Dancer of Gor coc-22

by John Norman

  "Position!" we heard.

  Immediately every girl on every platform assumed position. I looked about, as I could. Every girl that I saw has assumed, as I had, the open-kneed position. It was required of them. I gathered, as it was required of me. They were all attractive. I wondered what sort of slaves we were, that we must kneel in this fashion.

  In a few moments we were lined up, according to our separate lots. I at the end of mine, facing not the large, closed double doors which let to the area outside, those doors through which the customers had entered, but the other large, closed double doors, those which, apparently led somewhere else. Gloria was in front of me, as usual. Her hands were manacled behind her back. my hands, too, were identically secured. On her neck, as on mine, was a buckled, two-ringed, leather collar. It was the sort of collar which may be easily put on, and removed from, a girl. The girl, of course, if manacled as we were, is helpless in it. The rings are located at 180 degrees from one another. This permits girls to be fastened, the collar oriented appropriately, either side by side, in ranks, or behind one another, in files. A leather strap, with snaps at both ends, joins the rings, usually the ring at the back of one collar to the ring at the front of another. Gloria, being ahead of me, was thus leashed to the ring at the back of the girl" s collar ahead of her, and I was leashed to the ring at the back of Gloria" s collar. As I was at the end of the line, the ring at the back of my collar hung free, against the leather, not utilized.

  The double doors before us, were opened.

  I could see a long corridor, dimly lit with lamps. It was, like the exposition area, floored with dirt. That made sense, as doubtless tarsks, those of the four-footed variety, those bristly, squat, grunting animals, as opposed to the two-footed variety, those soft, smooth, shapely animals, were often conducted through it.

  I looked down the long, dark, dirt-floored corridor.

  Our group, it seemed, would be neither the first, nor, given our position, the last to enter that corridor.

  I looked down at the writing on my left breast. It was, I had been told, an "89," my lot number.

  We had been fed very lightly today.

  There was a reason for that. Tonight we were going on the block.

  9 The Sales Barn; The Block; The Cage

  Our group would be the next into the shoot. We could see it on the other side of the barred gate, the narrow, wooden ramp, with the low, wooden walls, open at the top, with the two gates, one for the shoot itself, to control the number of animals entering it, the other, slanting, behind which men might stand, which, when closed, given its diagonal, served to guide animals into the shoot, the shoot" s gate, for such a purpose, then being held back, or, if it were desired to admit several animals, hooked back, open.

  Gloria, ahead of me, was squatting over the bowl.

  We were still in line, but we were no longer in the two-ringed, leather collars, or leashed, or manacled. Bars were in front of us, and behind us. This was one of several holding areas, and the last before the shoot. Two holding areas back we had been given water, order to drink plentifully. That water, of course, as of yet, had not had time to pass through our system.

  A man slid the bowl back to me. "Relieve yourself," he said.

  I squatted over the bowl.

  "How do you feel?" asked the man. I looked up. it was Teibar, he of Market of Semris. His voice was kindly. He seemed not unconcerned. The last time he had seen me, I supposed, might have been when I had collapsed, unconscious, overcome, before him, and the others, in the exposition area, shortly after my lot number had been written on my breast.

  "Very well, Master, I said. "Thank you, Master."

  He then turned away. Like most Gorean men, and unlike Teibar, the Teibar who had captured me, he seemed to bear me no ill will, or hostility, on the grounds that I might be from Earth. Perhaps he no more than most others, knew what was going on there. To him I was doubtless no more than another pretty girl, another charming female, correctly imbonded.

  I was still squatting over the bowl.

  I looked up and met the eyes of the other fellow, he who had slid the bowl back to me, he who had ordered me to relieve myself. They were stern. "Yes, Master!" I said. Quickly then I relieved myself. I thought to myself with bitter amusement how Teibar, my Teibar, might have smiled, to see me squatting here, his "modern woman, now a frightened slave, on his world, relieving herself at a man" s command. Doubtless he had known full well, he, a native of this world, that such things would be required of me. The bowl, incidentally, is not an improper precaution. It is often used before sales. Though there is usually a liberal sprinkling of sawdust on the block it is usually there less, I think, for practical purposed than for symbolic ones, for example, making clear the animal nature of what is vended, reverence for tradition. Still it could serve. The bowl, however, is better.

  I stepped away from the bowl. The man pushed it with his foot to the side. I looked toward the front of the holding area. I was startled. Ila, and at least three of the other girls, had already entered the shoot. They were on all fours, crawling up the wooden ramp. Two men along the edge of the shoot, standing outside it, with pointed sticks, spaced them, and informed them, one at a time, when to move ahead. Then two other girls were sent through the barred gate to the end of the shoot. There, at its opening, on the wood, they were ordered to all fours. I suppose this amused the men. Too, it was appropriate, given the dimensions of the shoot. It was really made, like this facility, as a whole, it seemed, for the vending of four-footed animals, primarily, I supposed, tarsks. I then saw little Tutina taken through the gate and put in the shoot. She was tiny, but dainty, lovely thighed, and very prettily curved. I thought she might bring a high price. I wondered what I would sell for. I was not even aware, really, of the monetary system here, or its units, or their worth. Too, I would not know what the other girls sold for, I supposed. Perhaps I could find out from my master, whether the price I had gone for was a good one or not. I hoped he would not whip me for such curiosity. I had been told the "curiosity was not becoming in a kajira." On the other hand I suspected that the very existence of such a saying witnessed in its way the widespread nature of exactly such a charming feature, or weakness. Doubtless females were as curious here, as elsewhere. I hoped that I would not be sold to a brothel or tavern. I saw Clarissa put in the shoot. That startled me. How could that be? She was from Earth! How could that be done to her? She was different! But she was not different. She was only another female. Gloria was in front of me, standing at the gate. She, too was from Earth. We were Earth girls. Surely this could not be happening to us! I was guided by the arm toward the barred gate. I saw Clarissa hastened in the shoot by the jab of a pointed stick. The shoot" s gate was held shut behind her. She moved in the shoot, I noted, like the other girls, the Gorean girls, no differently. Gloria was thrust through the barred gate to the shoot gate. I recalled how Clarissa had, one evening at the house where we had been trained, early in our training, been, or pretended to have been, refractory, and how the other girls had disciplined her. She had then, the meaninglessness and absurdity of her little rebellion, or pretended rebellion, demonstrated to her, accepted, and then rejoiced in, her bondage. She had now learned that she was a slave, totally, and only, that. I was sure she would prove a marvelous purchase for a man. Even the guards, not easy to please, had given her candies. I thought she would be marvelous, lovely Clarissa, in a man" s domicile, and in his arms. Then I wondered how I could even think such things. She was from Earth! Then I realized that such considerations were quite beside the point, quite inconsequential. Clarissa was no longer a free woman, and of Earth; she was now something quite different; she was now only a slave girl, and only of Gor.

  Gloria was thrust through the barred gate, and I was drawn to it.

  Tarsks were sold in this place, I thought. I observed the long, narrow, low-walled wooden conduit, leading up and forward. I could not see where it led. Tarsks were herded through it, with pointed sticks. It was a
tarsk shoot. Tarsks were sold in this place.

  Lovely Gloria, then, with her lovely red hair, was in the shoot, on her hands and knees. She, too, like Clarissa was from Earth. I was thrust forward, before the shoot gate. It had been shut behind Gloria. I might not yet go forward. It was in front of me. It was about waist high to me. I looked at the slanting wooden ramp, beyond it. I looked at Gloria, crawling now in the shoot. She was a large girl. She had been able to stand us, even to Ila. To be sure such things were important only in our small interpersonal relationships, in the wagons, in the cages. I saw her hurried up the ramp, with the poking of a man" s stick. The gate was opened in front of me. It swung back, against the inside of the shoot. A man controlled it, standing behind the shoot wall, in back of the other gate, the long diagonal gate which closed the corridor beside the shoot, sloping toward the shoot. At the gesture of one of the pointed sticks I went to all fours on the wooden ramp. I cried out, protesting, at the poke of a stick. I moved forward. I heard the gate shut behind me. I was in the shoot. I felt another jab from one of the sticks. Head down, I began the ascent of the shoot. Then I felt another jab. I must move faster. I did so. In a few moments I was several yards along the shoot, and approaching a level. There, leaning over the shoot, his arms on it, was another man. In his right hand, it resting on the top of the shoot wall to his left, he held a stick. He straightened up and tapped on the inside wall of the shoot. I hurried ahead to that point. There he put the stick in front of me, as a barrier, and I stopped. "Belly," he said. I went to my belly there, in the shoot. I lay there on the wood. Beyond this point the shoot seemed to be level for a way. On the ascent portion of the shoot, and where I lay, toward the end of the section, there were, every two feet or so, small crosspieces, these, I suppose, to aid tarsks in the climb. One was beneath the palms of my hands and my right cheek. Another was at my belly, and another was below my knees. I could smell tarsk in the shoot. I knew the smell from the courtyard, and the narrow cages. The wood, too, was indented in innumerable places with the marks of their hoofs. I supposed many tarsks had climbed this shoot, and many women. I remembered the library, the reference desk, the shelves, the card catalogs, the doors, the upper level, the carpeting, the periodicals, the return desk, the xerox machines. Too, I remembered my fellow workers there. I wondered if they ever wondered what had become of me. My true fate, I conjectured, could not even begin to enter their speculations. It would simply be incomprehensible to them. It could not enter their ken. What ever became of Doreen? They would not guess for an instant that someone had seen values in her that they had not seen, or suspected, that Doreen, quiet, lovely, timid, shy Doreen, their reliable, unobtrusive co-worker, whom they had so much taken for granted, had come to the attention of men quite different from those to whom they were accustomed, or knew existed, and that now she, quiet, lovely dark-haired Doreen, lovely, shy Doreen, no longer wore her blouse and dark skirt, her dark stockings, and low-heeled shoes, but rather lay naked in the keeping of men, a branded slave, theirs, on a far-off planet, on a world they did not even know existed.

  "Up," said the man, looking down the shoot.

  I rose to my hands and knees.

  "All right," he said. "Proceed."

  I again addressed myself to this journey on the wooden surface. He tapped me twice, rather smartly, but not cruelly, not to hurt me, with the side of the stick, swinging it to his right, as I passed him. it had been done with a good-natured, if perhaps somewhat vulgar, familiarity. It was like the good-natured, possessive slap below the small of the back with which men sometimes speed slave girls about their business. In his way he was complimenting me. I must endure such touches, of course. Men owned me, and could do what they wanted with me. I belonged to them. Actually, of course, I was pleased that he had done so. In its way it was a kindly act. Indeed, it may have been intended to hearten and reassure me. Slave girls seldom object to such treatment, vulgar though it might seem to free women, and even free women, I think, in spite of the scandal they profess to feel in its wake, do not really mind it. It is a way in which women are informed that they are of sexual interest.

  I continued to crawl along the shoot. Here and there there was a man with a stick. I hoped they would not strike me or jab me with their sticks. I kept my head down and did not dally. I was frightened as I passed them, one by one, almost cringing, almost recoiling, from the fear of blows that might alight upon my body, knowing myself so much exposed, so much at their mercy, at their whim or caprice. Then I was past them. I was grateful to them for not having beaten me. There was little left in me now of Teibar" s "modern woman," I feared. Then I was at the end of the shoot, at another gate.

  I could see to my left what looked like a part of a muchly trodden circular dirt area, within a solid wooden railing. Behind his railing, standing, crowded about, there seemed to be many men. Directly before me, and to my right, there was a low, wooden wall, about four feet high. This prevented me from seeing much ahead or to my right, and would prevent most of the men, assuming they were crowded about an extension of the circular railing to my right, from seeing me. The interest of the men who could see me, however, as nearly as I could determining, was on something to my left, and raised above the dirt surface. A man opened the gate and motioned me out, still on all fours, onto a small wooden platform. I could smell sweat, and hear voices, excited voices. One voice seemed predominant among them.

  He knelt me back and put manacles on my wrists, joined by about a foot of chain. I knelt there, the chain across my thighs.

  The gate was closed behind me. I saw another girl. I did not know her, now behind the gate. She must wait.

  Suddenly the nature of the calls and responses from the crowd became clear to me. There were calls for bids, and there were bids, literally bids, and something was being sold.

  I inched forward, to see better. I could see the forward edge of a large, rounded block, about five feet high, set back on the dirt, a few feet within the railing. A double chain seemed to be extending upward, toward it, on a pulley system. I moved forward on my knees, nearer the wooden wall in front of it. I saw Gloria there, on that rounded, raised surface, standing, her wrists over her head, in manacles much like mine. The chain at her manacles extended upward in an inverted "V." It was about two feet in length. The higher hook on the chain had been places over one strand of the double chain overhead. About Gloria a man walked, with a whip.

  I looked back, trembling, at the girl still on all fours in the shoot. Her face was frightened, behind the slats of the gate.

  The man who was near me took a short length of chain. It had a hook at each end. It was about two feet in length. He put one end about the chain on my manacles, and held the other.

  I suddenly almost cried out with fear. From my left, from the rounded, wooden surface, there had come the snap of a whip. I heard the movement of a chain overhead. I saw Gloria being drawn from the surface by the manacles, doubtless, by means of them, to be lowered to the ground on the other side.

  The man then slung his end of my short chain, that whose lower hook was about the chain on my manacles, over the chain extending upwards.

  Gloria had been sold!

  The chain moved a little, and my wrists were pulled upward.

  "No!" I cried, in English. "No, please!"

  then I felt the manacles drawn upward and my arms extended. I was pulled to my left and then, suddenly, my feet were off the platform and I was swinging inches over the dirt. The sides of the manacles cut into my wrists. I was then being lifted up, toward the surface of the block. The gate beneath me, and behind me, was opened. The other girl was now doubtless being brought to the platform, behind the low wall, out of the sight of most of the crowd, and another was moving to the gate. I saw, now, being lifted, that there were tiers behind the standing area, extending back and toward the back of the building. On them, though I could not see them well, there seemed to be many men, sitting. I could not see any females. The only females in the building, I supposed
, might be females such as myself, naked females, up for vending. There must have been some four or five hundred men in the building, in the tiers alone, not counting those crowded by the low railing. As I was lifted I could see the semicircular nature of the dirt flooring. Doubtless, the large platform removed, tarsks would be sold here. It was a lofty, raftered building. I put my head up. I saw the chain moving. I saw more rafters, too, high above me, almost lost in the darkness under the roof. It was a barnlike building. My wrists hurt. I was then suspended above the platform. The men were looking at me. It was a sales barn. Then the chain slacked a little and my feet touched the surface of the platform. I stood, it seemed, in a half inch or so of sawdust. My wrists were still held high over my head. I heard the crack of the whip and I jerked, frightened, in the manacles. Some of the men laughed. The whip had not touched me. My response though, I think, aside from being startled, had informed the men that I was not totally unfamiliar with the whip. Indeed, though I had felt it very seldom, I had felt it. Indeed, the first sensation that I had been aware of on this world had been the stroke of Teibar" s whip, awakening his "modern woman" to her new reality. He had struck me three times. I had never forgotten the feel of those informative, salutatory blows, bidding me welcome to my bondage. The fellow put his left hand on my breast, holding it still, reading it. Then he nodded to another fellow, behind me and to my left, on the platform.