Captive of Gor

by John Norman

  Each step was torture.

  "Posture!" snapped Verna, from yards behind me.

  I straightened my body and, tears in my eyes, walked between the trees, in the moonlight.

  After some hundred yards I came to the edge of a clearing. It was some twenty-five to thirty yards in diameter, ringed by the lofty trunks of Tur trees. The floor of the clearing was lovely grass, thick and some inches in height, soft, and beautiful. I looked up. Bright in the dark, star-strewn Gorean sky, large, dominating, seemingly close enough to touch, loomed the three moons of Gor.

  The girls of Verna's band stood about the edge of the circle. They did not speak. They were breathing deeply. They seemed restless. Several had their eyes closed, their fists clenched. Their weapons had been discarded.

  I saw, at one side of the clearing, the post.

  It was about five feet high, and seven inches thick, sturdy, sunk deep into the ground. In its back, there were two heavy metal rings, one about two feet from the ground, the other about three and a half feet from the ground. It was a rough post, barked. On its front, near the top, carved, cut into the bark with the point of a sleen knife, was a crude representation of opened slave bracelets. It was a slave post.

  I went and stood before it, Elinor Brinton, the slave.

  Briefly, through my mind flashed the memory of my former riches, of the penthouse, the Maserati, my luxuries, and education and travels, my former status and power, and then of my capture and my transportation to this rude world.

  "Kneel," snapped Verna.

  I did so.

  Verna resnapped the leather and metal choke collar on my throat. She then threaded the leash through the ring, about three and a half feet high, behind the post, brought the leash about and looped it, from the left to the right, about my neck and then rethreaded it through the ring, pulling it tight. I was bound by the neck to the post. Then she threaded the free end of the leash through the lower of the two rings, passed it about my belly, and rethreaded it again through the same ring, keeping it tight, fastening me at the waist to the post. With the free end of the leash, keeping it taut, she then lashed my ankles together behind the post. I was bound, save that my hands were free.

  Verna took the length of binding fiber from her skin, that which had formerly bound my wrists.

  "Place your hands above your head," she said.

  I did so.

  She tied the binding fiber securely about my left wrist, took the fiber behind the post, threaded it through the highest of the two metal rings, and then, jerking my right wrist back, bound it, too, fastening me to the post.

  I knelt, secured.

  "Docile slave," sneered Verna.

  "Verna!" spoke one of the girls.

  "Very well!" said Verna, irritably. "Very well!"

  The first girl to leap to the center of the circle was she who had first held my leash.

  She had blond hair. Her head was down, and shaking. Then she threw back her head, moaning, and reached up, clawing for the moons of Gor. The other girls, too, responded to her, whimpering and moaning, clenching and unclenching their fists.

  The first girl began to writhe, crying out, stamping in the circle.

  Then another girl joined her, and another, and another. And then another!

  Stamping, turning, crying out, moaning, clawing at the moons, they danced.

  Then there were none who had not entered that savage circle, save Verna, the band's leader, proud and superb, armed and disdainful, and Elinor Brinton, a bound slave.

  The first girl, throwing back her head to the moons, screamed and tore her skins to the waist, writhing.

  Then, for the first time I noticed, in the center of the circle, there were four heavy stakes, about six inches in height, dark in the grass. They formed a small, but ample, square. I shuddered. They were notched, that binding fiber might not slip from them.

  The first girl began to dance before the square.

  I looked up into the sky. In the dark sky the moons were vast and bright.

  Another girl, crying out, tore her own skins to the waist and clawing, moaning, writhing, approached the square. Then another and another!

  I did not even look upon Verna, so horrified I was at the barbaric spectacle. I had not believed that women could be like this.

  And then the first girl tore away her skins and danced in her golden ornaments beneath the huge, wild moons, on the grass of the circle, before the square.

  I could not believe my eyes. I shuddered, fearing such women.

  Then suddenly, to my amazement, Verna cried out in anguish, a wild, moaning, anguished cry, and threw from herself her weapons and tore away her own skins and leaped into the circle, turning, and clawing and crying out like the others. She was not other than they, but first among them! She danced savagely, clad only in her gold and beauty, beneath the moons. She cried out and clawed. Sometimes she bit at another girl or struck at her, if she dared approach the square more closely than she. Writhing, enraged, but fearful, eyes blazing, dancing, they fell back before her.

  She danced first among them, their leader.

  Then, throwing her head back, she screamed, shaking her clenched fists at the moons.

  And then, helplessly, she threw herself to the grass within the square, striking at it, biting and tearing at it, and then she threw herself on her back and, fists clenched, writhed beneath the moons.

  One by one the other girls, too, violently, threw themselves to the grass, rolling upon it and moaning, some even within the precincts of the square, then throwing themselves upon their backs, some with their eyes closed, crying out, others with their eyes open, fixed helplessly on the wild moons, some with hands tearing at the grass, others pounding the earth piteously with their small fists, sobbing and whimpering, their bodies uncontrolled, helpless, writhing, under the moons of Gor.

  I found myself pulling at my bonds, suddenly aching with an inexplicable loneliness and desire. I pulled at the fiber that bound my wrists so cruelly back; my throat pressed against the straps on my throat, almost choking me; my belly writhed under its strap; my ankles moved against one another, helpless in the leather confinement of the knotted strap. I looked up at the moons. I cried out in anguish. I wanted to be free, too, to dance, to cry out, to claw at the moons, to throw myself on the living, fibrous, flowing grass, to writhe with these women, my sisters, to writhe with them in the frenzy of their need.

  No, I cried out to myself, no, no! I am Elinor Brinton! I am of Earth! No, no!

  "Kajirae!" I screamed at them. "Kajirae!" "Slaves! Slaves!"

  There was no fear in my voice, but almost hysterical triumph! "Slaves!" I screamed at them. "Slaves!" I then knew myself better than they! I was superior! I was above them! Though I was bound and branded I was a thousand times greater and finer than they. I was Elinor Brinton! Though I might be stripped, though I might be tied to a slave post, I was greater and finer, and of nobler stock, than they. They were naught but slaves.

  "Kajirae!" I screamed at them. "Kajirae!" "Slaves! Slaves!"

  They paid me no attention.

  I cried out at them hysterically, and then was quiet. My limbs ached, particularly my arms, tied so cruelly back, but I was not too displeased. The moons fled across the black sky, burning with its bright stars. The girls lay now quietly on the grass, some still whimpering slightly, many with their eyes closed, some lying on their stomachs, their face pressed against the grass, the stain of tears on their cheek, mingling into the grass. It was colder now, and I felt chilly, but I did not mind. I was now, though bound and stripped, well pleased with myself. I had regained my self-respect. I now knew myself superior to such women, to such despicable things, as these.

  At last the girls, one by one, rose from the grass, drew on again their skins, and took up their weapons.

  Then, Verna at their lead, they approached me.

  I knelt by the post, very straight.

  "It seemed to me," I said, "that your bodies moved as might have those of
slave girls."

  My head leaped to the side, stinging, as Verna, with all her might, slapped me.

  Then she looked at me. "We are women," she said.

  There were tears in my eyes. I tasted a bit of blood in my mouth, where my lip had been struck against my teeth. But I did not cry out or whimper. I smiled. Then I looked away.

  "Let us kill her," said one of the girls, she who held my leash before, who had been the first to enter the circle of the dance.

  "No," said Verna.

  Verna looked about at the other girls.

  They were ready to depart.

  "Bring the slave," said Verna.

  "I am free," I told her.

  Verna strode from the area wherein was found the circle of the dance.

  The other girls followed her, with the exception of the blond girl, who had held my leash. She untied my hands and then, behind my body, but not behind the post, rebound them, cruelly. I did not complain. Then she untied the strap at my ankles, freeing them, and, drawing the strap about the post and through the two rings, released me from the post. By the choke leash she pulled me to my feet. I looked at her and smiled. She said nothing, but turned angrily away, and led me from the post, following Verna and her band.

  * * * *

  Verna suddenly lifted her hand.

  "Sleen," she whispered.

  The girls looked about.

  I was apprehensive. I wondered if it were the same animal which Verna, and one of the other girls, had detected earlier. The girls, too, seemed apprehensive. I hoped that it was not the same animal. If it was, it had been following us. There are, of course, many sleen in the forests.

  The girls remained still for a long time, scarcely breathing.

  "Is it still there?" asked one of the girls, the one who had been able to detect the sleen earlier. Her nostrils were flared, testing the air.

  "Yes," said Verna. She gestured in a direction somewhat forward of the band and to its oblique right. "It is there," she said. I could see nothing but the darkness of the trees, and the shadows.

  We continued to stand still for some time.

  Then, after this time, Verna said, "It is gone."

  The girls looked at one another. I could tell the difference in their breathing. I took a deep breath, and shuddered. I looked again into the darkness, the trees and shadows, to the right. Then I felt the leather and metal choke collar again slide shut on my throat and, choking, I followed hurriedly at my tether.

  * * * *

  After the trek of perhaps an hour we came to a clearing in the forest. In the clearing, there was a small hut, a stave house, with a single door and window. Inside there was a light.

  I was led to the door of this house.

  "Kneel," said Verna.

  I did so.

  I was apprehensive. I knew this must be the house of the man who had purchased me.

  But I could not be purchased, for I was Elinor Brinton, a free woman, of Earth. No matter what bonds I might wear, no matter what transactions in which I might figure, I could not be purchased, for I was free!

  There was a leather bag, on two leather strings, which hung from a hook outside the door.

  There was no sound from within the house.

  Verna removed the bag from its hook and knelt down on the ground, the other girls around her. She shook the contents of the bag out on the ground. It contained steel arrow points. She counted them in the light of the moons. There were one hundred of them.

  Verna gave six points to each of her girls. Ten she kept for herself. She, and they, put the points into the pouches they wore at their belts.

  I looked at her, shaking my head, not believing what I had seen. Could it be that this, and this alone, was my price, that I had been purchased for only this, the points for one hundred arrows? But I reminded myself that I could not be purchased, for I was Elinor Brinton, for I was free!

  "Rise, Slave," said Verna.

  I rose to my feet and she unsnapped from my throat the hated choke leash.

  I looked at her. "I am free," I told her.

  "Let us kill her," urged the blond girl, she who had held my leash.

  "All right," said Verna.

  "No!" I cried. "No! Please!"

  "Kill her," said Verna.

  Uncontrollably I fell to my knees before her. "Please don't kill me!" I cried. "Please! Please!" I trembled. I wept. I pressed my head to her feet. "Please!" I begged. "Please! Please! Please! Please!"

  "What are you?" asked Verna.

  "A slave," I cried out. "A slave!"

  "Do you beg for your life?" asked Verna.

  "Yes," I whimpered. "Yes, yes!"

  "Who begs for her life?" asked Verna.

  "A slave begs her mistress for her life," I wept.

  "Is it only slaves who so beg for their lives?" asked Verna.

  "Yes!" I cried out. "Yes!"

  "Is it only slaves who so beg and grovel?" asked Verna.

  "Yes," I said. "Yes!"

  "Then you are a slave," said Verna.

  "Yes!" I cried.

  "You then acknowledge yourself a slave?" Verna inquired.

  "Yes!" I cried. "Yes! I acknowledge myself a slave! I am a slave! I am a slave!"

  "And only a slave," inquired Verna, "and nothing other than a slave?"

  "I am only a slave," I cried, "and nothing other than a slave!"

  "Naught else?" she asked.

  "Naught else, Mistress!" I cried. "Naught else! Naught else, Mistress!"

  "Spare the slave," said Verna.

  I almost collapsed. Two of the girls lifted me to my feet. I could scarcely stand.

  I was shattered.

  I then knew as I had not known before, that I was a slave. I was not free. I knew then that the body of Elinor Brinton, even when she had been in college, even when she had concerned herself with the trivia of term papers, even when she had eaten in Parisian restaurants, when she had strolled the boulevards of the continent, when in New York she had stepped from and into taxis, had been the body of a slave girl. That body, attired in its evening gowns, its cocktail dresses, its chic tweeds, might perhaps have been more appropriately clad in the brief silk of a Gorean slave girl, fit only for the controlling touch of a master. I wondered if men had realized that. If there had been Gorean men who had looked upon me I had little doubt that they might, smiling, have seen me thus. But I hated men!

  I wondered what price my body would bring in a market.

  I wondered what price I would bring.

  I was shattered.

  My eyes met those of Verna.

  "Slave," she sneered.

  "Yes, Mistress," I whispered, and looked down. I could not meet her eyes, those of a free woman.

  "Are you a docile slave?" she asked.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said, quickly, frightened, "I am a docile slave."

  "Docile slave," she sneered.

  "Yes," I said, "yes, Mistress."

  The girls laughed.

  Suddenly it seemed so foolish to me that it had seemed that I was free. I almost choked with misery. It was only too obvious that I was not free. I knew then that I might indeed figure in transactions, and knew that I would do so as mere property. I could figure in commercial exchanges, for I was goods. I could indeed be purchased, and bought and sold. In the moment of my misery my vanities, my pretenses, had been swept away. I knew then, as I had not before, that I was a slave girl.

  "Through that door," said Verna, gesturing with her head, "is your master."

  I stood and faced the door, stripped, wrists lashed behind my back.

  Suddenly, unaccountably, I turned and faced her. "A hundred arrow points," I pouted, "is not enough!" I was startled that I had said this, and more with how I had said it. It was surely not Elinor Brinton who could have said this. It was the remark of a slave girl. But it had been Elinor Brinton who had said it. With horror I suddenly realized that she was a petty slave girl.

  "It is all that you are worth to him," said Verna. />
  I pulled futilely at the binding fiber on my wrists.

  She regarded me, as might have a man. I stood in fury, scrutinized. "I myself," said Verna, "would not have paid as much."

  The girls laughed.

  I shook with fury, a humiliated slave girl. My action seemed uncontrollable, and I hated myself for it.

  "The girl fancies," said the blond girl, who had held my leash, "that she should have fetched a higher price."

  "I am worth more!" I pouted.

  "Be silent," said Verna.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said, frightened, putting down my head. A ripple of amusement passed through the girls.

  I did not care. I was angry, and I was humiliated. I should have brought far more.

  I suddenly knew that I would be a clever slave. I was highly intelligent. I could undoubtedly scheme and wheedle, and obtain my way. I could smile prettily, and would, to obtain what I wished. I felt petty and sly, but justifiably, proudly so. Was I not a slave? I knew that I could well employ the wiles of a slave girl to make my life pleasant and easy.

  But only a hundred arrow points! It was not enough!

  The door to the hut swung open.

  Suddenly terrified I faced the opening.

  I felt the point of Verna's spear in my back.

  "Enter, Slave Girl," said Verna.

  "Yes, Mistress," I whispered.

  I felt the point of Verna's spear again against my back. It pressed forward. I stumbled into the room, crying out with anguish.

  The door shut behind me, two beams falling into place, barring it.

  I looked about, and then I threw back my head and screamed in uncontrollable terror.

  10

  What Transpired in the Hut

  The large-eyed, furred thing blinked at me.

  "Do not be afraid," said a voice.

  The animal was fastened to a ring in the wall by a stout, spiked leather collar, fastened to a heavy chain.

  I stood with my back to the opposite wall of the hut, shrinking against it, terrified. I felt the rough boards at my back. My head was lifted and back, eyes wide. The back of my head pressed back against the boards. I felt the boards, too, pressed against the fingertips of my bound hands. I could not breathe.