Dancer of Gor coc-22

by John Norman

  "Your garments for the afternoon," said one of the fellows behind me, "are in the back hall, near the back entrance."

  When I was ready to leave the tavern one of the men would check the alley, to make certain that my departure would be unnoticed.

  19 The Streets of Argentum; The Belly Chain and Disk

  "Sir," I said, "forgive me for daring to speak to you, but only the kindness of your countenance encourages my audacity."

  "Lady?" he inquired.

  "I am in desperate straits," I whispered piteously.

  "You are a beggar?" he asked.

  I put down my head, as though in shame.

  "Forgive me, Lady," he said. "These are hard times."

  I looked up, my eyes over the veil. "You are understanding," I whispered. "I was rude," he said. "I am sorry."

  "One such as you could not be rude," I said, half weeping. "Clearly, too, you are kind, and noble." He was also large and strong.

  "May I be of aid to you?" he asked.

  I turned half away from him, as though in confusion and shame. I had been taught to do such things. The men of my master had rehearsed them muchly with me. "Please," he said.

  "I should not have bothered you," I whispered.

  "Perhaps you need money," he said. "I am not a rich man but I have a little." "Better death in the streets, or a collar, than that I should so demean myself, and my station, as to avail myself of your generosity."

  "Are you hungry?" he asked."Yes," I said.

  "Your robes, though worn and shabby, are well kept," he said.

  "I am of humble caste," I said. It made me nervous, of course, to say such things. For a slave to claim caste is a serious matter. Similarly, it would not be wise for her to be caught in the garments of a free woman. That, too, is a terribly serious offense.

  "What is your caste?" he asked.

  His caste, as I could see from his garments, was that of the metal workers. "Yours," I said, "That of the metal workers."

  "We share caste," he said. "Too," he laughed, "I may remind you that that is my humble caste. Where would the dwellers of the cities be without us?" this was a way of saying, in the parlance of the caste, that the utilities and workings of metal were essential for a high civilization. Then he looked at me kindly, and spoke seriously. "You should not have hesitated for a moment to speak to me." "You are kind," I said. To be sure, much charity, and fraternal organizations, and evening outings, and such, are organized on caste lines. Caste is extremely important to most Goreans, even when they do not all practice the traditional crafts of their caste. It is one of the «nationalities» of the Gorean, so to speak. Other common "nationalities," so to speak, are membership in a kinship organization, such as a clan, or phratry, a group of clans, or a larger grouping yet, a tribe or analogous to a tribe, a group of phratries, and a pledged allegiance to a Home Stone, usually that of a village, town or city. It seems that in the distant past of Gor, these kinship allegiances were, in effect, political allegiances, as life became more complex, and populations more mobile, became separated. Kinship structures do not now figure strongly in Gorean public life, although in some cities divisions of the electorate, those free citizens entitled to participate in referenda, and such, remain based on them.

  "I have six tarsk bits with me," he said. "I will give you three." I recalled my training. I recalled, too, in my training, how one of my master" s men had shoved the point of a dagger to a quarter of an inch into my belly, below the navel, and informed me how he could spill my guts into his hand. "One would be more than enough," I said. "Honor could not permit me taking more."

  "Take two, then," he said.

  I tool the two tarsk bits. I slipped them, as though thankfully, into the purse, on its two strings, dangling from my belt, handing at my side. My master" s men, of course, would gather them out later.

  "I wish you well," he said, and began to turn away.

  My hand stayed him.

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  "Please permit me to thank you," I said.

  "That is not necessary," he said.

  "I want to thank you," I said, "in the way of the female."

  "That is not necessary," he said.

  "I have been told, by others," I said, "that I am beautiful enough, even, to be a slave."

  "I would not doubt it," he said.

  "I am prepared to serve you," I said, "even as a slave."

  "I can find that in a tavern," he said. "You are a free woman, and are of my own caste."

  "Nonetheless," I said. "I am prepared to so serve you."

  "Some have made you serve as much, for their coins, haven" t they?" he asked. I put my head down, as though ashamed. "Yes," I whispered.

  "I am sorry," he said. "I should not have asked."

  I kept my head down.

  "You poor thing," he said. "What beasts, what scoundrels, they were." "They are men," I said, shrugging, "and I am a woman."

  "Have no fear," he said. "I shall not abuse you."

  "But I want to serve you," I said.

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  "It was not for nothing that I selected you our from the others," I said. "Ah," he said, softly. This pleased him. Actually I had selected him out because my master" s men had, when he had passed, indicated that I should do so. The choice had been theirs, not mine.

  "Please," I said.

  He was a Gorean male. I did not doubt but what he would want me. It was a question of overcoming his inhibitions, connected with my supposed station, that of the free woman, my caste, his own, and perhaps some reservations about seeming to take advantage of my presumed straits.

  I backed a little into the alleyway, between the two buildings.

  "No," he said, softly. But he did not stop me as I then, gracefully, but with a certain seeming timidity, in the shelter between the walls, brushed back my hood, and lowered my veil.

  "You are beautiful," he said.

  My hair was combed back, and down, over my ears. It was tied in the back. He looked at me.

  For a moment I was afraid he knew.

  He lifted his hand a bit toward my throat, but then lowered it.

  I sensed what he had wished to do. I then drew away the robing, at my throat.

  "Ah," he said, softly. There was no collar there. My throat was bare of a collar!

  I stood before him. I think that he found me beautiful. I was face-stripped before him. This is very meaningful to Goreans. His eyes shone.

  "Let me loosed my hair before you," I whispered.

  "Not here," he whispered, suddenly, hoarsely. "Back. Further back." I backed down the alleyway, before him, watching him. He was now excited. Then my back was at the end of the alleyway, a closed alleyway, a cul-de-sac, against a building.

  "No," he said, suddenly. "I must not take advantage of you."

  "Let it be the tiniest of kisses then," I said, softly, "once only, and only the merest touch, my lips and yours, that, so little, or all of me, and as you want me, whatever you wish."

  He placed his hands, the palms of them, fiercely on the wall, one on each side of me, at my shoulders. He put down his head for a moment, fighting with himself. He then lifted his head, and looked into my eyes.

  I was small before him, and weak, and female.

  I felt him loosen my belt, and then it, with the attached purse, fell to the stones of the alleyway.

  He reached then to the opened collar of my robing.

  Of the usual garments of the free female I wore only the outer robe, the street robe. That had been decided by my master. If I were inclined to attempt an escape, even clad merely in such a way, I presumably would not get far. I would not even have been able to disrobe, among free women, to an underrobe, or sliplike robe. Beneath the street robe there would have been only a female, and a brand.

  The man" s eyes blazed with the wanting of me.

  To be sure, my master, even so, had taken an additional precaution with me. Suddenly, driven in his need, impassioned, he
tore open my robe.

  "You wear the belly chain of a slave!" he cried.

  Almost at the same time he was struck heavily from behind by my master" s men. He was terribly strong. They had to strike him five times before he went down. I stood back against the wall, frightened.

  One of my master" s men, from a skin, poured paga on the fallen figure. He would be transported from the alley, his arms over their shoulders. Few in the streets, given his apparent condition, and his smell, the paga souses on his garment, would think much of this. He would be taken to the back entrance of the tavern.

  "Get the robe off," said the other of my master" s men.

  He had already picked up the belt and purse, and thrust it in a sack. I removed the robe and he thrust if, too, with its hood, and veil, into the sack. I was then naked, except for the belly chain. Its links were heavy. Whereas it is sometimes possible for a male to slip such a chain, because of his straight hips, they stay well on females. About our waists, between the flaring of our hips and the swelling of our bosoms, they find a natural, lovely and secure mounting. This chain was locked on me with a heavy padlock, from the back. in the front, linked to the chain, and dangling down from it, over my lower belly, was a heavy, medallionlike metal disk. On this disk, so that it could be read from the front, was a large, cursive "Kef," for "Kajira," a larger version of the same letter adorning my thigh.

  The fellow with the sack put it down and took the disk in his hand. He jerked on it, so that I felt the pull on the chain, and then let it drop back on my belly. He laughed.

  "All fours," he said.

  I went to all fours in the alley. The metal disk hung down now, swinging, below my belly.

  My master" s collar, taken from the sack, was put on my neck. The belly chain was then removed from me and placed in the sack. The fellow, too, held a tunic to my mouth, and I took it in my teeth. When I left the alley there would be little that would be unusual about me. I would be just another girl, well exposed in her skimpy tunic, snugly locked in her collar, nothing unusual.

  20 The Key in the Belt

  "Please, Master," I said, swiftly kneeling near the entrance to the alleyway, "my master is much occupied with his business, and neglects me."

  The tall, strong fellow stopped to regard me. I was the sort of woman apparently not without interest to Gorean males.

  "Kind Master," I begged, "have pity on a female slave, desperate in her need." "You are naked," he observed.

  "My master punishes me," I said, "for he grew weary of my bellyings and my importunings for love."

  "I do not think I would send a slave like you into the streets naked," he said. "Master?" I asked.

  "She might be molested," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  He laughed.

  I looked down, as though confused, and embarrassed.

  "How long has it been since you have been touched?" he asked.

  "Two weeks," I said.

  "Incredible," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I whispered.

  "Doubtless he has many women," the fellow speculated.

  "No," I said, "only me."

  "Then," said he, "it is indeed incredible."

  "Thank you, Master," I said, shyly.

  "To afford a slave such as you," he said, "he must be well off." "He is rich," I said.

  "So why would he not have many women?" asked the fellow.

  "He cares more for his business than for women," I said.

  "You are quite beautiful," he said, admiring me with the openness and candor of a Gorean master.

  "Thank you, Master," I said, even as a slave reddening under that gaze.

  "Are you truly in desperate need?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said. That was true. My master kept me starved for sex. It seemed to be his belief that my needs, if painful, would improve me in this sort of performance. Perhaps he was right. Surely if a Gorean master were skillful in reading a woman" s body, as many are, there would be little there, now, at least in this one respect, to suggest deception. I squirmed naked before him, on my knees.

  "I am sorry," he said.

  I put down my head. I wished he was not truly concerned with me. Gorean masters, incidentally, almost never deprive a girl of sex, though it can, of course, be done with an end in view, for such purposes as punishment, increasing her need for a later time, or bringing her to a good, hot ready point for, say, her sale from a slave block. The deliberate starving of a woman of sex is almost unheard of on Gor. that sort of thing is, I think, more likely to be done on Earth, than Gor, and, on Earth, it seems to be practiced more frequently, interestingly enough, not on slaves, but free women. Indeed, one of the major differences between the slave and her free sister. This is not to say that a slave may not occasionally be made to beg for sex, or that she may not, upon occasion, have to beg for it. These things help her to understand that she has sexual needs, and that whether or not these needs are to be satisfied, is at the option of the master. A formula sometimes used is: "I acknowledge unequivocally and without reservation that I have sexual needs. Similarly I inform you that I want them satisfied. I beg you, Master, to satisfy them." It might be noted in this, of course, that a slave may beg for sexual satisfaction. She is free to do so, and it is quite acceptable for her to do so. Such a liberty, of course, would be unthinkable in the case of a free woman. Needless to say, the master commonly accedes to the pleas of the slave. When he himself desires sex, of course, he simply takes it, or imposes it on the slave. Her will is nothing. And she must strive to be fully pleasing. He is master; she is slave.

  "I am lonely, I am neglected, I am in need," I said. "My master cares more for his business than for his slave."

  "I am sorry," he said.

  "You are strong, and a male," I said, looking up, "and I am small, and weak, and a female, and am in need."

  He said nothing.

  "I would tie the bondage knot in my hair for you," I said. "Are you soliciting the touch of a man who is not your master?" he asked. "Oh, no Master!" I said, quickly.

  He smiled.

  "Do you scorn me for my helplessness?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  "You are kind to a slave," I whispered.

  "In any event," he said, "you wear the iron belt."

  "Master," I said, quickly, quietly. "It is for such a reason that I have knelt before you. My master, in his anger, and in his preoccupation with his business, when he put the belt on me, neglected to remove the key for the lock. It is still there. I have felt it from behind my back."

  "Oh?" he said, interested.

  "Yes!" I whispered.

  "He must, indeed, have been preoccupied," he said.

  "He was angry, too," I said. "He stripped me, put the belt on me and sent me on an errand, from the house. I do not think he was much paying attention to what he was doing." This seemed to me the weakest part of the story, that a Gorean master might neglect to remove a key from a lock. Such things are commonly done by habit, if nothing else. I did have an errand capsule, a capped, narrow leather cylinder, such as may be used for carrying notes, messages, and such, on a string about my neck, the string over my collar.

  "The belt then could be easily removed from you," said the fellow, "and later replaced."

  "Yes," I said.

  I could see that he was interested in me. I had been found desirable, apparently extremely so. To be sure, a key could be left in a lock. Such things could happen. Should a fellow question such luck?

  " I do not own you," he said.

  "Do so," I said, "for an Ahn."

  "There is no place," he said.

  "Take me into the alleyway," I said. "Spill garbage, or refuse, upon the stones, for I am a slave and am worth less than even it, and have no value lest it be to serve a master, and put me upon it. Make that my bed."

  "My cloak, doubled, will do," he smiled.

  "Enfold me then within it," I said, "as though within your arms, that I may then within its enc
losing warmth, as though within the confines of a cell, tender my woman" s submission to your maleness."

  I then, slowly, gracefully, kneeling before him, looking up at him, tied the bondage know in my hair, it then hanging beside my right cheek.

  "Precede me into the alley," he said, kindly.

  I rose, gracefully, and did so. I would rather he had not been so concerned for me. I remembered he knife of my master" s man, the point entered ever so slightly into my belly, the edge of the knife turned in such a way that I knew it could open me like a larma.

  He spread the cloak, doubled, on the stones of the alleyway. I knelt upon it, and put my hands, clasped, behind the back of my head. I hoped that my master" s men had gone elsewhere. He reached about me, as I pressed myself against him, troubled, and I felt him turn the key in the lock. In a moment, the belt was laid aside.

  "You are open," he announced."Yes, Master," I said.

  "You are very beautiful," he said.

  Thank you, Master," I said.

  "Is anything wrong?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "Do we have much time?" he asked.

  "I do not know, Master," I said.

  "How long is your errand?" he asked.

  "I do not know, Master," I said.

  "What is its nature?" he asked.

  "I do not know," I said.

  "It is doubtless written on a paper, inside the errand capsule," he said. "Yes, Master," I said.

  "To whom were you to report, for the conduct of the errand?" he asked. "Who was to read the message?"

  "He who was designated by my master" s men," I said.

  "Do you know his name?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "But you do know to whom you were supposed to deliver it?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said.

  "When do you expect to deliver it?" he asked.

  "I have already done so," I said.

  "You are returning from your errand?" he said.

  "I am in the midst of it, Maser," I said.

  "I do not understand," he said.

  "The message is for you," I said.

  He looked at me, puzzled. He then uncapped the errand capsule, and took out the bit of rolled paper. He unrolled it, and read it. He leaped to his feet, turning, but already they were upon him. They pummeled him savagely. Then he lay crumpled at their feet.