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

Norman, John - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor.txt Page 37

by Kajira of Gor [lit]

  several mills. Too, almost any girl, with the proper diet, exercise and

  training, and properly costumed and made-up, and knowing herself subject to the

  whip, can become of considerable interest.”

  “That is true,” said a man.

  “Pausanias, who is the mill master in Mill 7,” said Aemilianus, ‘has informed me

  that, in his opinion, there are many lovely girls even in Mill 7.”

  “Interesting,” said a man.

  “Are these two,” asked a man, “from Mill 7?”

  “Yes,” said Aemilianus. “They are the two found there.”

  “You needn’t depend on the mills, of course,”

  ‘You can buy in the market.”

  “You could also buy trained slaves to man.

  “They are more expensive,” said a man.

  “That is true,” he agreed.

  “I shall show you one advantage of the

  anus. “Emily,” he said, “do you wish to mill?”

  “No, Master!” she said.

  “Tiffany?” he asked.

  “No, Master!” I cried.

  “The motivation of mill girls, as you can see,” said Aemilianus, “is high.

  Accordingly, they may be expected to train swiftly, desperately and superbly.”

  “Have you discussed your ideas with Mintar?” asked a man.

  “Yes,” said Aemilianus, “and he has given me license to proceed.”

  “Would this be involved with the enterprises of Mintar?” asked a man.

  “No,” said Aemilianus. “It would become one of the enterprises of Aemilianus.”

  My uncle, of course, will extend the initial loans at nominal rates,” said

  Aemilianus.

  “I see,” said the man.

  “I am not sure this is practical,” said a man.

  “It will be a difficult field to break into,” said another man.

  “It is a question,” said Aemilianus, “of providing a quality service at

  competitive prices.”

  “Perhaps,” said a man.

  “Emily, would you please come around the table and kneel here, beside me?” asked

  Aemilianus.

  Emily instantly leapt to her feet and scurried to kneel in the indicated

  position.

  This left me, somewhat disconcerting me, alone before the table.

  “Would you please stand up and remove your silk, Tiffany?” said Aemilianus.

  Immediately I stood and slipped from the silk. I held it dangling, from my right

  hand.

  “That is a mill girl?” asked a man, skeptically,

  “Yes,” said Aemilianus.

  “Those are slave curves, if I have ever seen them,” said a man.

  “True,” said another.

  “You are very pretty, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said.

  “How long have you been enslaved?” he asked.

  “Some five months, Master,” I said.

  “And are you trained?” he asked.

  “Only by the instructions of some men who have used me,” I said, “and, of

  course, to work the loom.”

  There was laughter.

  “We may then say, may we not,” asked Aemilianus, Eethat for most practical

  purposes you are untrained.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Drop the silk,” he said.

  I did.

  “Now get on your belly on the tiles, Tiffany,” he said.

  Immediately I lowered myself to my belly on the tiles. I looked up at them, the

  palms of my hands on the floor.

  “Are you familiar with floor movements, Tiffany?” he asked.

  “A little, Master,” I said. “I saw some once in a slaver’s house.” This had been

  in the house of Kliomenes, when I had been taken on a tour there long ago by

  Drusus Rancius. I had been free then, of course. Now I was as much a slave as

  the girls I had seen there at the time.

  “I am going to signal to the musicians, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus. “When they

  begin to play, you may begin your performance.”

  “Yes, Master,” I whispered. When I had seen such movements in the house of

  Kliomenes I had never dreamed that they might, horrifyingly enough, one day be

  required of me.

  In few modalities is a woman’s slavery made clearer or more manifest than when

  she must perform floor movements, than when she must, in effect, dance before

  men, never rising higher than her knees.

  Then the music began.

  Almost as soon as I had begun to dance I saw Emily tear back her slave silk,

  exposing her breasts to Aemilianus, and to kiss him. He held her against him

  with his left arm about her body and held her two hands, their wrists crossed,

  in his grip, captured, across his body. He held her in this fashion, helpless.

  And both, then, were watching me.

  Once I had been Tiffany Collins. I now writhed, a Gorean slave, at the feet of

  men.

  I do not know how long the music lasted, perhaps only about four or five Ehn.

  Then, swirling and climaxing, it suddenly ended. I lay, gasping and sweating, on

  my belly on the tiles. I looked up. I hoped that I had pleased the masters.

  “Very good, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.

  “Superb,” said one man. “Superb!” said another.

  “What do you want for her?” asked a man.

  “I will give you a silver tarsk,” said another. I looked wildly at him. I

  wondered if I would be sold. A silver tarsk! I wished Drusus Rencius had heard

  that! He had thought I would only bring fifteen or twenty copper tarsksl And I

  was not even trained!

  “You did very well, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said.

  “Did you see, Gentlemen,” asked Aemilianus, “and she only an untrained mill

  girl.”

  “Yes, Aemilianus,” said a man. “Yes,” said another. “Yes,” said yet another.

  “Teela,” said Aemilianus.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, quickly.

  “Take Emily to my room and chain her by the neck to the foot of my couch.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Thank you, Master,” cried Emily.

  “On your feet, Slave,” said Teela to Emily. “Cross your wrists, touching, behind

  your back, close your eyes and put down your head. You will uncross your wrists

  and open your eyes only when you feel the locking of the couch collar on your

  neck.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Emily.

  She was then led from the room, bent over, by the hair, her eyes closed and her

  wrists crossed, and touching, behind her back.

  “You are going to be sent to school, Tiffany,” said Aemilianus.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said.

  “Does that please you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. “I have never been taught to read.”

  There was laughter.

  “It is not that sort of school,” he said.

 
“Gentlemen,” said Aemilianus, “and kind sirs, I thank you for your presence here

  this evening, and for your kind attention. Your comments, your thoughts and your

  counsel have been much appreciated. If any of you wish to remain the night, feel

  free to make use of the rooms which were put at your disposal before supper.

  Similarly if any of the slaves interest you, any of those who served you, or any

  other in the house, with the exception of our little Tiffany, take her to your

  room. She is yours for the night. If you are not fully pleased in the morning,

  let me know and I will have her thoroughly punished, and then sent to you for

  the week, that she may learn to improve her service.”

  “I will take this one,” said a man, indicating one of the girls.

  “And I will take this one,” said another.

  These two girls ran to their masters of the evening and knelt before them.

  “I would like to have the one you call ‘Teela’ licking at my feet,” said a

  strong, mature fellow.

  “She will be sent to your room,” said Aemilianus.

  “My thanks, Aemilianus,” he said.

  “And what of this meaningless, squirming little pleasure bundle?” asked one of

  the men looking at me.

  I was now kneeling before the table. I blushed. I did not know if I appreciated

  being referred to as a meaningless, squirming little pleasure-bundle. On the

  other hand, these were Gorean men and I knew that I, in their hands, if they

  wished, would find myself transformed into little more than just such a

  squirming pleasure-bundle. I had learned this from Tenrak on the floor of a

  slave wagon.

  “With your permission,” said Aemilianus, “I would rather she did not serve

  tonight. I would like her to get a good rest. I would like her to get a good

  start in the morning.”

  “As you wish, Aemilianus,” said a man.

  “I am not td serve tonight, Master?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “You must get up early tomorrow.”

  “Master?” I asked.

  “You must get up early for school,” he said. -

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  27 School

  I was pulled to the post, close to it and facing it. The heavy belt, with the

  ring on it, through which the loose post strap passed, that strap looping the

  post and threaded through the belt ring, was put about my belly, and buckled

  shut, tightly, behind the small of my back. I could now move about the post but,

  given the post strap and the belt ring, could not be further than six inches

  from it.

  “When you are more experienced, you wrn not need harness,” said the whip master.

  “Too, we will let you try sometimes with your hands tied behind you.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Address yourself now to the post, Tiffany,” he

  “Make it sweat. Make it cry out with pleasure.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Next’,” said the whip master.

  I approached him and knelt before him. ‘I wear your chains, Master,” I said,

  lifting them. “Do with me as you will.”

  “Again,” said the man.

  I rose to my feet and, facing him, head down, backed away a few paces. Then I

  lifted my head again.

  “Remember, Tiffany,” he said, “he will.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  I again approached him and knelt before him. “I wear your chains, Master,” I

  said, lifting them. “Do with me as you will.”

  “Better,” he said. “Next.”

  “See how Tiffany uses the cushion,” said the whip master.

  “That is good.”

  A girl must know how to use the cushions, just as the chains and furs. These

  cushions are usually large and soft.

  These are the sorts of cushions which are sometimes found at the foot of, or in

  the vicinity of’ thrones and curule chairs, generally intended for the use of

  slaves. They may also, of Course, be found in private dwellings. Sometimes a

  slave must remain on her cushion. Sometimes she is sent to it for punishment.

  She is taught to kneel upon it, to curl seductively on or about it, to lie

  across it, on her stomach or back, to hold It in Certain ways, and so on.

  “Good, Tiffany. Good,” said the whip master.

  “You are all slaves,” said the whip master.

  We all sat facing him, our backs against the wail of the training room. The

  palms of our hands were flat on the floor at our sides and our legs were

  extended before us, the ankles crossed, as though bound.

  “If you doubt that you are slaves, examine your thighs and Consider your

  collared necks.”

  ‘We looked at one another. We were not in doubt that we were slaves.

  The only question now is whether you will be adequate or adequate slaves,” he

  said. “This question, now that you are slaves, is basically a question of

  whether you will choose live or choose to die. That is your basic question. I

  suggest you face it. Each of you must make your own choice. I allow you against

  one mistake, One common to stupid or uninformed girls. That is the mistake of

  thinking that you can escape the full implications of your position by merely

  adopting what you think is slave behavior. That is not true.

  Authentic slave behavior is motivated from within, and is the natural

  manifestation of the yielded slave herself. The will and consciousness within is

  that of a slave. This, then, issues in authentic slave behavior. There are many

  ways, responses to physical and psychological tests, and subtle behavioral cues,

  to tell if slave behavior is authentic or not. The choice, thus, is, in effect,

  one of whether you choose to become a total slave, surrendered and obedient, in

  your mind as well as your behavior, or die.”

  “And this cut,” said the woman, herself a slave, though permitted a brief tunic,

  “is called the slave flame. See how it comes down the back, swirling.” She

  illustrated this with a kneeling girl whose hair had been cut, trimmed and

  shaped in this fashion. “This,” she said, moving to the next girl, “is an

  upswept fashion. It appears sophisticated. It is a hair-do favored by some free

  women, but it is not outlawed for slaves.

  Its pretentiousness, suggesting superciliousness and arrogance, contrasts nicely

  with the actual reality of the slave. The girl who wears this must watch her

  step, lest the master grow impatient with her. If you are permitted, to wear

  this hair-do, make certain that you, after an initial resistance, if he permits

  it’ yield to him as a particularly low and helpless girl. This hair-do here, on

  Crystal, with the bun in the back, is favored by many free women of the scribes.

  It, too, however, like the upswept hair-do has not been outlawed for slaves. Its

  apparent severity contrasts nicely with sexiness required of the slave.

  She may be freed of its severity, and brought into the natural modality of her

  yielding and submissive femininity
, with as little as a single tug, thusly. In

  contrast, regard Tiffany, who has the shorn look. Some men like this in a woman.

  To be sure, her hair is now growing out a bit. This is to be contrasted again,

  of course, with the shaven head, commonly inflicted only on a girl as a

  punishment or to protect her from lice in close confinements, such as on a slave

  ship. Again, in the matter of hair-dos as in all my instructions’ to you,

  whether having to do with perfumes, silks, cosmetics, ornamentation, or

  whatever, you are to consider the total effect, the entire ensemble.”

  “Well done, Tiffany,” he said. “You bring the whip well.”

  He took it from between my teeth.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said.

  “Next,” he said.

  I knelt before him, my head down, the palms of my hands On the tiles, in the

  fashion which Ligurious had required of his girls. “I beg for love, Master,” I

  whimpered. “I beg for love!” I licked at his feet. “I beg for love, Master!” I

  said.

  “You do it very well,” he said.

  I lifted my head, tears in my eyes. “But I do beg for love!” I said. ‘I have not

  been contented in weeks!”

  “How many of you other girls,” asked the whip master, regarding the class, “beg

  for love?”

  “I, Master!” cried a girl. “I, Master!” cried others.

  “How many?” he asked.

  And there was not one girl, naked and in her collar, in the entire class who did

  not raise her hand.

  “Good,” said the whip master. “Then you are hungry.”

  Our training then continued.

  “No two masters are the same,” said the whip master, “except in so far as each

  is the total master, just as no two slaves Eire the same, except that each is a

  total slave.”

  We all sat facing him, our backs against the wall of the Training room. The

  palms of our hands were flat on the floor at our sides and our legs were

  extended ‘before us, the ankles crossed, as though bound.

  “You must, accordingly, strive to understand, relate to, serve and please the

  unique master in each man. You must bring your own individual personalities and

  talents to bear on his challenge. Try in your uniqueness to be perfect and

 

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