Dancer of Gor coc-22

by John Norman

  I lay there, trying to cope with my feelings.

  To some extent, doubtless, the conditioning to which I had been subjected on Earth was attempting to war with the liberties of my bondage. Indeed, some women try to carry the frigidities of their freedom into their bondage, but these are soon whipped out of them. They are swiftly taught that they are now a different sort of woman. then, choicelessly, gratefully, they yield eagerly to their slavery. You see, some of the "liberties of bondage" are also, in a sense, "necessities of bondage." For example, not only is a woman free then to open herself fully to the ravishings of masters, to be participatory, to feel as deeply, and profoundly and excitingly as she can, to be as responsive and orgasmic as possible, but she must do so. Such things are commanded of her. Similarly the authenticity of her responses can be recognized and tested. And failure to obey, and be pleasing, can be cause not only for grievous punishment, but death. Accordingly, my Earth conditioning could do little more now than attempt to war with my needs and urges. In each hour on Gor it seemed to be becoming less and less effective. My needs, and my reality, were now revealing its lack of soundness, its historical eccentricity, indexed to outmoded ideologies and conditions, its idisyncrasy, its absurdity, making it obsolete, and overthrowing it. In a natural world it was, without its constant reinforcements, crumbling. Too, as a slave, I must, whether I wished to or not, ignore it. To be sure, I think, in the final analysis, it was being primarily undermined by so simple and profound a thing as my own womanhood. Its poverty, vacuity and falsity I think I had recognized long ago, even on Earth.

  I lay there on the furs, wondering about my feelings and responses. I wondered almost who the girl was, who lay there. She seemed very different from the former Doreen Williamson, who had worked in the library, so long ago, now, it seemed. To be sure, she still had the name «Doreen», but that now was her only name, and she had it only as a slave name, a name given to her as an animal is given a name, a name put on her, like a collar, by the will of a master, a name to which she must then, like any other named animal, respond, and in all ways. I was still hooded.

  I lay there, and thought about the feelings I had experienced. Putting aside occasional episodes of chagrin or shame, understandably contingent on my Earth conditioning, as I was faced with various indisputable evidences of my vitality and responsiveness, I had found myself subjected to an astonishing variety of mixed emotions and feelings. Sometimes I had been confused by the unfamiliarity of these feelings, and sometimes delighted, and intrigued. Too, sometimes I had felt a desperate longing for them to continue, and had been eager for them, and others, some charming, and subtle, and some almost overpowering, making me feel weak, and held, to surface in me, like wonders, some bursting up, some rising slowly, in my depths. Too, sometimes I had felt genuine fear, as I seemed to sense, far off, feelings and emotions so incredible and overwhelming that I knew I would be helpless in their grasp, feelings that would be as commanding and irresistible to me as the movements of the earth and the tides of the sea. In short, I was on the brink of learning my femaleness. To be sure, nothing had been done to me at that time, I had not realized something of great importance, namely, how my body and nervous system could change under its uses, how my helplessness and needs could deepen, increase and intensify, how they could grow upon me and make me their prisoner. Although I was now almost ready, as Ina had put it, shocking me at the time "to beg and scratch for it," I still had no clear idea as to the extent to which my belly and body could be gripped by "slave need." I still had no clear understanding as to how it was that a girl could bruise herself against the bars of her cage, trying to touch a guard, or crawl naked on her belly to a hated master, if only to feel the blow of his hand or foot. In short, though I had come a thousand miles from the naA?ve girl in the library, I still had no understanding, really, of slave sex. I had not yet experienced even a small slave orgasm. But in the context of these reflections, seemingly focused primarily on simple feelings and sensations, let me reemphasize the wholeness of the context. It is in the slave" s life as a whole that these things, so overwhelmingly, find their place. The life of the slave is an entire modality of being, and this modality of being enhances the feelings and sensations just as, in turn, the feelings and sensations enhance and enrich the modality of being. The life of the female slave is a consistent, totalistic and indissoluble whole.

  I heard someone part the curtains.

  I was frightened.

  Someone was there.

  I pressed down into the furs, on my belly. Then, it frightening me, and embarrassing me at the time, I felt an involuntary movement, the subtle lifting, just a tiny bit, of my behind, in the furs. Then, swiftly, I lay even lower, more frightened, more closely, in the furs. I had once at a zoo, I recalled, seen a female animal, a female baboon, actually, frightened at the stalking, menacing, meaningful approach of a stern, dominant male, turn about and timidly offer herself to him. I had seen the same sort of behavior among chimpanzees. It is a form of placatory, female-submission behavior.

  A man knelt or crouched near me. He felt my flanks. He had very strong hands. Again my body lifted itself, but this time, not so much in fear as in response to his touch.

  "Interesting," said Hendow, my master.

  I whimpered and tried to hide lower in the furs.

  "Do not be upset, slave," he said. "It is for just such things that I bought you."

  I felt the key thrust into the locks on the manacles, and they were removed from me. I was then turned to my back. the only bond I wore now was the half hood. "Are you sore?" he asked.

  "A little," I said.

  "Inside," he said.

  "A little," I said.

  My body, otherwise, though I would not feel it so much for a few hours, would be stiff here and there, and sore in places. I would discover, too, I had some bruises. Some of the men had treated me with great roughness. That was permissible. I was a slave.

  I felt a chain belt put about my waist and padlocked shut at my navel. At the back of the belt, attached to it, was a pair of light manacles of the sort suitable for females, which I would learn are called "slave bracelets." "Master?" I asked.

  I did not understand why I was being braceleted, now.

  "You will wear these at night," he said, "for three nights."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You will not be put out on the floor again," he said, "for three days." "Thank you, Master," I said. I supposed that was what I should be saying. "That will give you a chance to heal, if you need it, and, too, it will give you a chance to gather your thoughts together and to reflect upon your experiences." "Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

  "You will spend your time during the day," he said, "as before, in the kitchen." "Yes, Master," I said, apprehensively.

  "Do not be afraid," he said. "You will be in the iron belt."

  "Now?" I asked. I was now, after all, red silk.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Too," he said, " in the iron belt, and braceleted at night, and working in the kitchen, you will have a chance to simmer."

  "To simmer, Master?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  I did not understand him.

  Then he picked me up, very gently, and carried me downstairs, to the basement, and my kennel. There, before my kennel, he put me in the iron belt. He then removed my hood. It seemed light there, even in the dimness of the basement. I saw that there was now a whole blanket, not just a part of one, in my kennel. "Thank you for the blanket, Master," I said.

  "Crawl into the kennel," he said. "And lie down."

  I did so, and he covered me with the blanket, rather gently, I thought. "Good night, Doreen," he said.

  "Good night, Master," I said.

  He then closed and locked the kennel door. I watched him through the bars as he went across the room, and blew out the small tharlarion-oil lamp there. He then went upstairs. Again I wore an iron belt. I did not understand why until I
had slept and, well before dawn, awakened in the darkness. I squirmed. Then I pulled at the bracelets, futilely. I realized then, suddenly, feeling helpless, I would have to wait three days for a man" s touch.

  12 The Floor

  I knelt at the feet of the handsome fellow and kissed and licked about his ankles. I looked up at him. He was large and strong. "I would be pleased," I whispered, "if master would see fit to take me to an alcove."

  "I am here," said Tupita, squirming on her knees, nearby. "Go away!" He looked down at me.

  "My use is included already, in the price of master" s drink," I said. "I cost you nothing more."

  "Go away," said Tupita.

  "You are Doreen, who dances, aren" t you?" he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Go away!" said Tupita.

  "Be silent," said the man to her.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master."

  "But you do not dance tonight?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said. "Tonight I am only a paga slave."

  The red-silk ribbon was no longer on my collar. The girl wears it for only a week.

  "I have seen you dance," he said. "You are quite good."

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "Quite good, indeed," he mused.

  "Let me dance for you, alone, in the alcove," I whispered.

  he smiled. I saw that this thought intrigued him, to have a private performance by a dancing slave, that she would dance her beauty for him alone. "Please, Master," I begged.

  "You want to go to the alcove, don" t you?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "And you would dance and beg for it?" he asked.

  "I love to dance, Master," I said, "but even if it did not, yes, I would dance and beg for it!"

  "Are you any good at bringing the whip to a man in your teeth?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said.

  "But are you not a woman of Earth?" he asked.

  "Once I was a woman of Earth," I said. "Now I am only a Gorean slave." "In the baths," he said, "I have seen the names of slaves and taverns scrawled on the walls."

  "Oh?" I said, uneasily.

  "And sometimes they are ranked in order of someone" s opinion as to their desirability," he said.

  "I see," I said.

  "May I speak, Master?" asked Tupita, with an almost catlike movement of her body. I thought I must learn to do that.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Were slaves in the tavern of Hendow so ranked?" she asked.

  "Yes," he smiled.

  "And did the name of Tupita not head the list?" she asked, glancing meaningfully at me.

  "No," he said.

  "Who was first?" she asked.

  "Inger," he said.

  "My name then was second," she said.

  "No," said he, "it was third."

  "And who was second?" she asked, angrily.

  "Doreen," he smiled.

  "The fellow who wrote the names up was surely mistaken," she said, angrily. "I can give you my opinion on that," he said, "at some later date. I have used you before. You" re quite good. Even excellent. There is no doubt about it. But tonight I shall try something different. I shall try the dancer, Doreen." "Thank you, Master!" I breathed, happily. Tonight I had searched hard for a use master. It was the middle of the week, when business is slower. Many men receive their hiring fees at the end of the week. Too, tonight, it seemed that many of the men had come to the tavern only to drink and talk, and some, too, near the walls, where it was quieter, to play kaissa, a Gorean board game. I did not care for kaissa. Men grew so absorbed in it, it seemed, that they could be totally oblivious even to a beautiful slave whimpering on her belly near them. Because of kaissa we had to sometimes wait hours for attentions! Too, I had come to the floor late, Tupita having assigned me cleaning duties in the slave area. This had happened before.

  "To be sure, Tupita," he said, giving her head a shake, "such estimations are often quote subjective. It is wise not to take them seriously. The woman who is one" s man pudding may, for one reason or another, having sometimes little to do with her, be only another man" s porridge."

  This I had learned was true. Slaves, and even some whom I regarded as objectively beautiful, even marvelous, were sometimes rated very differently by different men. Why, for example, does one man bid gold for a girl that another man would not buy for a copper? Perhaps because one man sees that the girl is worth gold, and the other does not. Who knows?

  "But I have been waiting for you this evening!" said Tupita.

  "Belly to another tonight," he said, "slave."

  "Yes, Master," she said, angrily, and rose up, and, with an angry look at me, hurried away, in a jangle of bells.

  I looked up at him, gratefully. He was very strong and handsome, and I was a slave. I wanted his touch.

  "She is angry," he said, looking after Tupita.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Shall I call her back to be whipped?" he asked.

  "Please. No, Master," I said. "It is only that she desires you." "She is first girl, is she not?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Are you not afraid?" he asked.

  I shrugged. "Many time," I said, "particularly in my first weeks here, she took men away from me."

  He looked down at me. "I do not think she can do that so easily any more," he said.

  I looked down. "Perhaps not, Master," I said. "I do not know." To be sure, this was not the first man I had taken from Tupita. Normally, however, to be perfectly honest, she still took them from me. It is not unknown, of course, for slaves to compete for the attentions of masters.

  "Are you not afraid?" he asked.

  "No," I said, "not really. If she hurts me too much, or makes it so I cannot dance, or go out on the floor, our master would not be pleased."

  "I see," he said.

  Too, though I did not think it would have been appropriate to say so, I thought that I was becoming more popular with the customers. Too, I knew I was popular with several of my master" s men, such as Mirus, and I thought too, sometimes, that even my master might like me, a little. That, of course, frightened me, for he was large, and gross and loathsome. These things, I thought, would give Tupita at least a bit of pause when she might be tempted to use the switch or bastinado on me.

  "But you must be apprehensive," he asked. "She is first girl."

  "Yes, Master," I said. "I am a little afraid."

  "Why then have you approached me?" he asked. "Why have you undertaken these risks? Why have you rendered obeisance? Why have you rendered slave ministrations, with your lips and tongue, to my feet and ankles? Why have you knelt here? Why do you look up at me, as you do? Why do you tremble?" "Because I want your touch," I said.

  He looked down at me.

  "I cannot help myself," I said.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Because I am a woman, and a slave," I whispered.

  "Precede me to the alcove," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said eagerly, gratefully. I then rose up and preceded him to the alcove, the slave bells jangling on my ankle.

  13 The Passageway; Intrigues

  I hurried back, elatedly, through the beaded curtain, fleeing, laughing, from the dancing floor. I had scrambled on my knees for the coins flung to the floor, seizing them, thrusting them hastily, so many of them, with one hand, into the lifted, bunched portion, held by my other hand, of the dancing skirt, a lovely, swirling skirt, scarlet, open on the right, of diaphanous dancing silk. I had been permitted a scarlet halter of the same material. My midriff, like my right thigh, was bared. The skirt was low on my hips. I wore a double belt of threaded, jangling coins, one strand high, one low, as with the corded belt of metal pieces I had worn in my virgin dance, weeks ago. I also wore a triple necklace of coins, together with necklaces of slave beads, of both glass and wood. These coins, all of them, would be counted by Mirus when I disrobed. On my left ankle were bound slave bells. My right ankle wore several anklets. I was ba
refoot. On my wrists were bracelets. On my upper left arm was a coiled armlet. A ruby, held by a chain, was at my forehead. Wound in and about my hair were strands of pearls.

  "It is a good house tonight," said Mirus, who was waiting for me.

  "Yes, Master!" I said, happily. I could hear the men still calling out and pounding at their shoulders with appreciation. I looked at Mirus. Should I hurry back through the curtain?

  "No," he said. "Stay here."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Here," he said, holding open the sack. I emptied the coins from the dancing silk into the sack, and smoothed the skirt.

  "You dance well," he said.

  "Thank you, Master!" I said, happily. On Earth I had never dreamed that I would dance as a slave before masters.

  "You have done much for the tavern of Hendow," he said.

  "I am pleased, if I have been found pleasing," I said. I gave the ruby on its chain, from my forehead, to Mirus. He put it in his wallet. I then began to unwind the strands of pearls from my hair.

  "Receipts are up twenty percent from a month ago," he said.

  "I am pleased," I said. I handed the pearls to Mirus, who put them, as he had the chain and ruby, in his wallet.

  "You are finding yourself now as a dancer," he said.

  "I have been in the arms of men," I laughed, "men such as you, Master, who know how to turn a girl into a woman, and a woman into a slave."

  "I think," he said, "you may be one of the finest dancers in Brundisium." This startled me.

  "You are really quite good," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "Hendow" s investment in you was a sound one," he said. "You are paying off well for him."