Slave Girl of Gor

by John Norman

  I was alone in the fields.

  I lifted the heavy hoe, with the stout staff and great metal blade, again and again. It was terribly hot work, and hard. My back hurt. My hands hurt. My muscles ached. I worked hard, very hard, for I was a peasant's girl. Such girls are not treated gently if they do not do full work. I did not wish to be whipped.

  The sun was sinking.

  My tunic was soaked with sweat. My feet and legs were black with dirt and sweat.

  The rope collar clung and scratched about my throat.

  I stood upright, in pain. I was too slight a girl for peasant work. I held the hoe, breathing deeply, my head back.

  How I had wanted Tup Ladletender to purchase me, to take me from the labors of the fields. I would have been willing to be anything he had wanted at the post, anything to interest him, anything to escape Tabuk's Ford, but he and Melina, in their cleverness, had manipulated me in such a way that I was unable to be anything but what I was, an Earth-girl slave whose passions put her helplessly at the mercy of men. Willing to be a whore, I had been forced to be naturally myself, a slave girl, more helplessly a whore than any whore could be. A slave girl must be at least a whore, and a marvelous one at that. Being a whore is but a small step in the direction of being a slave girl. But I did not care. I would have done anything to escape Tabuk's Ford. A slave girl owns nothing. She has nothing to offer a man but her service and her beauty. She has nothing with which to pay but herself. That is the way men want it.

  I was sure that Tup Ladletender had found me appealing. I did not know if he had bought me or not.

  I bent again to my arduous labors.

  Suddenly I straightened myself. "Bran Loort!" I cried.

  He stood a few feet from me, a coil of rope in his hand. My hands clutched the handle of the hoe.

  He looked at me.

  I flung it down. A girl dares not raise a weapon against a free man. Some girls have been slain, or had their hands cut off, for so much as touching a weapon.

  "I have come to fetch you, Dina," he said.

  I looked about. There was another peasant lad on my left. He, too, carried rope. I turned quickly. Four others were behind me. Another was on my right. Two others, too, appeared, behind Bran Loort. One of them carried, too, a coil of rope.

  There was nowhere to run.

  "She is the clever girl who eluded us in girl hunt in the village," said one of the lads.

  "Greetings, clever girl," said another.

  "Greetings, Master," I said to him.

  I extended my wrists, crossed for binding, to Bran Loort. "You are going to take me to my master," I said.

  He laughed.

  I drew back my wrists. I looked about, fearfully. The boys approached more closely, closing about me.

  I spun and ran, but fled into the arms of one of the young males, who roughly threw me back to the center of the circle. I tried again to break the circle and was again caught and flung again to its center. They were now close about me.

  I extended my wrists, crossed, to Bran Loort. "Bind me," I said, "and take me to my master."

  He smiled.

  I trembled, and shrank back before him, almost into the arms of one of his brawny young cohorts.

  "Are you going to rape me, Bran Loort?" I asked.

  "And more," said he.

  "Thurnus will not be pleased," I said.

  "Tonight," he said, "you will belong to me."

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "Tonight," he said, "you will be a feast and a festival to us, Dina."

  I trembled.

  "Hold her," said Bran Loort.

  Two boys held my arms.

  "Ankle-leash her, both ankles," he said. This was done. I stood before them, ropes on my ankles.

  "Put your arms at your sides," said Bran Loort, "out a bit from your body."

  I did so.

  I then stood before them, double wrist-leashed, ropes placed knotted on my wrists. The ropes on my wrists and ankles, serving as leashes, were cut from the coils of rope brought to the field. The remainders of the coils swung in the hands of Bran Loort and one of his cohorts. I knew I might be beaten with them.

  "You will obey," said Bran Loort.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Remove your kerchief," he said.

  I lifted my leashed wrists and pulled away the kerchief, shaking my head, freeing my hair.

  "Pretty," said one of the boys.

  "Tear the kerchief," said Bran Loort.

  "Please," I said. I did not wish to destroy the kerchief. It, like the girl, Dina, whom I was, belonged to my master. Dina was responsible for it. The master might not be pleased if it were torn or soiled. Dina might be beaten.

  "Tear it," said Bran Loort. I, with difficulty, tore the kerchief, the boys amused at my weakness.

  "Drop it upon the ground and step upon it, grinding it into the dirt," said Bran Loort.

  I did so, with the heel of my leashed foot. I was sure now that I would be beaten upon my return to the village.

  I looked at the boys. I realized, suddenly, I had more to fear from them than from the swift switch of an angry Thurnus or Melina. Their eyes terrified me. My limbs were leashed. I stood alone among them, their prisoner.

  I knew I must please them.

  "Are you docile and cooperative?" asked Bran Loort.

  "Yes, Master," I whispered.

  "Strip," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. I reached to pull the coarse, brief tunic over my head. I hoped they would be soon done with me.

  But my hands, held by the ropes on my wrists, could not reach the bottom of the tunic. My fingers struggled to reach it, but an inch from its wool, clinging about my thighs. I tried again to seize the tunic but was prohibited by the ropes from doing so. I looked at Bran Loort in alarm, in protest.

  "Strip," he said. He swung the coil of rope which he carried, whiplike, easily in his hand. Behind me there was another lad, with such a coil of rope.

  Wildly I tried to seize the garment, to pull it over my head, but the boys would not let me touch it. I struggled to get my fingers on the white, coarse wool, but I could not reach it.

  "Are you docile and cooperative?" asked Bran Loort.

  "Yes, Master!" I cried. "Yes, Master!"

  "Strip," he said.

  Again I tried to reach the garment but again was not permitted to do so. Then I tried to seize the garment at the neck and tear it away but the boys would not let my hands reach the garment.

  "You are a rebellious slave," said Bran Loort.

  "No, Master!" I cried.

  "Obey then," he said.

  I tried again to tear away the garment. Again I was not permitted to do so.

  "Rebellious slave," said Bran Loort.

  Suddenly the rope, coiled, held by the boy behind me, hissed and cut into the back of my thighs.

  "Oh!" I cried.

  At the same time Bran Loort himself struck down at me with the rope he carried, striking me across the shoulder and neck.

  The boys yanked the ropes on my ankles, and, by their means, and by means of those held by the other two boys, those fastened on my wrists, I was turned and thrown to my stomach, in the dirt, spread-eagled.

  Bran Loort and the other lad struck me again and again with the ropes they carried and then I, sobbing, cut by the ropes, marked even through the tunic, was, by the leashes on my limbs pulled to a kneeling position before him, my arms held out from my sides. There was dirt on the side of my face and on my body, blackening and staining the sweat-soaked tunic. I could taste dirt in my mouth.

  "Bring her," said Bran Loort.

  I was jerked to my feet by the ropes on my wrists and stumbling, dragged among them, was conducted from the sul field. The ruined kerchief, and the hoe, lay behind.

  Many are the clever things which may be done to a girl who is, as I was, fully limb-leashed. Much sport had the cruel peasant boys with me. They made me fall when they pleased, and as they pleased; sometimes they
threw me forward, sometimes backward; sometimes they carried me, face up or face down, suspended between them; sometimes they dragged me by an ankle or a wrist on my back or stomach, or twisting; sometimes they dragged me or made me walk where they wished, though it might be through rocks or gravel.

  I did not know if I could live, so led.

  We stopped once. I was still clothed at that time. I was held by the ropes before Bran Loort. I was covered with sweat and dirt; I was gasping; I was trembling, shaken with muscular stress from the cruel march, as well as with fear, knowing myself fully in their hands, not knowing what fate they might choose to inflict upon me. We stood in the vicinity of a thicket of thorn brush, of the sort which is occasionally used to wall camps.

  "You are still clothed," said Bran Loort observing me.

  "Let me tear away my clothes before you," I begged, "that the beauty of a poor slave girl may be bared to you."

  "Do so," he said.

  I cried out in anguish. Again the ropes would not let me strip myself.

  "You have apparently not yet learned your lesson," he said.

  "Please, Master!" I wept.

  "Let the thorn brush strip her," said Bran Loort.

  "No!" I cried.

  By the ropes I was dragged into the midst of tenacious, barbed brush, that thicket of such. I screamed with misery. I begged mercy. I was shown none. The brush tore at my clothing and body. Rudely I was drawn through it. I cried out, throwing my head from side to side. I kept my eyes closed, that I be not blinded. "Please, Masters!" I cried. They did not see fit to show a girl mercy. Bloodied, my body a welter of scratches and linear wounds, I was pulled from the brush. The Earth-girl slave was now naked.

  They hit me with the ropes and again we continued our journey. They sang as they conducted me to the place of their feast, on the grass by the stream.

  There they held my wrists about a tree and, striking many times, put me under rope-discipline. Held against the tree, feeling its bark with the side of my cheek, weeping, shuddering under the blows of the coiled rope, I wondered what I had done to them that they should be so cruel to me.

  They then took me and threw me to the grass on my back. My ankles, by the rope leashes tied on them, held by two boys, were pulled widely apart. Bran Loort looked down upon me.

  I realized then that I, a slave girl, had, days ago, eluded them in the game of girl hunt. I had, in that game, by my cleverness, bested them. I did not now feel clever. I would now pay for my cleverness. How foolish of a slave girl to attempt to best a free man. Does she not know she may someday come into his ownership!

  I cried out. Bran Loort was the first to have me.

  * * * *

  "Come out, Thurnus!" called Bran Loort. "See what I have for you."

  I lay at the feet of Bran Loort, my knees drawn up, on my side in the dirt. My hands were tied behind my back. I was naked, and my body was covered with dried blood and dirt. A rope, knotted, ran from my neck to his hand. My cheek was in the dust. I was cold, and my body ached, from the rope beatings and abuse to which it had been subjected. I think I was partly in shock. I could no longer cry. The only flicker of feeling left in me was a fear of free men. I, a slave girl, had once bested free men in the game of girl hunt. I had learned my lesson well. Never again would I try to best free men. They were master. I was slave.

  "Come out, Thurnus!" called Bran Loort. "See what I have for you!"

  My head jerked as Bran Loort, emphasizing his words, drew on the rope tied on my neck. I put my head down, shoulders trembling.

  "Thurnus! Come out!" cried Bran Loort.

  I shuddered.

  I lay in the dirt before the hut of Thurnus.

  It was night now, and men stood about, with torches. There were the eight young men of Bran Loort, and others, too, gathered from the village. The free men and women were there, and some slaves, not yet caged for the night. Sandal Thong was there, and Turnip, and Verr Tail and Radish. Melina had wanted them to see what was to occur. There were no children present. Bran Loort stood forward, his staff in his left hand, my neck rope in his right. His eight young men stood near to him, each with his staff. Ringing us were villagers and slaves. All eyes turned to the doorway of Thurnus's hut. Melina emerged from the hut and descended the stairs to the ground. Thurnus's hut was near the center of the village, near its clearing. I could smell the sleen in the cool, night air. It was chilly.

  My back and legs were covered with welts from the rope lashings I had been given. My thighs were sore.

  Melina stood at the bottom of the stairs. She, too, turned to face the opening.

  I looked at Bran Loort. He looked very splendid, proud and strong, a girl's neck rope in his hand, she, proof of his manhood, at his feet. The staff he held was over six feet in length and some two to three inches in width. "I am going to be first in Tabuk's Ford," had Bran Loort once said to me. I recalled, too, something else he had said. "When I am first," he had said, "Melina will give you to me."

  "Come out, Thurnus," called Melina, from the foot of the stairs below the hut.

  I looked to the doorway of the hut. It was dark, empty.

  The eyes of all looked at the opening to the hut.

  Thurnus did not appear.

  Men stood about, with torches. It was silent, save for the crackle of the torches. I lay bound. The ropes on my wrists, holding them closely behind my back, were very tight.

  I heard a sleen squeal from some eighty yards away, behind the huts, in the cage areas.

  There was a change in the breathing of the crowd. Thurnus stood now in the entrance to his hut.

  "Greetings, Thurnus," called Bran Loort.

  "Greetings, Bran Loort," said Thurnus.

  Bran Loort's heavily sandaled foot struck into my belly. I cried out with pain.

  "On your knees, Slave Girl," said Bran Loort.

  I struggled to my knees. He took up the slack in the neck rope, coiling it, holding my head a foot from his thigh. My vision blurred, and then cleared. I saw Thurnus looking down at me.

  He regarded me.

  Much and well had the young men of Tabuk's Ford pleasured themselves with the girl from Earth, the former Judy Thornton, now the helpless Gorean slave girl, Dina.

  I put my head down, under the gaze of my master. But I was not to be permitted this courtesy. The rope, Bran Loort's fist in it, at my neck, the knot under the left side of my jaw, pulled my head up.

  I was to be displayed to Thurnus.

  "I have something here of yours," said Bran Loort.

  "I see," said Thurnus.

  "She is a hot little slave," he said, "juicy and pretty."

  "That is known to me," said Thurnus.

  "She kneels now at my feet," said Bran Loort.

  "I see that, Bran Loort," said Thurnus.

  Swiftly Bran Loort then discarded the rope and, with his foot, thrust me to one side. I fell sprawling in the dirt, and turned, lying on one side, to watch.

  Bran Loort stood with both hands on his staff, one hand grasped in its center, the other hand, his left, some eighteen inches below the center of the staff. But Thurnus had not moved.

  No one stirred in the crowd. I heard the crackle of the torches.

  Bran Loort seemed for a moment unsteady. He looked from one of his cohorts to another.

  Then he again turned to face Thurnus, who stood, not speaking, at the height of the stairs, some six or seven feet above the level of the ground, in the doorway to his hut.

  "I have abused your slave," said Bran Loort.

  "That is what slaves are for," said Thurnus.

  "We took much pleasure in her!" said Bran Loort, angrily.

  "Did you find her pleasing?" asked Thurnus.

  "Yes," said Bran Loort. He gripped the long, heavy staff more firmly, standing ready.

  "Then," said Thurnus, "it will not be necessary for me to beat or slay her."

  Bran Loort looked puzzled.

  "Surely you know, Bran Loort," said Thurnus, "it is the dut
y of a slave girl to be fully and completely pleasing to men. Were she not so she would be subject to severe punishment, including even torture and death, should it be the master's wish."

  "We took her without your permission," said Bran Loort.

  "In this," said Thurnus, "you have committed a breach of code."

  "It does not matter to me," said Bran Loort.

  "Neither a plow, nor a bosk, nor a girl may one man take from another, saving with the owner's saying of it," quoted Thurnus.

  "I do not care," said Bran Loort.

  "What is it, Bran Loort, that separates men from sleen and larls?" asked Thurnus.

  "I do not know," said Bran Loort.

  "It is the codes," said Thurnus.

  "The codes are meaningless noises, taught to boys," said Bran Loort.

  "The codes are the wall," said Thurnus.

  "I do not understand," said Bran Loort.

  "It is the codes which separate men from sleen and larls," said Thurnus. "They are the difference. They are the wall."

  "I do not understand," said Bran Loort.

  "You have left the shelter of the wall, Bran Loort," said Thurnus.

  "Do you threaten me, Thurnus of Tabuk's Ford?" asked Bran Loort.

  "You stand now outside the shelter of the wall," said Thurnus.

  "I do not fear you!" cried Bran Loort.

  "Had you asked of me my permission, Bran Loort," said Thurnus, indicating me with a gesture of his head, "willingly and without thought, gladly, would I have given you temporary master rights over her."

  I lay in the dirt, my hands bound behind my back, the rope on my neck, watching. It was true what Thurnus had said. I could have been loaned to Bran Loort, and would have had to serve him as though he were my own master.

  "But you did not ask my permission," said Thurnus.

  "No," said Bran Loort, angrily, "I did not."

  "Before, too, you have done such things, you, and these others, though not to the degree nor with the intent of this day."

  It was true. Sometimes the boys had caught us, Thurnus's girls, or those of others, too, and roped us together and raped us in the furrows of the fields, but it had been done in the bullying rowdyism of their youth, having slave girls at their mercy. There had been no intent of insult, or umbrage, in it. It had been the hot, fierce, innocent sport of strong young men, powerful and excited, who held brief-tunicked, branded girls, in rope collars, in their arms, nothing more. Does a slave girl not expect slave rape? Some masters enjoy having their girls raped occasionally; it serves to remind them that they are slaves. This sort of rape is not uncommon in a peasant village. It is usually taken for granted and ignored, save perhaps by the abused girls, but they are only slaves. Indeed, it is sometimes encouraged, to pacify young men whose natural aggressions otherwise might turn aside into destructive channels. It is also regarded, at times, as an aid in helping young males attain their manhood. "If she pleases you, run her down, and take her, son," is a not uncommon piece of paternal advice in a peasant village. I had heard this twice, though it had not been I on whom the young man had been set. Verr Tail had been caught and raped on her back, struggling, in the stream, once, and Radish had been caught and forced to give pleasure between the sleen cages. Each of these young men had walked differently following their conquest. I had shrunk back when they had approached. I knew they were now men, and I was only a slave. These two young men were not among the cohorts of Bran Loort. But what had been done today to me was clearly different in its intent and gravity from the casual, expected, fierce exhibitions of male aggression to which embonded girls such as I must become accustomed.