Savages of Gor coc-17

by John Norman

  At a gesture from me she removed her hands from the sides of the garment andplaced them on her thighs.

  She then knelt there in the grass, and I looked at her.

  She put her head down, not meeting my eyes. She, a new slave, was not yet usedto being looked at, truly looked at, as a woman, by a Gorean master.

  I continued to regard her.

  I found her reserve charming.

  She lifted her head, frightened.

  At as little as a snapping of my fingers, she must strip herself and hurrynaked, licking and kissing, to my arms.

  It is pleasant to own women.

  "I do not know what to do, or what to say," she moaned, to herself, in English.

  We had now been five nights in the Barrens. This woman, and the others, tutoredby Ginger and Evelyn, had now picked up a smattering of Gorean. I was pleasedwith her progress in the language, and it seemed to me the best of her chainedpeers. Yet it was still, of course, piteously limited. The phrase which she hadrepeated more than once, "I have been sent to your blanket," for example, hadnot been spoken as a slave girl in full cognizance of its meaning, humbly makingit clear that her nearness to the male was not illicit, and begging him toconsider her for his pleasure-use, but rather as though it might have beenspoken by rote, merely a set of words committed to memory, and as though she wasdesperate not to forget it or mispronounce it. She had doubtless learned thephrase by repetition, from Ginger or Evelyn. Still, doubtless, they would alsohave taught her its meaning, or at least as much of its meaning as could beabsorbed by a raw Earth slave in her present stage of training. She doubtlessthus understood its meaning, but did not, presumably, understand it in its fullmeaning, as what it might mean, fully, to present herself as a Gorean slave girlfor the pleasure of a master.

  "I cannot even speak your language," she said, miserably in English. "I amstupid. I cannot remember anything. It is all gone from me!"

  I saw that in her terror the little Gorean that she knew had eluded her.

  "Forgive me, Master," she then said, suddenly, in Gorean. "Forgive me, Master.

  Forgive me, Master."

  I was pleased to, see that she could remember at least that much Gorean.

  She put her head down, trembling.

  I saw that I would not be able, at least for the time, to communicate with herin Gorean. Obviously the Gorean she knew was largely unavailable to her now andit was, moreover, extremely limited anyway in her current stage of linguisticdevelopment.

  "Forgive me, Master," she wept, in Gorean.

  I smiled. That simple phrase had doubtless on many occasions, though not always,saved many stripped, collared slaves from fearful punishments.

  Her shoulders shook. Her head was down.

  It is not necessary, of course, to be able to communicate verbally with a womanto teach her that she is a slave. Women are highly intelligent. They quicklyunderstand such as the chain and the whip. Indeed, much may be done with meansso simple even as the stroke of a hand, the twisting of an arm, the manner inwhich her body is penetrated. Yes, she can learn much, even before she haslearned to speak your language.

  I considered the girl kneeling in the grass, trembling. I glanced to the nearbykaiila saddle, and the quirt. I could always strip her and throw her on herbelly or back over the polished leather of the saddle. I might then, with theaid of the quirt, and caressing her, begin to induce in her some modicum ofunderstanding concerning her condition.

  "I have been sent to your blankets, Master," whispered the girl, in Gorean,lifting her head.

  She was not yet ready for the saddle and the quirt, I saw. Yet, if I assessedher correctly, I thought, it would not be long. She was good slave stuff.

  I beckoned to her, gently.

  Timidly the girl, on her hands and knees, crawled to me through the grass. Ithen took her in my arms and, gently, put her to her back beside me. She wastense. She made as though to lift her lips to me, timidly, but I put my handover her mouth. She looked up at me, frightened. My band was tight over hermouth. She was held motionless. She could not begin to speak.

  "I speak your language," I said to her, very quietly. Her eyes widened. I hadspoken in English. I did not let her speak. "This is not particularlyimportant," I said, "but you are not, without my permission, to speak of it toanyone. Do you understand?"

  She nodded her head, as she could, my hand tight over her mouth. I then removedmy hand from her mouth.

  "You speak English," she said, wonderingly.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Is it your intention to rescue me, and the other girls?" she whispered. "Oh!" she said. Her head was forced back, my hand under her chin, my fingers tight atthe sides of her jaw.

  "Where is your collar?" I asked.

  "In the coffle," she said. In the coffle, what?" I asked.

  "In the coffle Master!" she said.

  "What are you?" I asked.

  "I am informed I am a slave," she said, my hand tight under her chin. "Oh!" shesaid, her head forced farther back, my grip tightened.

  "What are you?" I asked.

  "A slave!" she said, tensely. "I am a slave, Master! ' "Do you think, now," I asked, "that you are to be rescued?"

  "No, Master," she said. "No, Master! ' "There is no rescue for you," I said, "nor for the other on your chain."

  "No, Master," she said. "We are slaves."

  "Does it disturb you to speak of your slavery in your native language?" I asked.

  "No, Master," she said.

  I looked down into her eyes. She averted her gaze. "Why did you think I mightconsider rescuing you?" I asked.

  "Were you not once of Earth?" she asked.

  "Once," I said.

  "Surely then," she said, "You must be sensitive to our plight, imbonded women ofEarth."

  "Women of Earth have often been imbonded," I said. "Bondage is no novelty forthe Earth female. Her fittingness for the collar has long been recognized. OnEarth at this very moment many women are held in public bondage, and manyothers, it is difficult to conjecture their number, serve in secret bondages.

  Too, throughout the course of human history, in the past, as well as today, manywomen have found themselves enslaved. Your predicament, or plight, if youplease, is thus far from unique. You, and those with you, are merely anotherhandful of slaves, imbonded females, merely new and fresh instances of ahistorically familiar commodity.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I removed my hand from her throat and face. She gasped, fearfully, but did notstir from my side. Her breasts heaved, under the thin rep-cloth of the slavetunic.

  "You may now begin again," I said. "Return to your original position. You mayspeak in English."

  "Yes, Master," she whispered. Fearfully she then crept from my side. In a momentshe knelt as she had before, a few feet from me, in the grass" Master," she said.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "I am a slave girl," she said. "I have been sent to your blankets."

  "Excellent," I said. "You are a pretty slave.

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  "Approach, Slave," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said, and, on her hands and knees, crawled to my side.

  I then took her in my arms and, as I had before, put her to her back, beside me.

  "I am a virgin," she said.

  "I know," I said. "The results of your body's testing, shortly after yourpurchase, were made known to me by Grunt, your master."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Such information is public among Masters," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I held the cloth of the slave tunic, moving it between my fingers. "This isthin, flimsy cloth," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "It reveals you well," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "And you have pretty legs," I said.

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  "You are tense," I said.

  "Forgive me, Master," she said.

>   "Do you know what is to be done to you tonight?" I asked.

  "I am to be deflowered," she said.

  "That is a ridiculous expression," I said. "It is absurd. Rather, you are to beopened, an act which, in the case of a slave, is in the interest of all men."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "This is unlikely to be painful," I said, "but, if it is, the pain will bebrief, and the soreness will be temporary."

  "I understand," she said.

  "If you should prove unusual in some respect, although this is extremely rare,"

  I said, "we can, tomorrow, grind one of Grunts trading knives into a lancet."

  "I understand," she shuddered. This seemed to me better than leaving the matterto the red savages. They tend to be impatient in such respects, even with theirown women. A homemade lancet, sterilized in boiling water, seemed to mepreferable to a sharpened kailiauk bone or a whittled lodge peg.

  "But your penetration is, obviously," I said, "only a mere technicality."

  "Obviously," she said, I thought a bit ironically.

  "But," I said, "beyond that incidental triviality, do you understand why youhave been sent to my blankets, what the purpose is from your point of view, whatis the purpose on which you are to be intent?"

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "What?" I asked.

  "I am to please you with my body," she said.

  "You do not understand," I said.

  "Master?" she asked.

  "That is far too limited," I said. "You are to please me with the wholeness ofyour womanhood, in the fullness of your slavery."

  "The Gorean master, then," she said, "would desire, and own, all of me."

  "Yes," I said.

  "I had hoped it might be so," she whispered.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Nothing, Master," she whispered.

  "It is only on your former world, if anywhere," I said, "that a man isinterested only in a woman's body. "Yes, Master," she said.

  "And I doubt that," I said, "even on that muchly perverted dismal orb."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "To be sure," I said, "the bodies of women are not without interest, and theylook well in slave chains."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "But you must understand that what wears the chains, so curvaceous, beautifuland helpless, is the whole woman."

  "I understand, Master," she said.

  "You do not have a name yet, do you?" I asked.

  "No," she said. "My master has not yet named me."

  "What was your former name?" I asked.

  "Millicent Aubrey-Welles," she said. "Oh!" she said. "Your hand!"

  "Do you objects?" I asked.

  "No," she said. "I am only a slave. I may not object."

  "That is an unusual name," I said. My hand rested, softly, on her left thigh.

  "Such names are not unusual in the social stratum which once was mine," shesaid.

  "I see," I said.

  "My family is from the upper classes, the very upper classes, of my world."

  "I see," I said.

  "I now lie beside you in a slave tunic," she said. "But I am an upper-classgirl, a very upper-class girl. You must understand that."

  "Once you were," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "You are now only a nameless slave," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I smiled.

  "I was a debutante," she said.

  "I understand," I said.

  "We are used to consolidate family alliances," she said, and are given asawards, in matings to energetic young men, often rising in our fathers' companies."

  "A form of slavery," I said, "but without the honesty of the collar."

  "Yes," she said, bitterly.

  "Women have often been used for such purposes," I said.

  "My aunt told me that it was all that I was good for," she said.

  "Your aunt was mistaken," I said.

  She gasped. My hand moved higher on her thigh.

  She controlled her breath. My hand, now, was again still.

  "We, of course," she said, "would be permitted our clubs, our activities, ourparties, our affairs."

  "Yes," I said.

  "But it would be a meaningless existence," she said, "meaningless." "Oh!" shesaid.

  My fingers now rested on her brand. "What is this?" I asked.

  "My brand." she said.

  "You must be a slave," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Your existence on Gor," I said, "you will find far from meaningless. You willfind it quite meaningful, I assure you."

  She shuddered.

  "It is rather something else which you will find is meaningless on Gor," I said.

  "What, Master?" she asked.

  "You, yourself," I said.

  "Me?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said, "for you will be only an article of property, a meaningless,purchasable trinket, a worthless bauble, an owned woman, a slave."

  She looked at me with horror.

  "Surely you are aware that you may be purchased or sold, or bartered, or givenaway, or commanded, as men please, that you are naught but an imbonded woman, atotally meaningless slave?"

  "Yes, Master," she moaned.

  "Did you wear a white gown, of ankle length, when you were presented as adebutante?" I asked.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  My hand was now tight upon her brand. "Say," I said, "I am now naught but abranded slave on Gor."

  "I am now naught but a branded slave on Gor," said the girl.

  I moved my hand upward, to her hip, and to the sweetness of her waist at thehip.

  "Your hand is high beneath my tunic, Master," said the girl "Do you object?" I asked.

  "No, Master," she said. "I am a slave. I may not object,"

  "The clothing in which you were exhibited to the buyers," I said, "which wasremoved for their interest, in your sale, did not seem to me the clothing of adebutante. It seemed to me rather the clothing of a girl, and a certain sort ofgirl, who works in an office."

  "I wished to avoid the imminent and obvious fate of the debutante," she said,"to be bartered, for position and power on the marriage market."

  "This was the occasion, doubtless, in which your aunt expressed her view thatsuch, in effect, was all you were good for."

  "Yes!" she said. "Oh!" she said.

  "You have lovely curves," I said.

  "Are you warming me for my taking?" she asked.

  "They would bring a high price," I said.

  She moaned.

  "Your aunt," I said, "surely had a very limited conception of your utilities. Itprobably never even entered her ken, for example, that you might one day be ascantily clad, branded slave."

  "Master?" asked the girl.

  "On the other hand," I said, "she knew you very well, and, in some way, may havebeen touching on something of importance."

  "I do not understand," said the girl.

  "I do not mean to insult you, a girl from Earth," I said, "but you an obviouslyextremely feminine. You have, doubtless, a large number of female hormones inyour body."

  "Master?" she asked.

  "Your aunt was then, perhaps, trying to convey to you that your most congenialand appropriate destiny, what might be best for you, what might be most naturalfor you, would be for you to find yourself naked in the arms of a man."

  "As little more than a slaver she asked.

  "As perhaps no more than a slave," I said.

  "I cannot help it that I have a feminine face, that I have feminine body," shesaid. "I cannot help it that I am feminine nine" Why would you want to help it?" I asked.

  "It is wrong to be feminine!" she said.

  "That is obviously false," I said. "What is your next point?"

  "I know that I am feminine," she wept. "I have known for years, from my desiresand feelings, even from before the interior truths of my reality manifestedthemselves so unmistakably, s
o unrepudiably, in my body, shaping and curving mefor the destiny of the female, and for the lustful, appraising eyes of men."

  I regarded her, not speaking.

  "I am afraid to be feminine!" she said.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Because," she wept, "I sense that it is, ultimately, to be the slave of men."

  "You desired to prove your aunt wrong," I said.

  "Yes," she said. "I would prove that I was independent, that I was capable, thatI could achieve success on my own. My talents would be obvious. I would be hiredpromptly. I would be rapidly advanced. I would become a female executive. Thatwould show my aunt! That would show myself! That would show men!"

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "I took money and left home," she said. "I scarcely informed my family as to mydecision or whereabouts. I went to a great city. It is called New York. I rentedexpensive quarters. Confidently, I sought a significant position business."

  "And then?" I asked.

  "Alas," she said, ruefully, "I found my credentials sorely lacking. I could findno work of the sort in which I was interested.»

  "I see," I said.

  "After weeks of misery and frustration," she said, "I contacted my family. Aposition was immediately arranged for me.

  "I see," I said.

  "It was not, however, at all, what I had hoped for," she said. "I became, ineffect, the secretary to a female executive, her "girl' in the office. She tookcharge of me and, in effect, prescribed my mode of dress and behavior."

  "It was largely due to her, then," I said, "that you wore the attractivegarments you did, when you were stripped for the buyers at the house of RamSeibar?"

  "Yes," she said, "and she even prescribed that the pearls I wore must besynthetic, as being more befitting than real pearls a girl in my position."

  "I see," I said. "Did you protest this?"

  "I did not wish to lose my job," she said.

  "I see," I said. I was pleased to learn that she had not worn the false pearlsof her own volition. That would surely mitigate her culpability in the matter,at least to some extent, in Gorean eyes. She had, of course, agreed to wearthem. That they might regard as important. That agreement, of course, had beenformed, in a sense, under duress. The Goreans, on the whole a fair folk, woulddoubtless take that into consideration. The degree of duress might be regardedas significant. The matter was surely subtle. Grunt, in any case, as I knew him,would not be interested in punishing her for that action, as it had taken placewhen she was free. That life was behind her now. Her whippings, now, doubtless,would be functions of such things as whether or not she was sufficientlypleasing as a female slave. Still, I would inform Grunt of this development. Hewould find it of interest. Masters find almost everything about their slaves ofinterest. Too, it would please him.