Explorers of Gor coc-13

by John Norman

  “This is the woman, Tende,” called Kisu, facing his distant enemy, shouting against the roar of the falls, pointing to Tende. “She was to have been your companion! I took her away from you! I made her mine! I now exhibit her naked before you as my slave!”

  “He cannot see you or hear you!” shouted Ayari.

  “That does not matter,” laughed Kisu. He gave Tende a happy slap below the smell of the back.

  “Oh!” she cried.

  “Dance, Tende!” said he. He began to sing and clap, looking downriver.

  “That is a slave song!” she cried.

  He stopped clapping and singing, and regarded her.

  “There are white slaves present, Master!” she cried.

  He looked upon her sternly.

  “I dance, my master,” she cried, frightened. She flexed her legs, freeing her body to move, and extended her arms gracefully to the right, the right arm further advanced than the left.

  “Is she free?” asked Ayari.

  “No,” said Kisu.

  “Have her put her arms over her head, wrists back to back,” said Ayari.

  “Do so,” said Kisu.

  Tende complied. “How lovely that is,” said Kisu.

  “I have seen it done in Schendi,” said Ayari. ‘it is one of the ways in which a slave may begin a dance.”

  I smiled to myself. That was true. The lovely posture which Tende had just assumed was undeniably one of the initial postures of certain slave dances. It is widely known on Gor, of course, not just in Schendi. It is, for example, quite familiar in Port Kar and, far to the southeast of that port, and somewhere far to the north and east of our present position, in the Tahari. Slave dances, of course, may begin in dozens of ways, sometimes even with the girl roped or chained at a man’s feet. I looked at Tende. To be sure, only a slave dance could begin from such a posture. No free woman, for example, would dare to place herself in such a position before Gorean free men, unless perhaps, weary of her misery and frustration, she was begging them, almost explicitly, to put her in a collar. There are many stories of Gorean free women, sometimes of high caste, who, as a lark or in a spirit of bold play, dared to dance in a paga tavern. Often, perhaps to their horror, they found themselves that very night hooded and gagged, locked in close chains, lying on their back, their legs drawn up, fastened in a wagon, chained by the neck and ankles, their small bodies bruised on its rough boards as they, helpless beneath a rough tarn blanket, are carried through the gates of their city.

  “Are you ready, Slave?” asked Kisu.

  “Yes, Master,” said Tende.

  I am fond of slave dances. It is hard for a woman to be more beautiful than when she dances her beauty as a slave before masters. But then a woman can be Incredibly beautiful in almost all attitudes and postures. It is strange that the men of Earth are so seldom aware of the subtler beauties of women, but then they have not seen them in their full femininity, as slaves. A woman can be very beautiful simply greeting her master, head down, at the door to his chambers. She can be very beautiful in doing so small a thing as pouring his wine, eyes downcast, gracefully, as his slave. Perhaps she is a bit more beautiful, however, when she kneels helplessly before you, or lies piteously at your feet supplicating you to satisfy her slave needs. Perhaps she is most beautiful when she, collared in your arms, cries out in orgasm, acknowledging you as her master.

  “Dance, Slave,” said Kisu.

  “Yes, Master,” said Tende.

  Tende then, obedient to her master’s command, as Kisu clapped his hands and sang, danced on a flat rock in the Ua river, danced before Bila Huruma, so far away, her master’s enemy, from whom she had been stolen.

  She danced well.

  I observed the eyes of the blond-haired barbarian who, with Alice, knelt on the rock. The eyes of the blond-haired barbarian, gazing on the exhibited slave, shone with excitement. How beautiful Tende was. And how stimulating it was to the blond-haired barbarian to realize that a man could force a woman to do this sort of thing.

  Kisu continued to clap his hands. He continued to sing, the strains of a melodic slave song.

  Dancers bring high prices on Gor. Some slavers specialize in dancers, renting them, and buying and selling them. Two such houses in Ar are those of Kelsius and Aurelius. Some say that the finest dancers on Gor are found in Ar; others say that they are found in Port Kar, and others that they are in the Tahari, or in Tuna. These controversies, I think, are fruitless. I have been in many cities and in each I have found marvelous dancers. The matter is further complicated by the buying and selling of girls and their shipment, as merchandise, among cities. A dancer has usually had many masters; her fair throat has been graced by many collars. In some cities if a dancer is not thought to have been sufficiently pleasing she is thrown to the patrons of the tavern to be torn to pieces or beaten. If she is thought to have been sufficiently pleasing she may be auctioned, for the period of an Ahn, to the highest bidder.

  “Enough!” called Kisu, happily. Tende stopped dancing. He then, to her surprise, with a leather strap, as she stood on the rock overlooking the falls, tied her hands behind her back. He then took her by the hair, bent her over, and waded her back to the shore. We followed him, I stopping to look once more downriver, at the tiny objects so far away, yet objects I knew to be filled with men.

  Kisu and I thrust the canoe into the shallow water. As I held it he placed Tende on her knees in the canoe. He then crossed and tied her ankles. He then took two lengths of rope. He tied them both on her neck and then took the free end of one and tied it to a thwart forward of her position and the free end of the other and tied it to the thwart aft of her position, thus fastening her between these two thwarts.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “That should hold you,” he said.

  That was an understatement. Kisu tied well.

  “Why are you placing me under such great security, Master?” she asked.

  “Bila Huruma is now behind us,” he said. “You will not, now, go running back to him.”

  She put back her head and laughed. “Oh, Master!” she protested.

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  “I do not wish to run away from you,” she said.

  “Oh?” he asked.

  She looked at him. “Do you not know, by now, my Master,” she asked, “that Tende is your conquered slave?”

  “No chances will be taken with you, Slave,” he said.

  “As my master wishes,” she said, putting her head down.

  I saw then, as I think that Kisu did not, that the proud Tende, who had been so haughty and cold, was now naught but a surrendered love slave. I smiled to myself. She was now, indeed, politically worthless.

  “What of the remains of the fire?” asked Ayari. “Should we not dispose of such evidence of this brief encampment?”

  “No,” said Kisu. “Leave it.”

  “But it will mark our trail,” said Ayari.

  “Of course,” said Kisu. “It is my intention that it do so.”

  We then moved the canoe, wading beside it, with the exception of Tende, fastened within it, out into the river.

  Kisu, .waist deep in the water, turned to lock back, over the falls. He lifted his fist and shook it. “Follow me, Bila Huruma!” he cried. “Follow me, Bila Huruma, if you dare!” His voice was almost indistinguishable against the roar of the waters. He then lowered his fist and slipped into the canoe, taking his place at the stern. Ayari and Alice entered the canoe. I then slipped into the canoe and, taking the blond-haired barbarian under the arms, drew her into the canoe. I did not immediately release her. She turned her head back, over her left shoulder. “Did you see it,” she asked, “on the rock, he danced her naked!” “Of course,” I said. “She is only a slave.” “Yes, Master,” said the blond-haired barbarian. “Like yourself,” I said. “Yes, Master,” she said. I then thrust her ahead of me, to her place. “Take your plane, Slave Girl,” I said. “Yes, Master,” she said. We then lifted our paddle
s and lent our strengths to the task at hand.

  Once she looked back at me. But my stern gaze warned her to direct her attention again to her work and the river.

  I smiled to myself. I saw that the slave girl in her was now well ready to be released. This very night, I thought, she would beg explicitly for her master’s touch.

  34. The Blond-Haired Barbarian Dances; What Occurred In The Rain Forest Between A Master And His Slave

  “Watch out!” I said.

  The tarsk, a small one, no more than forty pounds, tasked, snorting, bits of leaf scattering behind it, charged.

  It swerved, slashing with its curved tusks, and I only man. aged to turn it aside with the point of the raider’s spear I carried, one of four such weapons we had had since our brief skirmish with raiders, that in which we had obtained our canoe, that which had occurred in the marsh east of Ushindi. It had twisted hack on me with incredible swiftness.

  The blond-haired barbarian screamed.

  I thrust at it again. Again it spun and charged. Again I thrust it back. There was blood on the blade of the spear and the animal’s coat was glistening with it. Such animals are best hunted from the back of kaiila with lances, in the open. They are cunning, persistent and swift. The giant tarsk, which can stand ten hands at the shoulder, is even hunted with lances from tarnback.

  It snuffled and snorted, and again charged. Again I diverted its slashing weight. One does not follow such an animal into the bush. It is not simply a matter of reduced visibility but it is also a matter of obtaining free play for one’s weapons. Even in the open, as I was, in a clearing among trees, it is hard to use one’s spear to its best advantage, the animal stays so close to you and moves so quickly.

  Suddenly it turned its short wide head, with that bristling mane running down its back to its tail. “Get behind me!” I called to the girl. It put down its head, mounted on that short, thick neck, and, scrambling, charged at the blond-haired barbarian. She stumbled back, screaming, and, the animal at her legs, fell. But in that moment, from the side, I thrust the animal from her. It, immediately, turned again. I thrust it again to the side. This time, suddenly, before it could turn again, I, with a clear stroke, thrust the spear through its thick-set body, behind the right foreleg.

  I put my head back, breathing heavily.

  Pressing against the animal with my foot I freed the spear.

  I turned to the blond-haired barbarian. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. There was blood on her left leg, on the outside of the leg, about six inches up from the ankle.

  I crouched down beside her. “Give me your leg,” I said.

  I looked at the leg. She sat on the floor of the rain forest, Her leg felt good in my hands.

  “Is it serious, Master?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “It is nothing. It is only a scratch.” She had been fortunate.

  “It will not leave a scar, will it?” she asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “That is good,” she said. She leaned back in relief, bracing her body on the palms of her hands. “I want to be pretty,” she said, “both for myself, and for my master, or masters.”

  “You are pretty,” I said. “Indeed, in the past few weeks, you have become even beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Master,” she said. She looked at me. “I’m yours, you know,” she said.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Yet you have not taken me since Schendi,” she said.

  “That is true,” I said.

  “You made me yield well to you there, and as a full slave,” she said.

  I did not speak.

  “And when you threw me on my back, head down, over your sea bag, and raped me with such brutal dispatch I well learned that I was no longer a free woman.”

  “It is a useful lesson for a slave girl to learn quickly,” I said.

  “And I remember the girl I saw there, briefly in the mirror. She was so beautiful.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But she was so beautiful she could be only a slave.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But I am an Earth woman,” she said. “I could not dare to be that girl.”

  I smiled. Did she not realize that she had seen in Schendi, in those brief moments, the slave she had for so long concealed within herself, that she had seen then, frightened, scarcely daring to recognize her, her own self? What cruelties could men inflict upon women, I wondered, which could half compare with those they inflict upon themselves.

  She leaned forward, and examined the wound on her leg.

  “It is superficial,” I said. “It will not scar.”

  “I have a slave’s vanity, don’t I?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Is it permissible?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Good,” she said.

  She continued to look at the wound on her leg.

  “I do not think I could stand to bring a lower price than Tende or Alice,” she said.

  “What a slave you are,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Have no fear,” I said. “Your value on the sales block has not been reduced.”

  “Thank you. Master,” she said.

  I then rose to my feet and walked a few yards away, to a fan palm. From the base of one of its broad leaves I gathered a double handful of fresh water. I returned to the girl and, carefully, washed out the wound. She winced. I then cut some leaves and wrapped them about it. I tied shut this simple bandage with the tendrils of a carpet plant.

  “Thank you, Master,” she said. She reached up and put her arms about my neck. I took her hands and, slowly, pulled them from my neck. I put them to her sides. She looked at me. I cuffed her, snapping her head to the right. “Master?” she asked.

  “Next time,” I said, “stay behind me.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Stand, Slave,” I said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  It had been this morning, shortly before noon, that we had surmounted the height of the falls, that almost on the summit of which Kisu,, in the face of the distant, oncoming forces of Bila Huruma, had danced a naked slave called Tende.

  I went over to the slain tarsk.

  We had then continued on, up the river, for several hours. In the late afternoon we had brought the canoe to shore, concealed it, and then went inland to make our camp.

  “I feel the desire for meat,” had said Kisu. “I, too,” I said. “I will hunt” Kisu and I, warriors, wanted meat. Too, ahead of us we suspected that the river, as we had been warned at the last village, would become ever more dangerous and treacherous. We felt the long-term strength of meat protein would be a useful addition to our diets.

  “I will need a beast of burden,” I had said.

  The blond-haired barbarian, immediately, had sprung to her feet. She had stood before me, her head down. “I am a beast of burden,” she had said.

  “Follow me,” I had said.

  “Yes, Master,” she had said.

  I lifted up the wild tarsk.

  We had proceeded into the rain forest for better than two Ahn before we had come upon the tarsk. It had charged. I had killed it.

  “Bend down,” I told the girl.

  I threw the tarsk across her shoulders. She staggered under its weight.

  I then turned from her and left the clearing. My hands were free for the use of the spear. Gasping, behind me, stumbling, staggering under the weight of the tarsk I had killed, came my slave.

  I looked upward, through the trees. “It is growing dark,” I said. “We will not have time to reach the encampment before nightfall. We will make a small camp in the forest, and proceed in the morning.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  As the girl, on her knees, tended the roasting tarsk, I cut a long stake, some four and one half feet in length and some four inches in width. About its top, about two inches from th
e end, I cut a groove, about an inch deep.

  “What is that for?” she asked.

  “It is a slave stake,” I said, “for securing you for the night.”

  “I see,” she said. She turned the tarsk on its spit. It glistened. From its sides droplets of fat and blood, popping and sizzling, dropped into the fire.

  With a large rock, blow by blow, heavily, inch by inch, I drove the long, thick stake into the ground. I left about four inches of it exposed.

  “The tarsk is ready,” she said.

  I took one end of the spit in two hands and lifted the tarsk from the fire, putting it down on leaves. I then crouched beside it, and began to cut into it, to the spit I looked up. The girl, kneeling by the fire, watched me. I rose to my feet I tied a long leather strap on her neck and led her to the slave stake. I tied the free end of the strap about the slave stake, using the prepared groove in the stake which I had earlier cut. “Kneel,” I told her. “Yes, Master,” she said. She then knelt there, tethered to the stake by the neck. I had left her about seven feet of slack in the strap. I then returned to the meat, and began to cut slices from it, and feed. After I had begun to feel full I looked at the girl. I threw her a piece of meat, which struck against her body. It fell to the ground. She picked it up in two hands and, watching me, began to eat it.

  After a time I wiped my face with my forearm. I was finished eating. I again looked at the girl. “Do you want more?” I asked. “No, Master,” she said.

  We had drunk earlier, from the water cupped at the base of the leaves of fan palms.