by John Norman
"Who shall choose the lucky ostrakon?" called Hendow.
"The slave!" cried a man.
"The slave!" "The slave!" cried others.
"Very well!" said Hendow.
I moaned.
Hendow approached me.
"Please, Master," I begged him.
But I saw him draw forth from his belt a half hood. This covers the head to the upper lip.
It was put over my head and drawn back, tightly, and buckled shut. I then heard a lock snapped through rings. It was locked on me, in place. I could not see under the device, at all. In this respect it differed from imperfect blindfolds and resembled the full slave hood. Similarly, although it is usually regarded as inferior to the full slave hood in its security, it tends to be more secure than many blindfolds, particularly makeshift ones, seized up from materials at hand. For example, unlike many blindfolds, it, and in this respect it is similar to the full slave hood, is not likely to become dislodged or loose, even if the girl is handled with great roughness. It does, however, of course, possess certain of the rich and attractive advantages of the blindfold, such as allowing its fair captive to speak, to use her tongue, to lick, to kiss, and so on. "Please, Master," I begged. "Do not make me choose!"
"Do you question me?" he inquired.
"No, Master!" I said, I moaned. I must choose my own rapist.
I felt myself drawn to my feet, and, by the upper left arm, pulled forward, half dragged, to the copper bowl. There I was knelt, and my hands were placed on the ostraka.
"Mix them further, slut," said Hendow.
Obediently, doubtless as the men watched intently, I stirred them about. I felt them in my hands. They had numbers on them, I knew.
"Dig about," said Hendow. "Sift through them. Pick some up, then let them fall through your fingers."
I obeyed.
"Now," said he, "choose one."
I lifted my head in half hood to him, piteously, my lip trembling.
I heard nothing, no reprieve, no rescue. This was not such a world. Here I was a slave, ineradicably, and truly.
I held my head level, although I could see nothing. I thrust my hand into the ostraka, and closed my fingers on one. I lifted it before me. I felt someone, doubtless Hendow, pull it from my hand.
"One hundred and seventy-seven!" he called.
There were cries of good-natured protest, sounds of disappointment. "No!" cried more than one man.
"One hundred and seventy-seven," he repeated.
"There!" called Mirus. "There!"
Someone must have been getting up.
"Hold up the ostrakon!" called Mirus. "Let us all see it!"
"He has it, all right!" called a man, from somewhere out there in the front. There were groans of mock anguish in the house, and laughter, and applause. "Come forward, Sir," invited Mirus. "Claim your prize."
"Take her well, for me!" called a fellow several yards away.
"Make her jump, for me!" laughed another, closer.
I sensed someone coming forward, others perhaps about him, slapping him about the shoulders and back.
There was applause.
"Here, Sir," said Mirus, at my side, "is your prize."
In the hood I could see nothing. I was frightened.
I then gasped, surprised. I felt myself being lifted to the shoulder of a man. He was very strong.
"Use the Ubar" s alcove," said Mirus. "I will bring the attestation and ribbon." I was helpless on his shoulder.
"Lucky sleen!" called a man.
The Ubar" s alcove, I knew, was well fitted with a variety of chains and whips. I felt myself being carried toward it.
"Make her squeak and yell!" called a man.
I was being carried as a slave is often carried, my head to the rear.
"There is only one who is first," called Hendow, "but we will draw forth fourteen more ostraka!"
There was a cheer.
I did not understand this. I was helpless on the man" s shoulder.
"Then there will be a free round of paga for all!" he said.
This generosity was greeted with another cheer.
I felt the man step up, over the high threshold of the alcove. He, then put me down on soft furs, on my back, within the alcove.
"Here is the paper, and the ribbon," said Mirus.
I heard the movement of paper. Then Mirus, I gathered, withdrew. I heard a paper being put to one side. I then heard the leather curtains of the alcove being drawn closed, and buckled shut. Within the alcove I supposed there would be some light, probably from the small, tharlarion-oil lamp on its bracketed shelf, on the wall to the left, as one enters. I heard his garment being cast aside. I supposed the lamp would be lit, that there would be light for him. Men usually like to have some light in such a place, that in its soft glow they may see how beautiful are the slaves. Such alcoves, incidentally, are quite comfortable. They are not close, or stuffy. In them there is a subtle but efficient circulation of air. Air, for example, can enter at the threshold, in the vicinity of the curtain, rise, and exit through various inconspicuous vent holes, generally high in the walls. I wondered, if there were light, if I looked pleasing to him, lying on the furs. I gasped, as he knelt across my body. I had never had a man do this before. I could not move. I felt my hands pulled up and snapped into manacles, apart, at the sides of my head. His knees were on either side of my body. I pulled a little at the manacles and chains. I was chained! I felt terrified, and trapped, as indeed I was. I had been chained before, many times, of course, in my training. But this was not training! Then to my surprise he drew back from me, crouching then, or kneeling, I think, beside me. He was on my right. I shuddered. I had felt his body. I turned to my left side, away from him, as I could, and drew my knees up, as closely as I could, to my belly. I whimpered, as I understood that this, too, exposed me as a slave to him, but I did not know what to do! It seemed, suddenly, that all my training had fled from me, that it had gone from me, that I could remember nothing. I felt his hands take my ankles, one in each hand, and, by means of them, not gently, he turned me again to my back, and then flung apart my legs. I lay there then, in this attitude before him, helpless in the chains, and the darkness of the hood. He had not spoken to me, not I to him. I did not realize this at the time but he would not do so either, nor would the others, unsuspected by me at this time, who would him this night. By custom my initial ravishings as a paga slave in Brundisium would be performed in anonymity. This custom is dictated by considerations similar to those involved in the hooding of mating slaves, considerations having to do with the preclusion of interpersonal complications. I heard a whip being removed from the wall. I lay there, trembling. I grasped the chains, above the manacles. I did not want to be lashed! But the whip was thrust to my lips. Eagerly, lifting my head, I licked and kissed the whip. I did not want it used on me. My ardor in this matter, and this may, I suspect, have mollified him to some extent. For he then, delicately, gently, tested me. He grunted, surprised.
"Yes, Master," I said. "I am a virgin!"
he then seemed to have drawn back for a time, perhaps kneeling there, thinking. I do not think, now, he had believed that I was really a virgin, in spite of the attestation, and such, and I do not think either that my virginity had really been of great interest to him, whether or not it was actual. He had been angry, I now think, that I had been behaving in a timid, or virginal, fashion with him, perhaps to secure some gentleness of treatment, when I was not really a virgin at all. Perhaps mollified then to some extent by my placatory behavior in kissing the whip he had decided to take the time to make test of my virginity rather than simply and with terrible force utilizing me, moving aside whatever obstacle, if any, might have attempted to impede the progression of his mastery. Master?" I asked.
To my surprise, then, I felt a shackle put on my left ankle. he then removed the manacles which had been on my wrists. I heard the whip cast to the side. "Master?" I asked. I knelt, rubbing my wrists.
He then, appa
rently crouching near me, took me with extreme gentleness into his arms. I began to tremble. I felt his lips at the left side of my neck, above the steel collar locked there. "I am afraid, Master," I whispered.
He soothed me with a kiss on the shoulder. I was grateful, but, too, I could feel the heat of his breath there, it making me uneasy, and disturbing me, and I could sense the strength of his arms.
"Oh, master," I sobbed. "Master!"
One of his hands was behind my back. With the other hand he indicated I should rise up a bit, and I did so, and he placed the hand then behind my knees. He then, lifting me, and gently inclining me backwards, supporting me with his hand behind my back, lowered me gently to the furs. I then lay there, on my back, in the hood, before him.
I felt his hands lift up my right ankle, that which did not wear the shackle. I felt his lips on my ankle. his hands were very strong. I tried to pull back a bit, uneasily, but could not do so. He continued to hold my ankle, and kiss my leg. I moved my left ankle, in its shackle. I heard the tiny sounds of the links of the chain, running between the shackle and its ring. I pulled back my left ankle, and lifted it, frightened, alarmed by the sensations I was beginning to feel, and learned what limitations had been placed on its movements, imposed by the metal impedimenta whose prisoner I was. I could not leave the alcove of course, but I had been permitted slack, enough to kick, it seems, as in the throes of passion or, helplessly, as though to hold on for dear life, to clench my legs about a master" s legs or, if I were pulled down, closer to the ring, his body. His touches and kisses were now disturbing me, but he was very gentle. "Oh, Master!" I said.
The flesh behind the knee and above it was very sensitive.
He was patient.
"Thank you, Maser," I said, gratefully.
Over the next quarter of an hour or so he also addressed his attentions to my other leg, but desisted in his ministrations when he had come midway up the interior of my thighs.
"Master!" I breathed.
Then he was kissing my hands, their backs, and kissing and licking the palms, and then moving up the interiors of the wrists, and forearms. In another quarter of an hour or so, he had come again to my neck, near the collar, where he had first kissed me, and then, slowly, kissed my shoulders. I lay there, frightened, wanting to respond. I sensed his lips near mine, by the feel of his breath. I lifted my head a little, and kissed him, timidly, gratefully. Then I felt his head, and hair, below my chin. "Ohh," I said. Then he kissed and licked, and caressed me about the sides, and back. "Ah," he said, appreciatively was not really responding to him, or at least in no overt way I was really aware of, but I think he did not really mind this, or, at the time, expecting anything much different. I think he did find me beautiful. And I think he took pride in the simple handling of such a slave.
Then he was kissing me about my hips and belly, and then, much lower, above the midpoint of the interior of my thighs.
"Master," I said.
"Oh!" I said. "Oh!"
His hands, and his tongue, and his kisses, were unbelievable! Suddenly I lifted my hips to him. "Master!" I begged. "Master!"
His large hands were on me, gripping me, holding me an inch to two above the furs. I felt his thumbs. They pressed deeply into me, at the sides of my belly, but did not hurt me. They only held me fixed in place. I could feel the strength of him. I could not even think of escaping that grip.
"Master!" I begged.
I knew then that I belonged in a collar, and so, too doubtless, did he. "Oh!" he said, frightened. I was tense, waiting. "Oh," I said, softly, frightened.
He was so strong!
"Oh!" I said, softly.
He kissed me, gently, holding me.
"It" s done," I whispered. "It" s done!"
He kissed me again.
What a fool I am, I thought to myself, and what a fool he must think me. Of course, it has been done!
I had sensed the parting of that tissue, its giving way, but it had not hurt. I had expected it to hurt. It had not hurt!
"I am longer special," I said. "I am now only another girl."
He laughed.
What a small thing it had been! There had been nothing to it! What an absurdity to be concerned over so small a thing, so trivial a thing, I thought. I knew that in some women, of course, the matter was not so simple. I was pleased, and relieved, accordingly, that in my case it had all happened so quickly, so simply, so painlessly.
He kissed me again.
I had been opened, I though. I was now "red silk!"
I was still, of course, locked in his arms. I felt his power and surgency. He then began to make use of me.
"Master!" I gasped.
Perhaps his patience was then at the end, or perhaps he felt he had waited long enough, or perhaps he found me, suddenly, too beautiful to resist. I did not know, but he then began, with apparently little regard for me, to content himself.
I clung to him, startled.
It may be, of course, that this was merely another kindness on his part, that I be now reminded of my status, that I wore a collar, that I was naught but a slave, I did not know.
"Yes, Master!" I whispered.
I suspect I was not the first girl he had opened. He realized, I think, as I did not, at that time, that at this time there would be severe limitations on my capacity to respond to him, limitations finding herself the victim of helpless slave needs.
"Master!" I cried.
I clung to him. I jerked my legs. I felt the chain on my left ankle. What can we be but vessels of pleasure to such brutes, I thought. To be sure, the slave must sometimes expect to be used with complete unilaterally. This feature is attendant on her condition. She is, after all, only a slave. Most slaves, incidentally, welcome this, for they treasure their bondage, many of them dearly than their life, and they know that without it, and such things, they cannot be true slaves. Even such a service, perhaps paradoxically, they find exciting and fulfilling. Too, after one has been a slave for a time, it is difficult to be touched by a man without becoming responsive, and extremely so. Thus a girl is often grateful for her master" s touch, and weeps with pleasure in her usage, even when he is not concerned in the least with her. This is a part of her helplessness, and having been made the prisoner of her slave needs.
"Ah," he said, as though interested.
Could I actually be responding to him, this brute who had opened me in a Gorean tavern, this monster who had but a moment ago red-silked me!
"Oh, Master!" I whispered, startled.
Oh, he had been patient, he had been kind, I knew. He could have cuffed me and torn me open in an instant but he had not done so. I was grateful. But now what was he doing to me? What were the sorts of things I was beginning to feel? To be sure, as I would later understand, these were, in their depth, only incipient sensations, little more than the hints of sensations, but even so I did not know now, how to cope with them. Something here seemed to be different now from the simple, intimate, unbelievable, unspeakable deliciousness of his earlier attentions. Something within me that I now sensed, something deep in my belly but which seemed to radiate out through my whole body, now hinted obscurely of something different, of sensations and feelings, of yieldings and submissions such that I hastily attempted to drive even the thought of them from my mind.
"Ah!" he said again.
I could not help how my body had moved, or how it had gripped him!
We are the submitted and the conquered, I thought. Otherwise we cannot be ourselves!
I tried to push hum away, sobbing. But he pressed me the more closely to him. My hips moved.
He laughed.
I hated him!
"What are men going to do to me?" I asked. "What are they going to make me?" He tapped with his finger on my collar. He put his hand on my left thigh. I realized, suddenly, that was where my brand was.
"I am already a slave," I sobbed, " totally a slave!"
He laughed, softly. I shuddered. I gathered I had not yet beg
un to learn my slavery.
Then he began again, having granted me this respite, to make use of me. "Oh," I said, softly. "Oh!"
It is difficult to make clear the wholeness of this experience, even within its limitations, for as I now understand, and I am sure he understood at the time, it provided me with little more than an inchoate intimation of how I might be subdued and owned in the arms of men. But even so, even at that time, the experience was a startling, astonishing whole. That is something I think many men do not grasp, the wholeness of the sexual experience for the woman, its enhancement and deepening by the beautiful and intricate context, that it is not simply a matter of skillful epidermic stimulations. If it were, for example, I would never have been drawn to the beauties of ethnic dance. Here, of course, in a Gorean alcove, and given our condition, he free, I a collared slave, who must submit and obey, there was just such a totalistic context. Indeed, the situation of bondage itself is such a context.
"Oh!" I cried, softly. And then I could not believe, suddenly, how tightly I was held. How helpless we are! "Oh," I said, then, and for the first time felt the imperious casting forth within me, seeming to fill my helplessly held body, of a man" s triumph. How precious suddenly seemed such stuff to me. We could not make it. We could get it only from men. I had little doubt that in the arms of such a man, had I not had "slave wine," I would have been impregnated. How could my body have resisted such floods of seed? But I knew I had little to fear, or hope for, in such matters. My breeding was not under my own will. It was under the will of masters. It would be controlled, and supervised, and regulated, as carefully as that of any other domestic animal. I needed not fear pregnancy until the matter had been decided otherwise by masters.
I clung to my use master. I did not want him to let me go, not yet.