by John Norman
"That is it," I said.
"You beast," she said, softly.
I kissed her.
"You shame me in my own bed," she whispered. "Oh, no!" she said. "Do not make me yield again!"
"Orgus! Orgus!" we heard cry.
"Do not make me yield again!" she begged.
"Yield!" I said.
She cried out, yielding, helpless.
"Hear her scream," laughed a man outside.
"Orgus is still busy with her," laughed another man.
"You bold sleen," wept the girl. "Surely we shall both be discovered!"
"Did you catch the other stable slut?" asked one of the men outside.
"Yes," said a voice. "She says her name is 'Tuka'. She is a hot one. I beat her well for being troublesome. She is now well chained at my stirrup."
"Good," said the first voice.
"Her name is now whatever we please to call her," said another man.
"Of course," said another.
"Fetch Orgus," said the first voice. "We wish to take flight."
I smiled. The girl looked at me, frightened. Then she gritted her teeth, gasping. We half reared from the surface of the bed. Then we were still. She was sobbing. Then I thrust her back to the covers. The marks of my hands on her arms were deep. I then left the bed. I went to the side of the room and picked up a bench.
The girl had then struggled to her knees on the bed. Her hair was about her face and body. Her body was covered with sweat. Her hands were braceleted behind the small of her back. "What you did to me!" she cried.
"Would you rather have spent the time wandering about the garden?" I asked.
She looked at me with anger.
"Kneel down beside the bed," I said, "facing it, your head down."
"I am a free woman!" she screamed. "You do not command me!"
"Do you want your neck broken?" I asked.
Swiftly she knelt beside the bed, facing it, head down.
"Ah," said the fellow, coming through the door, "there she is, stripped and braceleted." He looked about. "Orgus!" he cried. "What has happened?"
"Greetings," I said.
He spun about. His sword was but half from its sheath when the bench piled into his gut. Then I lifted the bench and broke it across his back.
"May I move, Jason?" asked the girl, not looking about.
"Yes," I said.
She leaped to her feet and turned about.
I was kneeling near Orgus. I tore away his weapons and accouterments. I slipped his tunic from his body and drew it on. I also put on his sandals.
"You are strong, Jason," said the Lady Florence, looking at the broken bench, "very strong."
"When these fellows revive," I said, "I do not think it would be wise for us to be in their vicinity." I drew on the weapons and accouterments of Orgus. I did this primarily that they might contribute to my makeshift disguise. I did not know the uses of Gorean steel. I had little doubt but what one who was the master of such skills could make short work of me.
"When Orgus and Andar return," said a voice outside, "burn the house."
"Have you emptied it of all valuables and slaves?" asked a voice.
"Of all but the Mistress," said another voice, "she whom Orgus has apparently been introducing to her new duties and condition."
There was laughter.
The girl looked at me, frightened.
I drew on the helmet of Orgus.
"What are we to do?" begged the girl.
"Run to me, and turn your back," I said.
"How fierce you look, in the helmet," she said, shrinking back.
"Must I repeat a command?" I asked.
She ran to me, and turned her back. "No Jason," she said.
I freed her of the bracelets and threw the key and bracelets to the tiles.
"Head in leading position," I said.
"I am the Lady Florence!" she said.
I took her head by the hair and held it at my hip. "Oh," she sobbed. It was thus that I had seen one of the brigands leading Bonnie into her new slavery, one in which she would serve not a woman, but men.
"Oh," said the girl, in pain. "Please, you're hurting me. What are you going to do?"
"Be silent," I said. "I have a plan."
"Oh," sobbed the girl, running beside me, bent over. Though she were the Lady Florence, a free woman of Vonda, I conducted her beside me as though she might have been a slave girl.
I strode rapidly through the halls of her house. Furniture had been cut open and thrown about. Hangings had been torn down. Chests had been broken open. I exited through the main entrance of the house and made my way rapidly about the house, taking the path leading to the stable area.
"Ho, Orgus!" cried a voice from the garden. "Ho, Orgus!"
"We are here!" called another voice.
I continued purposefully toward the stables.
"Have you not enjoyed her enough yet?" called a voice. "Bring her along! Chain her with the others! You can enjoy her at your leisure in the camp. Orgus!"
I continued to walk rapidly toward the stables.
"Orgus!" I heard. "Orgus!"
I did not break my stride.
"We are ready to depart!" called a voice. "Orgus!"
"Is that you, Orgus?" cried a voice.
At this point I released the girl's hair and seized her right hand with my left hand, and broke into a run for the stables. I had no doubt but what, in an instant, there would be swift pursuit of me and my fair prisoner.
"After them!" I heard.
I half dragged the girl behind me. I held her right hand, of course, for she was right-handed, and with my left, for I, too, was right-handed. Her most efficient and skilled hand was thus the prisoner of my grip, making her more mine, whereas, of course, my own most efficient, skilled hand, also the right, was freed for use. This same principle is generally used, it might be mentioned, for single-wrist leashes.
I looked back. Four men were now running towards us. "Hurry!" I cried to the girl.
We fled before our pursuers, she stumbling and gasping.
I reached the door of the nursery and kicked it open, thrusting her in front of me through the door. I joined her within and flung shut the door and threw down the bar, barring it.
A moment later I heard the hilts of short swords pounding on the door.
"We are caught!" she wept.
"You are caught, not I," I told her. I looked about. I took two snout straps, those of the sort used to secure the jaws of newly hatched tharlarion. She looked at me. One of the snout straps I thrust, coiled, behind my belt. With the other I tied her wrists together before her body, leaving enough strap to lead her by, as a wrist leash. "By me," I told her. She gasped. There was pounding on the door.
I hurried to the trapdoor in the floor, that through which newly hatched tharlarion, through the shelter of the tunnels, are brought from the incubation shed to the nursery.
Window glass shattered inward, to the side. "Stop!" we heard.
I, dragging the Lady Florence by the wrist leash, hurried down the smoothly sloping dirt ramp leading to the tunnel.
Behind us we heard men forcing open the door. We heard another breaking through the glass and wood at the window.
"Hurry, Prisoner!" I cried.
"Prisoner!" she cried.
But some fifty yards into the darkness of the tunnel I halted. As I had expected the men did not follow us blindly into the darkness. We might be presumed to know the tunnels. They would not. And I was armed, for now the steel of Orgus, the brigand, hung at my left shoulder.
"Bring torches!" I heard someone cry.
Chuckling I dragged the Lady Florence by her wrist leash through the darkness.
"I am not your prisoner!" she said.
I turned about. "Oh," she said, stumbling into me in the darkness. I lifted her from her feet and sat her against one side of the tunnel. I crossed her ankles. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "I am going to tie your ankles," I told her. "I shall use
the free end of the leash strap. I shall take the strap up then to your wrists, so that the knot will be where you can reach it neither with your fingers or teeth."
"No, no!" she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"They will capture me," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"Do not leave me here," she said.
"Who wants a woman who is too stupid to know that she is a prisoner," I said.
"Do not leave me here," she begged.
Then, as she sat in the dirt, against the side of the tunnel, her crossed wrists, already bound, were fastened closely to her crossed ankles, now bound. She could not reach the knots with her fingers or teeth.
I heard her struggle.
Her helplessness pleased me.
"You are well tied," I informed her.
"Please, Jason!" she said.
"The tie is quite effective," I told her. "And it is thus," I added, "you might be interested to know, that stable sluts are often tied."
"No!" she wept, squirming.
"And clearly," I said, "the tie is quite effective with any woman."
"Free me!" she demanded.
"Free yourself," I said.
"I cannot!" she wept.
"I know," I said.
"What are you going to do?" she begged.
"Leave," I told her. "The men will soon arrive, with torches."
"Do not leave me here!" she wept.
I did not speak.
She could not see me in the darkness.
"Jason!" she cried, plaintively. "Jason!"
"Yes?" I said.
"Are you truly leaving?" she said.
"That is my intention," I said. "Surely you are aware that it is dangerous here."
I sensed her squirming wildly in the straps.
They well held her.
I had learned from Kenneth certain tricks and techniques for the tying of women. We had practiced on stable sluts, but the subtleties, the turns and knots, were clearly applicable to any woman, slave or free. It is interesting, is it not, that the loftiest and most arrogant of free women may be tied with the same techniques, and effectiveness, precisely, and as helplessly, as the lowliest of slaves?
"But what of me?" she wept. "What of me?"
"You will be left here as a trussed, female fool," I said, "to be a prisoner for others, others who presumably will be less particular about the intelligence of their captives."
"I am not stupid," she said, struggling futilely. "I am not a fool. I am not unintelligent!"
I stood up.
"Do not leave me here," she begged.
I turned away.
"I know that I am your prisoner," she wept.
I hesitated.
"Captor!" she cried.
"Yes," I said.
"Please do not leave me here," she begged. "Take your prisoner with you."
"Are you a prisoner?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Whose?" I asked.
"Yours, yours!" she said.
"Is it true?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "You know it is true, you beast," she said.
"And you knew it before, as well, did you not?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, angrily, "I knew it before."
"But only now have you admitted it," I said.
"Yes," she said, angrily, "only now have I admitted it."
I laughed.
"Do you laugh at your prisoner?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
She cried out in rage.
I turned away again.
"Please do not leave me here," she begged. "Take your prisoner with you."
I turned, again, to face her. I heard her squirm, piteously, in the darkness.
"Do you beg it?" I asked.
"Yes, my captor," she said.
"Very well," I said. I whipped loose the strap from her ankles. I jerked her gasping to her feet and pulled her behind me. She ran behind me, gasping, uneasily, her wrists in my tether, her bare feet soft in the loose dirt of the tunnel.
We ran for something like a minute, and then we stopped.
"Why have we stopped?" she asked.
"Do you remember this place?" I asked.
"It is dark," she said.
"It is where you once caught two slaves rutting in the darkness," I said, "and where you once, kindly, sent me a "new slave" to content my needs."
"Let us hurry on," she said. My hands were on her arms. Then, suddenly, I thrust her arms up, and back, so that her bound wrists were now over her head. "No," she said, "you beast!"
"Are you not my prisoner?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"I think that I shall amuse myself with my prisoner," I said.
"No," she said.
"I shall assert the rights of the Gorean captor over his beautiful female prisoner," I said.
"Beast, beast!" she said. I forced her down. Then she was on her back in the dirt. She squirmed. "You are mad," she said. "They are in the tunnel now. Their torches are coming! Oh! Oh!" She lowered her arms, with their bound wrists, putting them about my neck. She kissed at me, helplessly. I pulled her to her feet. I dragged her beside me in the darkness. "I hear them ahead!" shouted a voice. I heard the clank of weapons. We sped on, the girl, naked, my former mistress, running and stumbling beside me. No longer did I conduct her by the wrist leash. It trailed behind her. I had felt how her body had clasped me in the darkness. I now held her by the hair. I now ran her beside me, bent over, her head at my hip.
27
I See to it that the Lady Florence Performs for Me
"Clean it," I told her.
"I am doing so," she said, angrily. She was facing away from me, on her knees, a large brush grasped in her two hands, a bucket of water at her side.
"Do you think they have gone?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "We waited sufficiently. Such men, too, must make their escape. They must not linger too long in the vicinity of their brigandage."
"Then we are alone, absolutely alone," she said, "on my estates."
"On the remains of your estates," I said. "The house, and many of the buildings, were burned."
She sobbed.
"Continue your work," I told her.
"Yes, Jason," she said.
I watched her.
"You are a clever man, Jason," she said. "I had thought we would have been captured. Yet you saved us."
"No," she had cried, "it is madness. No!" But I had thrown her to her side on the sand of the incubation shed and freed her wrists from before her body. I had then turned her to her belly and rebound her wrists behind her back and, pulling up her ankles and crossing them, lashed them to her wrists. I had then taken her by the arms and thrown her, in a kneeling position, onto the blackened sticks and gray ashes of the flame ditch. I had then kicked sand from the sides of the ditch about her. I jerked her head back as she cried out in misery. I kicked and scooped sand about her until only her eyes, and her nose and mouth, were exposed. I had then heard men pounding at the trapdoor leading into the incubation shed. I had flung shut its bolt. "Open this door!" I heard. I hurried across the shed and kicked open the outer door to the shed. I scuffed away my tracks back to the flame ditch. I heard pounding at the trapdoor, men straining beneath it. I looked down at the Lady Florence and saw her terrified eyes. Then I hurled a tharlarion blanket over her. Then I kicked and dug into the sand near her and, as the trapdoor splintered up, drew the tharlarion blanket over my head. My left hand clutched her hair, tightly. If she moved so much as a muscle I would know it, and she, too, would know that I would know it. The short sword was grasped in my right hand. The point of it, ever so slightly, was entered into her back. We heard several men come up the ramp through the trapdoor. We heard them talking, casting about. "This way," had said one of them, and they had exited through the outer door. We had remained hidden in the sand for several Ahn, and probably long after the brigands had departed. About the seventeenth Ahn I had eased myself from the sa
nd and reconnoitered. The brigands, indeed, had taken their departure, bringing their tarns to flight, their loot sacks bulging and, tied helplessly at their saddle rings, lovely, naked slaves. I had drawn the Lady Florence from the sand. "Release me," she had demanded but then had gasped, lying on her back, the point of my sword thrust into her belly. "Forgive me, Jason," she begged. "Be silent now," I said, "or I will fill your mouth with sand." "Yes, Jason," she had whispered. I had then left her on her back, her knees drawn up, tied, in the incubation shed, while I had investigated certain buildings and sheds, gathering such supplies as I thought I might wish.
"Does it amuse you, Jason," she asked, "that I am cleaning your stall?"
"Are you finished?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. She was beautiful, on her knees, in the light of the small lantern, it hanging from an outjutting perpendicular fastened to one of the stall posts.
"Empty the water," I said. "Rinse and dry the bucket. Rinse the brush. Then put these articles back where you found them."
I watched her as she did these things. In a few moments she stood again before me. "I have done as you ordered," she said.
"Put now fresh, clean straw in the stall," I said.
I watched her.
Then she was standing in the stall, the clean, fresh straw to her knees.
"I have done as you have ordered," she said. "What do you want of me now?"
"I was successful many times in the bouts," I said.
"That is known to me, Jason," she said.
"Put it on," I told her, throwing the rag against her flesh. She caught it, against her body, and took it in her hands, looking at it in disbelief. I had brought it from one of the supply sheds.
"Never!" she whispered intensely. "I am a free woman!"
I shook out the coils of the slave whip.
"No!" she said. Then, swiftly, she drew over her head and body the brief Ta-Teera. She backed away from me, toward the back of the stall. She tried to pull down the hem of the garment, frightened. It was cut at the sides. Then, frightened, she stood facing me, her back about a foot from the back of the stall.
"Why have you done this to me?" she asked.
The Lady Florence, my former mistress, wore now the rag of a stable slut.
"How do you like the garment?" I asked.
"Please give me something to wear," she begged.
"You have something to wear," I pointed out.