by John Norman
I smiled.
"No!" she said. "No!"
"I could, of course, examine your thighs, your lower left abdomen, your body generally," I said. The thighs and the lower left abdomen are the brand sites recommended by Merchant Law. Masters, of course, may brand a girl wherever they please. She is theirs. Sometimes brands are placed on the left side of the neck, on the left calf, the interior of the left heel, and on the inside of the left forearm. The customary brand site, incidentally, is high on the left thigh. That is the site almost invariably utilized in marking Gorean kajirae.
"No," she said. "No!" She regarded me, in fury. "Can you not simply look upon me and see that I am free?"
"Perhaps if I saw you in the robes of concealment, and veiled, being carried in a palanquin through the streets of Vonda by slaves," I said, "I would think you free."
"It has nothing to do with such things!" she said. "Free women are different from slave girls. They are simply different! Free women are noble and fine! Slave girls are only meaningless, lascivious, sensuous, little sluts!"
"Many slave girls are as large, or larger than you, Lady Florence," I said. "Too, where do you think slave girls come from? Very few are bred slaves."
"Did you see how Miles of Vonda looked at me?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"As though I might have been a slave girl!" she said.
"Yes," I said. I smiled to myself. It had indeed been a frank, bemused scrutiny to which Miles of Vonda had subjected the lofty Lady Florence, the sort of scrutiny commonly reserved for, and accorded to, slaves. Such a scrutiny, of course, would be inappropriate, even scandalous, if applied to free women. On the other hand, it did not seem out of place to me if applied to property girls. Indeed, in their case, it is fully rational and appropriate, for such girls are only slaves, lovely items of purchasable livestock.
"But I am not a slave girl!" she said.
"Not legally," I said.
"How could a mere legal convention make me a slave," she asked. "It is meaningless."
"Tell that to girls who wear collars, and find themselves at the total mercy of masters," I said.
"Miles of Vonda is a fool!" she snapped.
"Do not break position," I warned her.
She looked up at me. "Look at me, Jason," she said.
I did. It was a pleasure.
"Do you think a woman such as I could ever be a slave?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Do I look like a slave?" she asked, angrily.
"Yes," I told her.
She cried out in anger.
"Do not break position, Lady Florence," I warned her.
"Very well, Jason," she said, icily.
"You seem cold," I said. "Perhaps I can warm you."
"Do not dare to touch me!" she cried.
"Perhaps you have forgotten that you are a prisoner," I said.
She looked up at me, frightened. "No," she said. "I have not forgotten."
"On your back, Slut," I said.
She obeyed. She threw the chain from her body to one side. "Please do not speak to me in that way," she said. "Please do not call me a slut," she said.
"You forget that I have held you in my arms," I said.
"I am the Lady Florence," she said.
"The Lady Florence," I said, "is a lovely slut."
"No!" she said.
"Do not forget that I have held you in my arms," I said.
"I am the Lady Florence," she said. "I am not a slut!"
"You wear the Ta-Teera of a stable slut," I pointed out.
"It is meaningless!" she said.
"Then remove it," I said. I tore it from her body. "Yes," I said, "the Lady Florence is indeed a lovely slut."
"Beast," she said. "What are you going to do with me?"
"I have fought well," I said. "I have won many bouts."
"Beast!" she said.
"I think you are suitable," I said.
"Suitable?" she asked.
"I have fought well," I said. "I have won many bouts."
"Yes," she said.
"It is customary to reward a successful pugilist," I said.
"I denied you such rewards," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"But now you have decided that I myself, formerly your mistress, am yet again to be your reward."
"Yes," I said.
"I am not a man's reward," she said.
"How is it then," I asked, "that you lie chained in my stall?"
"I am not accustomed to thinking of myself as a man's reward," she said.
"Grow accustomed to it," I told her.
"Very well," she said, angrily, "I am a man's reward! You have decided it!"
"Yes," I said.
"Do you really think I am pretty enough to be a man's reward?" she asked.
"I think so," I said. "I see that that thought pleases you."
"No," she said. "No!"
I looked upon her sternly.
"Yes," she said, "that thought pleases me. Please do not strike me."
I smiled.
"It is only," she whispered, "that I am not accustomed, not accustomed, truly, to thinking of myself as a man's reward."
"Yet," I said.
"Yet," she whispered.
"It is one of the many things that a woman such as you is good for," I told her.
"I see," she said.
"Smile," I told her.
"Smile!" she cried.
"And lift your arms to me," I told her.
She tried to smile. She lifted her arms to me.
"Say, 'You fought well. You won many bouts,'" I said.
"You fought well. You won many bouts," she said.
"Say now, 'Your girl hopes to please you,'" I said.
"Your girl hopes to please you," she said.
I then crouched beside her, and took her in my arms. She gasped.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked.
"I have well earned you," I told her.
* * * *
"Collect your earnings, yet again," she begged me.
"I shall," I told her.
* * * *
"Kiss and squirm well, Slut," I said.
"Yes, I am a slut," she wept. "I am a slut!"
"Kiss and squirm," I said.
"Yes," she wept. "Yes, yes!"
* * * *
"In your arms, you have taught me that I, the Lady Florence, am a slut," she whispered, bending over me. We were in the darkness. The lantern had again burned out. I felt her hair on my chest, the chain, too, depending from her looped, iron collar.
"I did not know that I was a slut," she said.
"Your excitement, your responses, have proved it," I said.
"I did not know I could have such feelings, or behave in such ways," she said.
I took her in my arms and threw her again beneath me.
"You must never let anyone know that I am a slut," she said. "You are the only man in the whole world who knows that."
"For the moment," I told her.
She stiffened in my arms, frightened. "Let it be our secret," she begged. "Tell no one!"
"Why not?" I asked.
"No one must know that I am sexually responsive," she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"It would be the ruin of my reputation," she said.
"Surely men have a right to know," I said.
"No," she said. "No!"
I laughed.
"Do not make my sexual responsiveness public," she said, "I beg of you!"
"Why not?" I asked.
"I am a free woman," she said.
"But one that is a luscious slut," I pointed out.
"Respect me!" she begged.
"You will not be respected," I told her. "You will be wanted."
"How much we women are at the mercy of you brutes," she said.
"You do not even know what it is to be at the mercy of a man," I said.
"Oh?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "you are
a mere prisoner."
"And not a slave," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"That shred of pride, at least, I have," she said.
I smiled to myself. As responsive as she was as a free woman, it was hard to even conjecture what her responses would be if she were made a female slave.
"A slut," she said, "is at least higher than a slave."
"Yes," I said, "a slut, if free, is at least a thousand times higher than a slave."
"Yes," she said, and kissed me.
"Are you ready to perform again, Lady Florence?" I asked her, courteously.
"As the slut you have proven me to be?" she asked.
"Of course," I said.
"Yes, Jason," she said.
"Do so, Lady Florence," I said, courteously.
"And if I do not?" she asked.
"You will then be whipped," I said.
"Could you do that?" she asked.
"Yes, and mercilessly," I said.
"I will perform," she said.
"And well, and as the slut you are," I said.
"Yes, Jason," she said, "I will perform, and well, and as the slut I am."
"Perform, Lady Florence," I said.
"Yes, Jason," she said.
28
The Ankles of the Lady Florence are not Bound
She lay on her stomach. "Why are you tying my hands behind my back?" she asked.
It was shortly before dawn. With the key I unlocked the collar from her throat. I threw it and the chain to one side.
"It is morning," she said, her head to the side. "Guardsmen will doubtless soon be here."
"I doubt that," I said. "Many estates must have been struck and plundered. Yet, doubtless, guardsmen, sooner or later, will arrive here."
"I am prepared to deal with you, Jason," she said. "Jason," she said, "why are you tying a strap on my throat?" I knotted the strap under her chin. I took the strap, then, and wrapped it several times about her throat, and then tucked in the loose end. It might thus, if unwrapped, if I chose, serve as a leash.
"I do not understand," I said.
She struggled to a sitting position, her hands bound behind her, the dark strap wrapped several times about her throat.
"You have much abused me," she said. "But I am tolerant. I can forgive much."
"Lady Florence is generous," I said.
"Free me," she said. "Untie me. Remove this horrid strap from my throat. It is too much like the leash of a slave."
"It is much like the leash of a slave," I admitted.
"Please, Jason," she said.
"Position!" I snapped.
Swiftly, as she could, she assumed the position of a slave and, this time, automatically, as she could, the position of a pleasure slave.
"You were going to deal with me," I said.
"Please, let me assume another posture," she said.
"No," I said.
"It is difficult to speak with you as I wish," she said, "while I am bound, while I wear leather on my throat, while I am kneeling before you, and in the posture of a slave."
"Speak," I told her.
"I am prepared to be lenient with you," she said. "I am prepared, even, to overlook to some extent your indiscretions of yesterday and last night."
"You are indeed generous, Lady Florence," I said. I smiled to myself. It amused me to hear the rapine to which I had subjected her, and the paces through which I had put her, suitable almost for a slave, referred to as indiscretions.
"I am prepared, even," she said, "to consider permitting you to remain on my estates."
"Why should you do that?" I asked.
"You saved me from brigands," she said, "and from the unspeakable fate of slavery." She smiled. "Were it not for you, Jason," she said, "I might even now have felt beneath my feet the sawdust of a slave block and have been auctioned to the highest bidder."
"Perhaps," I said. Actually I doubted that things would have happened that fast. Most girls are not sold for a few days after their capture, and some girls, if subjected to professional slave training, in a slaver's pens, not for weeks or months. Trained girls, of course, other things being equal, bring higher prices.
"And as a reward for this great service which you have rendered me," she said, "I am prepared not only to overlook your occasional and somewhat casual disregard for my dignity but to offer you a handsome employment upon my estates."
"Such generosity is almost overwhelming," I said. "Your conditions?"
"They are two," she said.
"And what is your first condition?" I asked.
"That you must never speak of my weakness, my sexual responsiveness to anyone," she said.
"But that is preposterous," I said. "You are helplessly and deliciously responsive. That is an important fact about you. Men have a right to know it. They have a right to know the delicious pleasures which may be derived from you."
"No!" she said.
"Ah, but yes, my dear Lady Florence," I averred.
"Do not tell my secret," she said.
"Under the touch of a strong man," I said, "your own body will tell it."
She shuddered.
"Such facts," I said, "about women such as yourself, like their height and weight, and the coloring of their hair, are usually made public."
"Public?" she asked. "About women such as myself? I do not understand."
"What is your second condition?" I asked.
"That you, in my hire," she said, "will obey me in all things, that you will do whatever I wish."
"That I would be, in effect, your hired slave?" I asked.
She tossed her head. "Yes," she said.
"I reject your offer," I told her.
"No, Jason," she said. "Please."
I went to the door of the barn and opened it. It was now light, shortly after dawn. I must be swiftly upon my way. I did not wish to dally. Though I did not think the guardsmen would arrive for several Ahn, even if they arrived today, I did not wish to risk encountering them.
I looked back at the girl.
"I will pay you much," she said.
"No," I said. Actually I did not think, any longer, though I was not interested in her offer, that the Lady Florence was truly in a position to extend a handsome employment. Her house, and several of her buildings, had been burned. The tharlarion had been released. Though doubtless she retained assets the Lady Florence, I suspected, stood upon the brink of being a ruined woman.
"Do you intend to flee the guardsmen?" she asked.
"Certainly," I said.
"Do not do so," she said. "I will intercede with the guardsmen. I will not permit them to hurt you. Remain with me on the estates."
"As your hired slave?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"No," I said.
"You have nowhere to go," she said. "You have no money!"
I looked at her. She shrank back.
"Do not break position," I said.
She held position, kneeling back on her heels, her knees wide, her back straight, her head high, her small wrists tied behind her back, the dark leather strap coiled about her throat.
"Do not look at me like that," she said. "I am not a slave!"
I smiled.
"I am not a slave!" she said.
"I must go," I told her. I gathered some supplies, which I had, yesterday evening, brought to the barn. Among them was food and water, and the blade I had taken from the brigand, Orgus.
"Are you determined in this matter?" she asked, bitterly.
"Yes," I said.
She pulled at her bonds. "Surely you will not leave me behind like this, to be found by guardsmen, as a naked, tied slut."
"No," I said.
"Bring me clothing," she said.
"No," I said.
"I can find my own clothing," she said. "I know you wish to move swiftly. Simply unbind me."
"No," I said.
"I do not understand," she said.
"Surely you have noted that your ankles
are not bound," I said.
She looked at me.
"On your feet, Lady Florence," I said.
"No!" she cried.
I glanced to the slave whip.
Swiftly she rose to her feet.
I thought she would make a lovely traveling companion, for a portion of my journey.
29
We Move South;
The Tale Told by a Strand of Hair;
I Decide to Prepare the Lady Florence for Slavery
"It is madness!" she said. "You cannot seriously intend to take me with you!"
I looked at her. She trembled.
"It would be a difficult and delicate matter to hold me for ransom," she said.
"That is doubtless true," I admitted.
"Abandon, then, the idea," she said.
"I have never held it," I said.
"I do not understand then," she said.
"I seek an Earth girl," I said, "one called Beverly Henderson, who was brought with me, as a slave, to this world. She is owned, I believe, by Oneander of Ar."
"She may have had many owners by now," said the Lady Florence.
This was true. Slave girls often change hands.
"I must seek her out," I said.
"To put her at your feet?" asked the Lady Florence.
"Of course not," I said. "It is my intention to free her from the collar of bondage."
"But she is an Earth girl," said the Lady Florence. "Earth girls are natural slaves. They belong in the collar."
"No," I said. "No!"
"It is common knowledge," she said.
"Do you wish to be whipped?" I asked.
"No, Jason," she said.
I thrust her toward the door of the barn, and, in moments, we were crossing the meadows, beyond the ruins of several buildings, the sun on our left.
"You are not going toward Vonda," she said. "You are going south."
"I know," I said. I scanned the skies. I pushed her again ahead of me.
"These are times of war," she said. "You may be moving toward the camps of Ar."
"That is possible," I said.
"But I am of Vonda," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"Surely you know what fate could befall me if I fell into the hands of soldiers of Ar," she said.
"Yes," I said.
Suddenly she stopped, and wheeled to face me. She pulled at her bound wrists. "Why are you taking me from my estates, Jason?" she asked. "How do I figure in your plans?"