Savages of Gor coc-17

by John Norman

  I regarded the girl. She was looking at me, slowly combing her hair.

  "Thank you for permitting me the use of the comb and, perhaps later, the brush," she said.

  "It is my pleasure," I informed her, truthfully.

  I regarded her. She was quite beautiful, and her beauty was a thousand timesmore exciting than that of a free woman, for she was a slave.

  "Master examines me with candor," she said, shyly.

  "You are a slave," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said. One might, in the case of a free woman, in deference toher modesty or dignity, avert one's gaze from her beauty. This consideration, ofcourse, is seldom, if ever, accorded to a slave. One may examine her slowly andwith care, and with attention to detail, and, if one feels she deserves it, withopen and unconcealed admiration. It is not unusual for a Gorean male, who tendsto be uninhibited in such matters, to clap his hands, or strike his thigh, orshout with pleasure, upon seeing a bared slave. These responses, which might bethought embarrassing or inappropriate in the case of a free woman, may fittinglybe accorded, of course, to slaves, who are only lovely animals. Even in the caseof free women, the Gorean male, incidentally, disdains to feign disinterest infemale beauty. He, for better or for worse, has not been made a victim of theglandular suppression and life-shortening psychosexual reductionism inflicted,in varying degrees, on so many males in more pathological cultures. Hiscivilization has not been purchased at the price of his manhood. His culture hasnot been designed to deny nature, but, startlingly perhaps, to some minds, tofulfill it.

  She continued to comb her hair. She turned her head to the side, slowly drawingthe comb through it. "Do I detect," she asked, "that Master may not find a slavefully displeasing?"

  "No," I said. "I do not find you fully displeasing."

  "A slave is pleased," she said.

  I smiled.

  "Do you think I might be worth four hides?" she asked.

  "Whether you are or not might easily be determined," I said.

  "Of course, Master," she laughed. "I am a slave."

  "You now look quite different from what you did when you were purchased," I toldher.

  "It is difficult to remain fresh and presentable," she said, "when run throughbrush at the side of a kaiila, a thong on one's throat."

  I nodded.

  "I trust," she said, "that I shall not be so served in this camp."

  "You, and the others," I said, "will be treated precisely as we please, in allthings."

  "Yes, Master," she said, quickly. She stopped combing her hair.

  "Continue to groom yourself, Slave," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "What was your name among the Dust Legs?" I asked.

  "Wasnapohdi," she said.

  "What does that mean?" I asked.

  "Pimples," she said.

  "You do not have any pimples," I said.

  "Master may have noticed that my thighs are not marked," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "I am not one of those girls from the towns, who has been branded," she said.

  "Oh, do not fear," she laughed, "that we are not well understood as slaves. Inthe camps, and among the tribes our red masters keep women such as I in ourcollars, to remove one of which without permission is death."

  I nodded.

  "And, too," she said, "What could a white woman in the Barrens be but a slave?"

  "True," I said.

  "We are thus, in our way, well marked," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "I was born Waniyanpi, in one of the Waniyanpi enclosures of the Kailiauk," shesaid, "the product of a forced mating, between parents unknown even tothemselves, parents selected and matched by the red masters, parents who, eventhough they were Sames, were forced to perform the Ugly Act, hooded and underwhips, on the day of Waniyanpi breeding."

  "There is much here I do not understand," I said. "What are Waniyanpi? Who arethe Kailiauk?"

  "Many of the tribes permit small agricultural communities to exist within theirdomains," she said. "The individuals in these communities are bound to the soiland owned collectively by the tribes within whose lands they are permitted tolive. They grow produce for their masters, such as wagmeza and wagmu, maize, orcorn, and such things as pumpkins and squash. They are also to furnish laborwhen required and may be drawn upon, at the whim of their masters, forindividual slaves. When one is taken from the enclosure one ceases to beWaniyanpi and becomes a common slave, an ordinary slave, one owned by anindividual master. Usually daughters are taken, for the red masters find thempleasing as slaves, but sometimes, too, young men are taken. The word" Waniyanpi' itself means literally "tame cattle'. It is an expression applied tothe collectively owned slaves in these tiny agricultural communities. TheKailiauk is. a tribe federated with the Kaiila. They speak closely relateddialects."

  "Do the parents come from within the same community?" I asked.

  "No," she said. "For the day of breeding the men, hooded and in coffle, aremarched between the small communities. On the day of breeding they are led tothe selected women, already hooded, tied and awaiting them. The breeding takesplace in the wagmeza fields, under the eyes of the masters."

  "You spoke of an Ugly Act?" I said. I did not like the sound of that. Itreminded me of a distant and sick world, the world of tittering, ofembarrassment and dirty jokes. How much more honest are the whips and collars ofGor?

  "The Sames," she said, "disapprove of all sexual relations between human beings,and particularly between those of different sexes, as being demeaning anddangerous."

  "I can see where some might regard sexual relations between partners of oppositesexes as being demeaning for the woman," I said, "for in such relations she isoften handled, owned and put in her place, but, on the other hand, if shebelongs in her place, and it is her natural destiny to be owned and handled, itis not clear, ultimately, how this sort of thing can be demeaning for her.

  Rather, it seems it would be fully appropriate. Indeed, treating her in anyother way, ultimately, would seem to be far more demeaning. But how can suchrelations be regarded as dangerous?"

  "They are not regarded as being dangerous to health," she said, "but as beingdangerous to the Teaching."

  "What is the Teaching?" I asked.

  "That men and women are the same," she said. "That is the central tenet of theWaniyanpi."

  "Do they believe it?" I asked.

  "They pretend to," she said. "I do not know if they really believe it or not."

  "They believe men and women are the same," I marveled. "Except," she smiled,"that women are regarded as somewhat superior."

  "Their beliefs then," I said, "seem not only to be obviously false but actuallyinconsistent."

  "Before the Teaching one must surrender one's reason," she said. "To scrutinizeit is a crime. To question it is blasphemy."

  "It lies, I suppose," I said, "at the roots of Waniyanpi society."

  "Yes," she said. "Without it Waniyanpi society would collapse."

  "So?" I said.

  "They do not take the disintegration of their society as lightly as you do," shesmiled. "Too, you must understand the utility of such a view. It constitutes anexcellent philosophy for slaves."

  "I am not even sure of that," I said.

  "It, at least," she said, "gives men an excuse not to be men."

  "That seems true," I granted her.

  "It helps them to remain Waniyanpi," she said. "They are thus less likely toattract the attention, or excite the anger, of their red masters."

  "I understand," I said. "I think I also understand why, in such a society, thewomen are regarded as somewhat superior, as you put it."

  "It is only that they are implicitly regarded as superior," be said.

  "Explicitly, of course, all subscribe to the thesis of sameness."

  "But why are the women regarded, implicitly, as superior?" I asked.

  "Because of the contempt felt for the men," she said, "who will not assert theirnatu
ral rights. Also, if men refuse the mastery, someone must assume it."

  "Yes," I said.

  "There are always masters," she said, "whether one pretends it is not so, ornot."

  "In the hands of women," I said, "the mastery becomes an empty mockery."

  "Mockery has no choice but to assert itself," she said, "when reality isforesworn"

  I was silent "The Waniyanpi communities are sources of great amusement to the red masters," she said.

  I thought of what is sometimes spoken of by the red savages as the Memory.

  "I understand," I said.

  The red savages doubtless found their vengeance a sweet and fitting one. Howalmost incomprehensibly cruel it was, how horrifying, how brilliant andinsidious.

  "The Teachings of the Waniyanpi," I said, "were doubtless originally imposed onthem by their red masters."

  "Perhaps," she said. "I do not know. They may have been invented by theWaniyanpi themselves, to excuse to themselves their cowardice, their weaknessand impotence."

  "Perhaps," I admitted.

  "If one is not strong it is natural to make a virtue of weakness."

  "I suppose so," I said. I then speculated that I had perhaps judged the redsavages too harshly. The Waniyanpi, it then seemed likely, may have betrayedthemselves, and their children. In time, of course, such teachings, absurdthough they might be, would come to be taken for granted. In time they wouldcome to be sanctioned by tradition, one of humanity's most prized substitutesfor thought.

  "You, yourself," I said, "Do not seem much infected by the lunacy of theWaniyanpi."

  "No," she said. "I am not. I have had red masters. From them I have learned newtruths. Too, I was taken from the community at an early age."

  "How old were you?" I asked.

  "I was taken from the enclosure when I was eight years old," she said, "takenhome by a Kaiila warrior as a pretty little white slave for his ten-year-oldson. I learned early to please and placate men."

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "There is little more to tell," she said. "For seven years I was the slave of myyoung master. He was kind to me, and protected me, muchly, from the otherchildren. Although I was only his slave, I think he liked me. He did not put mein a leg stretcher until I was fifteen." She was then silent. "I have combed myhair," she said.

  "Come here," I said, "and, kneel here." She rose from the water, it drippingfrom her body, and came and knelt on the grass, on the bank of the small stream,where I had indicated. I took the comb from her and laid it to the side. I thentook the brush and, kneeling behind her, began to brush out her hair. It is notunusual for Gorean masters to comb and groom slaves, or ornament thempersonally, much as they might any animal that they owned.

  "We were gathering berries," she said. "Then I saw him, suddenly, almostangrily, cutting a stick, and notching it with his knife. Too, he had thongs. Iwas afraid, for I had seen other white slaves put in such devices. He turned toface me. His voice seemed loud, and full, and husky. "Take off your dress," besaid, "and lie down, and throw your legs widely apart." I began to cry, but Iobeyed him, and quickly, for I was his slave. I felt my ankles lashed tightly tothe stick, the stick behind them. I had not realized that he had grown sostrong. Then he rose to his feet and looked down at me. I was helpless. Helaughed with pleasure, a man's laugh, who sees a woman tied before him. I wascrying. He crouched down beside me. Then, suddenly, scarcely before I understoodwhat I was doing, I opened my arms to him, overcome suddenly by the stirrings ofmy womanhood. He embraced me. I began to sob again, but this time with joy. Thefirst time it was finished almost before we realized it. But he did not leaveme. For hours we remained among the tiny fruit, talking and kissing, andcaressing. Later, near dusk, he freed me, that I might gather berries for him,and feed them to him. Later I lay on my belly before him and kissed his feet.

  That night we returned to the village. That others in the village mightunderstand what had happened, he did not permit me to ride behind him, on hiskaiila. He tied my bands behind my back and marched me at his stirrup, a thongon my neck tied to the pommel of his saddle. Two children had left the camp thatmorning. What returned to it that night were a master and his claimed whiteslave. I was very proud. I was very happy."

  "What then happened? I asked. I stopped brushing her hair.

  "I loved my master," she said, "and I think that he, too, cared for me."

  "Yes?" I said.

  "That it seemed he had grown fond of me brought ridicule on him from hiscomrades," she said. "To this sort of thing, as you might not know, red savages,in their tribal groups, are extremely sensitive. To allay these charges he, inhis anger, would berate me publicly, and even beat me in the presence of others.

  At last, to put an end to the matter, and perhaps fearing these charges might betrue, be sold me to an older man, one from another village. After that I hadmany masters, and now I have yet another."

  I then began again to brush her hair. "Was it the lad who gave you the namePimples?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said. "I was given the name at puberty and, for some reason, it wasnever changed. Red masters commonly give such names to their white slaves,trivial names that seem fitting for slaves. My first year as the slave of myyoung master I was not even given a name. I was referred to only as Wicincala,or "Girl. I was later called "Wihinpaspa', which means lodge-pin or tent-pin,probably because I was little and thin. Then later, as I have mentioned, I wascalled "Pimples', "Wasnapohdi', which name, partly because of habit, and partlybecause it amused my masters, was kept on me."

  "You are neither little nor thin," I said, "and, as I have earlier remarked, youdo not have pimples."

  "Perhaps I might bring four hides," she laughed.

  "It is not impossible," I said. "Do you think your first master would recognizeyou now?" I asked.

  "I do not know," she said. "I would suppose so."

  "Do you remember him?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said. "It is difficult to forget the first man who tied you."

  "Do you love him? I asked. I laid the brush aside.

  "I do not know," she said. "It was long ago. He sold me."

  "Oh," she said, her hands now thonged behind her back. She tensed.

  "Did your red masters teach you well what it is to be a slave?" I asked.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I tightened the knots on her wrists.

  "Do you think your lot will be easier with us?" I asked.

  "I do not know, Master," she winced.

  "It will not be," I assured her.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I bent down and kissed her on the side, on one of the long welts raised by thewhip stroke, one of the blows in virtue of which she was assessed.

  "You struck me with great force," she said.

  "No, I did not," I said.

  She shuddered. "You are then very strong," she whispered.

  I turned her about, and put her on her back, before me. I knelt beside her andsniffed her belly. "Again," I said, "you are womnaka."

  "I am only a slave," she said. "Does it please you, or displease you, that I amunable to resist you?"

  "It does not displease me," I said. I then touched her.

  "Oh," she cried, eyes closed, squirming helplessly, rearing half upward,trussed, then falling back. She looked at me, wildly.

  "You are indeed a slave," I told her.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "Do you beg to be had?" I asked.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "Yes, Master!"

  "First," I said, "You will earn your keep. You will be put to work."

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  I then pulled her to her knees and lay then on one elbow, indolently, watchingher. She then, on her knees, her hands bound behind her, with her hair, hermouth and body, need fully and desperately, began to please me. In a short whileI took her and threw her beneath me.

  Aiii!" she sobbed. "I yield me your slave, my Master!" She was superb. Iwondered if the lad who had been
her former master, and who now must be a man,and had sold her, had any idea as to the wonder, the surrendered, curvaceous,obedient, orgasmic triumph, which his little Lodge-Pin or Pimples, now aravishing, helpless beauty, had become. Had he any notion of this it wasdifficult to imagine that he would be able to rest until he had once againfastened his beaded collar on her throat. Clearly she was now the sort of womanfor whom men might kill.

  "Am I worth four hides, Master?" she asked, gasping.

  "Five," I assured her.

  She laughed, and kissed me happily.

  "This is Wagmezahu, Corn Stalks," said Grunt. "He is Fleer."

  "Hou," said Corn Stalks.

  "Hou," said I to him.

  "Is the new slave satisfactory?" asked Grunt.

  "Quite," I said.

  "Good," he said.

  I sat back, cross-legged, away from the fire. I now understood why Grunt hadbeen scanning the plains. I now understood why he had wished to remain at thetrading point. He had, doubtless, been waiting for this Fleer. This was also,doubtless, the reason he had encouraged me to take my time with the new girl,which I had, that they not be disturbed. Although the Fleer speak a languageclearly akin to Kaiila and Dust Leg there bad often been strife among them.

  Thusly the Fleer had waited before coming to the camp. If the Dust Legs knew ofhis presence in their country they had not chosen to do anything about it,perhaps in deference to Grunt.

  Grunt and the Fleer spoke largely in sign, this being easier for them than theattempt to communicate verbally.

  I sat back from the fire, watching them closely. It was now late at night. Grunthad shortened the coffle by two collars and chain lengths. I had put the newgirl in Margaret's place, after Priscilla and before the Hobarts. This was theposition of "Last Girl," which, fittingly, not counting the Hobarts, she wouldoccupy, being the newest girl on the coffle. Coffle arrangements, incidentally,are seldom arbitrary. One common principle of arrangements is in order ofheight, with the tallest girls coming first; this makes a lovely coffle.

  Sometimes, too, coffles are arranged in order of beauty or preference, the mostbeautiful or the most preferred girls coming first. Coloring and body type canalso be important. It is for such reasons, perhaps, that the coffle is sometimesspoken of as the slaver's necklace. Sales strategies, too, can enter into theformation of a coffle, as, for example, when a girl is put between two plainergirls to accentuate her beauty, or a superb girl is saved for last, and manyother considerations, as well, can enter into the formation of a coffle. Whenone sees a chain of beauties, fastened together, say, by the neck, or the leftwrist or left ankle, it is well to remember that their locations on that sturdy,metallic bond, keeping them precisely where the master wishes, are seldom likelyto be merely fortuitous. After I had carried the new girl to the chain and puther on the grass, locking the collar on her, I went to the red-haired girl and,as I had earlier promised her, bound her hand and foot. She had asked a stupidquestion, one pertaining to respect. She would spend the night tied.