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

Norman, John - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor.txt Page 40

by Kajira of Gor [lit]

  of Earth, or a typical man of Earth. He was a Gorean male.

  I twisted a bit on the tiles, carefully, so as not to dislodge the sheet. I

  moved my wrists a little, they locked helplessly behind my back in their slave

  bracelets.

  How men do with us as they please, I thought. How they master us!

  I pulled for a moment, angrily, futilely, irrationally, against the slave

  bracelets, but I could not, of course, free myself.

  What a glorious world this is for men, I thought, that here women such as I must

  serve and please them!

  But then I squirmed with pleasure and joy.

  And what a glorious world for women, I thought, that here we must so serve and

  please!

  I felt then the raptures of my bondage, from the tranquilities of selfless

  service to the ecstasy of a slave’s sexual surrender to the dominant male, the

  master. How perfect I was for bondage; how perfect bondage was for me. I had

  been designed by nature for bondage. This was clear in my body, and in my nature

  and dispositions. I rejoiced that I had been brought to a world in which I was

  free to fulfill, and, in certain circumstances, would have no choice but to

  fulfill, this implicit destiny. Here, on Gor, there were none of the confusions,

  the denials, the lies and ambiguities of Earth; here there was clarity,

  structure and truth. Here civilization did not war with nature; here slaves were

  slaves, and masters masters. Here I would be what I was, and without compromise,

  a slave. I did not object. Rather was I thrilled with this, as Iliad now

  learned, my natural fulfillment.

  I was frightened of Miles of Argentum.

  He seemed to think of me not as the helpless and lowly slave I was, a mere girl

  rented .for his pleasure for an evening, but as though I were a high lady and

  free captive, Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus, who was then, perhaps in his

  vengeance on her for her escape from his camp, to be humiliated and humbled, and

  forced even, in her now unbreakable captivity to perform and serve as a slave.

  Certainly he had taken much pleasure with me.

  But he must know that the true Sheila had fallen to Has-san, the Slave Hunter.

  Only recently he had brought her to Argentum in a golden sack. Even now, for his

  amusement, he kept her for several Ahn a day in that sack, suspended, tied shut

  in the throne room, while business was conducted. The sack was to be opened, and

  she was to be presented to Claudius Ubar of Argentum, and the high council, and

  high citizen celebr of Argentum, at the climax of a great feast, to be ated two

  days from now.

  So what interest had Miles of Argentum in me?

  Surely he did not think that I might be the real Sheila.

  In his treatment of me, and in calling me Sheila, and so on, surely he had been

  only playing a game with me.

  He could not remember me that clearly, I hoped, from his appearance before me in

  the great hall, when I had sat upon the throne, for from the time when he had

  had me locked, naked, a captive, in a golden cage.

  No He was only playing with me.

  I was merely Tiffany, a feast slave, brought to Argentum with others to serve at

  the victory feast.

  It was not my fault if I bore some remote resemblance to Sheila the Tatrix of

  Corcyrus.

  I reminded myself that Miles of Argentum did not own me

  I reminded myself that he had only rented me for an eve-fling, for a night, as

  men may rent women such as I.

  Alin, in the morning, I would be returned to my keepers. I would then forget

  about me. In a matter of days, probably some three or four days, I would be on

  my way back with the others.

  I had nothing to fear.

  He did not own me. That was what was most important He could not even harm me,

  at least seriously, or permanently, without paying some form of restitution to

  the Enterprises of Aemilianus. I was, after all, their girl proper not his.

  I then, toward morning, fell asleep.

  I awakened rather late. It must have been around the eighth Ahn. The room was

  flooded with light.

  There had been a knock at the door. lt must have been girl keeper coming for me,

  I thought. I struggled to my knees. is in such a position that a slave girl

  commonly greets a ft man. I did not wish to be kicked or cuffed for discourse

  braceleted as I was, I could not keep the sheet on me. It fell across my thighs.

  But it was someone else, I saw. Miles Argentum, dressed and shaved, answered the

  door.

  “She will be with you shortly,” he said. I did not understand that remark. He

  then closed the door. I gathered the man might be waiting outside. I did not

  recognize him.

  “I see that you are up, Lady Sheila,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “It is just as well,” he said. “It is now past the eigth Ahn.

  I did not understand, at that time, the reference to the eighth Ahn. Was that

  supposed to have some significance me?

  I was then startled. I felt Miles of Argentum, from the back, pressing a tiny

  key into my collar.

  “Master!” I cried.

  He then, to my astonishment, opened the collar and I moved iL

  “Master,” I said, “what are you doing? How can you this? Where did you get the

  key?”

  “In Ar,” he said, “several days ago, the first day after saw you in the city. I

  paid for you then, but the transfer ownership, as specified in the contract, as

  I wished, did not become effective until this morning, at the eighth Aim. A few

  Ehn ago, unknown to you, you became mine.

  “Surely you jest, Master,” I wept. “Feast Slaves would not wish to sell me in

  this fashion. I am needed. There is no replacement here for me. There is no girl

  to attend to my duties!”

  “I did not realize one serving slave was so significant,” he said, amused.

  “They like to have a full complement of slaves on hand,” I assured him. “If I

  were to be sold to you, they would have sent out an extra girl, an addition to

  my group.”

  “And so they have,” he said, smiling, “though separately, as I requested. Her

  name is Emily. Perhaps you know her?”

  “I looked’ at him, aghast.

  “Do you know her?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. “She was trained in the cycle after mine. Apparently they

  have now transferred her to my group.

  “Doubtless as your replacement,” he grinned.

  “Yes, Master,” I whispered. I looked at him. “’Then I belong to you, truly?” I

  asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “every inch, every hair, every freckle, every drop of sweat,

  every drop of intimate oil.”

  I shuddered.

  “Here is your new collar,” he said, displaying it for me. “Isn’t it lovely?”

  “Yes, Master,” I said. It was an attractive collar of gleaming steel, with a

  sturdy, heavy lock at the back. In it I would be marked as well, and confined as

  efficiently as I had been by the collar of Aemilianus.

  “See here
?” he asked. “ ‘I am the property of Miles of Argentum,’” he read.

  “Yes, Master,” I said, miserably

  “Lift your chin,” he said.

  I did so.

  He then snapped the collar about my throat. I wore the collar, then, of Miles of

  Argentum.

  “It is a perfect fit,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “It is the same size as the other collar,” he said. “I had your collar size from

  the Enterprises of Aemilianus.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “You do not seem pleased,” he said. “I do not understand that. I thought you

  would be overjoyed.”

  “I am overjoyed, Master,” I whispered.

  “Good,” he said. “I like my girls to be happy.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “I paid fifteen silver tarsks for you,” he said.

  I was startled. “That is too high a price for me,’ I said.

  “I do not think so,” be smiled.

  “I am not worth anything like that,” I said. For such a price one might get a

  fine dancer. Some of the lesser girls in a Ubar’s pleasure gardens might not

  have cost so much.

  “You are to me,” he said.

  “I will endeavor to see that you get your money’s worth,” I said.

  “Have no fear,” he said. “I will.”

  I began to tremble, uncontrollably. He freed my left ankle of its shackle, that

  which had fastened me to the slave ring.

  “Stand,” he said. I stood.

  “You are not very tall, are you?” he said. “No, Master,” I said.

  “But you are well curved,” he said.

  “Perhaps, Master,” I said. “Thank you, Master.”

  “This is the key to your slave bracelets,” he said. He showed me a key, on a

  string. He slung the string over my head and, by it, hung the key about my neck.

  It fell between my breasts. Much good it did me. I could not reach it with my

  braceleted hands.

  “I am going to turn you over now to Krotidos, my slave master,” he said. “You

  will find him a kindly and fair man. On the other hand, your least imperfection

  in either discipline or service will be severely and promptly punished.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “As I am an indulgent master,” he said, “you will be accorded clothing from your

  first day in my ownership.”

  “Master is generous,” I said. I was not speaking ironically. Sometimes a girl,

  particularly a new girl, must strive for days to earn even a narrow strip of

  cloth and a piece of string.

  “It will be a tunic appropriate to the girls of Miles of Argentum,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. He was a soldier. He probably would have a distinctive

  tunic, in effect, a uniform, for his females. I had no doubt, too, he being a

  soldier, that it would display us well.

  “Clothing privileges, of course, may be quickly revoked,” he said.

  “Of course, Master,” I said.

  “You look well,” he said, “my former regal slut, now reduced to total slavery,

  naked and in slave bracelets.”

  “No,” I whimpered. “No, no.” I shook my head, helplessly, trying to deny his

  accusation.

  “To my lips,” he commanded.

  I fled to him, and kissed him, deeply, as a slave. I drew back. I saw that I had

  kissed him too well. “No, no,” I whimpered.

  He took me by the upper arms and, thrusting me from behind forced me across the

  room. He then put me over one of the large chests at the side of the room. I

  felt the wood of the chest, and the iron bands. The key about my neck, on its

  string, made a small sound as it struck the wood.

  “It is not my fault if I bear a resemblance to Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus,”

  I said.

  “You kissed well,” he said.

  “Oh!” I cried, entered.

  “Very well,” he said.

  “Thank you, Master,” I moaned. Sometimes a slave girl does not understand the

  incredible power she exerts over men, what she can do to them with a kiss, with

  a glance, with a smile, a gesture, a touch. My wrists twisted helplessly in the

  slave bracelets.

  “I cannot help it if I resemble her!” I said.

  “You do more than resemble her,” he said.

  “Master?” I cried.

  “You were she,” he said.

  “No, no!” I cried.

  “We do not wish to keep Krondos waiting, do we?” he asked.

  “No, Master,” I moaned. “Of course not!”

  “I have discussed your work schedules with him,” he said. “You will be worked

  hard for some five Ahn a day. Your tasks will be such things as laundering,

  scrubbing floors, and working in the kitchens. These seem suitable tasks for the

  former Tatrix of Corcyrus. Do you not think so?”

  “Yes, Master,” I moaned. “Oh, Master!”

  “You respond well,” he said. “I always thought you were a slave.”

  “Yes, Master,” I sobbed.

  “During most of the day,” he said, “you will have the run of the palace and the

  grounds.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  32 The Throne Room

  The throne room in the palace at Argentum was now cool and dark. I entered,

  fearfully, a slave girl frightened to be in such a place. It had a lofty

  ceiling. I walked barefoot on the tiles to the vicinity of the dais and throne.

  I turned, suddenly, fearfully, as the door closed behind me. I could not see, in

  the shadows, who had shut it.

  “Master?” I asked. I knelt, not knowing what else to do. This was the afternoon

  of the day of the great feast, that for which, purportedly, feast slaves had

  been brought even from Ar. No longer now, of course, was I a feast slave. I was

  now a work slave and pleasure slave owned by Miles of Argenturn. Tonight, at the

  feast, I was to be presented naked and in chains to Claudius, the Uber of

  Argentum, and the council. I looked up, toward the ceiling. Suspended there,

  some forty feet from the floor, on a long rope, almost lost in the shadows, was

  a golden sack. The sack, weighted, hung heavily on the taut rope. Sometimes,

  with a creak of rope, it swung slightly. I was reminded of an almost immobile

  pendulum.

  I heard a sound in the shadows, near the door. I looked quickly in that

  direction.

  I could see nothing in the darkness.

  “Master?” I called.

  A girl had told me that I was to report to the throne room. She was conveying

  this message on behalf of a free man. She did not recognize him. Ile had seemed

  important, authoritative. As she had hesitated to obey him, in relaying his

  message, so, too, I would not hesitate to obey him, in complying with it.

  Neither of us could guess his office or status. That he was within the palace,

  however, a free man, clearly s
uggested to us his possession of some privilege or

  power. As we were slaves, we obeyed. The man had been described to me by the

  girl, who had seemed shaken by her encounter with him, merely as one who was

  obviously a natural master of women such as we, slaves.

  I could see him now, dimly, in the shadows, as my eyes adjusted to the light. He

  was standing near the door. He was a large man. “Head down,” he said, “palms on

  the floor.”

  I immediately assumed this position. The voice sounded familiar, but I could not

  place it. It sounded, too, somewhat tense or feigned. I wondered if that were

  its natural sound, or if it were being disguised.

  I heard steps coming around behind me. Then, from behind, my head was pulled up,

  by the hair.

  I now knelt, with my back straight. My tunic, then, the tunic of Miles of

  Argentum, that brief, trim tunic, of brown, trimmed with yellow with the

  plunging neckline, and slit at the sides to the rib stripped away from me, from

  the back.

  My hands then, with two loops of a thong, were tied be-hind me.

  “Master?” I begged. Then I could not speak. A heavy wadding was thrust into my

  mouth and secured there with a folded strip of cloth, drawn deeply back between

  my teeth, knotted tightly behind the back of my neck.

  was then turned about and put on my back before my captor, on the tiles at the

  foot of the dais on which reposed the throne of Argentum.

  I squirmed in terror. I uttered muted, tiny sounds.

  “Yes,” said he. “it is I, Ligurious, once first minister of Corcyrus.”

  I looked up at him, in terror.

  “I, and two others,” he said, “escaped the raid in Ar.” I recalled I had heard

  swordplay, and the crashing of glass. “I see that you are now a branded,

  collared slave,” he said. “It is appropriate. That is not the major or primary

  reason you were brought to Gor, but it was the minor or secondary reason You

  were destined, from the beginning, if not for the impaling spear, then,

  eventually, for the collar.”

  I looked up at him, terrified, over the gag, naked and helplessly bound before

  him.

  “You are a natural slave,” he said. “Perhaps you know that by now. The brand and

  collar are perfect on you. You are a thousand times more beautiful as a slave

 

‹ Prev Next ›