by John Norman
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Are you conquered?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said, “I am conquered.”
“Totally?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said, “totally.”
“Can a man respect such a conquered woman?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said. “But perhaps I might have the interest of the conquered slave for him.”
I crouched down before her. She was still on all fours.
“You are a poor slave,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Yet,” I said, lifting her chin with the whip, “you are pretty.”
“In a trivial and servile way,” she smiled.
“Yes,” I said. “And, too,” I said, “you have good slave reflexes.”
“Which you have not seen fit to exploit, my Master,” she whispered.
“I wonder if I should sell you,” I said.
“Please do not sell me, Master,” she said.
“I will if it pleases me,” I said.
“Of course, my Master,” she said.
I lowered the whip, and, crouching before her, continued to regard her.
“Is Master truly thinking of selling me?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. She had displeased me this evening. Too, I thought I saw her this evening more objectively than ever before I had seen her. I saw her now as little more than a pretty triviality.
“I would bring so low a price,” she whispered, “that perhaps Master might keep me.”
I stood up, whip in hand. I looked down upon her, on all fours before me. There was something in what she said. She would probably not bring a high price. Perhaps she might as well be kept, at least for the time. There did not seem much point, at least at the moment, in sending her to a market. Too, she was pretty, if only in a trivial, servile way. Too, she had good slave reflexes. Surely I could find uses for her around the house.
“Master?” she asked.
I walked around, behind her.
“Master?” she asked, frightened. She knew she might now be unexpectedly lashed.
“I shall keep you, at least for the time,” I said, “to see if you work out.”
“I shall endeavor to work out, Master,” she cried, joyfully.
“Am I to be kept in full slavery?” she asked, not daring to look around.
“Yes,” I said.
“In what slavery, or slaveries, will Master place me?” she asked.
I looked at her position. “Perhaps in the slavery of the she-quadruped,” I said.
“Master may do so, if he wishes,” she said, “if it pleases him, or amuses him.”
In this form of slavery, which is commonly used for disciplinary purposes, or for the amusement of the master, the woman is not permitted to arise from all fours; similarly she is not permitted human speech, though she may signify needs and desires by such means as cringing, and moaning and whimpering. Not permitted the use of her hands, save as a means of locomotion, she must also eat and drink from pans set on the floor, or, sometimes, to satisfy her thirst, she must lap the water permitted to her from puddles or lick spillages from the tiles; too, it is not uncommon to chain her near her master’s feet, while he dines, that he may, if he wishes, throw her scraps of food. She will also be taught tricks, through which paces she may be put for the entertainment of her master’s guests, such things as begging, lying down, rolling over, and fetching his sandals in her teeth. And, needless to say, when her master wishes to use her sexually, it will be in a position common to the she-quadruped.
This form of slavery, incidentally, is often imposed on captured Ubaras. After a time, it is not unusual for the Ubara, on her belly before her master, given an Ehn in which to speak, to beg, in lieu of the slavery of the she-quadruped, that she be taught the salacious arts and lascivious dances of the female slave, that she may then be less a more amusement for her master than a feast of slave pleasure for him. Her plea is usually granted. Such women tend to become superb slaves. They know, of course, that they may be, at any moment the master pleases, returned to the slavery of the she-quadruped.
I walked around, before the girl. “You may kneel,” I said.
“Thank you, Master,” she cried, joyfully. She was not then, at least, to be put into the slavery of the she-quadruped. She looked up at me. “I love you. I love you, my Master,” she said.
“Kiss the whip,” I told her.
“Yes, Master!” she said. She kissed it, fervently, again and again. The former Miss Henderson, of Earth, kneeling naked before me, now knowingly my collared slave, kissed my whip.
She looked up at me, happily.
“Do you think that you are much of a slave?” I asked.
“No. Master,” she said.
“You need a bath,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Your body smells,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“It stinks,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Forgive me, Master.” To be sure, her pretty little body stank. This was little wonder, considering what her experiences had been, and the beatings I had put her through. Too, it was covered with dirt and sweat, much of the dirt in small, fine rolls on the fairly complexioned, exposed flesh.
There were tears in her eyes.
I heard then a sound at the door.
“On your belly,” I told her.
Swiftly she fell to her belly on the tiles before me, her hands at the sides of her head.
“Master!” she said, then hearing someone at the door.
“Lie quietly, Slave,” I said, “or you will be whipped.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Who is it?” I called.
“It is I, Lola,” I heard. “I have brought your things.” She had followed me, dallying according to my instructions, to give me time to introduce the new girl into my house.
I went to the door and, opening it, admitted Lola. She entered, carrying my gear, that which I had taken to the other house. She knelt deferentially before me. “I kneel before my Master,” she said. “You may arise,” I said. “Thank you, Master,” she said. “Put my gear to the side,” I said. “And lock the door.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. She did these things, and then walked to the center of the room. She looked down at the prone slave. “Well, what have we here,” she asked, “a well-tamed, well-whipped slave?”
The prone slave was silent, trembling.
“Well?” asked Lola, suddenly, viciously, kicking the girl in the side.
“Yes, Mistress,” cried the girl, “I am a well-tamed, well-whipped slave!”
“My Master knows well how to handle a woman,” said Lola.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“Do you remember that, when you were free, you once took me to the docks and sold me?” asked Lola.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl, “but now, I, too, am only a slave.”
“Do you think you will make a good slave?” asked Lola.
“I will try, desperately, Mistress,” said the girl.
“Who is first girl?” asked Lola.
“I do not know, Mistress,” cried the slave.
“Lola is first girl,” I informed her.
“You are first girl, Mistress,” cried the slave, “you are first girl!”
“Have you ever seen your collar?” asked Lola.
“No, Mistress,” said the girl. “When it was fastened on me, I was hooded.”
“Would you like to see it?” asked Lola.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
Lola, from a chest near one wall, fetched forth a mirror, which she held close to the tiles, that the prone slave might for the first time see the collar in which she had been placed.
“It is beautiful,” breathed the slave, touching it, “it is beautiful!” I smiled. It was only a common collar, of a sort which many girls on Gor wore. Yet, to be sure,
it was attractive. It, like most slave collars for women, was designed for both beauty and security.
“You know the meaning of a slave collar, don’t you?” asked Lola.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“You look well in one, don’t you?” asked Lola.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“You belong in one, don’t you?” asked Lola.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“There is writing here on the collar,” said Lola. “It says, ‘I am the property of Jason of Victoria.’”
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“It will well serve to identify you, will it not?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“Is what it says true?” asked Lola.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl, “it is true!” I thought I saw her shudder with pleasure on the tiles.
In a moment Lola had replaced the mirror in the chest, and closed the chest. She then came to where I stood. Together we regarded the prone slave. “She is a pretty little thing,” said Lola.
“I think she will prove satisfactory,” I said, “for the purposes for which I require her, those of a common slave, a low slave, one to be set chores about the house, and one from whom full domestic services will be required.”
Lola looked at me.
“‘Domestic services’ in the Gorean sense,” I said.
Lola laughed. Certainly the former Miss Henderson, of Earth, should have her sensuous possibilities exploited. How absurd it would be to permit those conquered curves to languish.
“What are your commands, Master?” asked Lola.
“In two days, in the evening,” I said, “I shall have a small supper here, nothing pretentious, just something for a few friends. Substantially the affair will be catered by the tavern of Tasdron, but there will be much shopping and cooking for you, too, to do.”
“I understand, Master,” said Lola.
“The house, of course, is to be spotless,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“And I shall also depend upon you for decorations, that the house may appear festive, lamps and ribbons, and flowers, and such.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Too, see to it that some small, tasteful entertainment is provided.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“If things are not perfect,” I said, “I shall not be pleased.”
“Master will be pleased,” she said.
“It is late now,” I said.
“What of her?” asked Lola, gesturing with her head toward the prone slave.
We walked over to where the former Miss Henderson lay. I turned her over with my foot, and looked down upon her.
“She does not even know how to lie at a man’s feet,” said Lola. She then crouched down and turned the girl’s hands so that their backs rested on the tiles, and the soft, open palms were vulnerably exposed to me. Also she lifted her left knee, that it might be flexed. “There,” she said, “that is better.” There are many ways, of course, for a woman to lie at a man’s feet. Lola had selected, however, one of the loveliest.
The girl looked up at me, frightened.
I walked about her and, with my foot, turned her again to her stomach.
“What is to be done with her?” asked Lola.
“Clean her stinking slave’s body,” I said, “and then kennel her for the night.”
“Look,” said Lola, suddenly, “she is unconscious.” She bent down beside the girl. “She has fainted,” she laughed.
“It has been hard on her,” I said. “She had to learn much this evening.”
“In a collar a girl must learn quickly,” said Lola.
“It is true,” I said.
I turned away. I was weary.
“Master,” called Lola.
“Yes,” I said.
“How is she to be treated?”
“You are first girl,” I said. “You hold switch rights over her. See that she is worked well.”
“Full discipline?” asked Lola.
“Of course,” I said.
“Excellent, Master,” said Lola.
I hung the slave whip on its hook, and then went to the stairs, and, wearily, began to climb them. “Master,” called Lola. When I reached the height of the stairs and stood upon the landing before my bedroom door, I turned to look down upon Lola. “Yes,” I said. “Are you certain that, when I have cleaned her, you do not want me to send her to your room?” she asked. “No,” I said. “I do not even want to see her until the party.”
“Yes, Master,” said Lola. “Master.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You mentioned entertainment.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is this pretty little slave,” asked Lola, indicating the unconscious former Miss Henderson, “to be included in the entertainment?”
“Of course,” I said.
Chapter 20 - THE PARTY; AFTER THE PARTY
“Another bit of larma, Master?” asked the slave, kneeling behind me and to my left. I turned and, from where I sat cross-legged behind the low table, removed a small, crisp disk of fried larma, with a browned-honey sauce, from the silver tray. I regarded the slave. She put her head down, deferentially. She wore a tasteful garment of bluish gauze, in three layers, which fluffed about her. It came high on her thighs. I could see that her breasts in the garment, as she knelt, were exquisite. Her arms and feet were bare. Her hair was quite dark. My collar was lovely on her throat. I then turned my attention again to the dancers.
There were three of them in blue silk and golden collars. Lola had been fortunate enough to make arrangements for their rental only this morning. They belonged to a fellow who was en route to Port Cos, and thence to Turmus, and thence to the island of Cos itself, where it was his intention to exhibit and vend them. She had found them in holding cages, near the spice wharf. The address of their master, who was residing in an inn nearby, was given to her by their keeper. They were due to be shipped west to Port Cos at noon tomorrow. Tonight, however, he was pleased to make some coins on them.
“They are beautiful,” said Glyco, the merchant of Port Cos to whom we owed so much. It was he who, in effect, had organized the resistance of the river towns to the pirates, and had had the good sense and fortune to recruit the redoubtable Callimachus of Port Cos as his field commander, a man without whose military skills and reputation on the river our projects might have been doomed to failure.
“Thank you,” I said.
I looked about the table. Seven men, including myself, were present, Glyco, high merchant of Port Cos; Tasdron, Administrator of Victoria; Aemilianus, leader of the naval forces of Ar upon the Vosk; Calliodorus, captain of the Tais; and my friends, Callimachus and Miles of Vonda, who had brought with him his slave, Florence. Earlier, as a portion of our entertainment, she had played on the lyre, and sung for us. She had been warmly applauded, which, I think, pleased muchly both the shy slave and her master. Miles of Vonda had had her trained in these skills. As a free woman she had been, in effect, without accomplishments. Now she had additional ways in which to please her master. She now knelt behind her master. She wore a yellow tunic, and her collar.
I watched Shirley, the blond, voluptuous slave whom I had taken from Reginald, of the Tamira, in the battle on the river. She was one of three women whom I had had following our victory over the pirates, the other two being Lola and the former Miss Henderson. For this night Lola, who was first girl, had dressed Shirley much like the other slave, save that the gauze of Shirley’s garment was yellow.
For the last few days I had been boarding Shirley at a kennel in Victoria, but I had had her brought home this evening that she might help with the serving, and for another reason. She, kneeling, poured wine from a narrow, long-spouted silver vessel into the cup of Aemilianus, of Ar’s Station. At the kennel, incidentally, I had arranged for Shirley to receive the whipping which had been due to her for
having lifted her head without permission on the deck of the Tina. Gorean masters seldom forget such details, and their girls know it. This helps in the maintenance of their discipline.
Lola was in the kitchen, supervising the food and service. She was not to be permitted to present herself until later, and then she would do so in the manner of my choosing. She knew only that she was in some way to be involved in my entertainment.
I again turned my attention to the dancers. Their movements were graceful and decorous. One would scarcely know that they were slaves, save, of course, that they wore collars and danced their beauty for men. Their movements were lovely, and refined. Free women might even have been present. This was suitable for the type of party which I had planned. This was not the type of party at which, say, the women of the enemy are forced to dance naked and, afterwards, are to be allotted to the victors as slaves, according to the whim of the commander or according to the fall of the dice.
Similarly it was not one of those parties in which a given number of slaves must dance within a circle of free men, of equal number, with whips, stripping themselves to the strokes of the whips and then dancing towards the men. The man who does not accept the woman whips her back from him; similarly the woman who does not dance toward a man is whipped until she does. It is common in this form of dance to make each woman, dancing to each man, go about the circle at least five times. In this way the men have a chance to inspect the women, and consider which ones interest them. Needless to say, it is not long before the women are striving desperately to please the men. Only when she has sufficiently pleased a man is she permitted to crawl from the dancing circle to the cushions of her master for the Ahn.
The lead dancer reminded me somewhat of the slave, Melpomene, who had once been the Lady Melpomene, of Vonda. She was similarly figured to Melpomene; similarly, she had the same dark hair, complexion and high cheekbones as Melpomene. She was not Melpomene, however. I smiled to myself. I doubted that Melpomene, whose slave heat had been ignited, could have managed to dance in such a refined fashion before men. Even had she striven to do so I think that small expressions and subtle movements would have betrayed her, to the detriment of the type of dance which she was supposed to be performing. I regarded the dancers.