Dancer of Gor coc-22

by John Norman

  "That will do," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. In a sense, then, I had the same name, "Tuka," but, in another sense, it was a new name, put on me afresh. I now wore it not by the will of another, but by his own will. Once I had been Miss Doreen Williamson. Now, again, by a man" s decision, I, an animal, was simply, "Tuka." It was an exciting name. It made me flame between my thighs. I squirmed a little. "Do you know what this is," he asked. He had picked up the slave whip. "A slave whip," I said.

  He held it before me and I eagerly licked and kissed it.

  "You do that well, slave," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "Can you speak Gorean?" he asked.

  "A little, Master," I said. He knew, of course, I could speak at least a little Gorean. For example, he had heard me speak with Mirus and Tupita. "Master would know more of such matters," I said, "had he, when I requested it upon occasion, given me permission to speak."

  He toyed with the whip. I hoped I had not been too bold.

  "A girl can understand simple commands," I whispered.

  "Perhaps, by now, she should be better than that," he said.

  "I can speak Gorean," I said, "at least well, I think, for my time here. I have had to learn it rapidly and efficiently. It is the language of my masters." He nodded. Slave girls from Earth learn Gorean quickly. We are encouraged, of course, by the switch and whip. They are useful pedagogical devices.

  "May I speak?" I asked. It seemed strange to request permission to speak, in English. Yet it was fully proper, for I was a slave. That was what was important, that I was a slave, not the language in which I spoke.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Is it to your whip that I am subject?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "I am yours?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "I put sword claim upon you. Let he who will dispute it with me."

  I twisted in the bonds. I was his, then, girl loot, kajira spoils, as much as a tharlarion or a crate of jewels, by the right of the sword.

  "Did you search for me?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said, "for months, from Market of Semris, to Brundisium, to Samnium, to Argentum, to Venna."

  I recalled Tyrrhenius had spoken of "inquiries." I had thought they might be inquiries being made by praetors", agents, or something. It had not been clear, even, whether the «inquiries» were related, or were being made by one or more parties. It now seemed that at least two parties, separately, doubtless unknown to one another, each with its individual motivation, had been searching for me. No wonder Tyrrhenius had wanted to sell me out of Argentum as quickly as he could!

  "Why?" I asked. "To free me?"

  "Do you think you should be a free woman?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  He looked at me, and he seemed angry, and I was afraid of him.

  "I realized, after I had let you go, that I had really brought you here for myself."

  "Oh, Master!" I cried, joyfully.

  "So I followed you," he said, "fool that I was ever to have let you go." "Why did you not buy me from your employers, and put me in your collar, and keep me, and train me to please you, according to your dictates?"

  "I feared you would drive me mad with passion," he said. "But there is a way to handle such women, to keep them in collars, and under strict control." "Yes, Master!" I said. "Yes!" He searched for me! He had found me! He looked down at me.

  "Master had labored long to fine me," I said. "He has risked much for a mere girl."

  He shrugged.

  "It is my hope that master is not disappointed, now that he has me in his bonds," I said.

  He smiled.

  "I gather that master is not disappointed." I said.

  "I shall let you know later," he said.

  I laughed. But how tightly I was bound! How helpless I was! "It is surprising, is it not," I asked, "that you should search so long for a mere slave?" "I suppose so," he said.

  "May I not inquire more closely then into master" s motivation?" I said. I so wanted him to tell me that he found me of interest, that he found me pleasing! "You are not an unattractive slave," he said, dryly.

  "But surely there are many attractive slaves," I said.

  "That is true," he said.

  "Might a slave hope that master might care for her, just a little?" I asked.

  "Rather let her hope that such an improper, impertinent question does not earn her a meeting with the whip," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You were desired," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. I must then put aside all thoughts of love or affection. I was unworthy of such, from such a man, I was inutterably beneath him, worth less than the dust beneath his sandals. How absurd was my question! How shamed I was at my pride! How bold I had been! How could I even think of such a thing? Did I not know I was from Earth, and only a slave! But I loved him, and with the whole heart and body of me! I tendered to him the wholeness of my helpless slave" s love, worthless though it might have been. I had love enough in my small, marvelous body for a thousand of us, a thousand times over! So I was not loved! What did it matter? I was desired, and this would be enough. Too, I myself felt desire, and profound, raging slave desire, as he on his part must have felt the passions of the master. I was inflamed with need and heat before him, my master. Unworthy though I might be he had clearly wanted me! He had picked me out on Earth, he had fought with himself on Gor, then he had pursued me like a sleen, threading patiently through the harrows of time, disregarding the perils of both men and beasts. Loved or not, I had been for months, unknown to myself, an indisputable object of Gorean passion. I had been woman prey, a hunter" s curvaceous quarry. Now the hunt was done, and the lovely beast was taken, and tied naked at the hunter" s feet. She desired muchly to serve him. I tried desperately to conceal my passion. "May I inquire," I asked, as unconcernedly, as lightly, as I could, "what may be your intentions with respect to me?"

  "It is my intention," he said, "at least for a time, to keep you as a slave if you endeavor to prove satisfactory."

  "As an imbonded girl," I said, "I shall, of course, endeavor to prove satisfactory."

  He smiled.

  "Never let me go again," I wept, suddenly. "Keep me forever!"

  He looked at me.

  Swiftly I spread my knees further apart. I did not wish to be whipped.

  "You smell like an aroused slave," he commented.

  "I am an aroused slave!" I wept.

  "Are you not a highly intelligent modern woman?" he inquired. "I beg permission to kiss the feet of my master," I said.

  "You have come a long way from your library, librarian," he said.

  I looked up at him, tears in my eyes.

  "They have put slave fires in your belly, haven" t they?" he asked. "Yes, Master," I said.

  "How cruel of them," he said.

  I squirmed helplessly.

  "Perhaps a girl wishes to serve her master?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master!" I said. "Yes, Master! Please, Master!"

  He then went behind me and untied my ankles. He then put his hands gently on my flanks, and waist, and body, and I pressed back against him, sobbing, my eyes closed, moaning, begging to be touched. Then he whipped loose the fiber on my wrists and, rolling it and putting it in his pouch, went to stand before me. I put my head down and began to lick and kiss his feet, sobbing.

  "Yes, you are obviously a highly intelligent woman," he said. "You do that very well."

  I sobbed.

  "You look well, modern woman," he said, "at my feet."

  "Please, Master," I begged. "I am not a modern woman. There is nothing left in me of the modern woman, really, as you of all men, must know and recognize, even if ever there was anything of that sort in me to begin with! I am now only a Gorean slave girl at the feet of her master!"

  "And what is the name of your master?" he inquired.

  "My master is Teibar," I said.

  "And of what city
is he?" he asked.

  "I do not know, Master," I said.

  "He is of Ar," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Whose slave are you, then?" he asked.

  "I am the slave of Teibar of Ar," I said. This was the first time I had ever spoken these words. I was thrilled to speak them. They gave the name and city of my master. If a guardsman or any free person, or even a male slave, or a female slave in a position of authority, were to inquire as to the identity of my master, that was the information that I would be expected to give them. To be sure, such things may be read on collars. At this time, however, I still wore the collar of Ionicus. The recovery period, germane to that collar, expired at midnight tonight. Sword claim, however, if uncontested, took priority. I knew little of Ar, but I did not it was a large and powerful city.

  "You are lovely, slave of Teibar of Ar," he said, looking down at me. "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "I think," he said, looking down at me, "that indeed, truly, there is little of the modern woman left in you."

  "There is nothing of that hateful tragedy of that barreness and lovelessness, left in me, Master," I said, "if ever there was anything of it in me to begin with. And I love you. I love you! I love you!"

  "Interesting," he said.

  "Do not whip me, Master," I said. "I beg you, but I do love you, and from the depths of my heart! I have loved you and wanted to please you, and be yours, from the first moment I saw you!"

  He looked at me.

  "Forgive me, Master," I said. I seized up the slave whip and handed it to him. "Let an unimportant slave be whipped!"

  But he only held the whip to my lips and I kissed it, fervently, gratefully, and then looked up at him.

  He looked at me, and I squirmed in need.

  He touched the whip to my shoulder and I moaned, and put my head to the side, and kissed it.

  "You seem to be in need," he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I said.

  "Do you wish to serve your master?" he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I said.

  "Perhaps I shall permit you to do so," he said.

  "Thank you, Master!" I said. He was the most exciting man I had ever known. His least touch made me want to cry out with passion and surrender myself, totally. "You may do so," he said.

  "Thank you, Master!" I breathed, looking up at him, with tears in my eyes. I was more than eager to serve him o a thousand intimate and delicious modalities. I would try to be more marvelous than the most marvelous slave he might ever dreamt of. "Command me, Master!"

  "But first," he said, "as it is still light, we are going for a short walk. You will be taken on a leash. We will then return to the camp."

  "Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

  In a few minutes we had returned to the camp, I on my leash. Though he had waited for me, once, to relieve myself, I do not think that that was the purpose of the walk. That I could have done anywhere outside the camp, chained to a tree, if necessary. We had gone down by the long building, beyond the well, in the meadow, where the beasts lay. He unsnapped the leash and I knelt before him, then, waiting to be commanded.

  "Yes, Master," I said, eagerly.

  "Cook," he said.

  33 Dust

  I knelt down, across from the fire from him, in our small camp in the woods, not far from the meadow. It was dark now. There was a space of some fifty feet of cleared ground behind him. Closer to me there were some trees and brush. I was naked. He had not given me clothing, even the belt of rolled cloth and the slave strip, which he had earlier removed, when I had been bound, after the departure of Mirus and Tupita, they with the tharlarion and wagon.

  "Is the camp in order? Is your work finished?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said. I had tried to do my best to cook well for him. I hoped he had not been dissatisfied. He had eaten in silence, but well. I hoped I had not done too badly. I had not been whipped. The whip is a very tangible symbol of the relationship between the master and the slave, and if the master is not satisfied, it can quickly become, as the slave knows well, more than a symbol. After he had begun to eat he had given me a piece of bread, thrusting it in my mouth as I was, by his command, on all fours near him. After that he had, from time to time, thrown me scraps, tossing them to the crushed leaves. These I must eat without the use of my hands.

  As a female I looked across at him, such a master. To no weaker man would I have cared to belong. He would command; I would obey. I was his.

  "Perhaps Master will not bind his slave," I said.

  He regarded me.

  I could not deny that I loved bonds, both of a physical and social sort, those tangible evidences of my womanhood, and my place in nature. He might bind me, I supposed, merely to secure me for the night. On the other hand, I hoped that he might now bind me not for the night but rather for the evening, either in such a way as merely to make clear to me that I was a slave, little more than a symbolic binding, or even in such a way that I should be utterly helpless to resist his attentions, whatever they might be.

  "You are a woman made for bonds," he said.

  But he made no move to secure a neck chain, or physical bonds of any sort, not did he order me to fetch such, hurrying to him, say, with chains, responsive to his command, that would be placed on my own body.

  "And love, Master," I said, boldly. "And love!"

  He frowned.

  "Forgive me, Master," I said.

  To be sure, I already wore the most marvelous and joyous bonds of all, those of my womanhood, identical with myself, those of my slavery, natural and legal, and those of my love.

  When I saw his eyes upon me I moved my knees a tiny bit further apart. I was a subtle thing. He was not surprised, really, to notice it, or much notice it, at least on a conscious level.

  "You are a sly slave," he said.

  "Forgive me, Master," I said. I considerably narrowed the gap between my knees. "No," he said. "Open your knees even more widely than they were before." "Yes, Master," I said. Now, of course, I was merely a slave, obeying the orders of her master. How far away then seemed Earth, and the library.

  "May I speak, Master?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Fulvius," I said, "who was one of the brigands, did not care, it seems, to leave an enemy behind him."

  My master nodded.

  "I do not care to do so either," he said.

  "But you released Sempronius and Callisthenes," I said. "You even showed them hospitality. You even put Tela and myself to their pleasure."

  "They are not enemies," he said.

  "I see," I said.

  "One must beware of enemies," he said, "and the nobler they are, the more dangerous they are."

  "I am surprised that you have kept this camp as long as you have," I said. "I gather this was in deference to Mirus, who was recovering his strength."

  "Perhaps," he said.

  "But you did not leave with him this afternoon," I said.

  "No," he said.

  "Perhaps you intend to leave the camp in the morning?" I asked.

  "Perhaps," he said.

  I looked at my master. He had never used me. On Earth, and in the first house of my bondage, my virginity, it seemed, had protected me. Such was supposed to improve my price on the slave block, at least for certain buyers. Certainly it must have appealed to Hendow, for he had made good money on me, in the selling of chances, raffling it off. Then I had been lost to him for a long time. Then, in the meadow, he had found me. I had come again into his power. He had put sword claim upon me. I was his, his slave! But he had still not used me. He had put me to the pleasure of Sempronius. Later, by another simple exercise of the rights of his mastery, I must serve Mirus. Yet he had sought me for months. Surely that had not been done merely to put me to the purposes of others. I looked at him. Surely he must desire me. He had said as much. I shuddered. I was afraid, a little but terribly excited, to be the object of his desire, Gorean desire. It was so powerful, so ruthless, so absolu
tely uncompromising. Yet, too, I though, he must care for me. Surely he must! Indeed, he must care very much for me! Perhaps he even loves me, I thought, absurd though that might seem. Was that really so impossible? He must love me, I thought. He must!

  "What is wrong with you?" he asked.

  "Nothing, Master," I said.

  I looked at him. I was sure he loved me!

  "Are you sure there is nothing wrong?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said. "Master," I said.

  "Yes," he said.

  "You own me," I said. "I am your slave."

  "Yes?" he said.

  "But I am curious to know what my status is, Master," I said. I would try, slyly, to determine his feelings for me.

  "Your status?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said. "What sort of slave am I?"

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "Am I a high slave?" I asked.

  "Do you wish to be whipped?" he asked.

  ?No, Master!" I said.

  "Turn about," he said. "Kneel down. Put your head to the ground, clasp your hands together, behind the back of your neck."

  "Yes, Master!" I wept. I hastened to obey. This is a common position for slave rape.

  "Oh! I cried. Then I shuddered and gasped, and cried out. Then I gasped, again and again. Then he spurned me to the dirt, by the fire, with his foot. I turned about, from my belly, shuddering, to look at him.

  "That is your status, the sort of slave you are," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Speak your status, the sort of slave you are," he said.

  "I am a low slave!" I said.

  "And you are the lowest of the lowest!" he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I said. There were tears in my eyes. Obviously I was a full slave to this man. No intention in the least had he of weakening or compromising my bondage. He had not picked me out on Earth to be a half slave. My feelings were very mixed. I was wildly grateful to have been taken, but yet he had given me little time or pleasure. His attentions, and his domination and disciplinary taking, but still I had wept and reveled in it. It was the first such touch, even so arrogant and contemptuous, which my master had granted me. Too, I knew that even though I might be a low slave, as I had little doubt that I was now, and even among the lowest of the low slaves, I was not disheartened, or indeed, even disappointed. First, I knew that women who are kept as low slaves, and even strictly so, are often among the most loved. Many love masters keep their love slaves, for example, as low slaves. I had little doubt that Mirus would keep Tupita as such. She was even braceleted when she left the camp. I knew, too, that even high slaves are occasionally subjected to such imperious uses, which in their way are delicious, just at they might, to their shame, frustration and pleasure, find themselves, occasionally clad in rags and put to disagreeable tasks. Such things remind them that they are slaves, and must obey their masters. Such enforcements, too, tend to be reassuring, and arousing, to a woman. Even if I were not loved, I now had no doubt that I was keenly desired, and that I need not fear that I might not be put to my master" s pleasure and as a slave. The ruthlessness of his use only doubled my desire, that of a slave, to serve and love him. it was clear he had known what he was doing when he had picked me out on Earth.