by John Norman
Borchoff had grinned.
I had hurried away.
"She is paga hot," a soldier had once said. Then he had thrown me to his fellow. I could not help myself. Sometimes I lay awake in my barred alcove, weeping, not wanting to be a slave. "You are a natural slave," Sucha had once said to me. "You were born to the collar." "Yes, Mistress," I had said. I lay sometimes in my small cell, shamed, weeping. Strangely I thought often of Elicia Nevins. I had been her chief competitor in beauty at the exclusive college I had attended on Earth. How, I thought, she would have laughed at me, and scorned me, to see me now, her former beauty rival, as a slave.
"Meat, Dina!" cried a man.
I swiftly went to him, knelt, and lifted the platter to him. I did not wish to be whipped.
There had been twenty-seven girls in Stones of Turmus before my purchase. Accordingly, upon my purchase, I became the twenty-eighth girl. Sucha, of course, had counted herself among the twenty-seven girls. Certainly her collar was as much upon her as ours were upon us. There were, incidentally, I was pleased to learn, no free women in Stones of Turmus. This made it easier for the slaves. This arrangement was not unusual, of course, for what would a free woman do in such a place? Too, the garrison, the officers and men, were soldiers, warriors, Gorean and virile. Such men need female slaves, and they know well what to do with them.
There were twenty-nine girls now, however, in the keep of Stones of Turmus. The population in the slave quarters had changed somewhat; five girls had been sold to passing Turian merchants, affiliated with the keep, but, similarly, here and there, over the weeks, some six others had been acquired. Thus the stock was kept freshened for the men.
"You will not be sold, Dina," Sucha had said to me. "You are a prize."
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
We girls in the keep were pleasure slaves, but it must be clearly understood, too, that we were the only girls in the keep. Thus, we served, too, as work slaves. Scrubbing must be done, and the sewing, and the washing and ironing of clothes, and the cleaning; too, we aided in the kitchen, usually in the preparing of vegetables and in the scouring of pots and pans; too, water must be carried to the men on the parapets; there was much work of a lowly and servile nature which it fell naturally to us, the girls of the keep, to perform. Yet generally I think we did not have too much to complain of. We were permitted to sleep late in the slave quarters, and manual labors, for most of us, tended to be curtailed in the early afternoon, that we might rest and prepare ourselves for the evening. I think few of us did on the average more than two or three Ahn of light labors on a normal day. We were never under any delusion that our main task was not the delight and pleasure of our masters.
I was no longer low girl in the slave quarters. It was not that I had fought, for there were few girls there whom I suspected could not beat me, but that the matter had been determined by Sucha. She carried the whip. Each new girl, as she was introduced among us, became automatically low girl, the other girls being correspondingly advanced. We obeyed Sucha. She never hesitated to use the whip. We were kept in perfect order. I was not displeased. Had Borchoff not placed the whip in the hands of Sucha, I, for one, would have fared much more poorly in the slave quarters. Slave quarters, as I have mentioned, can become a jungle. This was prevented at Stones of Turmus by the whip of Sucha. I was not the only girl who was not displeased to be protected from intimidation and violence. Sometimes masters, in their cruelty, do not appoint a first girl. Then the slave girls, as best then can, by teeth and nails, must adjudicate their differences and establish a mode of governance for themselves. Sometimes masters do not appoint a first girl in order that the lower ranking girls will strive ever more desperately to please them, to become favorites, and thus to be to some extent more protected. "If you beat me, the master will not be pleased," is not a threat to be taken lightly in the slave quarters, particularly if it is thought to be true. The distant menace of the master's displeasure has its influence and effect, naturally, on the social arrangements of the kennels. Sometimes a girl will pretend to be more favored by the master than she is, for her own prestige, and to win position in the kennels. But it is not hard to know the truth in these matters. Who is most often summoned to his couch?
"Meat, Dina!" cried another man, and I hastened to him, to kneel and serve him. I wore red silk, a golden necklace about my throat, intertwined with my collar, and bells.
I saw Sucha lying soft in the arms of a lieutenant, kissing him. How marvelously she melted in his arms, his.
She was seldom permitted to carry her whip outside the slave quarters, except in conducting a new slave through the corridors and bringing her through the small iron door, as she had me. When she left the slave quarters she normally knelt before a guard and handed him the whip, her authority ended. He would then take the whip and thrust it against her lips, and she would kiss it, after which he would order her to her feet and discard the whip, which she would retrieve on her way back to the slave quarters. Outside the slave quarters we were normally under the governance not of Sucha, but men. We stood under her governance outside the quarters only when she was permitted to retain the whip. I watched her yielding in the arms of the lieutenant, moaning under his touch. She did not now have the whip. She was now, in the hall of Turian pleasures, as it is called, only another slave girl.
"Dina!" called a man.
I was struck by a soldier past whom I hurried. I gathered that the fellow who had called out had called before, and I had not heard him. The soldier had struck me because of my tardiness in responding to he who had summoned me, he who had now again called out. Any free man in such a situation may discipline us. They are all, in a sense, our masters.
Indeed, it is not uncommon, in most cities, for any free person not only to be entitled to, but to be expected to, discipline us if we are in any way displeasing. This helps us to be good slaves. We are slaves—and we are to be full and perfect slaves every Ahn of the day, every day of the week, wherever we are, and certainly not only when we are under the eye of our own master or his agents. On most collars, too, is inscribed not only our own name, but the name of our master. It is easy, thus, for any imperfections or laxities in our service to be brought to his attention. We may be also bound and leashed, and so brought into his presence by a complainant, usually a free woman.
I brushed the silk of the girl who danced between the tables. The music swirled about me.
I knelt before the man who had called.
"Are you deaf?" he asked.
"Forgive a miserable girl, Master," I begged. "I did not hear you."
"Give me meat," he said.
I lifted the platter to him and he thrust the eating prong into a slab of meat, hot with Turian spices. It was the last piece on the platter. He looked at me.
"I will fetch more meat immediately, Master," I said.
"You are the meat I want, Dina," he said.
"It is not yet time to serve the wine," I whispered. This is a common Gorean idiom. I was reminding him, timidly, that the time of general pleasure had not yet arrived. I, and several of the other girls, had not yet been released from our serving duties. There were still courses of the banquet to be served to our masters. In the time of desserts and wines we would crawl to their tables, slave girls.
"Fetch in the prisoner," called Borchoff, captain of the keep of Stones of Turmus.
This afternoon I had been upon the heights of the keep, carrying water to the men on the parapets. I had stood there, looking out over the wall, at the vast fields about. It was more than eighty feet to the ground.
"Is it your intention, Dina," had asked a soldier, coming up behind me, "to dash yourself to the ground?"
"No, Master," I said to him. "I am not a free woman. I am a slave girl." I backed gently against him, and lifted my head, turning it to him. I felt his hands on my arms.
"Attend to your duties, Slave Girl," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
I had been summoned more than once to his couch.
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br /> I poured him a cup of water from the small verrskin bag over my shoulder.
It was hot on the parapet. The stones were hot to my bare feet. I wore a brief, one-piece, brown work tunic. It was all I wore, with the exception of the collar. We wore such tunics when engaged as work slaves. The tunics of work slaves are usually brown or gray.
I looked above me at the posts mounted on the walls. Between them was slung fine wire, gently bending and swaying in the slow breeze of the hot afternoon. Such wire is tarn wire. It is used to prevent the descent of tarns into the courtyard of a fortress. It is common in Gorean defenses.
I looked again over the wall.
"Master," I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"I see dust there," I said, pointing to the road beneath, winding toward the fortress.
"They have him," said the soldier beside me.
Two tharlarion, ponderous and stately, made their way toward the keep. They were mounted by two warriors, with lances. More warriors, eight men from the keep, followed, bearing spears. Between the tharlarion, fastened by neck chains, running to the stirrups of the two beasts, strode a man. He was dark-haired. He wore chains. His wrists were fastened behind his back.
"Who is it, Master?" I asked.
"We do not know," said the soldier. "But word had come to us that he had been making inquiries concerning the keep, its defenses, and such."
"What is to be done with him?" I asked.
"He has been brought in," said the soldier. "Doubtless he will be branded, and enslaved. I do not envy him."
I watched the man. He walked proudly. I knew there were male slaves on Gor, but I had not seen them. Most Gorean slaves are female. Male captives are commonly killed.
"Bring water to the men, Slave Girl," said the soldier.
"Yes, Master," I said. I took the cup back from the soldier, and hurried on along the parapet, to serve others.
When I was descending the stairs and had come to the courtyard between the walls, the gate had been opened, and the party, with their prisoner, had entered. The gate then closed behind them. Borchoff, captain of the keep, came to inspect the prisoner. I, curious, stood idly by, watching, the emptied water bag over my shoulder, my ankles in the dust of the courtyard.
The man was tanned, dark-haired, very dark-haired, large, strong. He wore chains. His hands were manacled behind him. He stood proudly between the two beasts, bearing easily the weight of the two stirrup chains attached to his capture collar.
It pleased me to see a man captive. He wore heavy iron manacles and could not hurt me. I approached more closely. His guards did not stop me.
"What is your name?" asked Borchoff of the man.
"I do not remember," he said.
He was struck by one of the guards.
"For what purpose," inquired Borchoff, "were you attempting to ascertain the nature of our defenses?"
"It has slipped my mind," said the man.
Again he was struck. He scarcely flinched, though the blows were cruel.
Borchoff turned away from the man, to converse with the lieutenant, one of the men on the tharlarion, pertaining to the details of the prisoner's capture.
I approached the prisoner more closely. None stopped me.
He looked upon me. I blushed hot red. My body was not much concealed in the brief one-piece work tunic, and I wore a collar. Gorean men have a way of looking at a woman which is like stripping them and putting them to their feet. I felt naked. I put my hand to the thin brown cloth, clutching it, as though to close it more, but I only moved it more tightly about me and higher upon my thighs. I felt, under his gaze, that every detail of my body must be clear to him. I shrank back.
Borchoff turned about, briefly. "Taunt him," said he, "Dina."
"I warn you, Captain," said the prisoner. "Do not do to me the insult of the taunting slave girl."
"Taunt him," said Borchoff, to me, then turning away.
The prisoner stiffened in silent rage. Suddenly I felt very powerful. He was helpless. And, too, almost overwhelming me, I felt a sudden fury against men, for what they had done to me, even to the collar and brand. And this man was Gorean, and he had, a moment before, looked upon me as a master upon a slave girl.
"Yes, Master," I said to Borchoff, captain of the keep of Stones of Turmus.
I approached the prisoner, looking up at him. He looked away. "Does Master fear a slave girl?" I asked. I touched him with my finger, idly, and began to slowly, deliberately, insolently, trace patterns, tiny inquisitive, meandering, meaningless patterns, on his shoulder.
"We are not so fearful, Master," I said. "You do not need to fear us."
I stood quite close to him, igniting the male in him. I knew this was what the Captain desired, but it pleased me, too. How often would Dina, a slave, have a man, such a man, so at her mercy?
I could arouse him with impunity, and he could not touch me.
Sometimes, occasionally, when the mood was on me, when it had amused me, I had teased the boys of Earth, seemingly inviting their attentions, and then, when they had responded, as expected, I had feigned astonishment and disgust, rage and scorn, indignation, even horror, that they had been so bold, so offensively rash, and that I had been so woefully misunderstood, so misjudged, and was now so insulted. How they had stammered, and apologized, and groveled, and sought pathetically to ingratiate themselves again in my supposed good graces. It is a simple matter of contradictory signals, honey and gall, luring and stinging, a game, a girl's game, raising hopes, then dashing them. But such things are not part of the life of the slave girl. She obeys, and desperately hopes to be found pleasing.
The man looked away from me, angrily. Muchly was he herewith, by means of a slave girl, insulted by Borchoff, captain of Stones of Turmus.
"Do not be afraid of me, Master," I said. "I am only a slave girl. Does Master fear a slave girl?"
"I think you are a barbarian, and illiterate," he said.
My accent had doubtless betrayed my Earth origin. I was angry. I knew how Gorean men commonly thought of Earth women, on the basis, however, one must acknowledge, of a considerable body of evidence. Earth-girl slaves on Gor, incidentally, are commonly kept illiterate. This was not unusual. Why should a slave be taught to read and write? Indeed, many slaves, particularly those harvested from the lower castes, are illiterate. Many Goreans, particularly of the lower castes, cannot read or write. And certainly the patterns traced on his shoulder had spelled nothing. I could not even write my own name, Dina, in Gorean.
"But I am pretty, am I not?" I said. "And surely, given the lightness and brevity of my tunic, you can conjecture the delights of my figure."
"Beware," said he.
"I am branded," I said. "And I wear a collar before you. I am a slave."
"Beware," he said. "Beware."
"Is Master afraid of Dina?" I asked. "Is Master afraid of a little slave girl?"
I smiled to myself. The only men I knew who would fear a slave girl would be men of Earth. A slave girl would confuse and frighten them. They would not know what to do with one. They would doubtless attempt to indoctrinate her swiftly with masculine values, and turn her into an imitation man. She would then be safe for them. They would doubtless proceed in this matter regardless of her feelings, oblivious of her integrities, for they would not be truly interested in fulfilling her nature, whatever it might be, but in avoiding the responsibilities of their own. Women and men are identical; this is the defensive thesis of weak, fearful men. It is simple. If women are not women, then they need not be men. Why do many men fear manhood? I do not think it would be so terrible.
"You are large and strong, Master," I said to the prisoner. "And you are handsome, too," I said.
He looked away, angrily.
"Why do you not take me in your arms, and kiss me as a slave girl?" I whimpered. "Do you not find me attractive?"
He said nothing.
"Oh," I said, "you wear chains." I kissed at his arm. He was more than ten in
ches taller than I, and must have weighed twice as much. I was very small next to him.
"Let Dina give you pleasure, Master," I whispered. "Let Dina please you." I bit at his tunic, which was torn, with my teeth. "You should let Dina please you," I said, "for soon you may be branded, and then you will be only a poor little slave like Dina." With my teeth I tore away his upper tunic, stripping him to the waist. He had a mighty chest. I caressed his flanks, and licked and bit at his belly. "Male slaves," I said, "may be slain for so much as touching a slave girl." I looked up at him. "Dina is sorry that you will soon be a slave, Master," I said.
"I will not be a slave," he said. I looked at him, puzzled. Then again he did not look at me.
I took the waist of his tunic in my teeth.
"Do not, Slave Girl," said he.
I shrank back, frightened.
"Run along, Dina," said Borchoff, returning to the prisoner.
"Yes, Master," I said.
I left them, returning to the quarters for female slaves, to swim, and bathe and refresh myself before the duties of the evening.
* * * *
"Fetch in the prisoner," called Borchoff, rising behind the low table in the hall of Turian pleasures, lifting his goblet.
I knelt near the man to whom I had served meat. The platter was now empty.
The girl in yellow silk had stopped dancing, and the musicians were quiet.
There must have been some fifty men in the hall, and most of the girls.
"Welcome," called Borchoff, as the prisoner was brought in. He wore chains on his ankles, and his hands were locked behind his back in iron manacles. He had been much beaten.
The prisoner was thrown to his knees before Borchoff, captain of the keep of Stones of Turmus.
He was held on his knees by two guards.
"You are guest here," said Borchoff. "Tonight you will feast."
"You are generous, Captain," said the man.
"Tomorrow," said Borchoff, "you will speak beneath our persuasions."
"I do not think so," said the man.
"Our methods are efficient," said Borchoff.