Fighting Slave of Gor

by John Norman

  "No," I said.

  "It was to have been put in with you," she said. She put down her head, sobbing.

  Angrily I went back to where I had sat against the wall. Again I sat down, in the straw.

  She remained at the bars, sobbing. Then, later, near them, she fell asleep.

  I leaned against the wall, angry. I did not sleep.

  8

  I am Shamed;

  I will Leave the House of Andronicus

  "Get in," said Prodicus.

  Gron, bare chested, stood beside him, resting the point of a great, long, curved sword on the tiles at his feet.

  "Wait," said the Lady Gina.

  I knelt, head down, before the square iron box, the exterior of which was enameled white, one side of which, its door, on hinges, lay opened on the tiles. I tensed. On two sides of the box, in red paint, was a Kef, in block printing. Kef, of course, is the initial letter not only of the Gorean expression 'Kajira', the most common Gorean expression for a female slave, but also 'Kajirus', the most common Gorean expression for a male slave. The block printing indicated that the box was suitable for a male slave. This could also, of course, have been determined from its size which, though small, was larger than would have been that in which women would be placed. Such boxes, for women, were marked also with red on white, but the letter, of course, would be the cursive Kef, which is also used as a common slave brand for embonded females.

  "Last night, Jason," said the Lady Gina, "we threw you a slave girl." She shook loose the blades of her slave whip. I kept my head down. "I was curious to see what you would do with her. I had wondered about you. I had thought there might be a bit of manhood in you." She suddenly lashed downward with the whip and I winced. "I see there was not," she said. She struck me again. The blades, in their stroke, burned cruelly on my back. I could not help tears forming in my eyes. Yet I think the tears were from frustration and misery, and from my shame, that I knew, in my heart, that I well deserved my beating, rather than from the mere pain of the harsh strokes.

  "May I speak, my Mistress?" I begged.

  "Yes," she said.

  "I am a man of Earth," I said. "We prove our manhood by denying it. He who behaves least like a man shows himself thus to be most a man."

  "Do you believe that?" asked the Lady Gina.

  "No, Mistress," I said, miserably. I did not really believe it. I had only been taught to say it.

  "Perhaps," she said, "those who pride themselves on the denial of their manhood deceive themselves. Perhaps it is thus they protect themselves from understanding that they have, in effect, no manhood to deny."

  I kept my head down. I knew that males differed much, one from the other. Some were perhaps, for most practical purposes, without manhood. It would surely be easiest for them to pretend to expertise in its denial. Some males, I supposed, incredibly enough, did not feel strong urges and powerful appetites. There was nothing in their own experience, perhaps, which prepared them to understand drives, and desires and rages which might terrify them. There was simply nothing in their own experience, perhaps, thus, which prepared them to understand the desires and rages of natures deeper and mightier than theirs. These things would be to them simply colors they could not see, sounds they could not hear, worlds which must remain to them forever beyond their ken. But perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps there lies somewhere in all men a trace of the rover and hunter; perhaps no man is so weak or lost as to have forgotten completely the feel of the grasped, bloody bone in his paw, or what it was on a windy night to throw back his head and howl at a moon.

  "How can one know," asked the Lady Gina, "if one has a manhood to deny, if one has never expressed it?"

  "I do not know, Mistress," I said.

  "Let those who have expressed their manhood," she said, "decide then whether or not they will ever again choose to deny it."

  I did not speak.

  I did not know what it would be, truly, to be a man. I feared manhood. Suppose that I became a man. How then, once having dared to taste meat and blood, and victory, could I again surrender so preciously recollected a birthright? I knew that men must not be men. I kept my head down.

  "Slave," sneered the Lady Gina.

  I knelt naked, the steel collar of the house of Andronicus on my neck, before the small, opened slave box. On its top it had two sets of rings, each set placed along an edge of the top, through which long carrying poles might be thrust. To one side, behind Gron, and to the back, stood four carrying slaves, large, brawny, collared men, two of whom held the poles, like spears, butt down, on the tiles.

  "Look up, Jason, Slave," said the Lady Gina. "Look about you."

  I looked up, and at the Lady Gina, and the men in the room.

  "How are you regarded, Handsome Slave?" asked the Lady Gina.

  "With contempt, Mistress," I said.

  "Yes," she said.

  It was true. All in the room looked upon me with contempt, even the slaves, I, a kneeling man of Earth.

  "Put down your head, Slave," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said. I lowered my head.

  "How fit you are to be a slave," she said, scornfully.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said. I did not know why she should be so angry with me. Somehow she seemed to feel that I had disappointed her.

  What did she want of one who was only a slave?

  Suddenly, crying out with rage, she began to strike at me with the whip. I knelt, naked, miserable, under the blows.

  She struck me, again and again.

  Then, after a time, she wearied. She hooked the whip again on her belt. She pulled up my head by the hair.

  "Is there a man in you, Jason?" she asked.

  I did not speak.

  She smiled.

  "Get into the slave box," she said.

  I hesitated.

  "Do you obey?" she asked.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "Then obey," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  I crawled into the tiny box, on my knees. It was barely large enough to contain me. The metal door, behind me, was lifted and flung shut. I heard bolts thrust in place. I pressed against the sides of the iron container. On both the right and left, about level with my eyes, the sides of the container were perforated with fifteen small holes, arranged in three horizontal rows of five openings apiece. Each opening was about a half of an inch in diameter. I heard the two long poles being thrust through the sets of rings on the roof of the box.

  "Deliver him to the market of Tima," I heard the Lady Gina say.

  "It will be done, Lady Gina," said Prodicus.

  I felt the box being lifted into the air, suspended by the rings and poles.

  I put my head down, and wept. I was a man of Earth. I was a slave.

  9

  I am Goods Bound for the Market of Tima

  "Smell a slave girl, Master!" taunted the slave. The slave box in which I was being transported to the market of Tima had been placed on the stones near a trough at which the carrying slaves, now chained, were being watered. We were at the edge of what appeared to be a square in a city. I drew back from the perforations in the iron wall of my container as the brown rep-cloth, a thin, single layer of cloth, covering the sweetly rounded, lower belly of a female slave, thrust suddenly against the perforations. She rubbed herself insolently, closely, across the perforations. I could smell her indeed, dirt and sweat, and the hot, moist female of her.

  "Smell me, too, Master," said another slave. She, too, in brown rep-cloth, rubbed against the perforations.

  "Get your filthy, stinking little bodies away from there!" called Prodicus.

  The two girls laughed and, turning about, ran swiftly, lightly, away.

  Both were exciting, briefly tunicked, collared. One's tunic had been torn to the waist on her left side.

  They did not stay to feel the whip of Prodicus.

  "Slave! Slave!" called a small child, beating on the metal of the slave box. "Slave! Slave!" called his companion
. They struck repeatedly on the box. Inside the noise was painful. Then they ran to play elsewhere.

  "Master!" I called to a man who was passing by. I pressed my face against the perforations. "Please, Master," I called, "in what city am I?"

  He spit against the perforations. I swiftly drew back my face. I wiped my cheek.

  He was kind, I now realize, not to have had me beaten. How insolent I had been, to have dared to speak to him. Some slaves have been slain for such acts.

  "Are you a pretty one?" I heard. A woman's voice had spoken. I looked up, through the perforations.

  "I can see very little of him," said another voice, also that of a woman. Two free women, veiled and in robes, stood near the slave box. They had market baskets on their arms.

  "Are you pretty?" I heard.

  "I do not know, Mistress," I said.

  She laughed.

  "For what market are you bound?" asked the other woman.

  "The market of Tima," I said.

  They looked at one another and laughed. "I'll bet you are a pretty one!" said one of the women.

  "My companion would not even let me have a pet like you," said the other.

  "Are you quite tame?" asked the first woman.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "He probably is," said the second woman. "The market of Tima is famous for her tamed slaves."

  I did not tell them that I came from a world in which almost all the males were perfectly tamed, indeed, a world in which males were supposed to pride themselves on their inoffensiveness and agreeability.

  "I do not trust Kajiri," said the first woman. "They can revert. Can you imagine how fearful that might be, if one turned on you?"

  The second one shuddered, but I thought with pleasure. "Yes," she said.

  "Consider your danger, and what they might make you do," said the first.

  "Yes," said the second.

  "They might treat you as though you were little better than a slave."

  "Or perhaps as only a slave," said the second.

  "How horrifying that would be," said the first.

  "Yes," said the second, but it seemed to me that she, beneath her robes and veil, shuddered again with pleasure.

  "But if the Mistress is strong," said the first, "what has she to fear?"

  "One who is stronger than she," said the second.

  "I am stronger than any man," said the first.

  "But what if you should meet your Master?" asked the second.

  The first one was silent then for a moment. Then she spoke. "I would love him and serve him, helplessly," she said.

  "You would have no choice!" laughed the other.

  "True," agreed the first.

  "I think you belong in a collar!" said the second.

  "No!" cried the first. "Rather it is you who should be in a collar!"

  "No!" said the second.

  "I wager you would be pretty in a collar," said the first.

  "Doubtless prettier than you!" said her friend.

  "I think not!" said the other.

  "I have wondered what price I might bring."

  "Shame!" said her companion.

  "Have you not wondered about that?" asked the second.

  "I would bring a higher price," said the first.

  "That would be for men to decide," said the second.

  "I am not a slave," said the first.

  "But, if you were," asked her companion, "what sort of slave would you be?"

  "It is unthinkable that I should be a slave," said the first.

  "But if you were, what sort of slave would you be?"

  "I would be a superb slave," said her friend.

  "I, too," said the other.

  Both women were veiled, and heavily robed, but, even so, I could detect in their voices, and in the tremors of their robes, the seismic innuendoes, the suppressed sexuality, which beneath the shelter of their banter shook them to the core.

  "Let us not speak so in public," said the first.

  "There are none present but a slave," said the second.

  I realized they were speaking of me.

  "It does not matter," said the other. "He is bound for the market of Tima. He is a silk slave. He would not even know what to do with a girl."

  I was of no account I understood. I might not even have been present. Too, I was apparently a silk slave, a slave before whom women could speak quite openly.

  I was a male of Earth.

  It was natural then that I was to be a silk slave on Gor, one who was to be a slave of women. I wondered how many men of Earth were silk slaves and did not realize it. One must master, one must submit. On Gor men have decided who it is who will hold the whip, who will kneel, who will wear the collar.

  "Beautiful Mistresses," I said, "can you tell me in what city I am?"

  "Be silent, Slave," said the first woman.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "Curiosity is not becoming in a Kajirus," said the second.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said. "Forgive me, Mistresses."

  They turned away, their market baskets on their arms. The butt of the whip of Prodicus suddenly struck twice at the side of the box, sharply. I jerked away from the sound, crying out, startled, frightened. "Be silent in there, Slave," he said, "or you will be well beaten."

  "Yes, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master."

  I then felt the slave box, on the rings and poles, again being lifted. I pressed my face again to the perforations. I saw the brightly colored robes and tunics of the people. The square was crowded. I saw market stalls and heard the cries of vendors hawking their goods. I smelled fresh vegetables and roasting meat. The day was bright. The air was clear. On a cement dais, at one side of the square, I saw a man selling naked, chained slave girls. They were very beautiful, and piteous, in their collars and chains. I thought of Miss Beverly Henderson. How lovely she had been. I scarcely dared to conjecture what tragic fate might have befallen her on this rude world.

  "Make way," called Prodicus. "Make way for goods bound for the market of Tima!"

  10

  I Find Myself Slave in the House of the Lady Tima;

  I am Recreation for the Lady Tima, After She has Finished Her Work

  The door of the slave box, behind me, was opened, and swung down. At the same time I was thrust forward in the box and my ankles were seized. I was dragged backwards out of the box on my belly. Four men held me. Prodicus jammed the key into the lock on the back of my collar and, in an instant, had opened the collar, which he jerked from my throat. Almost at the same time another man closed another collar about my throat and snapped it shut. I then wore the collar of the House of Tima. I saw a woman, stern and cruel, in black leather, with leather wristlets, sign a paper. Prodicus placed the paper in his tunic. Two men lifted me and flung me to my knees on the cement flooring of the large room. The door, or gate, to the slave box was swung up and shut, the bolts thrown in place. Prodicus gestured to the carrying slaves and they set their poles again through the rings and, in moments, they, carrying the box, preceded by Prodicus, had exited through an iron door.

  I felt the woman's whip under my chin. It pushed my head up.

  "Greetings, Pretty Slave," she said.

  "Greetings, Mistress," I said.

  "I am Tima," she said. "I am Mistress here."

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  Then she turned to the men about her, strong fellows, fit for keeping order in slave pens.

  "Whip him," she said. "Then clean and groom him. Then send him to my chamber."

  "Yes, Lady Tima," said one of them.

  I was lifted to my feet and, two men holding my arms, was dragged stumbling from her presence.

  * * * *

  "Kneel here," said the man, indicating a position before the heavy door, of iron, in the dark corridor. "When we have left," he said, "make your presence known."

  "Yes, Master," I said, miserably. I had not been in the House of Tima more than a few Ehn before I had been bound at a
whipping ring, suspended over my head, and, dangling, feet tethered to a second ring, well lashed. I had then been conducted to a small, low-ceilinged cell in which I was locked. I lay there, alone, miserable, I conjecture, for some Ahn. Then a man brought a pan of water and a bowl of moistened slave gruel. I was not hungry but I was ordered to eat and, kneeling, observed, did so. When I had fed to his satisfaction he made me precede him to a warm, humid chamber. In that place there were sunken baths, cisterns of water, and vessels of heating water. Too, there were strigils, towels and oils. He removed my collar and ordered me into the bath. It was uncomfortably hot but I dared not object. Gorean masters tend not to be tolerant of the feelings of slaves. An enslaved male of Earth, fool that I was, I did not even know how to take a bath. Laughing, he explained to me the use of the strigils, the rinsings and oils. Frightened though I was, I was pleased, in the lengthy process of the bath, which tends for Goreans to be a pleasant experience, and is often a social one, at the public baths, to rid myself of the stink of the pens. I had then been scented, with the colognes and perfumes thought suitable for certain types of male slaves. I was then given a white, silken tunic. "Kneel," he then said. I knelt, and again he fastened me in my collar. We left the chamber. I was then made to lead the way through the halls of the House of Tima, until we arrived at the entrance to a long, dark corridor. This entrance was protected by two guardsmen, armed with spears and swords. "Continue forward, Slave," said the man. "Yes, Master," I said. I continued to walk forward and the two guards, not speaking, fell into step behind us. The corridor was long, and branching. We walked for some Ehn. I could feel the carpeting beneath my bare feet. "Turn left," said the man. We continued to walk. I was aware of the steel locked on my neck, the silk on my body. "Turn right," I was told. We continued on. "Turn left," I was told. We then continued on for another Ehn. "Stop here," he said. "Face left."

  I was then before a heavy, iron door.

  "Shall we wait?" asked one of the guards.

  "It will not be necessary," said the man. "This is a man from the planet Earth."

  The guards nodded, understanding.