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

by Kajira of Gor [lit]

  and sugars, the spices, the napkins and spoons. I then carried the tray, with

  the black wine, hot and steaming, to the table and put it down there. Susan

  then, as “first slave,” took the orders and did the measuring and mixing; I, as

  “second slave,” did the pouring. Afterward I returned the tray to the serving

  table, and the vessel of black wine to its warmer I then joined Susan, kneeling

  beside her in the vicinity of the serving table.

  “When it comes time to serve the liqueurs,” said Susan, “you will serve those of

  Cos and Ar, and I will serve those of Turia.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said. The liqueurs of Turia are usually regarded as the best,

  but I think this is largely a matter of taste. Those of Cos and of Ar, and of

  certain other cities, are surely very fine.

  I had little doubt that Drusus Rencius, of Ar, and Publius, at least once of Ar,

  would prefer those of their own city. Susan, I suspected, knowing my feelings

  for Drusus Rencius, was trying to be kind, giving me the liqueur that he was

  almost certain to choose. On the other hand, did she not know that now I could

  scarcely bear to face him, that I, only Ehn ago, had been proven before him to

  be a natural slave!

  “You are not a free woman,” whispered Susan. “Suppose the men look this way. Get

  those knees apart!”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said. Susan was younger and smaller than I but she, having

  seniority over me among the women of Miles of Argentum, was dominant over me. I

  must obey her as though she owned me, as though she was my Mistress. In such

  ways is order kept among slaves. It is in accord with the precisions and

  perfections of Gorean discipline. But the men did not soon call for their

  liqueurs. Twice more, rather, talking and sipping, did they call for black wine,

  and twice more did two slaves, Susan and Sheila, serve it to them. Eventually it

  grew late, and the musicians were permitted to withdraw.

  Still the men drank and talked.

  “Why are you crying?” asked Susan.

  “It is nothing,” I said. I gasped, and half choked. I held back sobs. I

  restrained my tears. I wiped my eyes with slave silk.

  Before the man I loved I had been stripped to the core. The one thing I had

  desired most fervently to conceal from him, above all men, bad been made clear

  to him. My secret Was revealed. My deepest and most secret self had been

  casually disrobed and displayed for his consideration. I had been publicly

  proven, before the man I loved, to be utterly worthless. I had been publicly

  proven to be a natural slave.

  “They are ready for their liqueurs,” whispered Susan.

  We then brought them to them, on the two small trays.

  “Liqueurs, Masters?” asked Susan.

  “Liqueurs, Masters?’ I asked.

  “Yes,” said Dertisus Heneius.

  “’Yes,” said Publius.

  Publius, to my surprise, selected a liqueur of Turia. “Those of Turia are the

  best,” he said to Drusus Rencius, smiling, almost apologetically.

  “Perhaps,” smiled Drusus Rencius, “but I prefer those of Ar.”

  ‘In the judgment of liqueurs,” said Publius, “’patriotism is out of place.”

  “I have never confused objectivity with municipal pride,” responded Drusus

  Rencius.

  “Perhaps,” said Publius. “But you also thought that this Woman was not a natural

  slave.”

  “That is true,” laughed Drusus Rencius.

  I looked at the silver tarsk oil the table near Publius. It seemed very large

  and very heavy. It glinted softly in the light. I could see, the light, a dark,

  crescentlike shadow on one side about its rim, oil the wood. He had not yet

  placed it in his pouch. He had won it from Drusus Rencius.

  “Look at me, Slave,” said Drusus Rencius.

  I struggled to lift my head. I met his eyes. Then I lowered my head, ashamed.

  “I was wrong about you,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I whispered.

  “You are indeed a natural slave,” be said, “and an obvious one.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  I looked again at the coin near Publius. Drusus Rencius had made a wager. He had

  lost the wager. He had lost the bet.

  “You may leave, Slaves,” said Publius.

  “Thank you, Master,” said Susan.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said. Then I turned and fled from the room, sobbing.

  Behind the I heard Publius laughing, a great, roaring laugh. He was well

  pleased, it seemed. Doubtless he should have been. He had won his bet.

  36 In the Quarters of My Master

  I was thrust, laughing and stumbling, down the hall before Drusus Rencius. I

  wore nothing but a steel collar locked on my neck.

  I preceded him, pushed’ and thrust toward his quarters. I laughed with joy. He

  was not gentle with me. He was angry.

  “To your belly!” he snarled, at the entrance to his quarters.

  Then, in a moment, as I lay on the tiles I felt my hands jerked behind my back

  and tied there, tightly. In another moment, I felt his strong hands cross my

  ankles and loop them with binding fiber. Then, by the loops, they were drawn

  closely together. Through my ankles I felt the jerking tight of the knots. I

  then lay there at his feet, helplessly trussed. He flung open the door, angrily.

  He then scooped me tip as though I might weigh nothing and threw me over his

  shoulder. I was then, as a capture and a slave, carried helplessly over the

  threshold. Within he put me on the floor, on the tiles, near the foot of the

  couch, near the slave ring. He then closed and locked the door behind us. He

  then came and stood near me, looming over me, looking down at me.

  This morning, early, had been sent stark naked, even collarless, to the

  courtyard, that I might bid farewell to my friends of Feast Slaves, who were now

  leaving for Ar. I had spoken with them, and kissed them, shedding tears. My

  favorites among them were Claudia, Crystal and Tupa, with whom I had been close

  friends. I watched them all, one by one, naked, ankle-chained, then climbing

  into the wagon, threading their chains about the opened central bar, then taking

  their places. Many times had I, too, similarly secured, en route to various

  destinations, usually in the city of Ar itself, been similarly secured and

  transported.

  “You are naked,” observed the voice.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. The voice was that of Drusus Rencius.

  I had not been given permission to turn, “Where is your collar?” he asked.

  “I do not know, Master,” I said. “It was removed from me this morning.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I do not know, Master,” I said. “I suppose it is to be changed.”

  “That is true,” said the voice.

  “Master?” I asked.

  “You are going to be put in a new collar,” he said.

  “Master?” I asked.

  “I have it here,” he said.

  â€�
�You, Master?” I inquired.

  He stepped about, in front of me. He showed me an opened collar, graceful and

  slim, and of inflexible steel.

  “Read it,” he said, indicating the legend which, in small, graceful letters, was

  incised in the metal.

  “I cannot read, Master,” I said. “I have never been taught.”

  “Oh, splendid,” he said, irritably. “An illiterate slave!”

  “Some men think they are the best kind,” I said, not a little irritated myself.

  I was not illiterate in English, of course, only in Gorean. I had not been

  taught to read in Corcyrus, probably in order to better keep the politics of the

  city from me, and in order to guard against my better understanding my position

  there. Many Gorean slaves, of course, are illiterate, and deliberately kept so.

  In that fashion, for example, she may be used to carry messages about, even

  having to do with herself. The common way in which a girl carries a Gorean

  message is on foot, with her hand braceleted behind her. The message is then

  inserted in a capped leather tube tied about her neck. Given the braceleting, of

  course, even a literate girl may be used to carry messages in this fashion,

  which may or may not have to do with herself. Some men feel that if a woman is

  taught to read and write, particularly after she has been made a slave, she may

  come to think that she is important. This delusion, of course, may be swiftly

  removed from her by the whip. For what it is worth, literacy commonly increases

  the value of a slave. It may usually be depended upon to add a few copper tarsks

  to her value

  “You seem bitter,” said Drusus Rencius.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “My own master has not even seen fit to change my collar,” I said.

  “I see,” he said.

  “What collar is it,” I asked, “the collar of a scullery maid, of a kitchen

  slave?” I had not realized I had been so displeasing last night.

  “Neither,” said Drusus Rencius, “or, perhaps, in a sense, both, and that of

  other slaveries, as well.”

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “What is so hard to understand?” he asked.

  “You have been empowered by Miles of Argentum to change my collar, have you

  not?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  I touched the collar, fearfully. “I do not understand,” I whispered. I feared

  for Drusus Rencius. I feared he had committed a crime.

  “I do not need that power,” he said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because it is my collar,” he said.

  “Yours!” I cried. I almost turned about.

  “Yes,” he said. “I bought you last night.”

  I fainted.

  lay now naked, save for my collar, on the tiles of the quarters of Drusus

  Rencius, in the palace at Argentum.

  I had apparently not long been permitted the luxury of unconsciousness in the

  courtyard. I had awakened, held in a sitting position, my face, stinging,

  seeming to explode, being jerked, by blows, first with the flat of a hand, and

  then with its back, from side to side. Gorean men are not always indulgent with

  their female slaves. I scrambled to my knees and looked up at my master, Drusus

  Rencius, of Ar. “To my quarters, and swiftly, Slave,” he snarled.

  “Yes, Master!” I had cried, joyfully.

  I had then preceded him to his quarters, moving swiftly, but scarcely swiftly

  enough, it seemed, from the point of view of Drusus Rencius, striding fiercely

  behind me, like some impatient, grumbling giant. It seemed he could not wait to

  get me alone. Many times was I hurried, pushed and thrust from be-hind. I was

  even twice kicked. It was not my fault that I was a woman, and that my legs were

  shorter than his! Then, at his portal, I had been ordered to my belly. I had

  then been bound, hand and foot. I had then been carried into the room, over his

  shoulder, as a slave, helpless. He had put me down on the tiles, near the foot

  of his couch, near the slave ring. He had locked the door. He was now standing

  near me, looking down at me. I pulled, futilely, at the ropes on my wrists and

  ankles. I was bound, perfectly. The door was locked. I was a slave girl alone

  with her master. I was utterly helpless.

  He stepped back a bit. His face was unreadable.

  “Whip me!” I begged. “I love you! Teach me that you own me!”

  He took a step, further back.

  “I beg the lash, Master,” I said. My heart was filled with joy and love.

  His face was expressionless. He did not speak.

  “Let me kneel before you,” I said, “and beg to be beaten with a slave whip.”

  He did not speak.

  “Whip me!” I begged. “I love you! I love you!”

  “Slave,” he sneered.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “Natural slave,” he said, angrily.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  “I did not know you were a natural slave,” he said.

  “You knew it before you bought me,” I said. “You knew it from last night.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “But still you bought me!” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I love you!” I said.

  “You are a natural slave,” he said. “Your love is Worthless.”

  “It is, at any rate, real,” I assured him.

  “I wonder,” he said.

  “You paid for it,” I said. “You must have wanted it.”

  “Perhaps,” he said “Master?” I asked.

  “Perhaps I have purchased you not for your love, but for your hate,” he said.

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “You have caused me much grief and pain,” he said, “particularly when you were a

  free woman, in Corcyrus.”

  “I am sorry, Master,” I said.

  “And well you might be,” he said, “as you are now my slave.”

  “I am sorry anyway,” I said.

  “Perhaps it is my intention to humiliate you, to debase~ and degrade you, to

  abuse you, to teach you, at my hands, fear, misery and pain!”

  “You may do with me as you please,” I smiled. “I am your slave.”

  “I wonder how you will like it,” he mused, “in your collar, hating me, but

  utterly helpless, knowing that you must obey me, absolutely, and serve me, in

  all things, with total perfection.”

  “I do not hate you,” I laughed. “And you need not concern yourself with

  obedience and service. As I am a slave, you may depend upon them. Too, I shall

  render them to you eagerly, not only from the meaning of my collar but from the

  bottom of my heart.”

  “Perhaps I should debase and degrade you,” he said.

  ‘The more you debase and degrade me, Master,” I ‘said, “the more I shall love

  you.”

  “How you tortured me in Cor
cyrus!” he said, angrily, looking down at me.

  “I was cruel and petty,” I said.

  “Much misery did you cause me,” he said, angrily.

  “I am sorry,” I smiled. I was not completely displeased, of course, to learn of

  his discomfort.

  “You are not truly sorry, are you?” he asked, a smile about his lips.

  “Not really,” I admitted, shrugging in the ropes.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I am a woman,” I said.

  “Women enjoy taunting men, and tormenting them with desire,” he said.

  “Some women, sometimes,” I said.

  “You, then,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said, angrily, rising to my elbows, “I, then!”

  “I thought so,” he said.

  ‘It is a flattering tribute to a woman’s power,” I said, “her capacity to arouse

  desire!”

  “Doubtless,” he said, bitterly.

  “I only wish I had known how important I was to you at the’ time,” I said. “That

  would have made the matter much more amusing!”

  “I see,” he said.

  “I am glad to learn, even now,’ I said, “how much I had disturbed you. Thank you

  for confessing it to me!”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, quietly, perhaps too quietly. “I’m glad I made you

  miserable!” I said, angrily. “I’m glad I made you sweat and squirm, when you

  could not have me!” I was glad, too!

  In Corcyrus he, though desperately attracted to me, I think, had resisted my

  advances. This had caused me great frustration. I had, as a consequence of this

  spurning of me; taken a woman’s vengeance upon him. I had, in a thousand ways,

  in glances, in small words, in smiles, in tiny gesture’s, in movements, in

  seemingly careless proximities, seeming inadvertences, tormented him. I had seen

  to it, many times, that passions would flash and flame in Drusus Rencius, which

  I would then, haughtily, refuse to satisfy.

  ‘But those days are gone, aren’t they?” said Drusus Renlay back on the tiles.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. I swallowed hard. I was very conscious, then, of my

  nudity, and of the tight binding on my wrists and ankles, making me absolutely

  helpless.