Norman, John - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor.txt

by Kajira of Gor [lit]

  down, quickly, and continued her work, menial work, work suitable for such as

  she, a slave.

  “Susan,” I said.

  “Yes, Mistress?” she asked.

  “Is it hard to learn the whip dance?” I asked.

  “I am not a dancer, Mistress,” said Susan, “nor are most who perform the dance.

  It is not even, really, a dance. One simply has one’s clothes taken away, and

  then one moves before strong, powerful men as such men would have a woman move

  before them. Then when one is sufficiently pleased, he indicates this and you

  serve his pleasure.”

  “How do you know what to do?” I asked.

  “Sometimes one tries different things,” she said, “for example, about or on the

  furniture, on the floor, about their bodies, at their feet, on your back, on

  your belly, hoping to find something that they will respond to. Sometimes they

  give you explicit instructions or commands, as when a woman is put through slave

  paces. Sometimes they guide you, or help you, sometimes by the whip, sometimes

  by expressions or cries. At other times the girl listens, so to speak, to the

  slave fires in her belly, and seems to become one with them and the dance, and

  then, soon, must beg the brutes, in her dance, and by her piteous expressions

  and gestures, to relieve the merciless tensions in her body, allowing her to

  complete the cruel cycle of arousal, allowing her to receive them and submit to

  them, the masters, in the spasmodic surrender of the helpless slave.”

  “But the whip,” I said. “Do you not fear it?”

  “I fear it,” she said. “But I do not think I will feel it.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Susan suddenly looked me directly in the eye. “I dance well,” she said.

  I turned away from her. When I looked at her again, she had finished her work.

  “Will Mistress be needing me further for this evening?” she asked.

  I looked at Susan.

  How chaste, how modest, how demure she seemed in her brief tunic, and collar,

  with her lovely face and beautiful little figure, How dainty, how exquisitel How

  deferential, how shyl Surely she was a woman’s slave, and only that, attentive,

  knowledgeable, efficient, respectful and selfeffacing.

  But a man such as Ligurious had bought her naked off a slave block in Cos.

  What a sweet, bashful girl she was.

  But tonight she would dance naked for guardsmen.

  “Mistress?” asked Susan.

  “You do not seem distressed that tonight you will dance,” I observed. Indeed, it

  seemed she might be looking forward to it.

  “No, Mistress’,” she said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Must I speak?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I love men, and wish to serve them, fully,” she said.

  “Lewd and shameless slut!” I cried.

  “I am a slave,” she said. “Forgive me, Mistress. Too, I have not been given to a

  man in eleven days. My fingernails are bloody from scratching at the tiles in my

  kennel.”

  I shuddered. I had not thought much about where slave girls might be kept at

  night. To be sure, I knew that they were not wandering freely about the palace.

  Now, it seemed, that some, at least, might be locked in kennels. This made

  sense, of course, considering that, like the shameless, little slut, Susan, they

  were animals.

  “It does not seem that the whip dance, truly, would be much of a punishment for

  you,” I said.

  “Ligurious has several women,” she said. “He does not know me that well. He has

  had me Prily a few times, and, I have improved my skills, considerably, since

  then.”

  “He thinks, then, that it will be a terrible punishment for you?” I asked.

  “I would suppose so,” she said. “Doubtless he expects that I will be muchly

  lashed.”

  “What is it like to be In the arms of a man such as Ligunous?” I asked, as

  though not much interested, really.

  “He devastates a woman,” she said, “turning her into a tormented, whimpering

  animal, and then he makes her yield to him, fully, and as a slave.”

  “Did you spill the wine on purpose?” I asked.

  “No, Mistress,” she laughed. “I did not know that Ligurious was coming to your

  quarters. It occurred before his arrival. Too, I know you would not be so cruel

  as to assign me to the whip dance. Too, the common punishment for such a

  clumsiness is not the uncompromising, degrading severity of the whip dance but

  disciplines more prosaic in their nature, such as a restriction or change in

  rations, close chains or, most often, a switching or whipping.”

  “I see,” I said.

  I wondered what Susan would look like, her body glistening with a sheen of

  sweat, twisting and writhing before men, pleasing them as a naked slave, theirs

  then to be exploited and used however they might wish. She seemed such an ideal

  woman’s slave, such an efficient, bashful, modest girl, it was hard to imagine

  her in such a context. But she had told me that her fingernails were bloody from

  scratching at the tiles in her kennel. It seemed then that quiet, sweet,

  withdrawn, retiring: Susan actually bad sexual needs and powerful ones. These

  needs, too, presumably, given her appearance and curvatures, bespeaking a

  richness in female hormones, would be deeply feminine ones. I wondered in bow

  many girls like Susan there might lie a pleasure slave, waiting to be uncaged

  and commanded.

  “I dance well,” she had told me.

  How startled I had been when she had said that. I bad turned away.

  She had looked into my eyes, in that instant, not as a slave into the eyes of a

  free woman, but as one woman into the eyes of another. I had felt then, in that

  instant, that we were both, ultimately, only women, that we were identical in

  our femaleness’, that we were united in the bonds of a common sisterhood and

  what, in relationship to men, it entailed. We were both, ultimately, only women;

  we were both, ultimately, though I was free and she was a slave, representatives

  of the slave sex.

  I wondered if I, too, could dance well. I knew that if I did not, I would be

  lashed.

  “I will have no further need for you tonight, Susan,” I said. “I think that you

  should soon report to your masters of the evening.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” she said. “Thank you, Mistress.” Susan,” I said.

  “Yes, Mistress?” she said.

  “Is there unrest in the city?”

  “I do not know, Mistress,” she said. “I am seldom outside the grounds of the

  palace.”

  I had resolved upon a bold plan.

  “Before it: report to your temporary masters,” I said, “inform Drusus Rencius

  that I wish to see him. He is to report to my quarters within the Ahn.”

  “’Yes, Mistress,” she said.

  “It will not be necessary to inform Ligurious
of this action on your part,” I

  said.

  “As Mistress wishes,” she said.

  “It is my recommendation, “ I said, “that in reporting to your temporary masters

  you are a little late, but just late enough to increase their eagerness, not

  late enough that you are lashed for tardiness.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” smiled Susan. “Thank you, Mistressf” She then sped from the

  room.

  I then went again to the barred window, and looked out, over the city.

  I myself had been outside of the palace grounds only infrequently in weeks,

  since my visit to the house of Kliomenes. I had been out, of course, in the

  grand victory parade, staged shortly after the seizure of the mines.

  I then turned away from the window. I would now await the arrival of Drusus

  Rencius. I had seen him privately scarcely at all since the house of Khomenes

  and the inn of Lysias. Our relationship was totally professional. Twice he had

  requested to be relieved of his duties, to be assigned to a new post, but I had

  refused to grant this request. That he might be restless, tortured or bitter in

  my presence meant nothing to me. I was a Tatrix. He was a soldier. He would obey

  me. I considered his apparent discomfort in my presence. smiled. It pleased me.

  Let him suffer.

  10 I Have Taken Cognizance in Corcyrus; We Are Returning to the Palace

  Through the darkened street, along the crooked way, Drusus Rencius and I were

  making our way back to the palace. He carried a torch. The smaller streets of

  Gorean cities are often dark at night. The pedestrians carry their own light.

  “I would prefer,” said Drusus Rencius, “that we had kept to the main thorough

  fares.”

  I wished to speak to citizens in lesser known districts, as well,” I said.

  “Is Lady Sheila satisfied?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “on the whole, though the people often seemed reticent, or

  frightened.”

  “are troubled,” said Drusus Rencius.

  I had stopped many passersby, particularly in the larger streets, making

  inquiries. I had even stopped in some of the more respectable taverns, those in

  which free women, without difficulty, might enter. The people seemed

  enthusiastically appreciative of the governance of the Tatrix and made light of

  shortages. They discounted and belittled rumors of discontentment or unrest in

  Corcyrus. Things in Corcyrus, it seemed, were much as Ligurious had assured me.

  The people were supportive of the policies of the palace, loyal to the state and

  personally devoted to their beloved Tatrix.

  “Many of the shops,” I said, “’are boarded up.”

  “Many merchants have left the city,” said Drusus Rencius, “taking their goods

  with them.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “They are afraid,” he said. “The Street of Coins is almost closed.”

  This was actually a set of streets, or district, where money changing and

  banking were done. “ere are other types of establishments in the area, too, of

  course. “’Private citizens, too, many of them,” said Drusus Rencius, “their

  goods on their back, have taken their leave of the city.”

  “Craven rabble,” I said. “Why can they not be brave Re the others?”

  “Waitl” said Drusus Rencius, stopping. He lifted the torch, which he carried in

  his left hand, increasing the range of its illumination, and put out his right

  band, holding me back, a barrier to my advance.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I heard something,” he said. “Stay back.”

  I stepped back. The sword of Drusus Rencius left its sheath. I now understood

  why he, though right-handed, had been carrying the torch in his left hand. It

  facilitated an immediate draw.

  “I do not hear anything,” I said.

  “Be quiet,” he said.

  I suddenly saw, emerging from the darkness, three shapes. “Tal, Soldier,” said

  one of them.

  “Tal,” said Drusus Rencius. He backed against a wall. I stood very near him,

  frightened.

  “We are lost,” said one of the shapes, ingratiatingly. He drew a sheet of paper

  from within his tunic. “I have directions here, on a sheet of paper. You have a

  torch.”

  “Do not approach,” said Drusus Rencius.

  The fellow smiled and, slowly, in his fingers, wadded up the sheet of paper, and

  dropped it to the street.

  Three swords then left their sheaths.

  “Give us the woman,” said the man.

  “No,” said Drusus Rencius.

  I suddenly cried out, seized from the side, and I saw Drusus Rencius, the torch

  flung to the side, lunge toward the man who had been in the center of the first

  two. One man, one of two who had been approaching us from the side, threw me

  back against a wall. I could not move because of his presence. My veil, not even

  unpinned, was. wadded and thrust back, deeply in my mouth. I heard swords

  clashing.

  I was turned to the side and my robes of concealment were pulled forward and

  down, over my head. A narrow strap was then slung about my head and pulled back,

  deeply between my teeth, and tied tightly behind the back of my neck. This

  secured the entire arrangement. I then, in my own garments, had been effectively

  gagged and hooded. I was then turned to the wall and my hands were jerked behind

  my back. In a moment, with two or three loops of cord, they were fastened in

  place. I then felt myself lifted to the shoulder of a man. I was utterly

  helpless. I heard another sword, quite near me, sliding from its sheath. “Runl”

  I heard a man cry. I was flung then from his shoulder, striking my own shoulder

  against a wall, and sliding down to the street. I heard feet running away.

  “They are gone,” I heard Drusus Rencius say.

  I whimpered as loudly as I could. Only such tiny, piteous noises were permitted

  me by the gag.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “There you are,” said Drusus Rencius.

  I heard a sword laid on the stones behind me. Then, feeling about my head,

  Drusus Rencius undid the strap that held my gag and hood in place. The fresh air

  felt good on my face. I could hardly see him, but inches from me. The torch had

  gone out. He, in the darkness, adjusted my veil.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Who were they?”

  “Probably slavers,” he said. “I do not know. They are gone now.”

  “Slavers?” I whispered, in horror.

  “Probably,” he said. “It was you they were interested in. They did not appear to

  be young ruffians out for an evening’s sport. Too, they seem to have handled you

  with an efficiency that comes with training and practice.”

  I was then silent, trembling.

  “They are gone now,” said Drusus Rencius.

  “My hands are tied,” I whimpered.

  “Forgive me,” be said. He then, after a moment, bad freed my wrists. H
e then

  picked up his blade. He then rose to his feet. I was on my knees, then, before

  him. I held him about the legs, and put my face against his leg. I was terrified

  from what had occurred. I was still trembling.

  “Get up,” he said, angrily. “Your behavior seems too much like that of a woman.”

  “I am a woman,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “You are a Tatrix.”

  I sobbed.

  “Get up,” he said.

  “I could have been carried into slavery,” I said, frightened, holding him.

  “You torturing slut,” he snarled, suddenly, “I am tempted to put chains on you

  myself.”

  “Are you so attracted to me, Drusus?” I said, startled. “So attracted to me that

  you would be satisfied with nothing less than my total submission?”

  “Torturing slut!” he said. “Get up!”

  “You do desire me!” I said. “You desire me with the most powerful desire with

  which a man can desire a woman, that he own her completely, that she be his

  total slave!”

  “I hate you, and despise you!” he said.

  “And want me!” I said.

  “Let us return to the palace,” he said, “before I leave you here in the

  darkness, a prey to those who, more than I, would see to it that you get what

  you deserve.”

  “And what is it that I deserve, Drusus,” I asked, at his feet.

  “A marked thigh,” he said, angrily, “and a collar-encircled neck.

  “Do you think that I am a slave? I cried.

  “You would make an ideal slave,” he said.

  “Insolence!” I cried.

  “Truth,” he said.

  I cried out in rage.

  “But you are not a slave,” he said. “Get up.”

  “It is fortunate for me that I am not a slave, isn’t it,” I asked, “at the feet

  of a man such as you?”

  “Yes,” he said, “it is very fortunate for you.”

  “And what would you do with me,” I asked, “if you did own me?’

  “Give me your hands,” I said.

  He then helped me up.

  I smoothed my robes. “It is interesting to know that you desire me,” I said

  He was silent.

  “Indeed,” I said, “it is quite amusing. Perhaps I should have you whipped for