Dancer of Gor

by John Norman

  I had not even wanted to move, him so within me!

  But I was a slave. I must obey.

  "You wriggle well, Doreen," called Tupita.

  I cried out with misery.

  "Come, see the slave dance!" called a man from the entryway.

  "Do not stop, slut," warned Tupita.

  I moaned.

  I had not even wanted to move, him so within me! But now, choicelessly, I moved. He was mostly quiet within me. It was I, the slave, who must move! I twisted and writhed. I then became aware, to my horror, that I was being forced to arouse myself upon him.

  I whimpered in protest.

  "Come, look," called a fellow. "She is getting hot!"

  I sensed men crowding about the entryway.

  "No!" I sobbed. I was a woman of Earth. I must remain frigid! I must not be "hot"! But then I realized I was no longer a woman of Earth. I was now only a Gorean slave.

  "Please him," said Tupita.

  "Yes, Mistress!" I sobbed. "Yes, Mistress!"

  "Ai!" growled the brute who held me like chains.

  The techniques of ethnic dance, as is perhaps no well-kept secret, because of the movements of the hips, the control of the muscles of the abdomen, and such, have delicious applications in the making of love. It is no wonder that this form of dance, for centuries, was commanded by emirs, pashas and caliphs of their concubines and slaves. Too, of course, it is initially arousing to the woman, for she understands that she is dressed as a slave, is displayed as a slave and must dance as a slave. And later, of course, if she is truly a slave, she must satisfy, and with dividends, the passions she has aroused in her dance. If a woman could be a dream of pleasure to men, let her learn this form of dance.

  "Ai, Ai!" said the fellow.

  I then began to feel incredible sensations, sensations I did not fully understand.

  But then he gripped my hips so I could scarcely move, and pulled me tight to him, and was eager, surgent and eruptive within me! Then he withdrew, with something like a snarl and a smacking of his lips. I feared I had been bruised. "Master?" I asked. Would he leave me, so soon?

  "I am next!" said a fellow.

  I then again felt my ankles flung apart. I heard Tupita laughing.

  "Oh!" I said, forcibly entered.

  "Dance," called Tupita.

  I recalled, suddenly, what I had heard, from back on the floor, behind us, when I was being carried on the shoulder of my first use master to the alcove, that fourteen more ostraka would be chosen!

  "Dance!" laughed Tupita.

  Again I danced.

  * * * *

  It must have been near morning. I lay alone now in the alcove, now on my belly, my hands manacled apart, at the sides of my head. One of the men, earlier, when I was on my back, had put me in left-ankle shackle, had freed me of the manacles, had tied my hands behind my back, and had then had me please him, astride him. He had then, afterwards, left me lying on my side in the alcove. The next fellow had freed my hands of the thongs, put me on my stomach, and chained my wrists apart, at the sides of my head, much as I had been before, for much of the evening, but now turned, now on my stomach, and had then freed me of the ankle shackle.

  I had lost count of the men, but there had doubtless been, counting my first use master, the full fifteen who had purchased winning ostraka.

  It was quiet outside in the tavern.

  I did not remember if the curtain had been drawn shut by my last use visitor, when he had left, or if he had left it open.

  I lay there alone, on my belly, chained.

  The former Doreen Williamson's virginity had been raffled off. And so, too, had her first uses. I supposed that Teibar, who had been my capture master, who had caught me on Earth, and brought me here to be a slave, would have found that amusing, his "modern woman" being taught her sex on Gor.

  I rubbed my belly a little on the furs. I held the chains above the manacles closed about my wrists.

  Yes, I thought, I had been taught something about my sex tonight.

  I supposed I stank of the uses of men.

  Outside, near the front of the tavern, indeed, in its vestibule, I gathered, nailed to a wall there, with other such objects, was my attestation paper, with its smear of my virginal blood upon it, and the white ribbon which had been on my collar.

  There was now another ribbon, I gathered, tied on my collar, one of red silk.

  I was now, at any rate, "red silk."

  I wondered what the men who had worked at the library would have thought. I wondered if they, too, would have crawled to me, and put me to their purposes.

  It would be their right, of course. I was now a slave.

  I lay there, troubled.

  I wanted to cope with my feelings. I was confused. The first fellow had been, on the whole, very gentle and understanding with me. I thought I would always be grateful to him for that. He could have been quite otherwise, for I was only a collar-slut whose virginity he had won in a raffle. After he had removed my virginity he had treated me with much less courtesy and patience. In his arms, after my virginity had been taken, I had had the first genuine intimations of what it might be to be a slave in the arms of a man. In the arms of the second fellow I had begun to feel incredible sensations but he had then, eager in his own pleasures, seized me helplessly to him, and, as I was held, startled, the helpless vessel of his pleasure, used me, and left. In such a usage, and public as it was, before Tupita, and others, I was well reminded that there was a steel collar on my neck. But I was then, too, to my transitory shame, until I recalled I was a slave, and such feelings were required of me, more than ready for the next man, and then, more eagerly than I perhaps now cared to recall, I "danced" for him. Helpless, and in chains, hooded, almost alone with my sensations, I was discovering my sexuality, the root sexuality of the used female. To be sure, as I would later discover, I was only doing something like beginning to respond to them. When the fourth man had entered the alcove, and he seemed to be just standing there, not yet touching me, I had actually lifted my belly to him, begging. He had laughed. I had then sunk back in a paroxysm of humiliation and embarrassment on the furs, overcome with shame, from my grotesque anti-sexual Earth conditioning, in which female merit is regarded as being threatened or diminished by any sign of truly deep sexual needs, or any evidence of intense, genuine interest in the opposite sex. But if I wanted their touch why should I not ask for it, or beg for it? As a slave what else could I do? Too, even if my needs and my interests, and the incredible depth and intensity of my desires proved that I was "worthless" and without "merit," I did not care! Of course I was worthless, though, to be sure, men would pay hard cash for me! I was worthless because I was only a property! I was worthless because I was bond! I was worthless because I was the sort of woman who could be put upon a slave block and be sold! I was worthless because I was only an owned animal! Of course I did not have "merit"! I was beyond "worth" and "merit," of those sorts. I was only a slave! But thus I could be as free, and piteous, and begging, and lewd, and loving, and sexual as I wished! I had nothing to conceal, nothing to keep secret. I belonged to my master, all of me, my thoughts, my love, my body, everything I was and could be! I lay there for a moment moaning in shame. But then he had crouched near me and, with a few deft, unbelievable touches, had me, in spite of myself, leaping and squirming before him. Then I realized he had laughed at me not so much to humiliate me, though perhaps he had enjoyed doing so, as I was an Earth woman, but because he was amused at my obvious readiness, unusual in so new a slave. I gathered that this vitality, or responsiveness, coming from so new a branded slut, must be surprising. Then he entered me, and I think I pleased him.

  I lay there, trying to cope with my feelings.

  To some extent, doubtless, the conditioning to which I had been subjected on Earth was attempting to war with the liberties of my bondage. Indeed, some women try to carry the frigidities of their freedom into their bondage, but these are soon whipped out of them. They are swiftly tau
ght that they are now a different sort of woman. Then, choicelessly, gratefully, they yield eagerly to their slavery. You see, some of the "liberties of bondage" are also, in a sense, "necessities of bondage." For example, not only is a woman free then to open herself fully to the ravishings of masters, to be participatory, to feel as deeply, and profoundly and excitingly as she can, to be as responsive and orgasmic as possible, but she must do so. Such things are commanded of her. Similarly the authenticity of her responses can be recognized and tested. And failure to obey, and be pleasing, can be cause not only for grievous punishment, but death. Accordingly, my Earth conditioning could do little more now than attempt to war with my needs and urges. In each hour on Gor it seemed to be becoming less and less effective. My needs, and my reality, were now revealing its lack of soundness, its historical eccentricity, indexed to outmoded ideologies and conditions, its idiosyncrasy, its absurdity, making it obsolete, and overthrowing it. In a natural world it was, without its constant reinforcements, crumbling. Too, as a slave, I must, whether I wished to or not, ignore it. To be sure, I think, in the final analysis, it was being primarily undermined by so simple and profound a thing as my own womanhood. Its poverty, vacuity and falsity I think I had recognized long ago, even on Earth.

  I lay there on the furs, wondering about my feelings and responses. I wondered almost who the girl was, who lay there. She seemed very different from the former Doreen Williamson, who had worked in the library, so long ago, now, it seemed. To be sure, she still had the name 'Doreen', but that now was her only name, and she had it only as a slave name, a name given to her as an animal is given a name, a name put on her, like a collar, by the will of a master, a name to which she must then, like any other named animal, respond, and in all ways.

  I was still hooded.

  I lay there, and thought about the feelings I had experienced. Putting aside occasional episodes of chagrin or shame, understandably contingent on my Earth conditioning, as I was faced with various indisputable evidences of my vitality and responsiveness, I had found myself subjected to an astonishing variety of mixed emotions and feelings. Sometimes I had been confused by the unfamiliarity of these feelings, and sometimes delighted, and intrigued. Too, sometimes I had felt a desperate longing for them to continue, and had been eager for them, and others, some charming, and subtle, and some almost overpowering, making me feel weak, and held, to surface in me, like wonders, some bursting up, some rising slowly, in my depths. Too, sometimes I had felt genuine fear, as I seemed to sense, far off, feelings and emotions so incredible and overwhelming that I knew I would be helpless in their grasp, feelings that would be as commanding and irresistible to me as the movements of the earth and the tides of the sea. In short, I was on the brink of learning my femaleness. To be sure, nothing had been done to me at that time that would make me scream my submission, and beg helplessly with all the tears and beauty in my body for more. Too, at that time, I had not realized something of great importance, namely, how my body and nervous system could change under its uses, how my helplessness and needs could deepen, increase and intensify, how they could grow upon me and make me their prisoner. Although I was now almost ready, as Ina had put it, shocking me at the time, "to beg and scratch for it," I still had no clear idea as to the extent to which my belly and body could be gripped by "slave need." I still had no clear understanding as to how it was that a girl could bruise herself against the bars of her cage, trying to touch a guard, or crawl naked on her belly to a hated master, if only to feel the blow of his hand or foot. In short, though I had come a thousand miles from the naive girl in the library, I still had no understanding, really, of slave sex. I had not yet experienced even a small slave orgasm. But in the context of these reflections, seemingly focused primarily on simple feelings and sensations, let me reemphasize the wholeness of the context. It is in the slave's life as a whole that these things, so overwhelmingly, find their place. The life of the slave is an entire modality of being, and this modality of being enhances the feelings and sensations just as, in turn, the feelings and sensations enhance and enrich the modality of being. The life of the female slave is a consistent, totalistic and indissoluble whole.

  I heard someone part the curtains.

  I was frightened.

  Someone was there.

  I pressed down into the furs, on my belly. Then, it frightening me, and embarrassing me at the time, I felt an involuntary movement, the subtle lifting, just a tiny bit, of my behind, in the furs. Then, swiftly I lay even lower, more frightened, more closely, in the furs. I had once at a zoo, I recalled, seen a female animal, a female baboon, actually, frightened at the stalking, menacing, meaningful approach of a stern, dominant male, turn about and timidly offer herself to him. I had seen the same sort of behavior among chimpanzees. It is a form of placatory, female-submission behavior. It is familiar to ethologists. It is common among primates. I realized, reddening, that I had, in my fear, engaged in exactly such behavior.

  A man knelt or crouched near me. He felt my flanks. He had very strong hands. Again my body lifted itself, but this time, not so much in fear as in response to his touch.

  "Interesting," said Hendow, my master.

  I whimpered and tried to hide lower in the furs.

  "Do not be upset, slave," he said. "It is for just such things that I bought you."

  I felt the key thrust into the locks on the manacles, and they were removed from me. I was then turned to my back. The only bond I wore now was the half hood.

  "Are you sore?" he asked.

  "A little," I said.

  "Inside," he said.

  "A little," I said.

  My body, otherwise, though I would not feel it so much for a few hours, would be stiff here and there, and sore in places. I would discover, too, I had some bruises. Some of the men had treated me with great roughness. That was permissible. I was a slave.

  I felt a chain belt put about my waist and padlocked shut at my navel. At the back of the belt, attached to it, was a pair of light manacles of the sort suitable for females, which I would learn are called "slave bracelets."

  "Master?" I asked.

  I did not understand why I was being braceleted, now.

  "You will wear these at night," he said, "for three nights."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You will not be put out on the floor again," he said, "for three days."

  "Thank you, Master," I said. I supposed that was what I should be saying.

  "That will give you a chance to heal, if you need it, and, too, it will give you a chance to gather your thoughts together and to reflect upon your experiences."

  "Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

  "You will spend your time during the day," he said, "as before, in the kitchen."

  "Yes, Master," I said, apprehensively.

  "Do not be afraid," he said. "You will be in the iron belt."

  "Now?" I asked. I was now, after all, red silk.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Too," he said, "in the iron belt, and braceleted at night, and working in the kitchen, you will have a chance to simmer."

  "To simmer, Master?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  I did not understand him.

  Then he picked me up, very gently, and carried me downstairs, to the basement, and my kennel. There, before my kennel, he put me in the iron belt. He then removed my hood. It seemed light there, even in the dimness of the basement. I saw that there was now a whole blanket, not just a part of one, in my kennel.

  "Thank you for the blanket, Master," I said.

  "Crawl into the kennel," he said. "And lie down."

  I did so, and he covered me with the blanket, rather gently, I thought. "Good night, Doreen," he said.

  "Good night, Master," I said.

  He then closed and locked the kennel door. I watched him through the bars as he went across the room, and blew out the small tharlarion-oil lamp there. He then went upstairs. Again I wor
e an iron belt. I did not understand why until I had slept and, well before dawn, awakened in the darkness. I squirmed. Then I pulled at the bracelets, futilely. I realized then, suddenly, feeling helpless, I would have to wait three days for a man's touch.

  12

  The Floor

  I knelt at the feet of the handsome fellow and kissed and licked about his ankles. I looked up at him. He was large and strong. "I would be pleased," I whispered, "if master would see fit to take me to an alcove."

  "I am here," said Tupita, squirming on her knees, nearby. "Go away!"

  He looked down at me.

  "My use is included already, in the price of master's drink," I said. "I cost nothing more."

  "Go away," said Tupita.

  "You are Doreen, who dances, are you not?" he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Go away!" said Tupita.

  "Be silent," said the man to her.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master."

  "But you do not dance tonight?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said. "Tonight I am only a paga slave."

  The red-silk ribbon was no longer on my collar. The girl wears it for only a week.

  "I have seen you dance," he said. "You are quite good."

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "Quite good, indeed," he mused.

  "Let me dance for you, alone, in the alcove," I whispered.

  He smiled. I saw that this thought intrigued him, to have a private performance by a dancing slave, that she would dance her beauty for him alone.

  "Please, Master," I begged.

  "You want to go to the alcove, do you not?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "And you would dance and beg for it?" he asked.