by John Norman
"No," said my master. "There is, of course, the matter of the treasure dowry."
"Of course," she said. She now breathed more easily. "You are common bandits," she said. Then she said, "You have done well, stout fellows. Your loot is valuable. The dowry is immense and rich. And I, too, in ransom, will bring you much, more even than the dowry you have so boldly taken. But return to me now my veils, and my sandals, too, for my ransom surely will be less if it be understood my modesty has been so grievously compromised. Your boldness, for the honor of my name and the security of your skins, may remain our secret."
"The Lady Sabina is generous," said my master.
"I ask only," said the Lady Sabina, "that you not let me fall into the hands of those of Ar."
"Ah, Lady," said my master, "there, you see, lies your true value."
"What do you mean?" she inquired, apprehensively.
"We have a long trek ahead of us," said my master. "We must move through brush, and woods, and over fields. You must be attired for such a journey in a more practical fashion."
"What are you going to do?" she cried.
He slipped her gloves from her fingers.
"What are you going to do!" she cried.
"We have a long journey ahead of us," he said.
He then, with his knife, to her horror, cut away her cumbersome robes of concealment, until she was clad only in the last of her undergarments. He then ripped the sleeves from the undergarment, and they hung about her wrists, loose, kept from falling by her wrists and the slave bracelets confining her at the tree. "Sleen!" she cried. "Sleen!" He then, too, with his knife, and ripping, in a ragged circle, about her legs, above the knees, shortened the undergarment. Her calves might now be seen. They were pretty. "Sleen!" she cried. He then, upon this outburst, casually ripped away a large piece of the garment, stripping her to the thighs and, on the left side, when he discarded the piece of material, to the hip. Her outburst had earned her only more exposure. She was now as leg stripped or more than Donna, Chanda and Marla. Lehna, who had been stripped for her switching at her mistress's hands in the camp, and I, who had been stripped by the captain at the camp, were nude. The Lady Sabina, I noted, had lovely legs. She seethed at the tree. She pulled at the bracelets, tearing at the bark of the tree.
"I think now," said my master, standing back, regarding the girl, and his work, "that that constitutes a far more practical traveling costume than the robes of concealment for a long, overland journey afoot. Do you not agree, Lady Sabina?"
"My clothing," she said, "return it to me." She tried to be stern.
He, upon this remark, casually, from an inch or so below her left armpit ripped the garment open to an inch or so above her left hip. The line of her left breast, seen from the side, and the sway of her left hip, were lovely.
"Insolent sleen!" she cried. Then she shrank back, in terror. "No!" she said. My master's hands were at the collar of the garment.
"No!" she begged. He ripped it open, to two inches below her navel.
She regarded him with horror.
"Do you have any further objections to your traveling costume?" he inquired. His hands were now at the shoulders of the garment, whence it might be simply torn from her.
"No, Captor," she said.
He turned to us, and motioned us forward, the five girls in the coffle. We approached.
"You will note, Lady Sabina," said my master, "that the first wrist ring of the coffle is empty. It has been reserved for you."
He lifted the open wrist ring, on its chain.
"My ransom will be high," she whispered.
One of the men laughed. The girl regarded him, frightened.
"I ask only," she said, "that I not be permitted to fall into the hands of those of Ar."
"May I introduce myself, Lady Sabina?" inquired my master.
"Yes," she said.
He thrust the slave bracelet on her left wrist up. He placed the opened wrist ring about her left wrist, below the left slave bracelet.
"I am Clitus Vitellius," he said.
"No!" she cried.
I gathered from the way in which she had cried out that my master's name was not unknown upon this world.
"Not the captain of Ar!" she moaned.
"There are many captains in Ar, Lady Sabina," smiled my master.
She put her cheek against the bark of the tree. "Few such as Clitus Vitellius," she said.
I felt proud of my master. How marvelous to be the girl of such a man!
My master snapped shut the wrist ring about the left wrist of the Lady Sabina. We were now chained to her, and she to us. She was now of the coffle, as were we.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
"I am going to take you to my secret camp and there, under the iron, brand you a slave girl. You will then be taken to the city of Ar and, from an unimportant block, in a cheap market, sold to the highest bidder."
The girl pressed her cheek against the rough bark of the tree and moaned, and wept, staining the bark with her tears.
At a sign from my master the man who had been her guard freed her of the slave bracelets.
She now led the coffle.
"Am I not to be ransomed?" she said.
"You are too politically valuable to be ransomed," he said.
I recalled that the Lady Sabina was valuable indeed. Her companionship with Thandar of Ti, of the city of Ti, of the Salerian Confederation was to result in an alliance between Fortress of Saphronicus and the Confederation. The companionship, of course, was political. The Lady Sabina and Thandar of Ti, according to Eta, had never seen one another, the companionship being arranged by their parents and the councils of their respective cities. In such a companionship the Lady Sabina would have raised caste, and become one of the high ladies of Ti, and of the Confederation. She had been looking forward, it was well known, with enthusiasm to her attaining this high station.
"Accordingly," said my master, "it is expedient in the affairs of states that you be rendered politically valueless."
The Lady Sabina, at the head of the coffle, moaned.
As a slave she would indeed be politically valueless. She could be exchanged, or bought and sold, for whatever masters might wish. The slave is not a person before Gorean law but a rightless animal.
"Do not enslave me, Captain," she said. "Keep me and sell me to the Confederation. Free, returned to them, I will be worth immense riches to you. You and your men, if you return me to the Confederation, will become rich beyond your wildest dreams!"
"Do you ask me, Lady," inquired my master, "to betray Ar?"
She suddenly sank to her knees in terror before him. Would she be instantly slain? "No, Captain," she whispered.
"Considering your future status," said my master, "you may begin now to address free men by the title of 'Master.' The experience and the practice will do you good."
"Yes," she said, "—Master."
"Behind you, Lady Sabina," said my master, "you will note a slave girl, Lehna."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Earlier this evening," said my master, "you much and richly switched her."
"Yes, Master," said the Lady Sabina.
"Give Lehna a switch," said my master to one of his men. Lehna beamed. She was given a switch.
"Lehna," said my master, "should the Lady Sabina dally or in any way attempt to delay the coffle, it will be your charge to hasten her."
"Yes, Master," said Lehna. I did not envy the Lady Sabina.
"I am sorry I switched you, Lehna," said the Lady Sabina.
Lehna struck her savagely across the back with the switch, and the Lady Sabina, whose thin undergarment shielded her from the blow scarcely at all, cried out with misery. She could not believe the sting of the stripe. It was, I conjectured, the first time in her life she had ever been struck. "Lehna!" she cried.
"Address the girls as Mistress," ordered my master, standing over the kneeling free girl.
"Yes, Master," she said.
Lehna again, savagely, struck the kneeling girl. "Please, do not strike me, Mistress!" wept the Lady Sabina.
My master turned away, to speak to his men. In a few moments he, not looking back, strode away, through the trees, followed by the majority of his men, in single file. One man remained behind, to follow the coffle, some yards to the rear.
"On your feet, Lady Sabina!" cried Lehna.
The Lady Sabina leapt to her feet, with a rustle of chain.
"You will take your first step with your left foot," said Lehna, "upon my signal. Later you will learn to walk gracefully and beautifully in chains. That is too much to expect now from an ignorant girl."
"Yes, Mistress," said the Lady Sabina.
"Are you ready, noble, lofty Lady Sabina?" inquired Lehna.
"I am sorry I switched you, Mistress," said the Lady Sabina.
"Do not fret, my dear," said Lehna. "I will see that you are well repaid."
"Please, Mistress!" cried the Lady Sabina.
"Were you given permission to speak in coffle?" asked Lehna.
"No, Mistress," moaned the Lady Sabina. Lehna then struck her twice, cruelly, with the switch.
"Do you think me weak, Lady Sabina?" inquired Lehna.
"No, no!" wept the Lady Sabina.
Lehna then struck her again. "You are right," she said. "I am not weak."
The Lady Sabina wept.
"Stand straight," said Lehna. "Straighter!" She poked the Lady Sabina with the switch.
The Lady Sabina then, choking back her tears, stood straight in the coffle, the posture accentuating the lovely lines of her chained beauty. I smiled. She stood as straight, as desirably, as beautifully as a slave girl.
"On the left foot, on my signal," said Lehna.
"Yes, Mistress," said the Lady Sabina.
"Now!" said Lehna, crying out, striking her. With a cry of misery the Lady Sabina, moving first on her left foot, stumbled forward. "Faster!" said Lehna, hitting her again. "Yes, Mistress!" cried the Lady Sabina.
We hurried on then, swiftly, through the mixed shadows and moonlit trees, following the men, our masters.
* * * *
"I do not want to be run for the pleasure of boys," wept Slave Beads.
"Be silent, Slave Girl," snapped Lehna.
"Yes, Mistress," said Slave Beads.
The girls of Clitus Vitellius, I among them, stood at the line scratched in the dirt within the peasant village of Tabuk's Ford, some four hundred pasangs to the north and west of Ar, some twenty pasangs or so, west, from the Vosk road.
The young lads of the peasantry eyed us with pleasure. We were all vital, lithe beauties, and, most excitingly, slaves. It was not everyday that such girls, the girls of a warrior, would be run for their pleasure. Our bondage meant that we must, once captured, be marvels for them.
There was some discussion of the rules of the hunt. Too, bets were being taken. Some of the young men came to the line, to look us over at closer hand.
"Oh," said Slave Beads. One of the lads had put his hand on her leg.
"Good stock," said one of the boys. "Yes," agreed another.
Another young lad, strapping, put his hands on me. I tried to pull away a bit, but I did not much resist. I was a slave, and did not wish to be whipped.
On the other side of Donna, Marla stood, her head in the air, seeming not to notice the hands of the boys upon her.
I looked over at Slave Beads. She was crying. Her head was in her hands. Two peasant lads, one standing, one crouching, were, by hand and eye, appraising her flesh. They did this with the same attention and innocence that they would have brought to the examination of any other domestic animal.
The two boys then moved on to me. I closed my eyes. They were not gentle. I was examined with less respect, being a slave, than would have been accorded to a bosk heifer.
I wanted to tear at their eyes with my fingernails. But I did not wish to be whipped, or slain. It is not surprising that the Gorean slave girl is obedient. Those who are not obedient are often destroyed. I was terribly afraid then, that I had even felt a momentary impulse to rebellion. I shook with terror. Did I think I was still on Earth? Did I not know I was now on Gor? I shuddered. Rebellion is not permitted to the Gorean slave girl.
The boys continued to examine me.
Tears formed in my eyes. There is a mock rebellion which is sometimes permitted a slave girl, or even commanded of her, for the master's amusement. I felt a tear on my cheek. "Show rebellion," is a command which a girl must, as any other, obey. Yet it is a terribly cruel command. "Kneel," is the command which, commonly, puts an end to her rebellion. When a girl has been permitted defiance it is then all the sweeter, I gather, to bring her again to her knees before you.
Suffice it to say the girl belongs to her master, completely. I opened my eyes. The young men moved on to Donna.
"You are crying," said Slave Beads to me.
I shook my head, and hair. "It is nothing," I said. I stood on the line. How far I had come from Earth, I thought. I was sensitive, and a poetess. Now I stood on a dirt line in a peasant village on an alien world, no longer the free Judy Thornton but rather now only a nameless, half-naked slave girl, waiting to be run for the pleasure of boys. I understood little of what had happened to me. I did not know how it was that I had come to this world. I did not know, in a sense, who I was or what I was supposed to do.
I smiled to myself. I did know I belonged to Clitus Vitellius, a captain of Ar.
In the belly of me, though I would scarcely admit this to myself, I did not object. He was such a man.
From the line, I glanced back to the open fires, where he sat with men of the village, Thurnus, caste leader, peasant and sleen master, among them.
I shook with pleasure as I stood on the line, and looked at Clitus Vitellius. Within the Ta-Teera my thighs, even looking at him, were hot and damp. He did not notice me, and was talking to Thurnus. He was the sort of man who would set his terms for a woman, even a free woman. No woman, even one who was free, would be permitted to relate to him save on his terms, and on his terms alone. He would not argue, nor would he discuss, nor persuade nor negotiate; to the free woman's horror she would understand that she must, as he saw fit, submit herself as hopelessly and will-lessly as a slave girl for his consideration. He would enter into no relationship except on his own terms. His terms were simple, that the woman be yielded to him, totally, that she be as much his, and as helplessly, though by her own free will, as any slave girl on whom he might choose to fix his collar. He would be, even in a companionship, to the scandal of Ar, master. No woman who failed to meet these understood, publicized and well-known terms would be acceptable.
I looked at my master, sitting cross-legged by the fire, talking with Thurnus.
Yet hundreds of the highborn free women of Ar, many rich, had avidly sought companionship with Clitus Vitellius.
I did not blame them. Had I been a free woman of Ar, I, too, would have sought such companionship. To have such a man as Clitus Vitellius I would have accepted his terms. So, too, I think would have any true woman. Surely it is better to have a true man on any terms than to have half a man, or no man at all. Men are masters; if the man be strong, the woman must submit. Given the opportunity to relate to a true man, few women will settle for less. Indeed, true women, in the belly of them, desire to submit to true men. It is an ancient instinct bred into the bellies of beautiful, feminine women.
"Remove your clothing," would my master say to a high-born free woman, suing to be considered by him in companionship. She would do so, and be assessed. If he was not pleased, he would send her weeping from his presence, clutching the rag of a slave, to don it and return to her dwelling. If he was not displeased he would gesture to the tiles before him where there waited a goblet of slave wine which she, kneeling before him, would eagerly drink. She would serve him that night as a slave. In the morning, she, nude, would prepare and serve to him his breakfast, after which he would make fresh use of her
; he would then send her from his presence, first pressing into her hand a coin, usually a copper tarsk or a silver tarsk, commensurate with the quality of her service. Such women went from his quarters proudly, clad in the full regalia of the free woman. They were not discontent. They had been touched by Clitus Vitellius. Some women claimed that they had earned from Clitus Vitellius a tarn disk of gold. Such a coin would buy several girls such as myself. Sometimes a girl, rather than be sent from his presence, would beg to be kept as a collared slave. She would then sign a document of enslavement which, after her signature was affixed, she would be powerless to alter or break, for she would then be only a slave. Clitus Vitellius would commonly keep such a girl for a few days, and then discard her, usually giving her to a friend or selling her. I wondered if such a girl, braceleted, pulled away from him on her leash, regretted her choice. She was then in bondage, subject to chains and the whip, and the will of men. What had she then to look forward to but the degradation of the sales block, being exposed to men as a slave and being vended in a public market; being owned by a succession of hard masters, accustomed to the management of girls such as she; onerous work and strict discipline; and the continuous exploitation of her body and service? Perhaps, for a woman, the thrill of being owned and commanded, of being at the absolute mercy of a powerful man, knowing that she must obey him, and experiencing, if she be fortunate, incredible, helpless, incomparable love, of the sort which can be felt only by a completely rightless woman, fully and absolutely owned by a man, in his total bondage. But such thoughts would not be likely to be prominent in the mind of a leashed girl, helplessly braceleted, being dragged to her first sale.
I looked at my master. How magnificent he was.
His collar, I had heard, was one of the most sought collars in Ar.
When he strode through the streets free women sometimes threw themselves before him, tearing away their veils and robes, begging for his collar.
He was such a man.
One's freedom is small enough price to pay, whisper some highborn women of Ar among themselves, for even ten days in the collar of Clitus Vitellius. The boredoms of freedom are small enough price to pay surely for even a brief sojourn in the arms of such a man, they conjecture.