Slave Girl of Gor

by John Norman

  "Yes, Lady Elicia, my mistress," I whispered.

  She looked at me, intently. "What is it like, truly, to be a slave?" she asked.

  "Horrifying, Mistress," I said.

  "I mean," she said, "—to be the slave of a—of a man."

  "Oh, it is horrifying, Mistress," I said.

  "I would have thought," she said, "that you, a girl such as you, not I, might have enjoyed it."

  "Oh, no, Mistress," I said. "It is humiliating, degrading and terrible. We must obey them in all things. You cannot conceive of what it means!"

  "Are you not what is spoken of as a 'hot' slave?" she asked.

  "Oh, no, Mistress!" I protested.

  "I saw you on the block," she said.

  I put down my head, confused, angry.

  "I think you are a little whore," she said, "a little tart. I have always thought so."

  "Oh, no, Mistress," I said.

  "It is girls such as you, responsive to men," she said, "who demean our sex, who have made it difficult for us on Earth."

  "Oh, no, Mistress," I said.

  "You insult women, and make us seem slaves!" she said angrily. "I despise your sort. I hold you in contempt."

  I shook my head, negatively, tears in my eyes.

  "Do you find pleasure in the touch of men?" she asked.

  "No, Mistress," I said. "No!"

  She looked at me, not speaking. It seemed strange to me, later, that we, together, had spoken so. It was as though each of us desired to appear more frigid and less passionate than the other, as though the restriction or impairment of our natural sexuality were somehow desirable or meritorious. Women of Earth, I knew, sensitive to a heritage of insane values, of antibiological acculturation, sometimes competed with one another in their attempts to appear frigid, a competition which was often carried into the bedrooms of their husbands. Few wives, I knew, would dare to let themselves appear to their husbands as a helpless, lascivious, hot, panting bitch. Slave girls, on the other hand, are given no choice.

  "As a free woman," she said, "I have had little opportunity to see a slave girl used."

  She looked at me, curious.

  "Tellius," she called. "Barus!"

  The two men who had caught me entered the room.

  The Lady Elicia indicated me to them. "Amuse yourselves with her," she said.

  "Have mercy on your slave!" I cried.

  By the arms, I was thrown back on the tiles.

  * * * *

  I wept, the tunic torn away from me, my body red and helpless, writhing on the tiles.

  "Can there be more?" asked the Lady Elicia, amazed.

  "She has not yet even experienced the first slave orgasm," said Tellius, crouching beside me, looking up.

  I turned my head from side to side, in misery. I looked up at him. I tried to lie still. But my body leaped to his touch. I cried out in misery.

  "Is it soon?" she asked.

  "Yes," said Tellius, "note her breathing, the mottling of her skin, how she moves, her eyes."

  "Oh, please, Mistress, have mercy on me!" I wept. "Do not let them touch me further! Please, please, Mistress!"

  Then I threw back my head and screamed. I clutched at Tellius. "You are my master!" I whispered, hoarsely. "You are my master!"

  "Do not move," he said.

  "Oh, please, Master!" I wept.

  "You may now move," he said.

  I screamed and clutched at him, eyes closed, clawing at him, trying to bring our bodies closer. Then I threw back my head eyes wild, lips parted, and screamed, delivering my body to my master.

  "It is the first of the slave orgasms," said Tellius.

  "I love you, Master!" I wept, clutching him. Gone now was the thought of the Lady Elicia. I, a slave girl, was in the arms of a Gorean male. I covered him with kisses and caresses, weeping. "Please touch your slave more, Master," I begged.

  "Little whore!" sneered the Lady Elicia.

  "Touch me more, Master!" I begged.

  "I knew you would be like this, even at the college," she said. "Lovely Judy! A little whore!"

  I licked at the hair on the upper arm of Tellius. "Please, Master," I begged him.

  "You are lower than a whore," said the Lady Elicia. She looked down at me, in fury. "You are a slave girl!"

  "I love you, Master," I whispered to Tellius.

  "Finish with her," said the Lady Elicia, rising, angrily, from the curule chair. "And when you are done with her see that she is cleaned and groomed, and presented to me in a fresh tunic."

  "Yes, Lady," said Tellius.

  The Lady Elicia left the room.

  I looked at Tellius with terror. "Please do not finish swiftly with your slave, Master," I begged.

  "Do not fear, little slut," he said.

  And they did not finish swiftly, but exacted from me the full, ecstatic penalties of my bondage.

  When Barus rose from my side, spurning me with his foot, I had been well used.

  * * * *

  "Kneel," said the Lady Elicia.

  I knelt before her, in fresh tunic, in her bedroom. "You were long," she said.

  "Forgive a girl," I said.

  "Do you have any doubt," asked the Lady Elicia, "that you are a slave?"

  "No, Mistress," I said. I put down my head. I remembered Tellius and Barus.

  "Prepare my bath," she said.

  I went to draw water from the cistern. Too, I lit the tiny oil fire beneath the tempering vessel, on its iron tripod. One regulates the temperature by mixing warmer and cooler waters. A serving slave must know the exact temperature at which her mistress wishes the water of her bath. The Lady Elicia would tell me once, I knew. After that, if it were not correct, I would be punished. I knew she would have little patience with me. I must serve her perfectly. When the water was ready, I prepared the oils, the towels, and foams of the bath.

  "Your bath is ready, Lady Elicia, my mistress," I said, kneeling before her.

  "Untie my sandals," she said, sitting on her bed, "and disrobe me."

  I obeyed.

  "Remove your tunic," she said.

  I did so.

  "Look now," she said, "in the great mirror. Who is more beautiful?"

  I knelt, looking in the mirror. I choked back a tear. I had always thought that perhaps it was I who was the most beautiful but I saw, now that we were naked, that she, my mistress, was more beautiful than I. Elicia Nevins, who had been my beauty rival, I saw, was truly my superior in beauty. I had not known this until now.

  "Who is more beautiful?" she asked.

  "You, Lady Elicia, my mistress," I said.

  "Truly?" she asked, smiling.

  "Yes," I said, head down, "Lady Elicia, my mistress."

  She walked to the side of the tub.

  "Bring me the whip," she said.

  I fetched the whip, and handed it to her.

  "Judy," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "You are now a woman's slave," she said.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  "You will comport yourself with dignity," she said. "You will not be an embarrassment to me."

  "Mistress?" I asked.

  Suddenly she struck me with the whip, and I turned, spinning, away, and was struck again, and I fled to the wall, and was struck again, and I knelt at the wall, my face to it, my hands to the wall, and was struck again.

  "If you so much as look at a man," she said, "I will whip the flesh from your bones!"

  "Yes, Mistress!" I wept.

  "Slave girl!" cried the Lady Elicia.

  I crouched by the wall, having been whipped. "Yes, Lady Elicia, my mistress," I said.

  "Attend me now," she said. "I would bathe."

  She entered the water gracefully, her hair bound in a towel, luxuriating in the multicolored foams of beauty. She lifted her limbs, washing herself indolently, beautifully.

  I knelt beside the sunken bath, to wait upon her, her slave, should she desire aught.

  "What are you thi
nking, Judy?" she asked.

  "If I told Mistress," I said, "she would whip me."

  "No," said the Lady Elicia. "What are you thinking?"

  "I was thinking," I said, "that a man would love to have his collar on you."

  She laughed merrily. "Perhaps," she said. "I am very beautiful."

  "Yes, Mistress," I said, "you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen."

  "Do you think I would bring a high price?" she asked.

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  She laughed.

  "Free me, Mistress," I begged, "free me!"

  "Do you truly think," she asked, "that you were brought to Gor to be freed and returned to Earth?"

  "I do not know why I was brought to Gor," I said.

  "I do," she said.

  "Merely to be your slave?" I asked.

  "It could have been that," she said. "We have our pick."

  "But there is more?" I asked.

  "Of course," she said. "We needed a girl, one to bear a message. She would be placed in a given location, secured. When it seemed safe, she would be picked up, and transmitted to the proper contact. There she would deliver the message." She looked at me. "Unfortunately," she said, "Tellius and Barus lost you."

  "They were going to kill me!" I cried.

  "They sought the message in clear form," she said. "They did not, at that time, understand how you carried the message. I do. It is fortunate for us, as well as you, that you were not slain, they thinking you had disposed of the message, cheating us of its contents."

  "They wanted slave beads," I said. "I had none."

  "Yes," she said.

  "I carry no message," I said.

  "You do," she said. "But you do not know you carry it."

  I did not believe this. But it is not wise to argue with the mistress.

  "Could not a man have carried the message?" I asked.

  "Slave girls," she said, "attract little attention, save by their flesh and person. They may be bought and sold, and may easily change hands. They are often transported great distances, even hooded. If they are ignorant, they are ideal couriers. They themselves do not even know they carry the message. They cannot even suspect themselves. Why should others, then, seeing only another branded, chained girl, suspect them?"

  "You are very clever, Mistress," I said.

  "Further," she said, "even should the message fall into the wrong hands, it is concealed, and would not be understood as a message, and even if it were understood as a message, its secret would be kept for it is well enciphered."

  "Your security is brilliant, Mistress," I whispered.

  She lifted one of her arms, bathing it, letting the water fall from it.

  "You are involved in a struggle," I said.

  "Yes," she said. "I am an agent of a military and political power, a greater power than you understand exists, one of interplanetary scope. It is called the Kurii. Worlds are locked in war, a fierce, silent war, unknown to you, unknown to millions. At stake are Gor, and Earth."

  "In such a war," I said, "communication is important."

  "And difficult," she said. "The enemy are not fools."

  "Could not radio be used?" I asked. I assumed such devices must be available.

  "Signals can be jammed and scrambled," she said. "And it is dangerous to bring such material to the surface of Gor. The enemy swiftly locates and destroys it." She lifted one slim, lovely ankle, observing it, and then dipped it again into the foams of her bath. I thought she would take, like myself, a number-two ankle ring. "As you note," she said, "there is nothing here at Six Towers which suggests that I am not an ordinary woman of Ar."

  "What is the message I carry?" I asked.

  "I do not know," she said.

  "Any girl," I said, "might have carried this message."

  "Any piece of suitable slave flesh," said the Lady Elicia.

  "Then why was I chosen?" I asked.

  She laughed. "At the college," she said, "you competed with me, you challenged me, you dared to set yourself up as a rival to me. It was then that I determined, you lovely, meaningless little fool, that I would have you as my serving slave."

  "What is to be done with me?" I asked.

  "In the morning," she said, "you will be appropriately identified and transmitted as a naked slave by tarn to the port of Schendi, whence, by slave ship, you will be transported to the island of Cos."

  "Identified?" I asked. "Slave ship?"

  "A small chemical brand," she said, "which you will wear in your flesh, something by which our agents in Cos will recognize you."

  "Chemical brand?" I said.

  "It will remain invisible until the proper reagent is applied," she said.

  "Can it be removed?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, "but you cannot remove it. It requires the proper combination of chemicals."

  "Will it be removed?" I asked.

  "Of course," she said, "after it has done its work, identifying you for our agents. It would be foolish to leave it fixed in your body, would it not, to arouse the puzzlement of the curious, perhaps even to identify you as our message girl to the agents of the enemy?"

  "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  She blew foam from her hand, watching the bubbles drift in the air. "The slave ship," she said, "will not be pleasant."

  "What will be done to me in Cos?" I asked.

  "You will be placed in the Chatka and Curla, a paga tavern," she said. "And from there our agents will make their contact."

  "Will I understand the message?" I asked.

  "No," she said. "You will not understand it. You will only deliver it."

  "And," I asked, "when the message is delivered?"

  "Then," she said, "you will be returned to me."

  "And then?" I asked.

  "Then," she said, leaning back in the sunken bath, luxuriating in the warm, foamy water, "you will begin your life as my serving slave, Judy."

  "Yes, Lady Elicia, my mistress," I said.

  16

  A Sail

  I screamed wildly in the darkness, jerking back my ankle from the edge of the sturdy mesh about me. My ankles would pull back toward me only some six inches as they were chained. I lay on my back. I clasped my shaven head in my hands. My hands, too, were chained, the two chains running to a heavy ring over and above my head, in the slatted wood of the tier on which I lay. I could lower the heel of my hands only to the side of my neck; but it was enough to cover my ears, when it became necessary to do so. I screamed and thrashed; I could tell my ankle was bleeding, from the feeling of the wound and the wetness about my shin and on the wood. I tried with my right foot to press against the wound, to stanch the flow of blood. I saw the blazing, coppery eyes of the long-haired ship urt on the other side of the mesh. I had let the shin of my left foot rest against the mesh.

  "Let me out!" I screamed. "Let me out!"

  Sometimes an urt manages to force its way through the mesh, or between one of the vertical cage lids, one at each end of the cage, and the cage. The girl then, chained as she is, is at its mercy.

  "Be silent," said a girl's voice, from the next cage. I could not see her, or the others.

  "Please, Masters!" I wept. "Let me out! Let me out, Masters!"

  "Be silent!" she scolded.

  I tried to be silent. I twisted on the slatted wood.

  "Please, Master," I had wept. "Put me in a deck cage!" These were small cages, lashed down, sometimes kept on the deck of a crowded slave ship. This ship, a small one, had only twenty such cages, arranged amidships in two rows, back to back, two cages high, five cages long. In harsh weather, and at night, these cages are often covered with tarpaulins; this tends to prevent undue weathering of the cage metal due to salt and moisture. During the day the tarpaulins are usually laid aside, unless they are tied over the cages to discipline the girls. There are two major advantages to having the tarpaulins put aside. First, the sailors may then, for their pleasure, gaze upon the lovely prisoners of the cages;
secondly, the girls, when they reach their port of sale, will be tanned perfectly, completely. Any girl on the ship, incidentally, unless she is certified "white silk," a virgin, is free to the sailors for their sport. There were no "white silk" girls on board; we were all "red silk." This was not unusual. There are few virgin slaves. Their virginity usually does not last more than an Ahn beyond their first sale. It is the deck-cage girls who are most often used for the sport of the sailors. In daylight hours their charms are on almost constant display. They are not chained in the hold. They may pose and wheedle, and thrust their arms through the bars to touch the sailors. Also they are more readily available. A cage door need only be opened and the girl pulled to the deck, or thrown across the tarpaulins. "Put me in a deck cage, Master!" I had begged. He had looked down upon me, captain of the ship. "Chain her below," he had said. I had been dragged from his feet.

  I screamed again.

  "Be silent," said another girl, angrily.

  I thrashed on the wood. I could feel the ship lice.

  I could not tear at them with my fingernails; I was not chained in such a way as to permit that; this was intentional. I writhed on the slatted wood, screaming.

  "Be silent," said the first girl. "It is not the time permitted for screaming!"

  "I do not care!" I cried.

  I heard a noise. I was frightened.

  A hatch was thrown open, and a man descended the stairs into the hold.

  Suddenly, in the dim light, falling through the opened hatch, I could see the musty tiers and their helpless, fair occupants.

  The man looked about.

  "She it was! She it was who screamed!" cried the girl next to me, indicating me with her head.

  "No!" I cried. "It was not I!"

  "It was she!" cried the first girl.

  "Yes, she!" cried several others.

  I sensed the man standing behind me, on a ramp. "I was bitten," I said. "I was bitten!" I twisted on the wood, trying to see him. "Have mercy, Master!" I said. "I was bitten!"

  "It was not the time permitted for screaming," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. "Forgive me," I begged, "Master."

  There were eight slave platforms in the hold, each with six tiers. These platforms were separated by narrow aisles; also they did not adjoin the sides of the hold, thus allowing a passage between them and the wall of the hold on both the left and right side of the ship. On each tier of each platform there were five girls. There were, thus, two hundred and forty girls in the hold. A cunning mesh and cage arrangement is incorporated into the platforms. The slatted wood of the tiers, on which the girls lay, permits cage mesh to pass unimpeded from the roof of the sixth tier to the bottom of the first tier. The mesh is cleated to the wood of each tier. Each girl, in effect, has her own meshed cage, separate from that of the others. Thus, if an urt manages to enter one area he has at his mercy only one captive, not five. The top of the sixth tier and the bottom slats of the first tier are sheathed in tin, to prevent being gnawed by urts. Mesh, too, heavy and sturdy, closes off the ends of the slave cubicles formed. In the mesh at the ends of the cubicle formed, both the end at the girl's feet and that at her head, there is a tiny gate. The girl may be placed in the cage, or removed from it, from either end. She normally inches her way into the cubicle from the top end and one slaver, from the bottom, secures her ankles in their irons, then shutting that gate, and another secures her wrists in their irons, then shutting that gate. Each girl thus has to herself a small, rectangular cage area, surrounded on four sides by mesh, on the bottom by the slatted wood of the tier, and on the top by the wood of the tier above her, unless she is on the sixth tier, and then she has above her, of course, the ceiling of her cubicle, the bottom of the platform roof. She is chained in such a way as to preclude movement which might tear at the mesh or break it, thus making possible the entry of urts, which might eat at her, lowering her price, and to preclude her tearing hysterically with her hands and fingernails at her own body, bloodying herself, perhaps scarring herself, again lowering her price, in her attempt to obtain relief from the bites and itching consequent upon the infestation and depredation of the numerous, almost constantly active ship lice. The first tier is raised from the floor of the hold by some eighteen inches, providing a crawl space. The open spaces between the tin-sheathed, wood slats on the first tier are covered, from the bottom, by cleated mesh, which prevents urts from entering from the bottom. The crawl space between the floor of the hold and the first tier is cleaned once a day. Each girl, all in all, has a space private to her slavery of some twenty-five inches in width, by some eighteen inches in height, by some six feet five inches in length. In this space she is chained helplessly. Of the six tiers in my platform, I was on the fourth.