by John Norman
I tried to put from me what was being done to me.
I wanted to go back to the library.
The sawdust was in my hair, and its particles clung to my sweating body.
"Yes," I thought, "I can find that book."
I was on my belly, naked, in the sawdust.
"Yes," I thought, "there was quiet, shy Doreen in the library, going quietly about her duties, there, walking about, returning to the reference desk, over that flat carpet, from the information desk, past the Xerox machines." I rolled in the sawdust.
Yes, there she was, there, in that simple sweater, that plain blouse and dark skirt, the dark stockings, the low-heeled black shoes. Surely no man could find her of interest. Then she became aware of a man at the reference desk, looking down at her, one bright afternoon, a man whose look penetrated into her deepest heart and belly, and stripped her, and saw the slave there. And he had caught her in her dancer's costume, that in which no man had ever seen her before, and she had then, in swirling skirt and scarlet halter, and bells, danced in the darkened library, danced before him and his men. I was vaguely aware of a cry of pleasure from the crowd. I had performed the transition between two of the moves in the slave paces with the startling, sensuous agility of a dancer. It then seemed that it was the dancer in the sawdust, on the block, she who had worn the skirt and halter, and bells. How beautiful they seemed to find her! How she moved! She heard the exclamations of praise. The auctioneer stood back, the whip lowered, startled. "No!" I cried. Then again I was awkward and fearful, and only an Earth girl, miserable, confused and terrified, cringing in the sawdust of a slave block on an alien world.
"What is wrong?" asked the auctioneer.
"Nothing, Master," I whispered, cringing before him on all fours.
A gesture of his whip informed me I should lie upon my back. Then I was supine before him. He turned about. He stood partly over my body. He faced the crowd. He had one of his legs between mine.
"Two," was called to him from the floor. "Two!"
"Two!" repeated the auctioneer, holding up two fingers. "Two!"
The auctioneer did not sound angry at this bid. I myself was startled. The bids had been in the eighties before. Now, it seemed, they were reduced to only two.
I was on my back, gasping, lying there.
The auctioneer stepped a little away from me, and turned to face me.
It was now as though I could hardly move. I was terrified. I hoped he would not beat me, because the bids were now down to two.
He looked down at me, puzzled.
I think I must then have seemed to him quite otherwise than I had but moments ago. I do not think he understood this. It was almost, I suppose, as though there were not one, but two women on the block, almost as though he had two different women to sell.
I rose up on my elbows but he, with the heel of his bootlike sandal, thrust me back to the sawdust. He then, with his bootlike sandal, turned me to my stomach. "Kneel," he said. I knelt. He then replaced the manacles on my wrists. He turned me so that I knelt facing the crowd. He pulled down the short chain from the horizontal chain. "Stand," he said. I obeyed. "What is wrong with her?" called a man. The chain between my manacles was looped over the lower hook on the short chain. I could hardly stand. I was terrified. I looked out on the men. Any one of them, I realized, could own me. I was a slave! I could be owned! I could belong to them! They could do with me what they might please, anything. They would have over me total power. But I was a woman of Earth! This could not be happening to me! Then, as the higher chain, the strand of the double chain, took up its slack, my wrists were again pulled up, high, over my head. Again I could touch the block only with my toes. I had not been as Ulrick had wanted, not at the end. I had been too much afraid. I had not been fresh and supple. I had not controlled my breath well. I feared I had not been beautiful. I had been too afraid, too afraid to be truly beautiful. I had been awkward and clumsy. I had not done well! Oddly enough I had not wanted to disappoint Ulrick, who, I think, had liked me. Too, I didn't want to be punished for not having done well. Surely they had wanted to make more money on me than "two," two of whatever it was.
I looked down into the faces. They were masters, and I was a slave. My eyes met those of one fellow, a large, corpulent man, stripped to the waist, very hairy, with crossed belts running across his chest. He had a drooping mustache. He had a long scar at the left side of his face. He was one of the grossest, most frighteningly ugly men I had ever seen. He looked up at me, and grinned. On the right side of his mouth a tooth was missing. I looked up, away from him, at the manacles on my wrists. They again hurt my wrists, my body stretched, and pulled up, as it was, on my toes. My toes hurt, and the back of my legs. I looked above the manacles, to the chain. Chains are so strong. We cannot break them.
The auctioneer was now behind me and to my left. "Is there a further bid?" he asked.
I think the ambiguities in my performance, if that is what they were, may have puzzled several in the crowd, as well as the auctioneer.
The house was quiet.
I looked down again. Again my eyes met those of the large, corpulent fellow. He grinned. He did not seem puzzled. I feared he might be a perceptive master, in spite of his grossness, his ugliness, from whom a girl could not keep secrets. I looked hastily away, again, from him.
"Am I bid only two," inquired the auctioneer, "for this luscious merchandise?"
I felt the whip touch my flank and waist, on the left.
He then stepped a bit before me, to my left. He turned and touched me twice with the whip. "Consider this flank, and belly," he said.
I tried to hold myself perfectly still. The light touches of the whip, though, had made me terribly uneasy.
He again moved behind me, and to the left.
"I have been bid two," he said, "for this lovely barbarian pleasure slave. Do I hear more? To be sure, she is only semitrained, and perhaps not yet fully broken to the collar. That I would not gainsay. But surely she has some promise. Yes, I think so. Some of you, I am sure, suspect that she has promise."
I did not know what he meant by that.
"Is there a higher bid?" he asked. "Shall I close my hand?"
A wave of anger suddenly swept over me. I, a pleasure slave! Absurd! How reductive! How degrading! I wanted suddenly to prove to them that I was no pleasure slave. I was an educated, refined, civilized woman of Earth! I was a modern woman, at least of sorts! I was no pleasure slave! But I knew, looking down at those faces, that if any of them owned me, I would have to be fully pleasing to them. I would have to bend all of my efforts, and all of my beauty, my charm, my grace, my knowledge, my intelligence, my tact, everything that I was, and could hope to be, to that end. I would have to be to them, and perfectly, a pleasure slave. And what horrified me most, I think, was that I wanted this. I wanted to serve men, and give them pleasure, to be precious to them, to be loved and appreciated, to make them happy. What a terrible woman I was, to want to make men happy. Then, again, I strove to be cold and hard, to be cruel like stone and leather. I must not allow myself to feel! But what, I asked myself, if I were not allowed to be my own mistress? What if men simply did things to me, forcing me to feel, as it pleased them, forcing me to yield, and melt, against my will, forcing me to feel, and experience, things which on Earth I had never even dreamed of, forcing me to be what I most feared, permitting me nothing else, a woman in the order of nature? Then I steeled myself again. I was no pleasure slave. There was no pleasure slave in me! I was above such things. I was my own mistress. No man could change that!
"Aii!" I cried, suddenly, startled, squirming wildly, leaping in the manacles, twisting, with a movement of chain, then my weight on them, the chain taut, my knees lifted, almost to my belly, my eyes shut, my teeth gritted.
There was much laughter from the house.
When I opened my eyes again, my body now again stretched out, standing on its toes, my wrists high over my head in the manacles, I looked down, across the di
rt area, over the railing. The large, hideous, gross, corpulent fellow was there, looking up at me, grinning. I blushed hotly. I looked away from him.
I had not expected the touch.
There was more laughter.
My body was crimson with shame.
It had been revealed to the men that I had a vital, living body.
I held my ankles, and knees, and legs as closely together as I could. I was terrified. I was suddenly aware then, dimly, of what men might do to me, how they might take me out of myself, subjecting me to incredible sensations as they, not I, might wish, or choose. Too, if I had so reacted to so small and simple a thing, it was difficult to conjecture how I might behave if subjected to more detailed, subtle or prolonged attentions. I suddenly felt terribly helpless, and yet, too, in a way, eager. Too, what if, horrifyingly enough, I was not permitted resistance but must, under the sanction of terrible penalties, under the command of masters, open myself fully to feeling, if I were forced to yield, and fully, and was forced, thusly, to collaborate in my own conquest? There was one thing which perhaps, in a way, was in my favor. My entire skin, and body, tonight, was much less responsive than it would normally have been. I could tell that, even from this morning. I had known it, too, from my responses on the platform in the exposition area of the sales barn, at the other end of the long corridor. This had to do with my disappointment in the matter of Teibar, that I was still not within his grasp, that he had not brought me here, in some master's jest, to reclaim me. I had then understood that, despite all my hopes, I was really, in the end, nothing to him, only another pretty Earth girl, to be brought here merely in the line of his business, to wear the collar and lick the whip. My sense of abandonment had been acute. How alone I had suddenly realized I was here, on this strange, beautiful world. I had been almost in shock, and without feeling. Too, tonight, I had been, particularly in the last few minutes, almost numbed with misery, and terror, understanding myself being sold. I had been frightened, constricted and tight. I had been, I feared, not beautiful. I had been just the opposite, I feared, of what Ulrick would have wanted. Thus, even though I had been taken unawares by the sudden movement of the auctioneer's whip, and had moved suddenly, inadvertently, in a manner which might have suggested to some that I was a pleasure slave, I knew that the fullness of what I conjectured would be my typical response to such a touch had not even been hinted at. The full range of my responsiveness, thusly, I congratulated myself, still lay concealed. None could suspect it. I shuddered, though, to think of what it, so delicate and deep, might be under a master's hands. I could suspect, even from the simple touch I had received, how helpless I might be.
"Two!" called a fellow from behind the rail, raising his hand. "Two and fifty!"
"Two and fifty!" called the auctioneer, pleased. "Two and fifty! Do I hear more?"
The house was quiet.
I looked down. The fellow who had just made the bid, whatever was its amount, was the large, gross, corpulent fellow, he who was so ugly, so frightening.
"Shall I close my hand?" asked the auctioneer. His hand was open, held out to the side.
I looked down at the man.
I twisted in the manacles. I could not free myself. I was a slave!
I looked down at him.
I would wear a collar. I was branded.
I looked down at him.
I knew that in time my body would regain its sensitivity levels, that inexorably its awareness, and helplessness, would return. It would be inevitable, like the rising of water in a well. I could do nothing about it.
I looked down at him.
He looked up at me, and grinned.
"The barbarian is yours!" said the auctioneer, closing his hand.
I heard a movement of chain above me and I was then, by the manacles and chain, over the hook on the short chain, drawn across the block and, suspended, lowered to the other side. Another girl, then, would be brought to the surface of the block. In a moment, my knees giving way, I was on another platform, much like the one on the other side of the block. Here, however, the low wooden wall was to my left and front. The manacles were removed from me, and I was thrust toward another gate, and shoot. In a moment I was again crawling on the wood. I strove to maintain consciousness. I was glad, now, we were to crawl. I do not think I could have walked. I heard the auctioneer behind me, calling for a bid on a new girl. It would be she who had come to the gate behind me. I recalled seeing her face behind the slats of the gate. I did not know her. I passed a man with a pointed stick. He did not hurt me. I could not throw up. I had not been fed enough. I could not soil myself, or the wood. They had prevented that. Too, the greatest danger of those things is during the early moments, or the final moments, of a sale. I moved down the shoot. My lot number was still on my left breast. I wondered if I would be picked up tonight. I supposed not, as it was late. I came to the end of the shoot. There was an opened tarsk cage there. I crawled into it. I was the first one in this particular cage. I crawled to the end of it. There would probably be five girls in this cage before it was locked. In other cages, which had been removed, I supposed, from the shoot's exit, I could see other girls. I saw Clarissa and Gloria in the cage to my right. They had preceded me in the coffle. They looked frightened. I supposed I did, too. We had been sold. Gloria had her fingers hooked in the heavy mesh of the cage side. Ah, Teibar, I thought, you have your vengeance on your "modern woman" now, indeed! She has been sold like a tarsk, in a sales barn! Too, you would doubtless much approve of the master into whose hands she has now come! Did they think, I wondered, angrily, that I existed only to give pleasure to men? But then I thought, wryly, ruefully, that that was exactly for what Teibar's "modern woman" now existed. That was now the whole purpose of her existence, that, and only that. It was that for which she must now live, only that. I considered my fate. Teibar had known it was to be mine. Indeed, he had chosen me for it. How amused he must be, then, from time to time, I thought, if he ever saw fit, perhaps in an idle moment, when freed of more pressing concerns, to recollect me. To what a delicious and amusingly appropriate fate he had consigned me! But no longer, now, really, was I a "modern woman." I was now only a vended slave girl. I thought of my master, and trembled. I put my fingers in the mesh of the tarsk cage. I wept, for a time. Then I lay down in the cage, naked, the number on my breast. I pulled my legs up. Then I lost consciousness.
10
The Kitchen
My head was down, my hair over his feet. I was naked, frightened. I had been summoned into his presence, and had performed obeisance at the end of the long carpet, leading to the dais. I had then, when permitted, approached the dais, head down, on all fours. I had climbed, on all fours, up the broad, carpeted steps of the dais, and now lay, on my belly, half on its surface, the lower part of my body, my right knee flexed, across the final two steps before its height.
"You lick and kiss well," he said.
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"Like the other females of Earth," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said. I gathered I was not the first Earth female who had come this way.
"You may continue," he said.
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"It is not unpleasant," he said.
"A slave is grateful if her master is not displeased with her," I said.
"You are very pretty," he said.
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"You wear a collar," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Whose collar is it?" he asked.
"Yours, Master," I said.
"And whose is that?" he asked.
"The collar of my master, Hendow, of Brundisium, master of the tavern of Hendow, on Dock Street, in Brundisium," I said.
There was a slave whip across his knees.
His feet and ankles were large, and the sandals had heavy straps on them. His calves and thighs, too, were sturdy and powerful. His forearms and arms, too, were frighteningly thick, and sturdy, like the trunks o
f small trees. They were inches greater in dimension than my own small limbs. He was of broad girth. His shoulders, too, were broad, like the beams of a house. I could not begin to conjecture the strength of such a man. He could have handled me like a doll. I felt helpless. It was like a flower before a mace of iron.
I was terrified. He was my master. I was eager to please him.
His hand, reaching down, prevented me from licking higher than midway upon his calves.
"You already know something of what it is to be a slave, do you not?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Desist," he said.
I desisted in my ministrations.
"You are a virgin, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said. He knew that, of course. It had been in my sales information. Too, it had been checked by his man the morning following my sale, before I had been prepared for shipment here.
"Would you risk your virginity here, in this place, at this time?" he asked.
"My virginity," I said, "belongs to my master. He may do what he wishes with it."
"I have plans for it," he said.
I was silent. It would be as he willed. He was Master.
"How do your lessons proceed?" he asked.
"I think well, Master," I said. It seemed to me in my best interests to be conservative in my estimations. Doubtless he had better information at his disposal than I could give him, from his dancing slaves, and his whip master.
"You are a dancer," he said, "and have in you the makings of a superb pleasure slave."
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"It is interesting that you are from Earth," he said. "One might have thought that you were Gorean."
"I am a woman," I whispered.
"Yes," he said. "That is probably the important thing. In the end it is probably all pretty much the same. There are men, and there are women."
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Did you know that many times Earth women turn out to be superb pleasure slaves?" he asked.
"We are women," I whispered, shrugging. I saw no reason why we, properly controlled and disciplined, should not be as perfect for a man as a Gorean woman. Indeed, considering the social and political deserts in which we were sexually starved, it would not have surprised me in the least, if we, once it became clear to us, to our joy, that we now had no culturally prescribed alternatives to being women, that we were now no longer subjected to social pressures to be something else, our womanhood being denied, or demeaned and despised, to coming home to our sex, and nature, proved to be every bit as good, if not in some ways better, than our Gorean sisters, or at least some of them, unaware of such deprivations. But in the end, I suppose, it all depends on the individual female. In the end, we were all women.