Dancer of Gor coc-22

by John Norman

  "I am a slave, Master," I said, puzzled.

  "And do you surrender wholly to your masters, and yield totally to them?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I whispered. I knew that I could not lie in things of this sort. Gorean masters, or many of them, were skilled in reading women. My Master, Hendow, was frightening adept at this. Too, I did not think that I could fool Mirus either in such matters. When a girl" s more secret thoughts can be read as easily as slave numbers written on her breast her only viable option is total honesty, and as complete submission was required of Gorean slave girls her only practical recourse under such stringent circumstances is either to choose death or become in true reality a full slave, in her heart, in her mind and in her behavior. In short, as deception is impossible, the girl must either choose death or the reality of true bondage.

  "You will now prepare to yield," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said, suddenly, startled, then beginning to understand the orgasm in the natural matrix of male dominance, and intensified by the fixing, enhancement and intensification of this within the institution of total female slavery. When I yielded it would not only as a female to a male, but as slave to a master!

  No longer then could I even hear the noises of the tavern beyond the curtain. There was now only myself and Mirus.

  "Let me yield!" I begged.

  "Wait!" he said.

  I was collared!

  "Please!" I wept.

  I was naked, and in the arms of a man whose sandals I was not fit to lick. "Master!" I begged.

  Must not what might remain in me of the proud Earth woman attempt to resist this?

  "Master!" I cried.

  "No," he said, sternly.

  But what might remain in me of the Earth woman was utterly powerless!

  "Please, please!" I whispered.

  "No," he said.

  Then what might have remained in me of the Earth woman was gone and in her place there was now only a terrified Gorean slave on the brink of she knew not what.

  I was not simply going to be fondled or kissed, with attentions appropriate to the bland etiquettes of Earth. I was to be conquered!

  "Please!" I wept.

  "No," he said.

  I would not be permitted to retain a shred of dignity or pride. My yielding would not be of the sort of yieldings approved of on Earth, those mild, meaningless ripples of sensation, indicative of acceptable congenialities, the most that many of Earth, it seems, could manage, but would be rather the result of his will and power, of his enforcements and determination, the exercise over me of his strength, making me helpless, having me as he wanted me, owning me. It would not be a compromised act. It would be a complete act, a fulfillment, for him and also for me. It would manifest his power, and my weakness, his triumph and my shattering, and overwhelming. It would be an act of his uncompromising power, imposed upon me, which I, the female could not resist.

  "Let me yield!" I begged.

  "Wait," he said.

  I moaned. I did not want polite love. I wanted to know that I was in the hands of a man who was capable of being excited, and whom I excited, who found me truly marvelous, to whose fury of power I appeared whose fierce and voracious appetites I triggered. I wanted to be in the arms of a true man. I did not want to be possibly mistaken about whether I had been had or not. I did not want to be touched as though I might break. I did not wish to be in danger of drowsing off during the making of love. I wanted his to own and master me, and whip me if I was not pleasing.

  "I am ready!" I said. "I beg to submit, and as slave!"

  "Not yet," he said.

  I began to weep with wanting to yield.

  He was not simply going to enjoy me, or pleasure himself with me. He was asserting the mastery upon me. I was not merely to be used even used as a mere slave, as it sometimes amuses Gorean masters to do with us. I was going to yield, and fully. I was not simply having love made to me. The experience was far more meaningful and devastating than simply that. I was being dominated, and mastered. I was to yield, and I had to, as a slave, totally!

  "Please!" I wept.

  "No," he said.

  I was to be vanquished, utterly.

  "Please!" I said.

  "Will it be necessary to gag you?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  "Yes, yes, Master!" I wept.

  "You may then yield," he said, "a€”as a slave."

  I then yielded to him, and wholly, and without compromises, as slave girl to a master.

  I then looked up at him, wildly, disbelievingly.

  "Master," I whispered, acknowledging that it was right that I belonged to men. I then lay in his arms, an incredulous, frightened slave girl. The experience had been a whole, the context conditioned by my abject surrender, by our relationship, that of master and slave.

  Gently he kissed me.

  I had not known on Earth that such men could exist. I had only dreamed of them, men to whom I could be rightfully only on abject slave. But now on Gor I was subject to such men. And now, naked and collared, I lay in the arms of one. "What was it?" I begged. "What was it you did to me?"

  "Nothing," he said.

  "Master!" I protested.

  "It was a slave orgasm," he said.

  I trembled in his arms.

  "Surely such would be appropriate enough for you," he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I said.

  I have had a slave orgasm, I thought, wonderingly.

  "It was a small one," he said, "to be sure."

  "Small!" I said. "Take pity, I beg you, Master, on a poor slave. Do not mock her so."

  I had never experienced anything of that power, of that nature, before. I was still shaken from it. In its grip, I had been overwhelmed, utterly helpless. "You will grow in such things," he said. "They are small in the beginning." "There can be more?" I asked.

  "You are only at the beginning of what men can make you feel, Doreen, slave girl," he said.

  I shuddered. I had never hitherto guessed that the power of men over me could be so great.

  "Do you wish to feel such things again and more?" he asked.

  "Yes," I whispered. "Yes!" How much we were at their mercy! They held over us not only the power of pain but also that of pleasure. They had now, in the person of Mirus, let me have a taste of incredible pleasure, perhaps that I might then have some inkling as to what such things could be. Now they could either grant me such pleasures, or withhold them from me, as they wished. I would obey with perfection, trying to please them!

  "What is it that you would wish to have again?" he asked.

  "Please do not make me say it, Master," I begged.

  "What is going on here?" asked a voice.

  Swiftly Mirus and I drew apart. I knelt, my head to the tiles. He stood. "You took her here, in the passageway?" asked Hendow, my master.

  "Yes," said Mirus.

  I could not see the face of Hendow, but I sensed that he was not pleased. Mirus seemed uneasy before him. I was frightened.

  "You are training her?" asked Hendow.

  "Yes," said Mirus.

  "Here?" asked Hendow.

  "I also enjoyed her," said Mirus, angrily.

  "How is she?" asked Hendow.

  I reddened.

  "She is good, for a new slave," said Mirus.

  The performance, the responses, and such, of slaves, may be discussed openly, as those of other animals.

  "Did she yield?" asked Hendow.

  "Yes," said Mirus.

  "Wholly?" asked Hendow.

  "Yes," said Mirus, angrily.

  "Look up, slave," said Hendow.

  I obeyed, instantly.

  "Did you yield?" asked Hendow.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Wholly?" asked Hendow.

  "Yes, Master," I whispered.

  "To him?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said, frightened.

  "Did she attain slave orgasm?" asked Hendo
w.

  "Yes," said Mirus.

  "Slave?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "That is your first, is it not?" asked Hendow.

  "Yes, Master," I whispered.

  "Perhaps you would have preferred to have brought her to this point yourself," said Mirus. "If so, I did not know. In such a case, had you made your wishes known to me, I would surely have respected them."

  "What difference does it make," asked Hendow, "who induces the first slave orgasm in a slave?"

  "No difference, of course," said Mirus. He shrugged.

  "Did you like it, slave?" asked Hendow. I had never seen him like this. "Yes, Master," I whispered.

  "Is that all?" he asked.

  "I loved it," I whispered, terrified.

  "What was it you loved?" asked Hendow, angrily.

  I looked at him, aghast. I was bashful, and shy. I was timid. I was from Earth. I did not want to say such words.

  "She is a new slave," said Mirus. "Perhapsa€”"

  "Be silent!" said Hendow.

  Mirus stiffened, as though he had been slapped. I was startled. How could Hendow have spoken to a free person in this fashion? Never had I seen him as he was. "With your leave," said Mirus, coldly.

  "Stay," said Hendow.

  "I did not know the slave was of interest to you," said Mirus.

  "She is meaningless, as is any other slave," said Hendow.

  "Of course," said Mirus.

  Then Hendow looked at me, again. His eyes were fierce. I must answer. It was painful for me. On Earth I had even been reluctant even to describe the liberating sort of dance I loved so much by such an expression as "belly dance". I quailed before that gaze. It was the gaze of my master.

  "My slave orgasm," I whispered.

  "Speak up, slave," said Hendow.

  "My slave orgasm," I said. I shuddered to hear such words coming from me. "And you want more of them, don" t you?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said, my eyes suddenly filling with tears. How helpless I was before such men.

  "And desperately so?" he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I wept.

  "You perhaps understand now," he said, "that there is more to slavery than collars and chains."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You are more thoroughly imbonded now than ever before," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. It was true. I wanted such incredible sensations. I would do anything for them. To be granted them I would strive to be a perfect slave. I suddenly put my head in my hands, weeping.

  "Hendow," protested Mirus.

  "Have you counted the coins?" asked Hendow.

  "Not yet," said Mirus, angrily.

  "Perhaps you should consider doing so, when you can find the time," said Hendow. "Of course," said Mirus, angrily. "Do you want the slave send out on the floor, or to your quarters?"

  "It was my understanding that in the schedules she was not to go on the floor this evening."

  "Yes," said Mirus. "I shall have her cleaned and sent to your quarters." "No," said Hendow. "She is to be put in her kennel, belly chained and braceleted, hands behind her back."

  "I will see to it," said Mirus.

  "Tupita will see to it," said Hendow.

  "Of course," said Mirus.

  Hendow then turned about, and left. I put my head quickly to the tiles, as he left, and then raised it. I looked, then, at Mirus.

  "I do not understand," said Mirus, looking after Hendow. "I do not understand." "Master?" I asked.

  "Hendow is my friend," said Mirus. "We would die for one another." "Master," I said, lifting my hand to Mirus.

  "No," he said, angrily. He stepped back. I gasped. His attitude was now so different than it had been. he looked at me. "But you are beautiful, aren" t you, Doreen?" he said.

  "I do not know, Master," I whispered.

  "It is true enough," he said, bitterly. "Perhaps you are even too beautiful." I put my head down.

  "But you are only a slave," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  He then turned away from me, and went through the curtain. "Tupita!" I heard him call. "Tupita!"

  But it was not Tupita, at first, who came into the passageway. It was Sita, in her silk. She knelt down beside me. "What is wrong?" she whispered to me.

  "I do not know," I said.

  "Is there trouble with Mirus?" she asked.

  "Hendow is angry, I think," I said.

  "It has to do with you," she said.

  "I think so," I said.

  "You may have favor with Hendow," she whispered.

  "I do not think so," I said.

  "There are rumors about," whispered Sita. "Have you hear them, that there may be a new first girl?"

  "I have heard something about it," I said. "I do not know if it is true." "Speak well for Sita," she whispered.

  "But you are the friend of Tupita," I said.

  "Tupita has no friends," she said.

  I looked at Sita, puzzled.

  "Speak well for Sita, with the masters," she said. "If I am first girl, you will be second.""It is thought that Tupita is losing her control of the girls," I said. There were twenty-seven of us.

  "She is," said Sita. "I have seen to it. Who do you think has undermined her?" "To how many of us have you offered the post of second girl?" I asked. "Only to you," she said.

  I smiled.

  "It is true," she whispered. "With the others I needed only rely on Tupita" s unpopularity, her arbitrariness, her favoritisms, and, naturally, the promise of an easier time under me."

  "Why am I so special?" I asked.

  "Because of Hendow," she whispered.

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "He likes you," she whispered. "I am sure of it."

  "No," I said. "I am only a meaningless slave to him."

  "Men kill for slaves," said Sita.

  I shuddered.

  "Speak well for Sita," she whispered.

  The beaded curtain parted and Tupita entered the passageway.

  Sita sprang to her feet. "You are a stupid slave," she cried to me. "You must learn to better please men!"

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "What is wrong with Mirus?" asked Tupita. "I have never seem him so angry." "It has to do with Hendow," said Sita. "He is angry with Mirus." "It has to do with this slave?" asked Tupita.

  "Yes," said Sita. "I have made her confess. Look at her. You can see she has been recently used."

  "Here?" said Tupita.

  "Apparently," said Sita.

  "Return to the floor," she said.

  "Tupita!" protested Sita.

  "There is a fellow at table fifteen. He is depressed. He is having problems with his companion at home. Belly to him. Console him."

  "Yes, Mistress," said Sita, and went back to the floor.

  "So there is trouble between Mirus and Hendow?" she asked.

  "Perhaps, Mistress," I said. "I do not know."

  "And it is over you?"

  "Perhaps, Mistress," I said. "I do not know."

  "I wonder how that could be," she said. Then she walked about me, looking at me. "Yes," she said. "I suppose it is possible." She stopped in front of me. "Do you know what is to be done with you?"

  "I am to be kenneled, belly chained and back-braceleted," I said.

  "So you were used here?" she said, looking about.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "That is my impetuous Mirus," she said.

  I was silent.

  "Did you yield well to him?" she asked.

  "Yes, Mistress," I whispered.

  "He teaches us our slavery well, doesn" t he?" she asked.

  "Yes, Mistress," I whispered. "Please do not whip me, Mistress." "Why would I do that?" she asked, lightly.

  "I thought you might be angry," I said, "about Mirus."

  "We are all free to the men of the house," she said. "And you are pretty." "You are not angry with me?" I asked.

  "Of course not," she s
aid. "What were you to do? You are only a slave." "Thank you, Mistress," I said.

  "Follow me to the kennels," she said. "I will chain and bracelet you there. Too, I will not make the belly chain any tighter than necessary."

  "Thank you, Mistress," I said.

  "And I will bring you a pastry later from the kitchen," she said, "and put it on the floor of your kennel. Though you will not be able to use your hands I expect that you will enjoy it, just the same.

  "Thank you, Mistress," I said.

  "Speak well of me to Hendow," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "If I am kept on as first girl," she said, "I will make you third girl, second only to myself and Sita."

  "Thank you, Mistress," I said.

  I then rose to my feet and followed here down the passageway, to the stairs leading to the basement, where most of the kennels were. She was as good as her word, and did not make the belly chain tighter then necessary, and, too, she brought me a pastry later from the kitchen."

  "Speak well of me to Hendow," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  I then, lying on my side, and turning my head, ate the pastry. Afterwards, as I could, with my teeth, I pulled the blanket up about me. I then lay there in the darkness, in the kennel. I pulled a little at the slave bracelets. They were not too tight, but they were on me snugly and well. They would hold me, perfectly. I remembered what a man had done to me, and how much of a slave he had made me. Hendow had told me later that I was never so thoroughly imbonded as now. I remembered the sensations. It was true. I did not know whether to weep with the power of men over me, or cry out with joy. I did not know. I was a slave, and, in spite of its vulnerabilities and terrors, loved it. I would try to serve well.

  I was frightened by the intrigues of the slaves, Tupita and Sita, and the other girls. I did not really want to be involved in them.

  I lay there then and loved the men of Gor. I had not really, in spite of strong feelings and intuitions on Earth, begun to understand my sex until I was imbonded, until I found myself in my place in nature, subservient to men. I now loved my sex. I now loved being a woman. It was marvelous, and wonderful!

  14 Punishment

  I knelt on the rug at the foot of the dais, that surmounted by the curule chair of my master, Hendow, of Brundisium. My head was to the rug, the palms of my hands on the floor. I had been summoned into his presence.

  I trembled, kneeling before him, my head down.