by John Norman
"Jason?" I heard. It was the voice of Taphris.
"Mistress?" I asked.
"Ah, you call me 'Mistress,'" she said, "excellent!"
She approached me carefully, in the absolute darkness. I felt her small hand touch my chest. "You are standing," she said. "Kneel, Slave!"
"Forgive me, Mistress," I said. I knelt before her. I heard her draw her slave tunic over her head and drop it to one side. As the tunic had passed over her head I had heard the chain loop on her collar, with a small sound, lift and then fall back into place.
"I belong to the Lady Florence of Vonda, of course," I said to her.
"Here in the tunnels," she said, "you belong to me."
"I do not think the Lady Florence of Vonda would be pleased to hear that," I said.
"Who cares for what she thinks!" laughed Taphris. "I hate her! She is a cold, arrogant woman. It is she who should be the slave, not I! Indeed, one of the pleasures of having you as my silk slave will be that you were once her own silk slave. I, a mere slave, use her former silk slave as my own silk slave! Thus do I demean her!"
"I did not earlier this week," I said, "steal a kiss from Tuka nor did I, two days later, with two hands, intimately caress the leg of Peliope near the first feed shed."
She laughed. "Yet," she said, "you were beaten for both offenses."
"Why did you lie?" I asked.
"It pleased me," she said. "And did it not bring you before me, on your knees, in the tunnel, a cringing silk slave?"
"It seems to have done so," I said. "Have you lied often to the mistress?"
"I have lied to her a hundred times," said Taphris. "The silly, pretty fool believes me. In time, though I wear a collar, I shall be, for all practical purposes, mistress in the stables!"
"I see," I said.
"Now, Slave," she said, imperiously, "serve my pleasure!"
I reached with my right hand across to her right ankle, and with my left hand across to her left ankle.
"What are you doing!" she cried. My hands were tight on her ankles.
"Oh!" she cried. I pulled her from her feet and turned her, so that she fell away from me, heavily, on her belly and hands. Then I knelt across her body and, with the tharlarion snout strap I had had coiled to one side, knotted her hands behind her back. I then threw her roughly on her back under me.
"What are you doing, you beast!" she cried.
"I am going to use you for my pleasure, pretty Taphris," I told her.
"I will tell the mistress!" she cried. "Oh, no! No! Please! No! Oh, oh!"
* * * *
Taphris lay weeping in my arms, trying to kiss me in the darkness.
"Are you now Mistress?" I asked.
"I did not know such feelings could exist," she said.
"Are you now Mistress?" I asked.
"No," she said, "no. I am only a slave! I was a slave before, but did not know it. You are the first to have taught me, truly, that I am a slave."
"Do you think you will forget it?" I asked.
"No," she said, "I will never forget it. I will remember it, lovingly, always."
I began to kiss her about the shoulders and throat.
"I am a slave!" she cried, happily. "I am your slave, Master!"
"Enough!" cried the mistress. "Light! Light!"
I heard a fire maker strike in the darkness. There was a shower of sparks and then a tiny flame.
Taphris squealed in terror, squirming helplessly under me.
Then Kenneth had lit the torch and held it. Taphris, on her back in the dirt, naked, blinking against the light, her hands bound behind her, looked up in terror at the stern figure of her mistress.
"Discovered slaves!" cried the mistress.
"Forgive me, Mistress!" cried Taphris.
"The tunnel is often used as a trysting place for slaves," said Kenneth.
"Disgusting!" cried the mistress.
"Forgive me, Mistress," begged Taphris. "Forgive me, Mistress!" She struggled to her knees in the dirt and put her head down to her mistress' feet.
"I should put a pin through your ankles, Taphris," cried the mistress, "and hang you up by the heels from a Tur tree, smeared with your own blood, for the jards!"
"Did you hear all, Mistress?" begged Taphris.
"All!" said the mistress, savagely.
Taphris, with a moan, threw herself to her belly in the dirt before her mistress. "Mercy," she begged, "mercy, please."
"Sell her!" screamed the mistress. "Sell her!"
"On your feet, Taphris," said Kenneth, "head down, in leading position." He bent down to retrieve her slave rag. I drew on my tunic.
Taphris stood, bent over, her knees bent, too, her head at the hip of Kenneth.
"I am your slave, Master," she whispered to me, tears in her eyes.
"You will be the slave of any man who makes himself your full master," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Sell her as a pot girl," said the mistress.
"But she is now an ignited slave," said Kenneth, smiling.
"Are you an ignited slave?" asked the mistress.
"Yes, Mistress," sobbed Taphris.
"Very well," said the mistress, "when she is placed naked on a block and sold to the highest bidder let it be in a market which sells pleasure slaves."
"Yes, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.
"Thank you, Mistress," said Taphris.
The mistress turned away from her, angrily. "Slut!" she said.
"Yes, Mistress," said Taphris.
Kenneth then thrust Taphris' slave rag in her mouth. She was to hold it there. She was not to speak, of course, until it was removed.
"Take her away," said the Lady Florence.
Kenneth then led Taphris down the tunnel, his left hand fixed in her hair, his right hand holding aloft the torch.
The Lady Florence looked about the tunnel, and at the retreating figure of Kenneth. She then looked at me. I stood there, regarding her, my arms folded. She then turned about and hurried after Kenneth, and the light of the torch.
24
Another Girl in the Tunnel
I stood again in the absolute darkness of the tunnel, the central tunnel of that network of tunnels under the lands of the mistress, by means of which various buildings, such as storage sheds, the incubation shed, certain of the stables, and the nursery, are connected.
"Go to the tunnel at the fifteenth Ahn," had said Kenneth. "Wait in the central tunnel, near its juncture with the side tunnel leading to Storage Shed Four."
"Yes, Master," I had said, puzzled. It was there, yesterday, at that very spot, that Taphris had ordered me to meet her in clandestine rendezvous. It was there that we had been discovered slaves, caught by the mistress. "The tunnel is often used as a trysting place for slaves," had said Kenneth. "Disgusting!" had cried the mistress. Taphris, naked, and chained in a slave sack, was now on her way to a market in Vonda.
"May I ask, Master," I inquired, "as to why I am to go to the tunnel at the fifteenth Ahn?"
"Because you are told to do so," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
He smiled. "There is a 'new slave,'" he said. "She is to be sent to you in the tunnel."
"But would the mistress approve?" I asked.
"She has ordered it," he said.
"That is interesting," I said. "Generally the mistress has ordered women kept from me."
"She now sends you one," said Kenneth.
"Yes, Master," I had said.
I now stood quietly in the tunnel, waiting. I thought it must now be the fifteenth Ahn.
I then heard the footsteps approaching me. They were light, quick footsteps, feminine, not the stride of a man. Interestingly from the sound of the footsteps on the central board, as they touched it, I detected that she was wearing slippers.
"I am here," I said, in the darkness.
"Oh!" she said, and stopped, not more than a yard or two from me.
I let her stand there for a moment. She said not
hing.
"Are you naked?" I asked.
"I wear a light slave gown," she said.
"Remove it," I said. I heard light silk dropped to the dirt.
"Are you now naked?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"No, you are not," I said. "You are wearing slippers."
"Yes," she said.
"Remove them," I said. I heard the two slippers kicked softly to the side.
"Are you now absolutely naked?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Kneel," I said.
"Kneel?" she asked.
"Must a command be repeated?" I asked.
"No," she said. I heard her kneel.
"Are you now kneeling?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I am now kneeling." I had wished to hear from her own lips this confession that she had now adopted this posture of submission before me.
"Crawl to me on your knees," I said.
She hesitated. But then she did so.
"Kiss my feet," I said. She gasped, but then, putting forth her hands, finding me, did so.
"Straighten up," I told her. She did so.
I put forth my hands and felt her head, and her shoulders. Briefly I put my two hands in her hair, that she might know I could control her by means of it, should I choose to do so. Then I stepped back a foot or so from her.
"Lie down, on your back," I told her. I threw my tunic to the side.
"Are you now lying down?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
I slipped down beside her, quickly, with my hands, checking that she had assumed the position to which I had ordered her.
As my hands touched her, she gasped with pleasure. She lifted her hands to put them about my neck but I pressed them away. Then she lay quietly beside me, her arms at her sides. Her breathing was deep.
"You are a new slave?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
I felt her throat.
"You wear no collar," I said.
"Kenneth has not yet put me in a collar," she said.
I felt her left thigh. Most girls are branded on the left thigh. Perhaps this is because most masters are right-handed. The brand, then, as one controls the slave, may be easily caressed. But her left thigh wore no brand. Her right thigh, too, as I soon noted, did not wear the slave mark, nor did her lower left abdomen. These are the three standard marking places, following the recommendations of Merchant Law, for the marking of Kajirae, with the left thigh being, in practice, the overwhelmingly favored brand site.
"You are not branded, are you?" I asked.
"Your hands," she said, "they are so possessive!"
"No," I said, "you are apparently not branded."
"No," she gasped, "I am not branded!"
I had examined her body, fully, for slave marks.
"As you now doubtless know," she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"The mistress has not yet seen fit to brand me," she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said. "Do you think me privy to the secrets of the mistress? She does with me what she pleases."
"You are only an ignorant and lowly slave?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "I am only an ignorant and lowly slave."
"Why do you think you were sent to the tunnel?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said.
"It seems then," I said, "that you are not only an ignorant and lowly slave, but one who is stupid and foolish as well."
"I am not stupid and foolish!" she exclaimed, angrily.
"Kiss me," I ordered her.
I felt her lips, warm and soft, sweet, wet, on mine. "I see that you well know why you were sent to the tunnel," I said.
"Yes," she said, "I well know why I was sent to the tunnel."
"Your use is mine," I said.
"My 'use'!" she exclaimed.
"Of course," I said.
"Yes," she then said, half purring with delight, "my 'use' has been given to you by the mistress."
"You are then mine, for an Ahn or two," I said.
"Yes," she said.
One lingers with slaves. One's dalliance with such playthings is seldom rushed. They are possessions and toys and one exploits them at length. Not soon are they released from their labors. As the master is master he is not quickly done with them. They are not free women. Rather they are slaves, fit, submitted, servile instruments of master sport. When the master is done with them they will know that they have served well. Unlike the free woman, mildly dissatisfied, perhaps even confused, and certainly frustrated, and unfulfilled, they will be under no misapprehensions as to what has occurred and its meaning. They have been again taught their rightlessness, and bondage. There are a thousand ties, and caresses, and formulas, a thousand lovings and masterings beyond the comprehension of the free woman. One accords the free woman her glory; she is welcome to it; but one derives from the slave the joys of the mastery, in accordance with the inexplicable decrees and mysterious equations of nature. All honor to the free woman! Who would wish to threaten or violate the sanctimonious integuments of her status? One salutes her, she, so proud, lofty, and inert, so tolerant and resigned, or perhaps so inconvenienced and annoyed, she so jealous of her sovereignty, so fearful of the dangers of sensation, she, wrapped in the remote, insulating splendor of her dignity, her rights and independence. How distant she is from the squirming, gasping slave! One would not expect the free woman, for example, to beg and plead, to writhe and scream with need. It would not be appropriate for her. It would be scarcely dignified. One must, you see, respect the status and dignity of the free woman. She is, after all, a free person. She is not to be demeaned, not to be taken from herself and simply given to another, not to be owned, not to be taken in hand and dominated, and mastered, and trained, with ruthlessness or amusement, as would be a slave, who is, of course, a form of domestic animal. On the other hand, as an inverse corollary of this principle, as would be expected, the slave, a domestic animal, is not entitled to the considerations it is common to accord the free woman, and one may, as one wishes, inflict upon her an indefinite succession of ecstasies. The slave is not permitted dignity; she is in a collar; you own her. A free woman is permitted pride, inertness, petulance, and frigidity; a slave is not. The slave may be punished for such pretenses. The whip exists, and the master, if not pleased, will doubtless use it. Free women exist to please themselves; slaves exist to please the master. Free women stand proudly; the slave kneels. Free women are priceless, but it is the slave for whom men will pay. Free women are admired; slaves are desired. Free women are esteemed; slaves are prized. Free women are observed; slaves are seen. Free women are noted; slaves are appraised. Free women are revered; slaves are sought. A free woman will commonly have her own bed; a slave will commonly be chained at the foot of her master's couch. That is where he wants her. The free woman is ennobled; the slave is fulfilled.
"I am then, for an Ahn or two, your master," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"And you should address me as such," I said.
"Yes," she whispered, softly, "—Master."
She tried then to kiss me, but I held her from me.
"Has the mistress owned you long?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "I am a new slave."
"Where were you purchased?" I asked.
"In Vonda," she said.
"Why has the mistress sent you to me?" I asked.
"I do not know, Master," she said.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"The mistress has not yet given me a name," she said. "If you wish, you may give me a name, for your use of me."
"I shall not bother," I said. "It is sufficient for me that I simply hold you in my arms as a nameless slut."
Her body became suddenly rigid, but then she relaxed. "Yes, Master," she said.
"Doubtless your mistress will soon give you a name," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"It is convenient for a sla
ve to have a name," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"It is then easier to order her about, to serve and fetch," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"It is interesting to me that you are not collared and branded," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Do you expect to be soon collared and branded?" I asked. I smiled to myself.
"Probably," she said, sadly.
"You sound sad," I said.
"Should I not be?" she asked.
"No," I said. "The collar and brand are splendid on a woman. They make her a hundred times, a thousand times, more beautiful."
"Oh," she said.
"Kiss me, nameless slut," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. Then she lay back. I felt her finger at my shoulder.
"Do you think that I am more beautiful than the mistress?" she asked.
"Probably," I said. "It is difficult for a free woman to even begin to compete with a slave in beauty."
"Is the mistress attractive?" she asked.
"She is a quite beautiful woman," I said. "If she were made a slave, she would probably become dazzlingly and desirably beautiful."
"If the mistress and I were both slaves," she said, "who do you think would be the most beautiful?"
"I do not know," I said. "I would have to stand you both naked in your collars before me, side by side, and see."
"That would be difficult to do," she laughed.
"Why?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Oh," she said, quickly, lightly, but frightened, "because mistress is a wonderful free woman, and I am only a lowly slave."
"I see," I smiled.
"What are you going to do with me now?" she asked.
"Why use you for my pleasure, and as a slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she breathed.
"But first I shall see if you are hot," I said.
"Master?" she asked. "Oh!" she cried.
"I see that you are hot," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I held her.
"Your arms are strong," she said.
I did not move. I felt her beauty squirm against my chest and thighs. "Master, Master," she whispered. "Please, Master!"
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Have your hot slave," she begged.
"Very well," I said.