stockings, hand and foot. She looked at me, with awe in her eyes. Perhaps she had never been tied before. I considered her beauty. It seemed made for rope, and steel and leath
er. "Did you manage to free yourself?" I asked. I was curious to hear what she would respond.

  "No," she said. "I was absolutely helpless. I could not begin to free myself. I was freed by an itinerant metal worker."

  "I see," I said. "You knew I could not free myself!" she said, suddenly, reproachfully. "Yes, I said.

  She shuddered. "Are slaves sometimes bound like that?" she asked.

  "Sometimes," I said.

  "You cut apart my clothing, and removed the hooks and fastenings from it," she said. "Yet you did not strip me. You left it lying upon me in such a way that my modesty might be protected. You even covered my head and face with my hoot, that I might not lie there face-stripped. Thank you."

  I nodded.

  "To be sure," she said, "the hood in such a placement functioned almost like a slave hood."

  "True," I said.

  "If I did not move I could not see," she said, "and if I did move I might well face-strip myself."

  "The choice was yours," I said.

  "And if I had as much as squirmed," she said, "I would have stripped myself." "Again," I said, "the choice was yours."

  "As I am a free woman," she asked.

  "Of course," I said.

  "Had I been a slave girl," she said, "I gather I would not have had such choices."

  "Probably not," I said. "The slave girl, normally, stays simply as men put her, for example, in such a case, presumably naked and bound."

  "After you disarmed me, and made me helpless, what did you do with my dagger?" she asked.

  "I destroyed it," I said, "and threw it out."

  She nodded.

  "Do you object?" I asked.

  "No," she said.

  "It could have gotten you killed," I said.

  "I realize that now," she said. "It was terribly foolish to carry it." "True," I said.

  "Beyond such matters," she said, "I should not have had such a thing. It was pretentious and wrong of me to have had it." "Perhaps you will avoid such mistakes in the future," I said. "I will," she said.

  A woman's defenses are not steel, but such things as her helplessness and vulnerability, and her capacity to give astounding pleasure.

  I stood up.

  I glanced into the tarncot. The bird was finishing the meat, that which had earlier been suspended on the rope.

  The attendant was near it, his hand on the harness.

  I glanced back at the woman.

  "I left you an amplitude of garments," I said, "though they would have to be redone, or resewn. They could, at least, have been clutched about you. How is it then, that you are dressed as you are?"

  "It is appropriate for me," she said, "that I should have this to wear, or such things, or less, or perhaps nothing."

  I did not respond.

  She lowered her eyes. She seemed terribly embarrassed. Doubtless she was extremely sensitive about her degree of exposure. Yet she had herself arranged it so. She was extremely white-skinned. Doubtless this was in major part because she was very lightly complexioned genetically, but it was, too, in part, doubtless, because she would have commonly worn the ornate, heavy, stiff, cumbersome robes of concealment affected by most well-to-do Gorean women. The contrast between the robes of concealment and her present revelatory vestiture, more suitable for a property girl, must be particularly, and shockingly, dramatic to her, who knew her own antecedents and station. She must now be experiencing a wealth of new sensations, for example, kneeling on damp stone, and feeling the air upon her body.

  I looked into the tarncot. The tarn was finished feeding now, and was being watered. The bone which had been within the meat lay to one side, with a tatter of rope, amidst straw. It was deeply scratched and furrowed. The bird thrust its beak into a tall, narrow vessel. It would draw water into that dreadful recess. It would then put its head back. Then, shaking its head, it would hasten the water down its throat.

  "Ah," I said, suddenly bethinking myself of properties, "though you are a free woman I have you on your knees before me, as though you might be a slave. How rude! How boorish of me! I am sorry. Forgive me, Lady." I hastened to lift her to her feet.

  "No," she said, quickly, again, frightened, kneeling.

  I stepped back, puzzled.

  "It is here that I belong," she said, "on my knees, before a man such as you." "I do not understand," I said.

  "You disarmed me," she said. "You gagged me. You made me helpless, putting me in a trussing suitable for a slave. You pulled my hood down about my face. You made it so I could not see without risking my own face-stripping. You made my garments such that they were mere covers, strips and pieces, such that I dared not move, lest I be lying naked in a public place, such, too, that they might be lifted from me at a man's pleasure."

  "I had not found you pleasing," I explained to her.

  "It is my hope that in the future," she said, "I may be found more pleasing." "The tarn is ready," said the attendant. He led it from the cot, it stalking beside him, its head moving about, its eyes round, bright and sharp.

  The woman, at the sight of the bird, shrank back, frightened.

  "Farewell, free woman," I said.

  "No," she said. "Please!"

  "Take it to the tarn gate," I said. It was there that I should mount. "Please!" said the free woman.

  The attendant led the bird about the cot and shed, toward the tarn gate. I followed him. There he led the bird up the ramp to the landing platform. Again I followed him. From this height I could see the countryside for pasangs about. The air was exhilarating. The tarn was excited. It opened its wings. The beams of the platform were very sturdy. The attendant untied the mounting ladder at the saddle.

  I think it must have taken the girl great courage to follow me up the ramp, onto the landing platform, in the vicinity of that winged monster.

  When I turned about, to regard her, she knelt swiftly, spreading her knees. It was in this fashion that I had had her kneel earlier, in the inn yard, before me, when I had assumed she was slave.

  "Farewell," I said.

  "No," she said. "Take me with you!"

  "What?" I said.

  "I have sold my things," she said. " I have now no more than what you see upon me, two slender black cords, and a strip of yellow cloth, and these coins!" She held them out.

  "The purse is heavy," I said. "Buy what you need with it."

  "I will give you them all," she said. "Take me with you!"

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "You have conquered me," she said. "You have taught me that I am a female!" I regarded her. She did look well on her knees.

  "Oh, this did not just happen," she said. "I have known this about myself for years. I fought it for years. And now I surrender!"

  "Completely, and without reservation?" I inquired.

  "Yes!" she said. "Yes!"

  "I see," I said.

  "I am tired of living a lie," she said. "I am feminine, truly." "I see," I said.

  "I belong to men such as you," she said.

  That did not seem to me unlikely.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "I am Phoebe, Lady of Telnus," she said.

  I smiled inwardly. Cosian beauties make excellent slaves. They are not unusual in Port Kar.

  "That is a pretty name," I said.

  "Take me with you!" she said. "I will pay!"

  "In the direction I ride," I said, "there lies danger."

  "I accept the risks," she said.

  "Even as you are?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, "yes!"

  To be sure, the risks were doubtless less for women than for men, for the dangers would threaten primarily from men, and men would know what to do with women. Perhaps the worst that might happen to her would be that she would find herself in the chains of a slave, and laboring, under whips, as a female beast of burden. To be sure, she did face danger, as she was free. Free women, being persons, are far more likely to be killed then slaves, who are animals. Sackers, for example, particularly when
the blood lust has passed from them, would not be likely to slay slaves, assuming they are docile and desperately concerned to be totally pleasing, any more than kaiila. They would simply appropriate them for their own.

  "I do not need a slave at present," I said. Such did not accord with the first portion of my plan for entering Ar's Station.

  "Take me as your servant," she begged.

  "My servant?" I asked, looking upon the slim, kneeling, half-naked beauty. "Yes!" she said.

  "The tarn is ready," said the attendant.

  "I beg female fulfillment!" she said.

  "You will not receive full female fulfillment as a mere servant," I said. Such is not totally owned.

  "Take me then as a slave!" she said.

  "I do not need a slave at present," I said.

  "Take me then as a servant," she said. She held out the coins. "I will pay you to do so."

  I considered her, her needs, her beauty, her desperation.

  "And if I server well," she said, "perhaps later I will prove worthy of the collar.

  She lifted the coins higher, pleadingly.

  "What sort of servant is it which you wish to be?" I asked.

  "Whatever sort of servant you desire," she said.

  "A service without restriction, or reservation?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, "such a servant!"

  "A full servant?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, "a full servant!"

  "It is only as such a servant that I would consider taking you," I said. "Take me as a full servant," she said.

  "In whose name do you ask this?" I asked.

  "In the name of all women such as I, and all men such as you," she said. "You are but a hair's breadth from slavery," I said.

  "It is my hope that you will eventually permit me to traverse that hair's breath," she said.

  The tarn opened and closed its wings, and she lowered her head, turning it to the side, and shrank down, frightened, cringing, so low that her head was but inches from the ground. She was terrified of the bird.

  I considered the mounting ladder.