Dancer of Gor coc-22

by John Norman

  "You may resume your position," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I said, returning to my place, kneeling across the fire from him. I was still shaken and heated from my rape. To some extent I was ashamed and chagrined, for had I not once been a free woman of Earth, but mostly I was very pleased, and grateful, and loving. Too, I was in awe of him. he had wanted me, he had taken me. He would do what he wanted with me. I would be treated as he pleased. There would be no compromising with me. I was his slave. "May I speak?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "How did you know that you might trust Callisthenes and Sempronius?" I asked. "I think I have some skill in reading men," he said.

  "Can you read women, as well?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "And what do you read in me?" I asked.

  "Straighten your body, and spread your knees more widely," he said. I complied.

  "I read that you are an exquisite female slave," he said, "who needs only a strong master to achieve the total perfections of her femininity.

  "It is true, Master," I said, reddening, putting down my head. I was sorry I had asked. I was so embarrassed! It was as though he could read my innermost thoughts and needs. Was I truly so open to him? It seemed that my thoughts and needs were as naked to him as now, by his will, was my body.

  He then fetched a bit of oil and a sharpening stone from his things and, returning to his place, removed his sword from its scabbard. He then, slowly, patiently, with great care, addressed himself to the blade. Gorean men usually sharpen their own swords. They tend to trust the edge on the weapon to no one but themselves. I regarded the blade with uneasiness, but fascination. I had seen such things at work.

  "Be certain that we speak in English," he said, not looking up.

  "Very well, Master," I said. We had been speaking in English. I did not understand why he should say that now.

  "We must made do, as we can," he said.

  "Master?" I asked.

  "Had you oil to pour upon the fire, causing it to blaze up suddenly, from the darkness of embers, that might make it difficult to see, for a moment, the light."

  "Yes, Master?" I said.

  "But it is too early for the fire to have died down as yet," he said. "Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

  I watched the sharpening stone move to the blade, so slowly, so smoothly, so evenly.

  "If someone were to approach," he said, "from behind me, you would undoubtedly see him almost immediately."

  "Yes, Master," I said. "There is a clearing behind you, for perhaps fifty feet or more."

  His head was down. He worked with the stone.

  "Accordingly," he said, "if someone did not wish to be observed in approaching the camp, he might come from that direction which lies more behind you, where there are trees and brush."

  "I suppose so, Master," I said.

  "Do not look around," he said.

  "Very well, Master," I said.

  "Such an individual," he said, "might await his opportunity, for example, for a time when he might approach, unobserved."

  "Master?" I said, frightened.

  "For example," he said, "when someone might be intent upon some other task, not paying attention to that avenue of approach."

  "Master?" I asked.

  "Do you recall this afternoon," he said, "when we went for our walk?" "Of course," I said.

  "Do you recall the bodies of the two beasts in the meadow," he asked. "Yes," I said. I had not cared to much look at them, but he had drawn me to them, by the leash, and had had me do so. They had lain contorted in death. The sight was not pretty. He had then, mercifully, had us return to the camp. "Do you recall anything unusual about them?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "Do you not recall," he asked, "that on each there was a sprinkling of dust?" "Yes," I said, puzzled.

  "How do you suppose it got there?" he said.

  "Blown by the wind," I said.

  "No," he said, "not in the meadow."

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "You do not understand the significance of that dust?" he said.

  "No," I said.

  "They, too, have their ceremonies, and rites," he said.

  "They?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "The dust is ceremonial."

  I said nothing.

  The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose.

  "It would seem," he said, "I am now nearly finished with sharpening the sword. Shortly, then, I might be expected to look up."

  "Oh, Master," I said, terrified.

  "Do you detect anything?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "He will approach from downwind," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "If you have time," he said, "you are not to rise to your feet, but to throw yourself to the side. You may then rise up and flee." He spoke with an unnatural calmness. His movements with the stone of the blade were smooth and unhurried, but I sensed that every nerve and cell in his body was tense and alive. "I will have the opportunity for only one thrust," he said. The blade was now oriented toward me. Almost directly toward me. "Do you remember the direction in which I sent Tela, and Mina and Cara, from the camp?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "In that direction lies the camp of Pietro Vacchi," he said. "It will also, of course, bring you to the Vitkel Aria."

  "Master!" I said.

  "Do you understand?" he asked.

  "Yes," I whispered.

  "Remember that there is no freedom or escape for you on this world. You are merely a collared slave. It is my advice, accordingly, that you submit yourself as soon as possible to the first man, or men, you think are capable of defending you. If you are caught, on the other hand, you might be considered a runaway, and be forced to bear the grievous consequences of such a foolish indiscretion." "I am a slave," I said. "I do not wish to be free."

  "You will not be," he said.

  "I am afraid," I said, "terribly afraid."

  "Do not be afraid," he said. "He is not coming."

  "Oh, Master," I breathed, joyously, "Master!" I felt incredible relief. My entire body relaxed. I leaned forward, toward him, toward my master. Almost at the same time I heard a sudden, bestial, deafening, screaming roar behind me and the movement of a huge body and my master was leaping to his feet lunging over the fire thrusting his sword into the darkness behind me over my head and I twisted and saw two great, hairy arms outstretched reaching for him, which closed about him, and I screamed, the body and jaws of the thing over me. I between it and my master, and I threw myself to the side.

  In an instant I turned, wildly, on all fours, and, in the half darkness, the fire muchly struck and scattered, tiny flames about, from fiery brands and flaring leaves, saw two shapes, a gigantic bestial shape, and that of a human being, a man, locked together, swaying, clawed feet and sandals moving in the dirt, struggling for leverage and position.

  My master had said it was not coming, but how could he have known that, I now realized, at that particular time, without even looking up? No, he had know it was coming. When he had said that it had seemed, in my relief, that the entire physiology to the tone of my body had changed. Perhaps this had suggested to the beast, by sight, and perhaps even by smell, that its presence was undetected, unsuspected, that we were unready, that we thought ourselves safe, that that was the moment of attack. Naturally it would wish to dispose of the man first. I, a female, unarmed and naked, if it were interested in me at all, could be left for later. I had even leaned forward, happily. Clearing the path to him.

  The two forms seemed very still now, near the remains of the fire, standing, hardly moving.

  "Tuka," called my master, throatedly."Yes, Master!" I cried.

  "Your permission to flee," he said, speaking the words one at a time, slowly, "is revoked."

  "Yes, Master!" I cried.

  I saw the long, hairy arms of the gigantic beast slowly relaxing their grasp on my master" s body. The tunic was torn f
rom his back. I did not know if he could stand without the support of the beast.

  "Build up the fire," he said. His voice seemed strangely full and resonant. But, too, it seemed he could hardly speak.

  I hurried to gather the scattered brands, and other wood, and thrust them to the fire. I attended also to the few remaining tiny flares of flame about, those left from the scattering of the fire. It was not difficult to extinguish these. I scattered some and heaped dirt on others. Some I stamped out.

  Approaching the fire with an armful of sticks, from the pile to one side, gathered earlier in the woods by Tupita and myself. I saw the eyes of the beast turned upon me. I do not know if it understood what it saw. They seemed expressionless. It was still on its feet. From its chest there protruded the handle of a sword. It had been halted from further penetration by its guard. It had been, the force compounded by its own charge, driven through the body. My master stood back a bit, his tunic in shreds upon his back. his arms were bloody. His chest was bloody, too, though I think from the blood of the beast. He was trembling. The beast then sat down, back on its haunches, by the now built-up fire. It shook its head and bit at the fur on its arm, as though grooming itself. It then, slowly, lay down. The handle of the sword rose an inch or so, then, showing the blade, as the beast lay back. the point had apparently entered the dirt behind it, but, too, in virtue of this resistance, the blade itself, pressed up, emerged slightly from the body. The beast reached to the handle of the sword with its large hands, or paws, with those six, tentaclelike digits. They touched the handle but could not close about it. It then put its arms down, to the sides. Blood was at its mouth, and chest, from around the blade.

  My master looked at me. He was breathing heavily. He was visibly shaken. "Lie across it," he said, on your back, with your head down."Swiftly I put the sticks on the fire and lay across the beast, on my back, my head down. I was terrified. It was still alive. I could feel the heat of its body, its breathing, its blood on my back. my master" s weapon was still in the beast. It was near my waist, as I lay, on my left. He was breathing heavily. He looked down at me. He then suddenly, rudely, fiercely, not sparing me, thrust apart my knees. We were alive, the two of us! We had survived! "Master!" I cried, impaled by, and submitting to, the beauty, the glory, the surgency of his eager, claimant, merciless, rejoicing manhood. And it was thus he took the slave, who was his, putting her to his pleasure on the body of the beast. This act, in its emotional power, its significance and complexity, was indescribable. It was an act of assertive aggressiveness, of vitality, of joy, of significance. It was a release from the fear of death, it was a thanksgiving for fate and fortune, it was an affirmation of life, it was the cry of a wild verr in the mountains, the leaping of a fish in the sea, the roar of the larl, the hiss of the sleen, the scream of a tarn in the sky. Only to those who have been closest to death is the value of life most dear.

  He then, gently, drew me from the beast. He kissed me, and held me to him. "Tomorrow we will leave the camp," he said.

  "It was for this that you were waiting?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "It is dead," I said.

  "Yes," he said.

  He then drew his sword from the body of the beast, and cleaned it on its fur. "You did not choose to leave an enemy behind you," I said.

  "Nor did he," he said.

  "Would it have followed you?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "You knew that it was about," I said, "because of the dust of the others, those in the meadow, their burial."

  "I thought it would linger," he said. "The dust, of course, convinced me that my conjecture was correct."

  "You seem to know something of these things," I said, shuddering.

  "A little," he said.

  "What is to be done now?" I asked.

  "I shall take it to the meadow, and put it with the others," he said, "burying it, as it did them, with a handful of dust. After that there is the matter of rites, of suitable ceremonies."

  "It is only a beast," I said to him.

  "No," he said, "it is more than a beast."

  I looked at him.

  "It was of the People," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Remain here," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  34 Love

  "Master well knows how to use a slave," I gasped. "Will he not be merciful with me? What does he want of me? I am only a slave! Must he drive me mad with passion?"

  "Be silent," he grumbled.

  I twisted helplessly in the love chains. I jerked helplessly again them, the rings cutting into my ankles, pulling against my wrists. There are many varieties of such chains. These were simple and had been earlier taken from the wagoner" s bench, part of the loot which my master had divided between himself and Mirus. Each consisted of a wrist ring and an ankle ring, joined by about ten inches of chain. My left wrist had been attached to my left ankle, my right wrist to my right ankle. I was on my back. A chain was also on my neck. It fastened me to a nearby tree, a yard or so from our blankets.

  "You danced well, earlier," he said.

  "Master!" I gasped. "Master!"

  His tongue was incredible, so gentle, so subtle and yet so persuasive, so forceful, so irresistible.

  "You are a hot slave," he commented.

  "Hot! I was flaming, and helpless!

  He drew back a bit, amused.

  Quickly I lifted myself piteously, suppliantly to him.

  "Is this how the woman of Earth behave?" he asked.

  "I am no longer of Earth," I said. "I am of Gor, and a slave! Be merciful, I beg it, to a helplessly aroused slave!"

  He chuckled, the beast, at my discomfiture, and helplessness, and need! "Please, please!" I begged.

  "You are far from Earth now, and your library, slave," he said.

  "Yes, Master! Yes, Master!" I said. "Please, please, Master!" I lifted myself to him in mute petition.

  How he relished the power he held over me!

  "Oh, yes!" I cried, as his tongue, again touched me. It had been a tiny, subtle touch, and yet, as he doubtless knew, from my distraught condition, it had brought me to the point where my response was totally within his power and I must beg.

  "Please, Master," I whimpered.

  "Do you beg?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master!" I said.

  "Who begs?" he asked.

  "Tuka, the slave of Teibar of Ar, begs!" I moaned.

  Again his tongue touched me and I threw back my head and screamed with joy, jerking against the chains. "Oh!" I cried. "Oh!" I shuddered, and thrashed and gasped. Then I lay quiet in his chains, looking up at him in wonder, in gratitude. I was his. My entire body was rich in the memory of what he had done to me, in one sense what he had made me beg for, in another sense what he had forced me to endure.

  "I am yours," I said.

  "That is known to me," he said. He then touched me again, this time gently, with his hand.

  Again I looked up at him, helplessly.

  "You are mine to caress," he said.

  "Yes, my master," I whispered. Then he made me cry out, softly, and then turned me to my belly on the blankets, and lifted me to him. Then he permitted me to lie on my side, and I tried to kiss at his body.

  "You are a grateful slave," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "And a passionate slave," he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I said.

  "Where are the severe garments of the librarian?" he asked. He referred doubtless to the long-sleeved blouse, the dark sweater, the severe skirt, the low-heeled shoes, such things.

  "I do not know, Master," I said.

  "And where, too, now, is that librarian?" he asked.

  "She who was that librarian," I said, "is here, but she is now only a naked slave, and she begs to kiss her master."

  "She may do so," he informed me.

  In a time, then, again, he aroused, he seized me and rose to his knees, and held me, he kneeling, I
kneeling, and then he thrust me back, and my head was down, and he lifted me up, to him, he kneeling, and he then again, I so helpless, hanging back and down, put me impersonally to his pleasure.

  "I did well to pick you out on Earth," he cried.

  "Yes, Master!" I wept, loving and ravished, helpless and yielding, a slave, in his hands.

  He them put me gently to my back and I looked up at him, in awe and love. "You are a treasure," he said.

  "A treasure," I laughed, "that may be purchased for something in the neighborhood of five silver tarsks!"

  "Not from me," he said. "I would not sell you for a thousand."

  "Mirus thought that Tupita was a thousand times more beautiful than I," I said. "He was wrong," said my master.

  "Thank you, Master," I said, pleased.

  "She is no more than nine hundred times more beautiful that you," he said. "Master!" I said.

  "To me," he said, "you are a thousand, thousand times more beautiful than she." "Thank you, Master!" I purred.

  "Kneel," he said.

  I struggled to my knees.

  "Do you know what time it is?" he asked.

  "Late," I said.

  "Are you chained?" he asked.

  "Of course, Master," I said. I wore his love chains, and the chain on my neck fastening me to the nearby tree.