Renegades of Gor coc-23

by John Norman

  "She had probably been given little choice," I said.

  "Nonetheless," said Phoebe, "she is passionate."

  "Her destiny is doubtless to be the collar," I said.

  "So, too, I would were mine," said Phoebe, boldly. "You are already a captive and servant, a full servant," I said. "I would go beyond that," she said, "to my ultimate meaningfulness, that of the slave."

  "Eat," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I considered, again, the women from the Crooked Tarn. They had knelt well, their knees spread as those of slaves. Liadne had done well with them. I had wanted them to learn, of course, not only discipline, but something of the arts of pleasing men. Liadne, herself, was not an experienced slave, for, I recalled, she had been startled to find herself utilized, with her ankles chained, but she would still, presumably, be worlds of sensuousness beyond the simple free women in her charge. What could she have shown them in three days? Something, I supposed. Perhaps little more than how to make slave lips and do a little squirming, naked. That might be enough, however, for my purposes. The Cosians in the front trenches, and behind the earthworks and hurdles, who would have borne the brunt of sorties in the past, and had doubtless contributed more than their share to the assaults, would not, I thought, be averse to finding a woman among them, particularly one naked and on a chain.

  "She is quiet now," said Phoebe.

  "He is probably letting her subside," I said.

  "What is that?" she asked, suddenly, lifting her head.

  "War trumpets," I said. I rose up and went outside the tent. She followed. Others, too, about, from others of the small tents, had emerged.

  From Ar's Station came the sounds of trumpets, far off. "It is a night assault," I said.

  We looked toward the city.

  We could see lights there. These were probably bundles of sticks set afire by defenders, and thrown, suspended on chains, over the walls, to illuminate them. "There must be many women left in Ar's Station," she said.

  "Doubtless," I said.

  "How they must be afraid," she said, "hearing such alarms." "Perhaps," I said.

  "There are many encampments of slavers, and slavers' men, and cages, and slave wagons about," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  The women of a city are, of course, among its prize loot. The women of Ar's Station, even the youngest and most beautiful, might now be pale, and drawn and scrawny, but water, and slave gruel, forced down their throats if necessary, could bring back their color, and fatten them for the block. Females, of course, make superb acquisitions, and gifts.

  We listened for a time to the distant trumpets, watched the small spots of light in the distance.

  Those about us, one after another, returned to their tents. It was only another attack, far off.

  "Men are dying there," I said, looking toward Ar's Station.

  "I am afraid," she said.

  "Go into the tent," I said.

  We reentered the tent and finished our meal, in silence.

  "Do not try to enter the city," she said.

  "Your thigh would probably look well, roped to a post, awaiting the branding iron," I said.

  "Master?" she asked.

  "Do not move when the iron presses into you," I said.

  "Am I to be enslaved?" she asked.

  "My remarks are general," I said.

  "You are planning on leaving me!" she said.

  "I do not know if I will see you again or not," I said.

  "Do not try to enter the city!" she said.

  "Come here," I said. "On your knees."

  She approached me, as commanded. She then knelt there, slimly, beside me. "Clasp your hands behind the back of your neck," I said, "and do not interfere." "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Kneel up, off your heels," I said.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "This garment you are wearing," I said, "what is, in effect, a chatka, I am shortening and transforming into two slave strips." I drew the long strip before the cord in front back over the cord so that it would no longer hang midway, or about midway, between her knees and ankles but was now about eighteen inches long. The garment then lopped below her body. I then cut the garment a bit behind and below the cord in front. I then moved her about and treated the garment similarly in the back, drawing the strip back over the cord so that it was now only about eighteen inches long, and then cutting it off a bit below and behind the cord. She now wore two slave strips, each about eighteen inches long, one over the cord in front, one over it in back.

  "Face me," I said.

  She obeyed.

  "What have you done?" she asked.

  "Exactly what you think I have done," I said.

  "You have removed nether shielding from me!" she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Restore it," she said. "Quickly! There is enough left of the cloth! Please!" She gasped.

  I had thrown the remaining portion of the cloth into the fire.

  She watched it burn, in dismay.

  "Do you feel vulnerable?" I asked.

  "Yes!" she said.

  "In such ways may one increase the passion of a female," I said.

  She shuddered.

  "You are aware, of course," I said, "that these pieces of cloth might be pulled away, easily."

  "Yes!" she said.

  "Keep your hands clasped behind the back of your neck," I said.

  "Now what are you doing?" she cried.

  "In the future," I said, "the cord will be tied in this fashion, or in some equivalent fashion."

  She moaned, looking down.

  I had refastened it in a simple bowknot, a sort of knot which on Gor, in certain contexts, as in the present context, is spoken of as a slave knot. It is called that, I think, because it is sometimes prescribed by masters for the fastening of slave garments. Its advantage, of course, is that it may be easily undone, by anyone. It is fastened at the left side of the girl's waist, where it is handy for a right-handed male, facing her. "Now," I said, "it is possible not only to remove the pieces of cloth singly, but, if one wishes, one may easily, with a casual tug, remove the cord and, with it, both cloths together, simultaneously, expeditiously."

  "Stripping me!" she said.

  "Keep your hands clasped behind the back of your neck," I said. "yes." She looked at me, tears brimming in her eyes.

  "Do you object to your new garmenture?" I asked.

  "Surely I am entitled to object!" she said.

  "Turn about," I said.

  She obeyed. "Oh!" she said.

  "You may again face me," I said.

  She turned about, again, quickly, on her knees. She looked in dismay at the strip of cloth which I had taken from the back of the cord, as it now flared, and then turned black and crumbled, in the fire.

  "Do you still feel that you are entitled to object?" I asked.

  "No," she said. "No!"

  "And why not?" I asked.

  "I am your captive, and servant, your full servant!" she said.

  I removed my hand from the strip of cloth tucked behind the cord, at her belly. "Keep your hands behind your neck," I said.

  "Why are you doing this?" she moaned.

  "You still have more to wear than most women in this camp," I said. She choked back a sob.

  "Tomorrow morning," I said, "your neck will be in a coffle collar." She looked at me, wildly.

  "You will be on a chain, with other free women. You will be in the keeping of my friend, and agent, Ephialtes, as sutler. He will take care of you, or sell you, or whatever, as seems appropriate. It was my intention that you be put in slave strips in order that your sense of vulnerability, and your passion, suitably, might be increased. Too, in this fashion, I am, to some extent, preparing you for the terrors and exposures of the coffle. I have removed one slave strip as a punishment, and a sign of my power over you. To be sure, this will even further increase your sense of vulnerability, and your passion. Too, it may also
better prepare you for what you might experience on the coffle, the scrutiny and attentions of men, for example. The other women, incidentally, will be stripped, totally, and their heads have been shaved. As you will, at least for a time, have a slave strip, and your hair, you will be regarded as the "first' of the free women. All of you, however, will be subject to Liadne, a slave. She will be first girl over you. She has whip rights, and so on, over you, and behind her is the power of men."

  "I understand," she said.

  "She has also been given a slave tunic," I said.

  "How often," smiled Phoebe, "did I, as a free woman, feel repulsion and horror at even the sight of such scanty, revealing garments, in which slaves were put. Not I would be grateful for so much.

  I smiled. The tunic, in its way, put Liadne a thousand times above her charges. "But she is a slave, is she not?" asked Phoebe.

  "Yes," I said. Thus Liadne, tunic or not, was infinitely far beneath her. Indeed, they were not even comparable. They were not even on the same scale. One was a person, the other was an animal.

  "I would that I were as she," she said.

  "Perhaps, someday, you will be," I said.

  "My arms are weary," she said. "May I lower them?"

  "No," I said.

  "May I confess something to you?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "When in Cos, and elsewhere, as a free woman," she said, "I saw slaves in slave tunics I told you that I felt horror and repulsion."

  "Yes?" I said.

  "But even more," she said, "I wanted myself to be put in such a tunic, and be similarly subject to men!"

  "I understand," I said.

  "As I am a free woman," she said, "I am shamed, keenly, to wear what I now wear, but, if I were a slave, I do not think I would be shamed. I think, rather, I would be grateful, for I might as easily have been accorded nothing. Similarly, I do not really think I would object, if I were a slave, and not a free woman, to being naked on a chain. I think, rather, I would feel grateful and very proud, that men had found me attractive enough, and exciting enough, to put me there."

  "There are many aspects to slavery," I said.

  "I think I am aware of aspects, from the point of view of my female fulfillments, that you, as a man, may not fully understand," she said. "Perhaps," I said. "I do know that woman make excellent slaves." "Have you never wondered why?" she asked.

  "Perhaps because they are slaves," I said.

  "Yes!" she said.

  "Such as you?"

  "Yes!"

  "Yet even so," I said, "I suspect that there are senses of slavery, and aspects of slavery, that one can never fully fathom or anticipate until the experience is real for one."

  "Doubtless," she said, shuddering.

  I regarded her. She was lovely, kneeling before me, in the slave strip and cord, her hands clasped behind the back of her neck.

  "May I lower my arms now?"

  "No," I said.

  "You are training me, aren't you?" she said.

  "Perhaps," I said.

  "I am afraid," she said.

  "Do you know why I had you kneel as you are?" I asked.

  "That you might busy yourself with my garmenture, without interference," she said.

  "Are you modest?" I asked.

  "Of course," she said. "I am a free woman."

  "But when you first presented yourself before me, at the inn," I said, "you had bared your breasts."

  "I think I have pretty breasts," she said.

  "You do," I said.

  "I bared them," she said, "because I did not wish to risk rejection." "So that is the sort of woman you are," I said.

  "Yes," she said. "So not," I said, "how you could possibly object if you must display them again, and as I see fit, even as a slave?" she put down her head.

  "You may lower your arms," I said.

  She lowered her arms, and knelt back, on her heels.

  "Knees spread," I said.

  She complied.

  "The slave strips looks well, fallen between your thighs," I said.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "Your thighs are pretty," I said.

  She blushed.

  "Yes," I said, "and your belly and breasts, and the rest of you." "Thank you," she said.

  "Yes, you are remarkably lovely," I said. "Yes, I think you would make a lovely slave."

  She trembled.

  "What is wrong?" I asked.

  "I am afraid," she said.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "I do not know anything of being a slave," she said, "should it be done to me! I know nothing of pleasing men! I do not even know the drapings of tunics, the tying of slave girdles!"

  "Should you become a slave," I said, "submit yourself to your sisters in bondage, not as one who was recently a free woman but as one who is now the lowest and most ignorant of slaves, the humblest of tyros and novices. Watch them. Learn from them. Serve them. Bring them small treats which you might earn. Beg them to help you, to teach you their ways, their arts and secrets. Even such small things as the use of the tongue can make a great difference in whether you survive or not."

  She trembled.

  "Reach now," I said, "to the cord at the left side of your waist." "I do not even know how to strip myself before a man," she said, in misery. "There are a thousand ways in which it may be done," I said. She touched the cord. Her fingers were on it. Then she looked up at me. "How might a slave do this?" she asked.

  "In one of a thousand ways," I smiled.

  She moaned.

  "A typical way might be as follows," I said. "The girl might stand or kneel before the master. She might say, "Your property begs to be permitted to reveal herself to you. Then, if the permission is granted, she does so."

  "Your property begs to be permitted to reveal herself to you," she whispered, softly.

  "But," I said, "as you are a free woman, you are not my property." She regarded me.

  "And so I do not grant you permission."

  "Are you angry?" she asked.

  "No," I said, angrily. The slave was so visible in her, so near the surface, that it was maddening. How it strove to emerge, and become her, totally! That she, such a woman, should still be free was an outrage to all justice and rationality. Her thigh should bear a brand! She belonged in a collar!

  "Master?" she asked.

  I forced myself to remember that she, fittingly or not, absurdly or not, was at least at this moment, free.

  "Master!" she pleaded.

  She was not now a slave. I must accord her dignity and respect!

  "Collar me!" she begged.

  I seized her by the arms.

  I held her.

  But then, in the distance, we heard the trumpets, the horns.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "It is the recall," I said. "The assault has been terminated."

  "The city has not yet fallen," she said.

  "No," I said.

  I released her.

  "Shall I build up the fire?" she asked.

  "No," I said.

  I went outside the tent and scuffed some dirt over the remains of the fire and then reentered the tent, and, from the inside, tied shut the flaps.

  "It is dark," she said. "Lie down," I said.

  I removed my belt, and tunic, and crouched beside her.

  I put my hand down, into her hair, and lifted her head a bit, and turned it, in the darkness. With my other hand, I touched her neck.

  "Collar me," she begged.

  It would have been easy enough to do so, there in the darkness of the tent. "No," I said.

  I then put her back, on her back in the dirt.

  "Lift your body," I said.

  She obeyed.

  "Shall I free the cord?" she sobbed.

  "I shall do so," I said.

  "Do not leave me tomorrow," she begged.

  "I must," I said.

  I laid aside the cord and strip. "Do not lower your body," I said.

  "It i
s now lifted to you, as though it were that of a slave," she said. I put my hand on her, gently.

  "Oh!" she said, squirming.

  "Excellent," I said.

  She sobbed.

  "I think," I said, "you might bring a high price in a slave market." "Do not leave me," she begged.

  "I must," I said.

  10 The Trenches; The Wall

  "Behold Klio, the free woman," I said, whipping the sheet from her. She was on all fours in the trench and looked up, about her, with alarm, at the men.

  There was raucous laughter.

  I put a leash on her neck.

  "She has already made her contribution to the success of Cos," laughed a fellow. "But not of her own free will, I wager," laughed another.

  "You have leashed me!" protested Klio, looking back at me.

  There was more laughter from the men.

  "Keep you head down," one of the fellows advised me.

  "There is not so much need now," said another fellow. "They seldom fire now without a clear target."

  "Where am I?" asked Klio.

  "You are within two hundred yards of Ar's Station," I informed her. She trembled. This was the most advanced of the Cosian siege trenches. Even the openings to the mines, now gated, and closely guarded, were further to the rear. The only closer entrenchments were sapping trenches, partly covered with wood, leading directly towards the walls. There were used not only for attempting undermine the walls, but also for providing cover to men advancing for assaults. The sapping trench, of course, requires much less labor on the part of the besiegers but, too, it is less difficult to detect and stop than the mines. The mine, of course, need not stop at the wall, but can proceed within the city and when opened, pour soldiers out, behind the walls. The wall mine is usually terminated in place with a system of supports. Then later, concerted with an attack, these supports may be burned or, more dangerously, struck away. The coordination between the collapse of the wall and the attack can be sharpened when the supports are struck away, the same signal, say, the blast of trumpets, initiating both actions.

  "Where is Elene?" asked Klio. When we had left Ephialtes this morning I had taken both Elene, from Tyros, and Klio, from Telnus, along. Elene had been the third woman of the debtor sluts. She was the only one who had been a blonde. Klio had been second at the wall.

  "I sold her, a hundred yards or so back," I said.