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

Norman, John - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor.txt Page 29

by Kajira of Gor [lit]

  their gaze as any stripped slave.

  Sometimes they would come up to the platform, to examine me more closely. The

  Archon’s man, however, would not permit them to touch my body or test my slave

  reflexes. Similarly, I was not required to respond to certain sorts of commands,

  for example, to make “slave lips,” pursing my lips for kissing, or to writhe

  slowly before my viewers. It was still regarded as a theoretical possibility, I

  gathered, that I might be free. “She is not for sale,” the Archon’s man told one

  fellow. “Too bad,” had said the fellow. “Not now,” had added the Archon’s man.

  “Perhaps later,” said the fellow.

  “Perhaps,” had agreed the Archon’s man.

  It was late in the afternoon when, suddenly, my body stiffened in terror. I put

  my head down, swiftly, trembling. I wanted to hide but, Of Course, I was held

  perfectly where I was, exposed, helpless in the-shackles.

  He must not have seen me! He must not have seen mel

  I turned away a little, in the chains, as though merely to change my position.

  My heart was pounding in terror.

  He, of all people!

  Surely he had not noticed me. Surely he had not seen me. He must not have seen

  me!

  “Let the cbttrl be stripped,” I had said, imperiously, “and a sign be put about

  his neck, proclaiming him a fraud. Then let him be marched naked, before the

  spears of guards, through the great gate of Corcyrus, not to be permitted to

  return before the second passage hand!”

  But I could not run now. I, helpless, naked, chained in place, was being

  publicly displayed.

  A Corcyran merchant had brought charges against him, a matter having to do with

  a bowl, purportedly silver, but only plated, and one bearing a forged mark,

  misrepresenting it as the work of the silversmiths of Ar.

  Surely he must now have passed by.

  Further inquiries had been made and it was found that he had among his goods a

  set of false weights.

  He must now have gone. He mustl

  Too, it had been discovered that he had sold slave hair to the public,

  representing it as that of free women.

  I was safe. He must have gone by now.

  How pleased I was to have sentenced him to his humiliation, pronouncing the

  judgment of the Tatrix against himl How pleased I was to have seen him dragged

  by guards from my august presence.

  How splendid, too, to have men serving one, obeying one, in this fashion! He had

  been an itinerant peddler, an obsequious, cringing, ugly, small, vile man with a

  twisted body. Surely he was one of the most detestable human beings I had ever

  seen.

  I stiffened, again, in terror. Someone had joined me on the cement platform. I

  kept my head down. Then, as had happened two or three times before, I felt a

  thumb under my T., chin. My head was pushed up.

  I found myself looking into the eyes of the peddler,

  18 The Leash

  Speusippus of Turia. Speusippus stepped back and regarded me. I kept my head up,

  looking at him.

  He glanced up at the sign over my head. He could doubtless read it.

  “Sheila,” said he, whispering in my ear. “You are Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrusl”

  “No,” I whispered. “Nol”

  “The office of the Archon will doubtless be pleased to ]cam identity of its

  lovely prisoner,” he said.

  “They will not believe it,” I said.

  “They wid conduct inquiries,” he said, “with rather clear sequences, I think,

  for yourself.”

  ‘Do not tell them, I beg you,” I said. “They will take me k to Argentum for

  impalementl” le smiled.

  “Please, do not tell them, Speusippus,” I begged.

  “Sir?” he asked.

  “Please, do not tell them, Sir,” I begged.

  “It is pleasant for one such as I to be called sir by the Tatrix of Corcyrus,”

  he said.

  “Please do not tell them,” I begged, “—Sirl”

  “Who are you supposed to be?” he asked.

  “The Lady Lita, of Lydius,” I said.

  “Lita’?” he grinned. “That is a splendid name for you. ellent.”

  trembled. That name, especially when not prefixed by Lady’, I felt, somehow, did

  seem to have a certain rightness me; I wondered if, in some sense, I was a

  “Lita,” or, say, Tuka,” or a “Lana,” other common names for slaves on r.

  Earth-girl names, too, incidentally, are commonly used lave names on Gor, such

  as Jean, Joan, Priscilla, Sally, orah, Lois, Sandra and Stacy. At any rate the

  name did e me feel slightly uneasy, and excited, and rather like a

  e. This was perhaps a function of its simplicity, loveliness’ femininity. I

  hardly dared speculate what I might feel if it were actually put upon me and I

  were then to discover that, by a master’s will, I had become “Lita.” The c was

  originally given to me, I recalled, by Drusus Ren put upon me as a part of my

  disguise, and for the pures of my licensing, in the house of Kliomenes. I felt

  ientarily angry. The beast must have known that it was a mon slave name.

  Where were you caught?” be asked.

  North of Venna,” I said, “on the Viktel Aria.”

  “Well,” said Speusippus, “I think I will now call the Arn’s man and tell him who

  you are.”

  “Please, do not, Sir,” I begged.

  “Do you have friends who can vouch for you, that she is yours?”

  “I am from Turia,” said Speusippus. “I am a stranger in this beautiful city.”

  “Things, then, are not so simple,” said the Archon’s man. “As you can see she is

  not even collared or branded. She is claiming to be a free woman.”

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “Perhaps I could hold her for ten days,” said the Archon’s man, “and then, if

  there are no other claimants, turn her over to you.” He looked at me. “What did

  you say?” he asked.

  “I am not a free woman, Master,” I said. “I am a slave.’

  “There are still problems,” said the Archon’s man. “She will deny that she is

  your slave.”

  “No, Master,” I said. “I am his.” I almost choked on the words. Too, the words

  themselves frightened me, terribly. I knew that I was lying, of course, but

  still they frightened me. How fearful it would be, I thought, to say such words

  and know that they were true, that one did belong, fully, to a man.

  “Do you admit that you are his slave?” the Archon’s man asked me.

  “Do you acknowledge that, and freely, and not under torture?”

  “Yes, Master,” I said. “I am his slave.”

  “Then you were lying to us before,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  He unclipped the whip from his belt.

  “No, no,” smiled Speusippus. “That will not be necessary. I am sure that little
/>   Lita has learned her lesson. Haven’t you, Lita?”

  “Yes, Master,” I said. I twisted in the chains, making sure that the Archon’s

  man had returned the whip to his belt. He had done so, I noted with relief.

  “You have not even had her branded and collared,” said the Archon’s man. “If I

  were you I would see to these details promptly. If she escapes from you again,

  you might not recover her so easily.

  Someone else, having her properly marked and collared, might decide to keep

  her.”

  “I shall take all of these matters under the most serious consideration,” said

  Speusippus, nodding soberly.

  I smiled to myself. I saw that Speusippus had no intention of doing anything so

  cruel as putting a brand on me or anything as degrading as putting my neck in a

  collar. Too, he had not let the Archon’s man whip me. I saw that Speusippus

  would treat me with lenience, kindness and deference. I saw that I had nothing

  to fear from Speusippus. After all, I was a free woman, and the Tatrix of

  Corcyrus.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said, in relief, to the Archon’s man, as he released my

  wrists from the shackles. It felt so good to put my arms down. I almost fell on

  the platform.

  “Poor little Lita,” said Speusippbs, sympathetically. He patted me, tenderly, on

  the shoulder. “This has been such a terrible experience for you. But do not

  worry now, little Lita, It is over. I will take you away with me now.”

  “Thank you, Master,” I whimpered, playing my role.

  But then I felt my hands tied behind my back, with a wire-cored cord. I was

  tied, and well.

  Then I was leashed like a dog, or less than a dog. It was a slave leash. I was

  leashed like a slave.

  “May I reimburse you for her keep?” inquired Speusippus.

  “No,” said the Archon’s man. “Such serVices’are furnished by the city.”

  “Splendid,” said Speusippus. “Come along, Lita.” I felt the tug of the leash. I

  was leashed!

  “Do not spoil her,” cautioned the Archon’s man.

  “We would not want to spoil you now, would we, Lita?” asked Speusippus.

  “No, Master,” I whispered. I shuddered. Gorean slaves, I suspected, were seldom

  in any danger of being spoiled. They were commonly held under disciplines of

  iron.

  I followed Speusippus down from the platform. I did not want the leash to be

  pulled taut.

  “Master,” I said.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Can you read the sign that was posted over my head, please?”

  “Yes,” said he. “It says, ‘Who owns this slave? Who can identify her?’”

  “That is all?” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said. For so little I had been struck by the free woman,

  and tricked and frustrated in the chains!

  He pulled me closer to him by the leash. I did not want to stand so close to

  him.

  On the sign, it seemed, it had been presupposed that I was a slave.

  To be sure, Gorean men tended to look upon me, it seemed, as though I belonged

  in that degraded category, or as though it might, in fact, be mine.

  “Have no fear,” grinned Speusippus. They are well satisfied. From their point of

  view the slave has been identified and her owner has been located. Indeed, he

  has even come wd claimed her.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  He then took up the slack in the leash until he held me, by he leash, but inches

  from him.

  Speusippus,” he said, whispering intimately to me, ‘have the Tatrix of Corcyrus

  naked and on a slave leash.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Say that word again,” be whispered, “and more slowly, pronouncedly and

  beautifully.”

  “Master,” I said.

  “And she addresses me, Speusippus, the lowly peddler, as Master,”’ he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  He turned about, slackening the leash, and I followed him.

  I was led through the streets. The people of Venna paid me little attention.

  Such sights, I gathered, were not that uncommon in a Gorean city, that of a

  naked, leashed slave in he care of her master.

  But could they not see that I was not branded, that I was not collared?

  But this seemed to make little difference. Clearly my status was either bond or

  that of captive. Indeed, perhaps I was being conducted even now the shop of a

  metal worker, there to be marked and reDive, and have locked upon me, measured

  and fitted, a suitable, inflexible, identificatory circlet of bondage.

  I followed Speusippus of Turia through the streets of Venna, even through the

  great market square. I was naked, barefoot and bound. I followed him whether I

  wished to or not. I was leashed.

  19 The Trunk

  “Now we are alone, Lady Sheila,” he said.

  He had turned from the door, after locking it and depositing the key in his

  pouch.

  I stood with my back against the wooden wall. I watched him put the pouch, on

  its strap, in a far corner of the room, with other articles. It was a small,

  bare, largely unfurnished room. It had a common wall with a small stable, beyond

  which was a small stable yard. His tharlarion was in the stable, and his wagon,

  outside, in the yard, chained. His goods, in various crates and trunks, had been

  brought into the small room. It was one of several such small dwellings, with

  attached stables and yards, in a line, habitations rented out to teamsters and

  itinerant merchants. It was on the southern outskirts of Venna.

  I had scrubbed down the tharlarion, cleaning and washing its scales and claws. I

  had then, under his supervision, cleaned out its stable and brought in fresh

  greens for it to feed upon.

  After this he had taken me to the public trough where under his instructions,

  washed. We had then returned to the small dwelling in the complex where I, over

  a small grill in the yard, cooking not allowed in the shacks, had cooked for

  him. He had thrown me one piece of meat. In front of some of the other shacks in

  the line, in the yards, I could see girls cooking for masters, too. They, of

  course, were clearly slaves.

  After I had cleaned the grill and washed the paraphernalia connected with his

  meal we had come indoors. He had now locked the door.

  I felt the roughness of the wall at my back.

  He opened a chest and drew forth, from somewhere within it, apparently from

  Under several other objects, a brief gray tunic, and threw it to me. I caught

  it, eagerly. I had not had clothing since shortly after my capture in Corcyrus.

  Even so tiny and despicable a scrap of clothing as a mere slave tunic, I then

  realized, can be a precious treasure to a woman. He sat down on a box, watching

  me, his hands on his knees, across the room from me. Swiftly, elatedly,

  gratefully, I drew the tiny garment over my head. It was sleeveless,

  scandalously short and its neckline plun
ged to my belly, but I welcomed it as

  though it might have been the most splendid gown in the wardrobe of a Tatrix.

  “Now take it off,” he said.

  Slowly, numbly, I took the garment off, and dropped it to the side.

  “Now kneel before me, Lady Sheila,” he said.

  I dropped to my knees before him.

  “Open your knees,” he said.

  “I arn a free woman,” I protested.

  Then I saw his eyes, and opened my knees before him

  “Excellent, Lady Sheila,” he said. “Now say, Lady Sheila, the Tatrix of

  Corcyrus, kneel naked, my knees open, before Speusippus of Turia.’

  “I, Lady Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” I said, “kneel naked, my knees open,

  before Speusippus of Turia.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “Do you remember sentencing me, in Corcyrus?”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “You seemed very proud then,” he said. “You do not seem so proud now.”

  “No, Master,” I said.

  “You are sorry for having sentenced me, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “And you wish to atone for it, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “And I will see that you do so,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “On your belly, Lady Sheila,” he said. I lowered myself to my belly before him.

  “Do you wish to be taken to Argentum for impalement?” He asked.

  I lifted my head to look at him, my eyes wild. “No,” I cried. “No!”

  “We are going to get along very well, aren’t we?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “And we are going to get to know one another very -well, aren’t we?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I sobbed.

  “You may now beg to please me,” he said.

  “Whip me!” I begged him. “Enslave me! Give me no choice! Do not make me do this

  of, my own will!”

  “Say,” he said, ‘I, Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus, naked and on my belly, of my own

  free will, beg to please Spensippus of Turia.’ “

  “I, Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus,” I said, “naked and on my belly, of my own free

  will, beg to please Spensippus of Turia.”

 

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