by John Norman
"I did not know," I said. "I am sorry, Master."
He regarded me. Then he looked again at the girl. "She is a pretty one, isn't she?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Remain where you are," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said. I was puzzled that he had, originally, ordered me to stand, rather than kneel. The day was hot, of course. Perhaps he did not feel like beating me. Too, he did not seem too bad a fellow. I noted that I had now come to the attention of the two men in the palanquins. This made me somewhat uneasy. Then I saw the draft slaves turning about and both of the palanquins were borne near to me. Then, at a gesture from the masters, the palanquins were lowered to the ground. The draft slaves, who were not chained, then stood free. I found myself, thus, in the center of several individuals, the men in the palanquins, various servants, the slave girls, and the draft slaves. Too, some passers-by stopped to see what would occur.
"Who owns you?" asked one of the men in the palanquins, that behind which, with other girls, was chained the girl with whom I had been in converse.
I knelt. He was clearly a master. "The Lady Florence of Vonda is my mistress, Master," I said.
He gestured that I should rise. He took from a tiny box attached to the interior of the palanquin a circular glass mounted on a pearled wand. He then looked back at the girls chained behind his palanquin. He examined the girl with the glass, she to whom I had been talking. "Did you know that girl on your own world?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Was she free there?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Look upon her now," he said.
I did so.
"She is now a slave," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
The girl shrank back, suddenly, in her chains, and gasped. She looked at me in fear. I licked my lips. Then I shook my head, to clear it of the way in which I had suddenly, for an instant, seen her. I had seen her, in that instant, not in wonder and pleasure, as I had before, but from the point of view of uncompromising manhood, in triumph and pleasure, as the most suitable and fit object possible for the exercise of masculine power and desire, as what she now was, and only was, a beautiful female slave.
The masters, and the servants, laughed. Even some of the draft slaves laughed. The girl was sobbing. Again I shook my head, to clear away the violent and exciting memory, that recollection of the instant in which I had seen the girl as what she now was, and only was, a slave. It struck me with incredible force that not only could she be owned, but that she was owned, literally. When I had looked at the girl several of the other girls had quickly sucked in their breath. The breasts of some were rising and falling with excitement. The bodies of others, in their brief tunics, had blushed crimson. I saw more than one girl looking at me. Doubtless they, too, from time to time, here and there, had been looked upon honestly, as slave females.
"Did you see that?" asked one of the men in the palanquins, he whom I took to be the girl's owner, to his friend.
"Yes," said the other.
I blushed in shame, that I had, though only for an instant, looked upon the girl as a slave. How shamed, and offended, she must have been! But, of course, she now was a slave, only a slave.
"Granus, Turus," said the man in the palanquin, that to which the girl's coffle was chained.
I looked to the girl, but she would not meet my gaze. How sorry I was then that I had looked upon her as might have a Gorean male. She was not a Gorean girl. She was of Earth. Did I not know that? Yet she was surely beautiful, and a legally embonded slave.
I heard a grunt near me. I spun about. A fist struck me in the side of the head. Then I was kicked, and punched in the side. I gasped, stumbling back. Two of the draft slaves were upon me, pounding and kicking. I rolled under one of them, and leaped to my feet, bloody.
"Granus struck him a goodly blow," said someone.
"I saw," said another.
"And he is again on his feet," observed another.
"Interesting," said someone.
"He is a strong fellow," said another.
I wiped blood from the side of my head. I stood, unsteadily.
The man in the palanquin gestured toward me with his glass, that on the pearled wand.
The first of the two draft slaves again approached me, his great fists balled into hammerlike weapons. "When I strike you again," he said, "do not get up. It will be enough for the masters."
I gasped for breath.
Then he lunged toward me. I tried to defend myself. His left fist struck into my stomach, doubling me over, and then his right fist struck me against the left side of the face. I sprawled sideways, losing my footing, slipping to the stones. I was half kneeling, half lying, on the stones.
The draft slave turned away from me.
"Look," called someone. "He is on his feet again!"
I stood, unsteadily.
The draft slave, he whom I took to be Granus, turned again, surprised, to face me. He and his fellow looked at one another.
"Run," said the servant, the fellow with the whip, who stood near to me. "Run."
I saw that none blocked my alley of retreat. "No," I said. "No."
"It is a fight!" called someone, excitedly.
Again the fellow in the palanquin indicated me, bemused, with the glass on the pearled wand.
Again the large draft slave lunged toward me. Twice more, brutally, he struck me, as I stumbled backward, and then I had seized him, holding him, trying to clear my head, trying not to let him gain again the leverage to strike such telling blows. I heard him grunt. My arms were tightening on him. I began to bend him backwards. There was blood on his body then, mine, and on my tunic. "No," he grunted. Suddenly I saw he was frightened. Further I pressed him backward. Then, suddenly, terrified, I realized what I might do to him.
"Stop!" called the man with the whip.
I let the draft slave fall. His back had not been broken. I knew nothing of fighting, but I had discovered, it frightening me, that there was in me, somehow, strength which I had not understood. I recalled lifting the bench in the cell in the House of Andronicus. The exercises and the physical trainings to which I had been subjected there I had, not really thinking about it, kept up.
"Are you a fighting slave?" asked someone.
"No," I said.
The man with the whip looked to the man in the palanquin. "Interesting," said the man in the palanquin.
"Is it enough?" asked the man with the whip.
"Yes," said the man in the palanquin. I suddenly realized that he did not wish to risk a slave.
The man in the palanquin lifted the glass on the pearled wand and, again, the draft slaves took their places. The man with the whip joined other servants beside the palanquin. In a moment the two palanquins, with their respective retinues, were taking their respective departures. I stood, bloody, unsteadily, in the street.
The crowd dissipated.
Suddenly, angrily, I ran after the departing palanquin, that behind which the exquisite, dark-haired girl, she to whom I had been earlier speaking, was one of the chained, displayed beauties. I slipped, unnoticed by the man in the palanquin and his servants, behind the blond-haired girl, she who had told me she had once been free, who was the last in the right-hand coffle, that lovely string of chained women.
My hand closed on the back of the blond girl's neck.
She gasped, startled.
"Who is your master?" I asked.
"We are not permitted to speak in coffle," she said. "Oh!" she said. My hand had tightened on her neck.
"Who is your master?" I asked, walking behind her.
"Oneander of Ar," she said, "of the Merchants. He does business in Vonda."
I did not release her neck.
"You are not a silk slave," she said, in pain, held.
"Oneander of Ar?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Yes, what?" I asked. My grip tightened.
"Yes—Master!" she
said. I released her, and she stumbled ahead, following in her place. She looked back, frightened. Then she again set her eyes ahead. She was not an Earth girl, of course. She was only a Gorean girl, and a slave, a woman fit to be done with as men please.
I walked to the side of the street, looking after the palanquin, with its attached coffles.
I knew I should return to the shop of Philebus. If my mistress emerged from the shop and I was not there, she would not be pleased. But, on an impulse, I followed, for a time, behind it and on its left, the double coffle.
Doubtless I attracted some attention, for I was bleeding and, as I discovered, the silk tunic I wore had been soiled from the street and torn at the left sleeve; too, it was stained with my blood; but no one said anything to me. Perhaps they were wary of one who looked as though he might be distraught, or dangerous.
I followed the double coffle on its left, for it was on the left side of her body that the exquisite, dark-haired girl's short, loose silk had been hitched up, baring her branded thigh to the hip. I observed her in the coffle, neck-chained, her small wrists, above the rounded flesh of her palms and below the sweet, rounded flesh of her small forearms, locked in the steel of slave bracelets. She was surely the most exciting, and desirable and beautiful woman I had ever seen. Earlier I had been almost stunned with the sight of her beauty.
I smiled to myself.
I now knew who owned her, Oneander of Ar, a merchant who apparently did business in Vonda. It would have been in Vonda, I supposed, that he had purchased her. It seemed a shame that he apparently kept her primarily as a display item. Perhaps, upon occasion, he used her, and the other girls, or had them thrown to his men. I wondered if she would make a good love slave. I supposed not, for she was of Earth. It was difficult to imagine her kneeling before a man, helplessly aroused, weeping, begging to be raped.
I drifted about, to the right side of the coffle lines, and stopped, watching the lines, chained behind the palanquin, making their way down the street.
I saw the blond-haired girl, the last one in the right-hand coffle line, turn about, in her chain and collar. She was curious, apparently, to see if I still followed. She smiled. I grinned at her. I had made her use the word 'Master' to me. Then she looked ahead again. But her body moved, suddenly, as that of a slave girl. I smiled. She might once have been free but now, clearly, she was only a slave. She was aroused. When she returned to the house of her master I had little doubt but what she would kneel to the nearest keeper and beg to be used, perhaps to be given for an Ahn, hooded, to the male slave of his choice.
I stood on the stones of the avenue of the Central Cylinder. I looked after the palanquin, with its twin chains of enslaved beauties.
I considered, again, the small, exquisite, dark-haired girl. I had never expected to see her again. Then I had done so. What a transformation had been wrought in her. I had been almost overcome by her beauty. I could not drive it from my mind.
I reminded myself, interestingly, that Earth women were imported to Gor doubtless precisely to be love slaves. I wondered if Gorean men knew something interesting about the women of Earth that the men of Earth did not know.
The palanquin, with its chained girls, had now disappeared down the street.
The dark-haired girl on Earth, of course, had been extremely beautiful, but her beauty then, considerable though it might have been, could not even have begun to bear comparison with what it now was. I stood upon the street, recollecting her with astonishment. I would never have dreamed she could have become so delicately and incredibly beautiful. It seemed almost incomprehensible to me. It was the first time, of course, I had seen Beverly Henderson, of Earth, as a slave girl.
Then I turned about, to hurry back to the shop of Philebus.
* * * *
"Jason! Jason!" cried the Lady Florence, angrily. "Where have you been?"
I quickly knelt before her, head down.
"Down the street, Mistress," I said.
"Look at yourself!" she cried. "You have been fighting!"
I glanced quickly at the silk slave fastened by the neck to the slave ring on the other side of the girl at the nearer ring. He grinned at me. I realized he must have told Lady Florence all that had occurred.
"I cannot leave you alone for a moment!" said the Lady Florence. "You have kept me waiting! I cannot turn my back for an instant but you are in trouble. Do you not know I have been finished shopping for a quarter of an Ahn!"
"No, Mistress," I said.
"He ran away," said the male silk slave.
"No," I said. "I was just down the street."
"Did you rape this poor slave?" demanded the Lady Florence, angrily gesturing to the leashed girl at the ring.
"Forgive us, Mistress," begged the girl, who was kneeling and trembling. She put her head down as far as she could, given the leash and collar.
"I took her," I admitted.
"Took her!" cried the Lady Florence.
"She was thirsty," I said. "She wanted water. I made her pay for it with her use."
"Beast!" said the Lady Florence.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Your tunic is torn," she said. "You are bloody. Are you hurt?"
"No, Mistress," I said.
She spun to face the girl at the ring, who trembled. "You sold your use for a drink of water?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.
"Slut!" cried the Lady Florence.
"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.
"Low, disgusting slaves!" said the Lady Florence. "How fit that you should be in collars!"
"He accosted a slave girl in a retinue, too," volunteered the silk slave at the ring on the other side of the girl. "It was there that he was fighting."
"I do not know what I am going to do with you, Jason," said the Lady Florence. "You did not wait for me here. You abused this poor girl. You accosted a strange slave. You have been fighting. Your tunic is soiled, and torn, and bloody. It is almost too much!"
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Do you think that you are a quarry slave, or a draft slave?" she asked.
"No, Mistress," I said.
"I am a lady," she said. "And you are a lady's silk slave!"
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Have no fear but what you will be well punished when we return to Venna," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"It will be close chains for two days for you," she said.
I would not look forward to that. Usually, in close chains, the wrists and ankles are chained closely together. Over a period of time this builds up, understandably, a considerable amount of body pain. Usually after only five Ahn in close chains a girl is ready to serve delightfully and willingly.
"Do you understand, Jason?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
I glanced at the male silk slave, who was sitting on the walk, coupled by his neck to the ring behind him, smiling. I wanted to break in his face.
"Bring the tharlarion, Jason," said the Lady Florence.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
In a few moments I had freed and fetched the tharlarion.
I felt a chain leash snapped about my throat. The Lady Florence put it there. The other end was attached to her stirrup. "I am afraid this is necessary, Jason," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Help me into the saddle," she said. I lifted her sandaled foot upward, and she took her place in the leather seat at the side of the tharlarion's back. It has stirrups, into which I helped her place her feet, but it is not exactly a saddle as those of Earth would think of one, even of the sort usually designated as a sidesaddle. It is somewhat more in the nature of a stirruped seat. It is at the height of the beast's back, cushioned, held there by straps. She hooked herself into the seat, or, if one prefers, saddle. As I had lifted her into the seat I had seen her ankle. It was a good one, as I knew. I had never held her in my arms. When she used me, as she did frequently, I was chained on her co
uch.
"Philebus!" she called.
A man, accompanied by a servant, appeared at the door of the shop. He was balding, and benign. A servant, behind him, carried several packages. I lifted the reins of the tharlarion to the Lady Florence.
"Thank you, Jason," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
I looked at the eyes of Philebus. His eyes were troubled. The servant came out on the walk and handed me several packages. He looked at me, irritably. "Thank you, Master," I said to him.
"Good, Jason," said the Lady Florence.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"I wish you well, Lady Florence," said the shopkeeper.
"I, too, wish you well, Philebus," she said. Philebus was actually of Turia. He managed his shop, however, in Ar. He had lived in Ar for several years.
The Lady Florence guided her tharlarion out into the street. I accompanied her, carrying the packages, chained by the neck to that stirrup in which was placed her left foot. Her body was turned somewhat in the saddle, so that she might the more easily guide the beast she rode.
"You embarrassed me today, Jason," she said.
"Forgive me, Mistress," I said.
"Did you truly use the slave girl at the ring?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Disgusting," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Did you use her," she asked, "—as—as—"
"Mistress?" I asked.
"—as what she was?"
"Mistress?" I asked.
"—as a female slave," she said, "—as a slave girl?"
I thought about the matter. "Yes," I said.
"Ah," she said. She looked down at me. It was not easy to read her eyes.
Then she looked away, again guiding the tharlarion. "What of the little slut in the retinue?" she asked.
"Mistress?" I asked.
"Was she pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"Was she in coffle?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
"How is it then that you, a slave, dared to speak to a girl in coffle?" she asked.
"I did not know it might not be permitted," I said.
"It is fortunate that your tongue was not cut out," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.