by John Norman
"Have you not guessed?" I asked.
"Why are we going south?" she asked. "What are you seeking?"
"Do you remember she who was once the Lady Melpomene?" I asked.
"Of course," she said, "the shameless slut!"
"I did not think her more or less responsive than you," I said.
The Lady Florence reddened. "I sold her as a slave," she said.
"To whom?" I asked.
"Tenalion of Ar," she said.
"His camp," I said, "given the times which were required to reach your house, and return to the camp, is not more than two days trek from here."
She looked at me, aghast. "Do not joke, please, Jason," she said.
"Slavers," I said, "follow the paths, and projected paths, of armies. Given the times I do not think it a coincidence that Tenalion of Ar was recently in the vicinity of Vonda. Too, being a slaver, I think it not unlikely that he may have dealings with various parties. To his camp, I suspect, come not only the captures of brigands, and the stripped females from the outskirts of the Salerian cities, taken by the raiding parties of Ar, but, too, even women taken by the warriors of Cos and of the cities of Saleria. Such a camp, in effect, is a truce ground, where men of various allegiances may in safety bring what prizes may have fallen to their ropes and chains."
"Tenalion knows me," she said. "Doubtless he would swiftly free me."
"He has doubtless, already in his mind," I said, "speculated on your slave potential."
"He knows me," she said.
"Do you think that will make a difference to him," I asked, "when, with the dispassionate objectivity of the slaver, he stands you upon his assessment platform and assesses your quality as slave meat?"
"Do not take me to Tenalion," she said. "I fear him."
"As well you might, female of Vonda," I said.
"It is all a joke you are playing on me," she laughed, suddenly.
"Yet you are bound, and have a strap on your throat," I said.
"You are keeping me for a time, as a hostage," she said, "that is all!"
"And then what?" I asked.
"And then you will release me," she said. "That is it." She laughed.
I turned her about and thrust her again before me, southward.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To the camp of Tenalion," I said.
"But for what reason, Jason," she begged, "for what possible reason?"
"He knows you," I said, "and he is familiar with various matters known in Vonda and within her vicinity. He will know, for example, that you have been much sought as a Free Companion by rich young swains of Vonda, but that you have held yourself too good for them, and have refused them all."
"Oh, Jason!" she cried.
I thrust her forward again. Now she was sobbing. "Hurry your pace," I told her.
She stumbled. I scanned the skies.
"Doubtless such young men," I said, "invited to a private sale, one suitably secret, will bid high against one another to have you. Tenalion will doubtless receive a fine price for you, even though you are untrained, and he, knowing this, will doubtless make me an excellent offer for you."
"You cannot sell me!" she wept. "I am not a slave!"
"Times are grim, Lady Florence," I told her. "Keep moving."
"I am not a slave," she said. "You are mad to think you can sell me!"
"We shall see," I said. "Keep moving."
Suddenly she turned and knelt, sobbing, in the grass before me. "I know you can sell me," she wept. "But do not, please!"
"Why not?" I asked.
"I am not a slave!" she sobbed.
"Goreans think that in every woman there is a slave," I said.
"Return me to Vonda," she said. "I will get you another woman, a true slave, whom you can sell. Let me go! Sell some other woman, one who is a true slave."
"Do you think you could find me another," I asked, "one to take your place?"
"Yes," she said. "Yes!"
"There was a girl of interest to me," I said, "apparently one of your own girls."
"Yes?" she said, eagerly.
"One whom you very kindly sent to content me in the darkness of the tunnels beneath your lands."
She turned white.
"She did not even have a name, as yet, as I recall," I said. "She was referred to, if I recall correctly, merely as the 'new slave.'"
The girl trembled, and could not meet my eyes.
"She must have been a new slave, indeed," I said. "As I recall she had not yet even been branded or collared."
"Yes, Jason," whispered the girl.
"She was pleasant in my arms, in a servile, sluttish way," I said.
The Lady Florence looked up at me, angrily.
"She was a true slave, wouldn't you say?" I asked the girl.
"Yes," she said, angrily, "she was a true slave."
"Do you think you could get her for me?" I asked.
"No," she said, "no."
"Why not?" I asked.
"I told you," she said, "I told you in my room, before, I sold her! I sold her!"
"But you did not tell the truth," I said.
She looked at me, warily. "How could you know that?" she asked.
"Such news travels swiftly in the stables," I said. "If you had sold a slave, I would have heard of it."
"I see," she said.
"Why did you lie?" I asked.
"I—I was jealous of her," she said. "I wanted you to think she was no longer on the estates."
"But she was still upon the estates, wasn't she?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"What became of her?" I asked.
"Doubtless she was captured by the brigands, when they raided my estates," she said.
"I do not think so," I said. "I saw various slaves, indeed, house slaves and stable sluts, fastened at the saddle rings of the brigands, but I knew them all. No girl there was unknown to me. Thus none of them could have been the new slave."
"I do not know what became of her," said the Lady Florence, looking away, trembling.
"But you are certain, are you not," I asked, "that she was a true slave?"
"Oh, yes," said the Lady Florence. "That slut was a true slave."
"She belonged in the collar, wouldn't you say?" I asked.
"Yes, Jason," said the Lady Florence.
"I wonder if I shall ever see her again," I mused.
"You would not know it, if you did, would you," asked the Lady Florence, "since, by my will, she served you only in the total darkness."
"I might know," I told her.
"Oh?" she said, warily.
"Her height and weight, and the feel of her body," I said, "were not unlike yours."
She shrugged, angrily.
"Her thigh, too," I said, "was as smooth as yours, and her throat, like yours, was innocent of the obdurate circlet of bondage. Surely such omissions are unusual in the case of female slaves."
"I simply had not yet had her collared and branded," she said. "She was, after all, a new slave."
"But are not such things among the first things which are done to a female slave?" I asked.
"Sometimes," shrugged Lady Florence.
"Her voice, too, was not unlike yours," I said.
"What are you suggesting!" demanded the Lady Florence, angrily.
"Her hair, however," I said, "was it the same as yours?"
"No," she said, "no! Her hair was blond, quite blond." The Lady Florence straightened up then, and smiled.
"Your hair, then," I said, "is quite different."
"Yes," she said.
I walked slowly behind the Lady Florence. She knelt straight. "Your own hair," I said, "is a rich auburn."
"Yes," she said.
"Such hair," I said, "is very unusual."
"I am fond of my hair," she said.
"You might well be," I said. "Such hair would be the envy of many slave girls."
"You need not speak of it that way," she said.
"Did you know that auburn hair is highly prized in the slave markets?" I asked.
"I have heard that," she said. "Oh!" she said. I had jerked a strand of hair from her head.
I walked about, before her, and held before her a strand of hair. "Why did you do that?" she asked.
"Is this your hair?" I asked.
"Of course," she said. "Why did you take it from me?" she asked.
"To identify you by it later," I said.
"I do not understand," she said.
"Why did you lie to me?" I asked.
"About what?" she asked.
"About the hair color of the new slave," I said.
"I did not lie," she said.
"Does this appear blond to you?" I asked. I showed her the strand of auburn hair, which she had just identified as her own.
"No," she said, "of course not."
"This is yours, is it not?" I asked.
"Of course," she said.
"Interesting," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"This hair, which you have identified as your own," I said, "I took a few days ago, in the darkness, from the head of the 'new slave.'"
"No," she said, "you just took it from me, now!"
"No," I said, opening my left hand, "this is the strand of hair which I just took from you. The other I have carried for some days, concealed in my tunic. I removed it from my tunic when I was behind you." I held both strands in my right hand, before her. "Note," I said, "how both strands are identical."
She looked sick.
"Greetings, New Slave," I said.
"Greetings," she said, looking at me, frightened.
"Greetings, what?" I asked.
"Greetings—Master," she said.
I thrust her back to the grass. It was high about us.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
"You lied to me," I said.
"What are you going to do with me?" she begged.
"Rape you as a slave," I said.
"I only pretended to be a slave," she wept.
"That pretense will be abruptly terminated in the camp of Tenalion," I said, "when the iron is pressed into your thigh, when the collar is closed about your throat."
"Oh!" she said. "What are you doing, your hands!"
"I am preparing you for slavery," I said.
"Free me," she begged.
I placed my mouth over hers. I felt her lips, full and liquid and wet, beneath mine. "No," I told her.
30
We Resume Our Journey
In a few moments she knelt before me, in the grass, shuddering, her head to my feet.
"You treated me as a slave, truly," she said.
"You are a slave," I told her, "except for certain legalities, which will soon be satisfied."
"No," she wept, "no!"
"Between now and our arrival at the camp of Tenalion," I said, "you will be and act in all respects as though you might be a full and legal slave. This will help you to accommodate yourself to your future condition. Indeed, it may save your life."
"Take pity on me, Jason," she said, head down.
I pulled up her head by the hair and crouched beside her. "Oh!" she said. I slapped her twice.
"Does a slave dare to address her master by his name?"
"No!" she said, tears in her eyes.
"No, what?" I asked.
"No—Master! Master!" she said.
"You could be whipped for that," I said, "lengthily lashed."
"Yes, Master!"
"Do you understand?" I asked.
I twisted my hand in her hair, more tightly.
"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!" she said. "You are hurting me, Master! Please do not hurt me, Master!"
How easily now that word seemed to come to her, so naturally and fittingly, so rightfully. This pleased me. She belonged in a collar, I thought, and would be happiest within one.
"Speak more clearly, Girl," I said.
She winced.
"You are hurting your slave, Master! Your slave begs not to be hurt! Please, Master, do not hurt your slave!"
"Better," I said. "But what is your name?" I inquired.
"I have not yet been named!" she said. "I have not yet been named!"
"Better," said I, "better yet."
This was the appropriate response, as she, not yet a slave, did not yet possess a slave name. Had she been a slave and been named, say, 'Amanda', her responses, following the preferences of some masters, might have been along the lines of 'Amanda, your slave, begs not to be hurt', 'Please Master, do not hurt your slave, Amanda', and so on. Some masters, it might be noted, require the slave to always refer to herself in the third person, for example, as in 'How may your slave serve you?' or 'Please, Master, caress your slave'. On the other hand, most masters are content to permit the slave the use of personal pronouns as in 'I beg to serve you?' or 'Please, Master, caress me.' But, as suggested, few, if any, masters will permit their slave to use their name to them, for would the name of a free man not then be belittled, or soiled, if it should be touched by the tongue and lips of a mere slave? This caveat does not obtain, of course, under situations where one might, say, inquire of a slave the name of her master. One might, for example, wish to buy her. On the other hand, the master's name may usually be read, if one wishes, from the slave's collar.
"Thank you, Master," she whispered, tensely.
I released her hair. I stood up.
"But you have much to learn," I said.
She collapsed to the ground, on her right shoulder.
"I fear," she said, "that I will never be able to make the transition between a free woman and a slave."
I laughed at her, and she looked up, angrily.
"There is in actuality no transition for you to make," I told her.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because you are a woman," I told her. "On your feet, female."
She stood up, enraged, her hands bound behind her. "Turn about," I told her.
She did so.
Her body was stiff with fury.
"Do you not feel the leash will be necessary?" she asked, acidly. "Am I not to be led to the market on a strap, like a tethered she-tarsk?"
"I shall use the leash after dark," I told her.
The use of leashes differs among masters. Some masters use leashes for little more than tethering a girl. Others, of course, use them liberally as leading devices. They are often used with a proud, rebellious or recalcitrant girl, sometimes to publicly humiliate her. After being led on a leash it is not unusual for a girl to beg her master to be permitted to heel him, following him deferentially in her proper place. Leashes are generally used in cities, or in crowds. A loose slave can be a nuisance. They may be useful, too, of course, in broken or wooded areas, where a fleeing girl might attempt to find cover, or in dangerous places, where she might be stolen. A leash, it might be mentioned, aside from its convenience in controlling a slave, particularly the choke leash, is an extremely useful training device. Many trainers, the leash loop about their left wrist, hold the leash in their left hand and their training whip in their right. Girls, too, can be taught to use the leash to enhance their seductiveness, appearing to draw away, then approaching, using it about their body, kissing it, taking it in their mouth, fingering it, and so on. A test for slave potential used by some slavers is to leash a new girl and see if she, in her apparent rebellion and defiance, actually, subtly, perhaps in the beginning unconsciously, uses the leash to enhance her desirability and beauty. This indicates that she, in her heart, is not displeased to wear the leash of the master. Indeed, the leash, not uncommonly, can cause a woman to sexually blossom. This is presumably a function of such things as its actual restraint, which is quite real; its message to her that she is an animal, a slave; and its making clear to her, by a device, such as a bracelet, a brand or collar, what is the order of nature, who it is who controls her and who it is whom she must obey, who is the slave and who the master. A leash, even apart from questions of t
raining, of course, can have a powerful emotional impact on a girl. It is a very useful way of convincing a girl that she is a slave; similarly it can always serve as an effective reminder. Some girls do not seem to believe they are slaves until they have been leashed. But after that, and after having been put through "leash paces," there is seldom any doubt in their mind. Some girls beg to be leashed, sometimes crawling to their masters, their leash held between their small, fine teeth. Most masters use the leash at one time or another. A Gorean saying has it that a leashed slave is a hot slave.
"So you will use the leash after dark," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"Apparently you have no intention of permitting me to escape from you," she said.
"No," I said.
"Let me negotiate for my freedom," she said.
"Begin moving," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
31
We Continue Our Way Southward
It was the heat of the afternoon. The sun was high. "On your back," I told her. She lay down, and I took her. Then I put her on her stomach, and untied her hands from behind her back. Then I put her on her back and retied her hands, wrists crossed, before her body, holding them in place, at her belly, with a loop of strap. "On your feet," I told her, "and face again southwards."
"Why have you tied my hands in this fashion?" she asked, her back to me.
"Because you are beautiful," I said.
"I see," she said.
"Begin moving," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
32
I do not Listen to the Entreaties of the Lady Florence
"I did not think you would have the nerve to leash me," she said.
We lay together on the soft dirt and leaves, in a small clump of trees in a meadow. I was on my back, looking up at the moons through the branches of the trees. The stars were fine and beautiful, bright in the black sky. She pressed herself against me. I had again tied her hands behind her back. She was tethered by the neck beside me, by the strap which had earlier served as her leash. The tether was fastened to a tree which I could reach out and touch. The knot was under her chin.
"How is it that you have dared to put me on a leash?" she asked.
"I do not understand," I said.