Dancer of Gor

by John Norman

  "I am eager to see you in such ornaments," he whispered.

  "Kiss me," I whispered.

  My hands were together behind my back. I could not part them without permission.

  "Perhaps if your ears were pierced," he said, "I should find your request irresistible."

  "Then I hope, Master," I said, "that they shall soon be pierced."

  "They will be," he said.

  I trembled, then, a bit, understanding then, a little more than before, what it might be, on this world, to have pierced ears.

  He took his hands from my hips and put them further about me, to remove from my waist the double belt of coins.

  I pressed my body against his.

  "Were you given permission to approach me?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master." Swiftly I drew back, so that our bodies were not touching. But my breasts were but an inch from his broad, strong chest. And they were bound, and covered, in only tissues of slave silk. I felt much alive, and frustrated, and hot, and charged, and helpless. I was under his control, totally. I was even "bound by his will." My midriff was bared. This too, excited me, its exposure, and its nearness to him. I wanted to thrust my belly, in its low-hanging drape of delicate silk, against him.

  I felt his hands behind me, beneath mine, where I had them together, bound by his will.

  "Please!" I begged.

  I felt him disengage the large clasp at the back of the belt, to which both strands of coins, on each side, were fastened.

  "Please," I said.

  He took the belt and dropped it into the nearby sack, with the coined necklace and the coins I had picked up and brought back from the dancing floor, weighty in my lifted silk.

  He looked down at me. My head came only to his shoulders.

  "Do you beg?" he asked.

  "Yes!" I said.

  "Who begs?" he asked.

  "Doreen begs!" I said.

  "Doreen what?" he asked.

  "Doreen, the slave, begs!" I said.

  "To my lips, slave," he said.

  Gratefully, eagerly, I pressed forward, rising on my toes, he half lifting me, his hands under my arms, holding me.

  I melted to him.

  "Unbind me!" I begged. I wanted to put my arms about him.

  "Do you wish to be beaten?" he asked.

  "No, Master!" I said.

  We kissed, so together, the two of us, as to be almost one thing, and I almost swooned in his power. I fought, seemingly only half conscious for a moment, to keep my hands together behind my back. Then he put me down and back a little. "I am still bound!" I moaned.

  "And you may stay that way," he said, huskily.

  "As master pleases!" I said, sensing the urgency in him.

  He then held me from him, by the arms.

  "You have the ruby on its chain, which was on my forehead, and the pearls which were in my hair," I said. "You have the coins cast by masters on the dancing floor, which I gathered for you. You have the necklace, the belt! The other things, the ornaments, the slave beads, the bells, are in the box. Surely now, you wish to store my silk!"

  He smiled.

  "Tear off my silk," I begged. "Take me here, on the tiles, in the passageway! I am ready! I beg it!"

  "Coin check," he said.

  "Of course, Master!" I wept. How well he reminded me I was a slave!

  "Open your mouth," he said. I felt his finger run about within my mouth.

  Mirus was efficient. He would not forget to subject me to coin check.

  "Hold still," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  He was thorough.

  Some girls, I had been told, sometimes try to swallow small coins but this is foolish. The coin can be produced swiftly enough in such cases by emetics and laxatives. Similarly, her wastes may be subjected to unscheduled examinations. Too, even if she is successful in recovering the coin herself, there is usually little she can do with it. There are few places to conceal such objects in a cell or kennel. Similarly, she is often under surveillance, of one sort or another, by other slaves or free persons. Also, if she should be found to be in possession of a coin or coins, for example, by a tradesman, guardsman, or any free person, she will be expected to have an excellent explanation for this anomaly, which is then likely to be checked with her master. In most cities, even the touching of money, unless in an authorized situation, is prohibited to slaves. They cannot, of course, own money, any more than any other form of animal.

  I looked at Mirus, tears in my eyes.

  "What is going on here?" asked Hendow, who had approached down the passageway.

  Swiftly I knelt, and put my head to the floor before my master. My hands were still held behind me, as I had been bound by a man's will.

  "She has danced," said Mirus. "We have just completed coin check."

  "Lift your head," said Hendow.

  Immediately I did so, and then knelt there, in the dancing silk, my knees wide, my hands behind my back, a woman before men, a slave before masters.

  "I trust all the coins are accounted for," he said.

  "I have not yet counted," said Mirus.

  "Should she not be back on the floor by now?" asked Hendow.

  "She does not return to the floor tonight," said Mirus, "unless you wish to send her forth there."

  "It is so on the schedule?" asked Hendow.

  "Yes," said Mirus.

  "Very well," said Hendow, and then continued on his way, through the curtain, out to the public area.

  I looked up at Mirus.

  "Stand," he said.

  I did so. Then I was before him, again. My hands were still behind my back.

  He looked at me.

  I lifted my rib cage a little. I pulled my arms back a bit, further accentuating my figure.

  "Please," I whispered.

  "You should be returned to the slave area," he said, "or put in your kennel, where you belong."

  "I do not belong in my kennel now," I pouted.

  "Where do you belong now?" he asked.

  "In your arms," I said.

  "I do not think Hendow is pleased that I should hold you," he said.

  "I am free to all his men," I said, "and you are one of his men."

  "True," he said.

  "Will you not summon me to your quarters tonight?" I asked, plaintively.

  "It is perhaps better that I not do so," he mused.

  "As Master pleases," I said, indifferently, shrugging. I did not dare, of course, take my hands from behind my back.

  He looked at me, and I tossed my head, haughtily, and looked away from him. I had not been dismissed yet, of course. I could not see his eyes, but I supposed he was considering whether or not I should be whipped. It could be done to me as simply as by his whim.

  "Do you think you are a free woman?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "I thought you might," he said.

  "No, Master," I said. "I am under no delusions on that score."

  He must have been looking at me. I had the feeling I was being looked at, as a slave.

  "Am I dismissed?" I asked.

  "Beware," he said.

  "Perhaps I have concealed a coin in my halter," I said, "or in a fold of my slave silk."

  "Have you?" he asked, amused.

  "You will not know, will you," I asked, "unless you have checked?"

  "You look well in slave silk," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "You would look better without it," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. He then unknotted the silk of the halter, from about my neck, and behind my back, and drew it away from me. I stood as close to him as I could, without actually daring to touch him.

  I saw him lean forward and, his eyes briefly closed, revel in the scent of my perfume. It was perfume of a sort not worn by free women on Gor. It was slave perfume. Such perfume says to men, in effect, "This is a slave. Use her as you will."

  He then drew away th
e dancing silk and I, in the passageway, barefoot on the tiles, was naked before him.

  "Are you haughty now?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "There are tears in your eyes," he said.

  "My need is on me," I said, "and I am helpless."

  He dropped the silk to the floor, beside us.

  "You may kneel," he said.

  Swiftly I knelt, and then looked up at him.

  "Speak," he said.

  "I, Doreen, the slave, beg use," I said.

  He looked down upon me.

  I squirmed on my knees before him, in misery and frustration, my hands behind my back.

  "You are ready, aren't you?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master!" I said.

  "Please touch me!" I wept.

  "You beg it?" he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I wept. "I beg it!"

  "Since first I saw you, when I had unroped the shipping blanket, and put its folds to the sides, revealing you, helplessly manacled, when you first came to the house from Market of Semris," he said, "I dreamed that you would one day be so hot and needful before me, and would beg me for my touch."

  I was astonished and delighted to hear this, that so mighty a man as this Gorean master, second in this house to Hendow, my master, might have found me attractive, and from so long ago. But this did not, of course, relieve in the least the desperate need I felt. It did not reduce my tensions. It did not diminish or assuage my sufferings. I still knelt helpless before him.

  "It is interesting," he said, "what can be done with a woman."

  "Please, Master!" I wept. I who had once been Doreen Williamson, a shy, lovely librarian on Earth, had now begun to feel slave needs. To be sure, at that time, kneeling before Mirus, I had no idea how acute such things could become.

  He looked down at me, amused.

  "Mock me as a needful slave," I said, "but I beg of you, touch me!"

  He was silent.

  "I am a naked slave," I said. "I kneel before you! I beg use!"

  He savored my desperation. I wished for a foolish moment that I might be again like a woman of Earth, one without needs, or with such low need levels as to be for most practical purposes inert, or with need so rigidly and effectively suppressed as to provide a functional surrogate for such inertness, or, perhaps, even one who might, with some convincingness, pretend to such inertness, but then, again in a moment, I did not wish for such things. To have no needs, if, indeed, there were women truly without them, would be a tragedy, and if one had any need at all, then it would be only a matter of time until under Gorean tutelage they were revealed, deepened and enlarged; until they were imperiously summoned forth into the open for inspection and encouragement; they would then be cultivated; they would be forced to grow, in both size and intensity; they would soon become such that they would begin to surface periodically and irresistibly within her, like forces of nature, she as powerless to alter or affect them as she would be to alter or affect the tides, the rotation of the earth, the risings and settings of the sun. Too, they would always be with her, ready and meaningful, never far beneath the surface. This would constitute a condition of her existence. She would come to realize that, as the Goreans say, "slave fires had been lit in her belly." She would learn, too, that these fires, even when they seemed most inert, could be suddenly fanned into raging, consuming flames by as little as a command, a glance or touch. Such things the girl must learn to cope with. It does not matter, of course, for she is only a slave. I myself, of course, do not object to such things. I have learned on this world that the insensitivity of tissue is not an indication of virtue but of physiological inferiority.

  I looked up at Mirus, tears in my eyes. I was now without pride. I was now only a naked, needful slave. I squirmed before him. I could not attempt to relieve my own tensions, as my hands, by his will, had been bound behind me. Yet for all my anguish I would not have wanted to be other than I was. I had not known such needs, such feelings, such emotions could exist. I was a thousand times more alive than I had ever been on Earth. And complementary, of course, to the pain of such deep needs, the other side of the coin, so to speak, are the incredible fulfillments of having them satisfied, fulfillments in the light of which the anguish of the needs, terrible though it was, then seems negligible. We may be totally at the mercy of masters, and as mere animals, and even to our lives, but just as it is within the power of these uncompromising brutes who own us to do as they wish with us, so, too, it is within their power, when it pleases them, to grant us transport to ineffable raptures, to fling us ecstasies of which the free woman can not begin to conceive.

  "The woman of Earth begs use?" he said.

  "Yes!" I said. "She begs use!"

  "That is not typical for a woman of Earth, is it?" he asked.

  "Doubtless those who have been taught bondage do," I said. "I do not know!" I could certainly imagine myself kneeling before a Greek or Roman master, or a harnessmaker in Damascus, his Christian slave, in the 14th Century, or a Barbary prince, a captured, harem-silked English lady who had now had time to learn something of the touch of men, in the 19th, and doing so. Indeed, I had wondered sometime if, in a former life, or lives, I might not have done so. The thought of this sort of thing, oddly enough, did not seem unfamiliar to me. To be sure, I have deep and urgent female needs, and had had them, even on Earth. To be sure, they had not been ignited on Earth as they were ignited now, and, too, at this time, of course, I did not have any idea as to how deep and urgent, and progressively overwhelming, they could become later. I was still only, in effect, a new slave, and new to the rigors of my condition. I had not yet begun to learn my collar.

  He looked at me.

  "Surely I am not the first woman from Earth whom you have had at your feet, begging," I said.

  "No," he admitted.

  "What?" I asked.

  "No," he repeated.

  "More than one?" I asked.

  "Of course," he said.

  "Oh," I said. Immediately I felt a wave of jealousy for those other girls.

  "We learn quickly enough to beg on Gor, do we not?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "I am here," I said. "I am at your feet. I am naked, collared and owned. I beg use. I can do nothing more." I looked up at him. I must now wait. He would do with me as he saw fit.

  "Perhaps I should send you out on the floor," he said.

  "Not tonight," I begged. "Use me yourself!"

  "The schedules could be rearranged," he mused.

  "As master wills," I said, bitterly. I was, of course, at the mercy of his schedules.

  "Perhaps I could warm you for Hendow's customers," he speculated.

  "'Warm me'?" I laughed, bitterly. "I am already flaming!"

  "If I sent you forth on the floor in your present condition," he said, "you would probably belly to the first male whose sandals you saw."

  "Perhaps, Master," I said, bitterly. If he was so cruel as to deny me his touch, of course, I would, driven by my needs, have to make do elsewhere. It was Mirus, of course, who had now lit these flames in my belly. It was for him that they burned. The particular man is terribly important to the woman. He is a part of the whole that enflames her. To be sure, the slave is so needful and alive that it is not hard for her to see the beauty in any man. If I were sent forth upon the floor, however, in my condition, even as it was, I do not think I would have bellied to the first man I saw. I would still have been able to look about, and select one out, one suitably incendiary to the wholeness of my need, and then prostrate myself before him. No, I was not so desperate that I would have bellied to the first man I saw. At that time, I did not even realize I could ever be so desperate as to do that. I would learn later, however, that I was wrong.

  "But if you were to do that," he said, "it might not fit in as well as one might wish with the new image of the tavern, as we have now upgraded our décor, slave silk for the girls, and such, and service."

  "Oh?" I asked.

  "We would not
want them thinking the paga slaves of the tavern of Hendow were too easy," he said.

  "Of course not," I said, puzzled.

  "They must play hard to get," he said.

  "A slave?" I asked. I could imagine being punished terribly for such a thing. We must run to a man eagerly, at his least summons. We could be "gotten" as easily as by a snapping of the fingers.

  "Some fellows would like to think that the girls had at least taken a look at him before they flung themselves to their belly at his feet."

  "I understand," I said.

  "Of course he may simply pick out one that pleases his fancy, and summon her to his table, and command her."

  "Of course, Master," I said.

  "You seem puzzled," he said.

  "How, really," I asked, "are we to play hard to get?"

  "You must make certain he has paid for his drink first," he said.

  "Ah, I see," I smiled. "Master sports with the slave." I had thought that perhaps he had been referring to something I had heard about in training, the dangerous "pretended disinterest" sometimes commanded by masters of their girls, usually with respect to supper guests to whom he intends to lend her for the night. She must then, even if her belly is raging for the touch of the guest, attempt to pretend to disinterest in him, and even loathing, if the master wishes, though she must, of course, serve him with perfection. She then, gradually, permits herself to let her true feelings appear, thus attempting to give the impression of having been seduced by him, and then, later, after a suitable time, she is honestly piteous, kneeling beside him, licking and kissing. He then sends her to his room, that she may prepare it, and herself, for him. Most masters, however, do not do this sort of thing for it is meretricious, and, at best, a joke. Too, it can be dangerous for the girl, as she is usually under the obligation, at least by the seventh Ahn, if he has not penetrated to the heart of the matter by then, which is usually the case, to inform the use master of her master's jest, which intelligence he might or might not appreciate. Many girls have been whipped for such things, which are not really their fault. They are only obeying, as they must. But then a girl must sometimes expect the whip, I suppose. She is, after all, a slave. On the other hand, few men will whip a girl for having pretended not to be attracted to him, if she is actually attracted to him, particularly if she has done so under her master's orders. Such devices, of course, but without the authenticity and the ultimate surrender, are often resorted to by "lure girls," slaves who serve as bait for captains who need crewmen, masters of work gangs, and such. Such work can be very dangerous, given the astuteness of many Gorean masters. Such a pretense, however, can be maintained with many men for at least a few minutes, and with some men for an hour or so, which is generally more than enough time for the purposes of the master, and the master's men, unobtrusively, are usually near at hand. It is not unknown, of course, for a girl who serves at such a supper, and is genuinely disinterested, or repulsed, by a given guest, to be given to him for the night. Such things can amuse the master and the guest. Too, they tend to be good for the girl's discipline.