Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor.txt

Norman, John - Gor 20 - Players of Gor.txt Page 29

by Players of Gor [lit]

  at an instant when we are struggling in desperate straits, at a time when we

  find ourselves in agonizing and desperate need.”

  “She does?” asked Lecchio, a golden necklace draped about his neck, taken from

  he loot of the brigands.

  “Yes!” said Boots.

  “Ah, yes!” mused Chino.

  “I have consented to Lady Telitsia’s joining our company,” announced Boots.

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  “No!” she cried, her head back, wincing, her hair in Boots’s grasp.

  “Yes!” reaffirmed Boots. “Too, she comes to us just in time to solve one of our

  most pressing problems.”

  “Yes, indeed,” agreed Andronicus.

  “I do not understand,” said Lecchio.

  “Is the matter not clear?” asked Boots.

  “No,” said Lecchio.

  “Behold, Gentlemen,” said Boots, pulling her head back a bit more and indicating

  her, displaying her, expansively with the palm of his left hand, “we have found

  our Brigella!”

  “No!” cried the girl.

  The fellows applauded Boots, admiringly, striking their left shoulders in Gorean

  applause.

  “No!” she cried. “Never!”

  “She is even prettier than the last,” said Lecchio.

  “I think she will do very nicely,” said Chino.

  “An excellent choice,” said Andronicus.

  “I refuse!” she cried. “The very thought of it! The outrage! The indignity! How

  dare you even think of such a thing! I am of high caste! I am of the scribes!

  Wait until I bring this matter to the attention of magistrates!”

  “As I may remind you, my dear,” said Boots, patiently, “you are no longer of

  high caste nor of the scribes. Similarly, as I am sure you will recognize, at

  least upon reflection, you now have no standing before the law. You are now of

  no more interest to magistrates, in their official capacities, as opposed to

  their private capacities, than would be an urt or a sleen.”

  She regarded him, frightened.

  “Your days of making a nuisance of yourself are now over,” said Boots. “Indeed,

  I speculate that those very same magistrates whom you have so often

  inconvenienced would be quite pleased to learn that you are now, at last, no

  longer capable of pestering them with your inane, time-consuming nonsense. I

  doubt that they would wish to see you again, unless perhaps it would be to

  return you naked and bound to your master, with the blows of a whip on your

  body, or perhaps, say, to have you serve them in a tavern, helpless in the

  modality that would then be yours, that of the total female slave.”

  “Please!” she begged.

  “Hitherto you have sought to use men for your purposes,” said Boots. “That is

  now changed. It is now you who will be used for their purposes, fully. In the

  past you have made many

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  demands on men. Henceforth it will be your hope rather that they will find you

  pleasing, in all respects.”

  “I am a free woman!” she cried.

  “You will soon learn differently,” said Boots.

  “I am free!” she wept.

  “That is not true,” said Boots, “as you will soon come to understand.”

  “I am not a slave,” she wept. “I cannot be a slave!”

  “Silence, Slave,” said Boots.

  “Please!” she wept.

  “It has been a busy day,” said Boots. “Chino, would you please untie the slave’s

  ankles?”

  “Surely,” he said.

  Boots then drew her to her feet and held her head, bent down, by the hair, at

  his waist, in leading position. Her hands were still tied behind her. “Lecchio,

  Chino, Andronicus, Petrucchio, if you would,” said Boots, “bring along these

  other things, whatever seems of value.”

  “Very well,” they assented.

  “It is growing late, and I am weary,” said Boots to Lady Telitsia. “It will be

  time enough in the morning to whip you.”

  “Whip me?” she gasped.

  “I will then be fresher and can lay the lash to you more roundly,” he said.

  “The lash?” she queried.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “You’re joking!” she said.

  “You may ponder that tonight, while chained in the girl wagon,” he said.

  “But why?” she asked.

  “You have not been pleasing,” he said, “not that that matters that much. As you

  know, no excuse, explanation, defense or reason is required to justify the

  whipping of a female slave. She may be beaten for any reason, or for no reason,

  whenever the master wishes. She may be whipped even, if he wishes, on the

  outcome of the spinning of a wheel or the cast of a die.”

  I crouched down beside my own prisoner, the free female, she whom I had

  shackled, she whose beauty seemed to strain protestingly against the long, thin

  gown put upon her by the brigands, as though calling for a man to tear it from

  her.

  “You look upon me boldly,” she said.

  “You are a captive,” I reminded her.

  “But I am to be kept in honor!” she said.

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  “Of course,” I said, “or at least for a time.”

  “I wear your gyves,” she reminded me.

  I regarded her fair ankles, snug in their metal fastenings, linked by the short

  chain. They could not now be parted, unless I chose to do so.

  “Perhaps it is your intention to remove them?” she asked, apprehensively.

  “Perhaps I shall occasionally remove them,” I said, “perhaps for the purposes of

  exercise.”

  “Exercise?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “For example, I might wish to take you—”

  “Take me?” she asked.

  “Say, for a run on a leash,” I said.

  “I see,” she said.

  “We must soon return to our camp,” said Boots, his fist in the bent-over Lady

  Telitsia’s hair.

  “Surely you will remove my fetters at least to permit me to walk to your camp,”

  suggested my captive.

  I saw that she wanted the fetters off. I wondered if this was because she

  desired to escape, or if she wished to be caressed.

  “Otherwise,” she said, “I fear the journey will be both lengthy and painful. I

  do not even know if I can stand in them.”

  “You can stand in them,” I said. “It is only that it would be difficult to move

  in them without falling.”

  “I see,” she said.

  “You could always crawl,” I said, “dragging yourself forward, say, on your hands

  or elbows.”

  “Perhaps if your camp is close, I might, dragging myself through the underbrush,

  arrive there by morning.”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “If I did
not get lost, or fall to sleen,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” I speculated.

  “Doubtless you will now, for your convenience, remove them,” she said.

  “No,” I said.

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  “They were not put on you to be removed so soon,” I said.

  “How then shall I get to your camp?” she asked, apprehensively.

  “I have another mode of transportation in mind for you,” I said, “a mode which I

  trust you will find instructive.”

  “No!” she begged.

  “Yes,” I said.

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  “Head forward,” she pleaded.

  “No,” I said, “you shall be carried to the camp on my shoulder, your hands tied,

  your ankles helpless in their fetters.”

  “My head forward,” she begged.

  “No,” I said, “to the rear.”

  “As a slave!” she cried, angrily.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Even she there, she who is naked and bound, she who is a true slave, is

  permitted to walk!”

  “I do not think you will long envy her,” I said.

  Lady Telitsia, now a slave, whimpered, frightened.

  “You treat me as a slave,” said my captive. “Perhaps you will soon make me a

  slave!”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “Your eyes rove me brazenly, I note,” she said, angrily, “as though I might be a

  slave.”

  “Yes,” I admitted. To be sure, she was quite beautiful. I had no doubt but what

  she might, if collared and trained, and brought into touch with her feelings,

  prove to be not only an adequate slave, but perhaps even a quite marvelous one.

  “You said,” she said, “that you would get me something else to wear.”

  “Have no fear,” I said. “I shall.”

  “Let us be on our way,” said Boots.

  I scooped up the woman and threw her over my shoulder, her head to the rear. She

  was not heavy. I looked out, into the shadows of the woods. I did not think she

  would be likely to forget this nocturnal journey, being carried helplessly

  through the darkness into captivity.

  “Back at the fair,” said Boots to me, “as I recall, you expressed your eagerness

  to join our company.”

  “yes,” I said.

  “As I recall, as well,” said he, “you were willing to work without pay.”

  “True,” I grinned.

  “That seems a suitable arrangement from my point of view.” said Boots.

  “Boots,” warned Andronicus, sternly.

  “But, of course, even though it might be difficult, we shall struggle to manage

  some small remuneration—somehow,” Boots assured me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “It is nothing,” said Boots, generously.

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  “And if you are not careful, it will be,” said Chino, cheerfully.

  Boots then set off confidently through the woods.

  “Your camp,” I said to him, “is more to the right. That’s it.”

  Boots led the way, Lady Telitsia stumbling along, bent over, held, beside him,

  in approximately the right direction. He was followed by his fellows, carrying

  various articles taken from the brigands’ camp. I then brought up the rear, on

  my shoulder the Lady Yanina.

  page 206

  10 A Pleasant Morning in Camp; The Lady Yanina Will Obey

  “Are you comfortable, Lady Telitsia?” asked Boots.

  “Yes,” she said. She knelt, her wrists tied together over her head, fastened by

  a short strap to a transversely mounted, sturdy wooden bar. It was about five

  feet from the ground. It was the morning after he had acquired her.

  “Surely you are bluffing, and you have no intention of going through with this,”

  she said. She was naked, except for a collar. The legend on the collar said, “If

  you find me, return me to Boots Tarsk-Bit. Reward.” It was the same collar as

  was worn by Boots’s other girls. He had put it on her immediately after

  returning to the camp last night. He had then chained her in the girl wagon, on

  one of the open, steel-floored, steel-sided kennels, and retired. This morning,

  early, he had dragged her forth and bound her in her present position. He had

  then h ad a large breakfast. Doubtless she was quite hungry. Still she had not

  yet been fed. That was just as well, considering what was to be done to her.

  Boots shook out the blades of a five-stranded Gorean slave ship.

  “As I recall,” said Boots, “you said, at the fair, that you were not afraid of

  men.”

  She was silent.

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  “How proudly you said that,” marveled Boots, swinging the freed lash blades

  loosely. “To be sure, at that time, you probably had never had any reason to be

  afraid of men. Now that you are a slave, however, you will find that you do have

  reason, and ample reason, and not only to fear men, but, indeed, any free

  person.”

  “I am hungry,” she said. “Am I to be fed?”

  “Perhaps when you learn to beg for it,” he said.

  “Never,” she said.

  “Did you enjoy your night in the girl wagon?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “The steel was cold. I did not even have a rag to put between

  myself and the steel.”

  “To be sure, the nights are chilly,” said Boots.

  “I would like to have a blanket in the future,” she said.

  “There might be a shred of a blanket somewhere about,” said Boots. “Perhaps you

  could beg for it.”

  “Never,” she said.

  “I gave you some time last night, while you were chained in the girl wagon,”

  said Boots, “to consider your up-coming beating this morning. Did you give it

  much thought?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Why not?” asked Boots.

  “You would not dare to beat me,” she said.

  “Why not?” asked Boots, eager to be informed.

  “Because of the kind of person I am,” she said. “I am above being beaten. That

  is for low females.”

  “Such as slaves?” asked Boots.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I see,” said Boots.

  “As it turns out,” she said, “I am right.”

  “How is that?” asked Boots.

  “If you were going to beat me,” she said, “you would have already done so by

  now.”

  “I have been giving my breakfast some time to digest,” said Boots. “I would not

  wish to upset my stomach.”

  “Of course not,” she said, ironically.

  “But now,” said Boots, “I think I will be all right.”

  “What?” she asked, half turning about.

  “You have been a nuisance, Lady Telitsia,” he said. “I think I will very much

  enjoy whipping
you.”

  “You’re serious!” she suddenly said, alarmed.

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “Wait!” she said, twisting in the ropes. “I am prepared to

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  admit that in some legal sense I am a slave, and that I am theoretically subject

  to such things!”

  “Very much more so than theoretically, my dear,” said Boots.

  “But I am too refined, too sensitive to be whipped!”

  “Nonsense,” said Boots.

  “It is inappropriate to whip me,” she said. “I am a lady of quality.”

  “You are only another slave,” said Boots.

  “Wait!” she cried.

  “What now?” asked Boots, impatiently.

  “I am bound,” she wept, twisting in the ropes. “I am naked. I am tied in such a

  way that I cannot protect myself. I am exposed helplessly, utterly, to your

  mercy.”

  “Of course,” said Boots.

  “But it will hurt,” she said.

  “Have you ever felt the whip?” asked Boots.

  “No!” she said.

  “Then how do you know it will hurt?” he asked.

  “I have seen girls beaten,” she said.

  “Perhaps it does not hurt much,” said Boots. He himself, of course, earlier, at

  her instigation, when she was a free woman, had been flogged at the fair. This

  turnabout then must have been extra delicious for him, in addition to the

  simple, straightforward pleasure of giving her a good beating. To be sure, Boots

  had been beaten with a heavy whip, of the sort used on men, whereas she would

  find herself under only the familiar, common five-stranded Gorean salve lash.

  Still it is not without reason that that implement is much favored on Gor for

  the disciplining of females. Without permanently marking the girl it punishes

  with excruciating, terrible efficiency. The mere sight of wsuch a whip generally

  inspires terror in any female who has ever felt it.

  “Do not whip me!” she cried. “It is not necessary! I admit that I am a slave! I

  am a slave! I will even obey!”

  “Prepare to be beaten,” said Boots.

  “Mercy!” she cried.

  “To quote someone I once heard at the fair,” said Boots, “I do not choose to

  show you mercy.”

  The bound female groaned, hearing her own words.

 

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