Slave Girl of Gor

by John Norman

  "I cannot, Master!" I cried.

  The whip struck me again.

  I cried out with misery and drew the cart.

  I pulled Tup Ladletender's cart through the gate and out onto the dusty road leading from Tabuk's Ford.

  I felt a drop of rain. Then it began to fall lightly. I looked up. The billowing, scudding clouds were swift in the night. I could see the moons behind them. Then more rain splashed into the dust. I felt it on my hair and naked body. I pulled the cart. Then it began to pour, and I slipped in the mud. Ladletender helped, pushing, at the wheels and cart. At last we waited, standing in the driving rain. Then he removed me from between the handles, and, together, we sat beneath the cart.

  "The drought is broken," said Tup Ladletender to me.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  After a time I said, "May I have a candy, Master?" I had not forgotten the candy he had given me beneath the hut of Thurnus. How sweet and good it had been. It had been only a cheap hard candy but such things are rare in the lives of most slave girls. They are very precious.

  "Do you want it very much?" asked Tup Ladletender.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  He took me in his arms, and thrust me back to the mud between the wheels of the cart.

  I looked up at him.

  "Earn it," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said, reaching for him.

  The rain drove down from the sweet dark sky in torrents. One could scarcely see the trees and road.

  10

  I am an Item of Merchandise

  I swam out in the pool to the end of my neck tether, and splashed in the water.

  "Clean yourself well, Dina," said Tup Ladletender. "You must be sparkling."

  "Yes, Master," I called to him.

  I had knelt beside the pool and, the rope on my neck, washed my hair. Then I had been permitted to wash in the pool and cleanse my body. The welts I had received from the beatings of Bran Loort and his bullies had healed. I had only four marks on my body from the animal whip of Tup Ladletender, with which he had encouraged me in my drawing of his cart. These now had almost disappeared. Generally he disciplined me with a cuff of the flat of his hand. I respected him. He managed me well.

  I had been his slave for some two weeks.

  We had visited various villages, but, on the whole, we had made our way along the road to Ar. He must replenish his stores. I was pleased that he had not sold me to peasants. Another fate, I knew, he had in store for me.

  When we had come to the great road I had rejoiced. It is broad, fairly smooth, and built like a wall, sunk in the earth. It is not hard to draw the cart on such a road. My work, thus, was easier. We could see villages here and there more frequently now; too, occasionally there were hostels and taverns on the road. I enjoyed seeing caravans pass, and villagers with their bosk wagons. I feared the great tharlarion of the caravans. Often the animals wore belled harnesses. Once we were passed by a great slave caravan. There were more than four hundred wagons with girls ankle-chained in them. It was a caravan of Mintar, the great merchant. Another time we were passed by a smaller slave caravan. In this caravan, there were few wagons, and those there were showed scarring and marks of fire. Goods and wounded men lay in the wagons. Afoot, between the wagons, walked a chain of forty girls. They were neck chained, and their wrists were fastened behind their backs with slave bracelets. Their heads were down. Many were beautiful.

  "What occurred?" asked Tup Ladletender.

  "Raiders from Treve," said a man with a bandaged shoulder, in one of the wagons.

  The great road to Ar is marked with pasang stones. We had followed the road to within two hundred pasangs of Ar. Then we had left it, and, for two days, followed a side road. The countryside was still relatively populated.

  Tup Ladletender's cart was now at the hut of a villager whom he knew.

  In the distance, even from the pool, I could see the white, looming walls of the merchant keep, Stones of Turmus, a Turian outpost, licensed for the storage of goods within the realm of Ar. Such outposts are not uncommon on Gor. They are useful in maintaining the security of trade. Their function is not military but commercial. Turia is one of the great trading centers of Gor. It lies far to the south, in the middle latitudes of her southern hemisphere.

  "Look, Dina!" said Tup Ladletender, pointing upward.

  I looked up and saw, far overhead, some four tarnsmen in flight. They carried the yellow banners of truce.

  "They are bound, I wager, for Port Kar," said Tup Ladletender, "whence they will take ship to Cos."

  I had heard there was fighting between Ar and Cos, it having to do with the alleged support by Cos accorded to Vosk pirates. The Vosk is a mighty river which flows westward, emptying into a vast rence delta, finding its way eventually to Thassa, the sea. The motivation of the hostilities was apparently mostly economic, having to do with trade monopolies sought by both cities in the territories bordering the Vosk. Ar claimed the southern shore of the Vosk. Cos, and the other major maritime Ubarate, Tyros, on the other hand, had traditionally conducted trade, through overland merchant connections, with these territories. I watched the tarnsmen disappear in the distance. Twice earlier, on the great road to Ar, Tup Ladletender had pointed out tarnsmen in flight, presumably messengers. Marlenus of Ar, and other Ubars, commonly employed such couriers.

  The thought of Clitus Vitellius passed through my mind. He had spurned me. How I hated him!

  I felt a tug on the neck tether. "I am coming, Master," I called.

  I swam in, to the side of the pool. Ladletender handed me a towel. My tether he tied to a tree. I toweled myself.

  "You must sparkle, Dina," he said to me.

  "Yes, Master," I said. I looked up to the keep of Stones of Turmus in the distance.

  I wondered how much I would bring. I had never been sold before.

  "Pay attention to your master," said Tup Ladletender.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  Tup Ladletender handed me a wide-toothed comb. I began, with long strokes, to straighten my hair. I continued to look at the keep of Stones of Turmus. It was high and formidable. It was within those walls that I would be owned.

  We had stayed in a nearby village overnight, in which Ladletender had a friend. His cart was there now. I had not drawn the cart this morning. I must be refreshed.

  "Brush your hair," said Ladletender.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  After I had finished, Ladletender retrieved the brush and comb, dropping them in his pouch.

  He looked me over. I blushed, under Gorean appraisal. I wore only my tether.

  "Stand as a slave," he said.

  I stood beautifully, back straight, head high, belly sucked in, hip turned. No woman can stand more beautifully than as a Gorean slave girl.

  "Excellent," said Ladletender, smacking his lips.

  "Master is pleased," I said.

  "Yes," he said.

  "The slave, too, is then pleased," I said.

  "Behold," said he. He drew forth, from a leather bag nearby, a sack, such as vegetables may be carried in. I looked at it. I was puzzled. It was folded; it was small. He removed the tether from my neck. I shook my head and hair, the bond removed.

  He gestured to the sack. It had been used to carry vegetables. There was printing on it.

  "Put it on," he said.

  I opened the sack. In it were cut an opening for the head, and two for the arms. I drew it over my head. It was snug. With binding fiber he cinched it on my body.

  He stepped back. "Lovely," he said. It came high on my thighs. There was a casualness about it, a carelessness about the shoulders, with respect to my figure. But the binding fiber, bound twice about my belly, and cinched tight, at my left hip, accentuated my breasts and hips. There was a hint of lusciousness, concealed within so apparently negligent a wrapper. It was well contrived, psychologically, to suggest a cheap, but most tasty slut.

  I reddened.

  "Here," said Ladletender. He held
up a string of slave beads. I smiled. I reached for them. "Not so fast," said he. I put down my hands. He put the beads in his belt. "Turn about," he said. I did so. It is the man on Gor, often, who puts jewelry on the female, bedecking her. It is not uncommon, even, for him, should he have a pierced-ear slave, to fasten her earrings on her. I assumed Tup Ladletender would rope the slave beads on my neck, fastening them behind my neck. They were of wood, and cheap and pretty. I would be pleased to wear a decoration. Once I had nearly had my throat cut for my lack of knowledge of "Bina," or slave beads. I still did not understand why. Too, once I had had a strange dream that dealt with slave beads, a meaningless dream I had not understood, in which I had been asked, strangely, to string such beads. My hands were pulled behind me, and locked in slave bracelets. Then, as I stood helplessly braceleted, Tup Ladletender roped the cheap beads about my neck.

  He stepped before me.

  "You are beautiful, Dina," said he.

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  He then turned away. "Come along," he said.

  I stumbled after him, barefoot, wrists braceleted behind my back.

  We soon took the road to Stones of Turmus. In an Ahn we had come to the great gate. The high, white walls loomed above me. They were more than eighty feet in height. I felt very small. There were six towers on the walls, two defending the gate, and one at each corner. Suddenly I wanted to turn and flee. But I was braceleted. And nowhere on Gor was there a place for a girl such as I to run. I was slave.

  A small panel in a small door built within the great gate slid open.

  "Tup Ladletender here," said Ladletender.

  "Greetings, Ladletender," said a voice, recognizing him.

  "I am vending a girl," said Ladletender, indicating me.

  "Welcome, Tup Ladletender," said the voice.

  The small door in the great gate opened, and we entered. The small door was then shut behind us.

  11

  Perfume and Silk

  "I will give you four copper tarsks for her," said the captain.

  "Ten," said Ladletender.

  "Six," said the captain.

  "Done," said Ladletender.

  My body ached. My wrists were confined in wrist rings fastened to a chain, depending from a ring in the ceiling. My weight was borne mostly by the wrist rings and chain. The tips of my toes barely touched the stone floor.

  I was naked. I had been examined thoroughly, in Gorean fashion. I was miserable, and purchased.

  I had been unable to resist the captain's touch.

  I had struggled, shrieking for mercy, twisting on the chain.

  "She needs a bit of taming," said the captain, "but we manage that."

  I did not think I needed taming. I was now only too eager to please men, the masters. Too, I had some comprehension as to what my failure to do so might involve. I had learned to obey on Gor.

  I hung upon the chain, limp, the steel cutting into my wrists. My eyes were closed. My body ached.

  I heard Tup Ladletender paid his money, it being counted out from a small iron chest in the office of the captain.

  Then he had left.

  "Look at me, Slave," said the captain.

  I opened my eyes.

  "You are a Turian girl now," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. I had been sold for six copper tarsks. It was my worth on Gor.

  "Are you tame?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  He went to his desk and, from one of its drawers, drew forth an opened slave collar. It was unlike most of the Gorean collars. It was a Turian collar. Most Gorean collars, decorated or not, are basically a flat, circular band, hinged, which locks snugly about the girl's neck. The Turian collar, on the other hand, fits more loosely and resembles a hinged ring, looped about the throat. A man can get his fingers inside a Turian collar and use it to drag the girl to him. It does not fit loosely enough to permit its being slipped, of course. Gorean collars are not made to be slipped by the girls who wear them.

  He threw the collar to his desk. I watched it strike the desk. I had never worn a true collar before. Suddenly I was terrified that it might be put on me. It locked. I would not be able to remove it.

  "No, Master," I said, "please do not put a collar on me."

  He came to me and, with a key, unlocked the wrist rings. I fell to the stone floor at his feet.

  "You do not want to wear a collar?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I whispered.

  He turned away from me. I half sat, half lay on the stone floor, my legs to the side, the palms of my hands on the stones, my head down. I did not watch him. Tup Ladletender had left. He had taken the bit of sacking I had worn, and the slave beads, and the slave bracelets, which had confined my wrists. All he had left behind was she who had been Judy Thornton, six copper tarsks worth of sold she-slave.

  "I will make you beg to wear a collar," said the man.

  I turned and looked up, frightened. He loomed over me. He held a slave whip.

  "No, Master!" I cried.

  Well did he punish me then for my insolence. There was nowhere to crawl or run. He whipped me as a Gorean master. At last I lay blubbering at his feet.

  "I think now you are tamed," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I sobbed, "yes!"

  "Are you tamed?" he asked.

  "I am tamed, Master!" I wept. "I am tamed!"

  "Do you now beg to wear a collar?" he inquired.

  "Yes, Master!" I cried.

  "Beg," said he.

  "I beg to wear a collar," I wept.

  "What collar?" he asked.

  "Your collar, Master!" I cried. "Any collar! Any collar, Master!"

  He then fastened the collar on my throat. It closed with an efficient metallic snap. I collapsed to the stones.

  He turned and left me, placing the slave whip on the wall, where it had hung, convenient to hand. He rang a bell. A door opened, and a soldier, a guard, appeared. "Send for Sucha," said the captain. "There is a new girl."

  I lay on the stones. Timidly, when he was not watching, but sitting behind his desk, engaged in work, perhaps entering my acquisition and price in his ledgers, I touched the collar, rounded, steel and gleaming. It was truly locked on my throat. I was collared. Only the brand had made me before feel so much a slave. I wept. I was branded and collared.

  I heard the jingle of tiny bells, slave bells.

  I became conscious of a woman's feet, bare, near me.

  The bells, tiny, in four rows, were thonged about her left ankle. A whip touched me, prodding me, in the back. I shuddered. "Get up, Girl," said a woman's voice. I looked up. She wore a wisp of yellow silk. Her dark hair was bound back with a yellow, silk talmit.

  I stood up.

  "Stand as a slave," she said.

  I stood beautifully.

  "A Dina," said the woman.

  Her own brand was the customary Kajira brand, the initial letter in cursive Gorean script, about an inch and a half high, and a half inch wide, of the expression "Kajira," the most common Gorean expression for a female slave. It was clearly visible on her thigh. The wisp of silk she wore made no pretense to cover it.

  "I am Sucha," said the woman.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "Why were you whipped?" asked Sucha.

  "I asked not to be put in a collar," I whispered.

  "Remove it," she said.

  I looked at her puzzled.

  "Remove it," said the woman.

  I tried to pull the collar from my throat. I jerked it against my neck until I cried. I struggled to force it apart. I turned the collar and, with my fingers, tore at the lock. It remained obdurately, perfectly, inflexibly fastened.

  I looked at the woman with agony. "I cannot remove it," I said.

  "That is true, Slave Girl," she said. "And do not forget it."

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "What were you called?" she asked.

  "Dina," I said.

  Sucha looked at the captain. "It is
acceptable," he said.

  "For the time then," said Sucha, "until masters wish otherwise, you will remain 'Dina.'"

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "Follow me, Dina," she said. I followed her. She, too, wore a Turian collar. The girls of the Wagon Peoples, too, I understand, wear such collars.

  We walked along a long passage. Then we left that passage, and took others. We passed numerous storerooms, closed by barred gates. At one point, we passed through a heavy iron door, watched by a guard. On the other side of the door, she said, "Precede me, Dina." "Yes, Mistress," I said. I preceded her. We walked along another long passage. It, too, was lined with barred gates, giving access to storerooms.

  "You are very beautiful, Mistress," I said, over my shoulder.

  "Do you wish to feel my whip?" she asked.

  "No, Mistress," I said. I was then silent.

  I knew why I was now preceding her. It was fairly common Gorean custom. We must be nearing the slave quarters. If I should now turn and flee, she was behind me, to stop me, with the whip. Sometimes new girls become frightened at the entrance to their slave quarters. There is something fearful about being locked within, as a slave.

  "Are you tamed?" I asked her.

  There was a pause. Then she said, "Yes."

  We walked on.

  "We are all tamed girls here," she said. "We have been taught our collars."

  "Men can tame us!" I wept.

  "Men tame girls or not, as they please," said Sucha. "It is their will which determines the matter. Some men do not tame their girls quickly, in order to tease and play with them longer, but the girl, if she is not a fool, knows to whom it is in the end that she belongs. In the end it is the man who holds the whip. This the girl knows. In the end, when the master wishes, we crawl into his arms, docile and tamed. We are women. We are slaves."

  "I hate men!" I cried.

  "Speak softly, lest you be whipped," cautioned Sucha.

  "Do you not, too, hate men?" I demanded.

  "I love them," said Sucha.

  I cried out in anger. I turned about. "I am not tamed!" I cried. "I will never be tamed!"

  "Tell it to the masters," said Sucha.

  I shuddered.