Dancer of Gor

by John Norman

  "Of course, Master," I said.

  "There are many reasons," he said. "Those are just a few."

  "I understand, Master," I said.

  "Too," he said, "in your case, I thought it particularly fitting."

  "Master?" I asked.

  "You are a pierced-ear girl," he said, "and were, even before your ears were pierced."

  "Yes, Master," I said, puzzled.

  "I despise you," he said.

  I put my head down. I did not doubt but what he might despise me. But, too, I suspected his feelings toward me were more complicated. I was sure they exceeded a simple contempt for a bond wench.

  "And so," he said, "I have had your ears pierced."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You belong in a collar," he said. "Now it has been seen to that you will remain in it."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Are you not distressed, ashamed?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "What a brazen, shameless slave," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You like being a slave," he said.

  "I am a slave," I said. "Thus I must decide whether I will deny, and futilely fight, my slavery, dividing myself, and making myself miserable, or acknowledge what is in my secret heart, confessing it openly, and yielding to it, wholly, and irreservedly, then finding my happiness and fulfillment in it."

  "You slut," he said. "You like being a slave."

  "Yes, Master," I said. I supposed that I needed not tell him that I loved it.

  "We are thinking of appointing a new first girl," he said.

  "I have heard rumors to that effect," I admitted.

  "What do you think of Tupita?" he asked.

  "I speak for her," I said.

  He smiled. I supposed he knew how cruel Tupita had been to me, how we were enemies. On the other hand, I had told Tupita I would speak for her. Too, she had not belly chained and braceleted me as tightly as she might have, the night before last.

  "Did she offer you the position of second girl for your support?" he asked.

  "Third girl," I said.

  "Who would be second girl?" he asked.

  "Sita," I said.

  He smiled.

  "Doubtless Tupita believes Sita to be her ally," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "What do you think of Sita, for first girl?" he asked.

  "She would not decline the post," I said.

  "Would you speak for her?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said. "I speak also for Sita." I kept my head down. I did not really want to be involved in these intrigues.

  "What did she promise you?" he asked.

  "The position of second girl," I said.

  "Clearly, then," he said, "you would wish to support Sita over Tupita."

  "No, Master," I said.

  "You favor Tupita then," he said.

  "I speak in support of both," I said.

  "There can be only one first girl," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Whom do you favor?" he asked.

  "Of the two, Tupita," I said.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Sita is disloyal to Tupita," I said. "She betrays her. She pretends to be her friend, but is not."

  "Do you think that Tupita, were their positions exchanged, would behave differently?" he asked.

  "I do not know, Master," I said.

  "And not because Tupita gave you a pastry?" he asked.

  I looked at him, startled.

  "I have had her whipped for it," he said. "She must want the position of first girl very badly, to risk stealing a pastry. To be sure, she doubtless did not expect to be found out."

  "Master?" I asked.

  "The missing pastry was noted by the kitchen master," he said. "Only Tupita, first girl, other than staff, and assigned kitchen slaves, had had access to the area before it had been seen to be missing. Her fingers, licked, had sugar on them. Crumbs were found the next morning in your kennel."

  "I see," I said.

  "She was given only five lashes," he said.

  "Master is generous," I said. It could have been a thousand, or she could have been slain. She was only a slave.

  "What do you think of Aynur?" he asked.

  "I think she would be a good first girl," I said.

  "Can you think of a better?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "Apparently both Tupita and Sita wished to enlist your support in their cause," he said.

  "I think each tried to speak to several of the girls," I said.

  "To some extent," he said, "but not as much as you might think."

  "Oh?" I asked. That surprised me.

  "Both apparently thought you might have influence with me," he said. "Do you think that you have influence with me?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said hastily. I had hardly even seen Hendow, except here and there in the tavern. He had never even put me to intimate uses, suitable for slaves. Indeed, this had puzzled me a little, and made me wonder about my attractiveness, at least to him. Surely he made use often enough of other girls. Indeed, it seemed they muchly feared the call to his chamber, because of his ugliness and grossness. Too, I gathered, he was not gentle with them, and, in spite of their distress, misery and loathing, forced them to serve with uncompromising perfection. Indeed, in the slave areas, it seemed that most of them envied me my apparent immunity from his attentions. Interestingly enough, and perhaps paradoxically, I did not regard him with the same repulsion as many of my chain sisters. I feared him as my master, of course, but I also had a considerable respect for him, for the strength, the shrewdness, and intelligence I sensed in him. Also, I sometimes felt sorry for him. I thought that his life must have been very hard. He had once been betrayed, it seemed, and left for dead, by his best friend. Borko had avenged him. Had I been summoned to his chamber I would have tried to serve him as well as I could. Too, though I was not eager to serve him, I was not really afraid to do so. Indeed, I had been sometimes curious about him, wondering what it might be like to serve him. Men are so different, one from another. Perhaps it was my willingness to be summoned to his chamber which had, paradoxically, effectuated my security in this matter. I did not know. Perhaps for some reason, known only to himself, he took delight in forcing frightened, unwilling women to his pleasure, and, if I am not mistaken, particularly women who found him dismaying or sickening, who might even loathe him. He would take such a woman, and then turn her inside out, with yielding to him. To be sure, when they returned, bruised and shuddering, scarcely able to walk, to the slave quarters, they had little doubt as to their femaleness or the power of their master. I did not think, however, that I had been summoned here for typical slave purposes. Surely nothing had suggested that to me. Too, he usually had women sent to him in the evening. I was not exactly sure why I had been summoned here. Perhaps it had been simply to inspect the piercing of my ears. He had done that. Perhaps, too, he had wanted to look upon me, naked, as his property. He had done that. Perhaps, too, he had wanted to sound me out about various girls, for it seemed that, truly, he was thinking about a change in "first girl." He had done that, too.

  I stood before him, at the foot of the carpeted dais, naked, in my collar.

  He looked down upon me. He seemed heavy in the chair, almost somnolent. Yet I knew he was a creature of great energy, and vitality.

  "Why are you frightened?" he asked.

  "I am in the presence of my master," I said.

  I was apprehensive. I had not been dismissed. I had not been permitted to kneel.

  He scrutinized me, not speaking.

  I was very conscious of my brand and collar.

  I regarded my master.

  I was conscious, too, now, perhaps oddly, of the tiny, disk-capped training pins put in my ears by the metal worker yesterday morning. I stood before my master. I was now a pierced-ear girl. To an Earth girl, on Earth, at least, this might not seem to be a matter of great import
, but I was not on Earth, and here, I knew, such things, somehow, rationally or not, had great import. In some way, they confirmed my slavery upon me, perhaps even more, here, than the brand and collar.

  "You are an excellent and valuable slave," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I said, relieved. Perhaps I had been brought here to be praised.

  "You are a superb dancer," he said, "perhaps one of the best in Brundisium."

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "Your name is written high in the lists at the baths," he said.

  "Thank you, Master," I said.

  "The business of the tavern has increased considerably since your acquisition," he said.

  "I am pleased if I have been of value to my master," I said.

  "Did Mirus tell you things of this sort two nights ago?" he asked.

  "To some extent, yes, Master," I said. I had not seen Mirus since the day before yesterday.

  "They are true," he said.

  "Then I am pleased, Master," I said.

  "Do you think you are a high slave?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "Do you grow proud?" he asked.

  "I do not think so, Master," I said. "I hope not, Master."

  "To your right," he said, "against the wall, there is a box. Open it, and bring me its contents."

  I turned about and went to the side of the room. There, against the wall, as he had said, there was a box, a heavy coffer, with iron bands, with a curved lid. I knelt before the box. I lifted the lid. In the box there was but one object, a slave whip.

  I removed the whip from the box and rose to my feet, and returned to the dais, where I climbed the stairs and knelt before Hendow. I kissed the whip, and holding it with both hands, my arms extended, my head down, between my arms, proffered it to him. I then rose to my feet and withdrew to the foot of the dais, where I stood.

  I looked up at Hendow.

  My bit of silk, on the rug, was at my feet, on the right.

  He stood up. He was a very large man. On the dais, standing, he loomed over me. In his right hand was the whip. He shook out the coils. I was naked. I was small, and weak. I was collared.

  "When you were first in this room, several weeks ago," he said, "you may remember that I said you were beautiful."

  "Yes, Master," I said, warily.

  I saw the blade of the whip swing a bit, almost indolently.

  I regarded the instrument of discipline, frightened.

  He suddenly cracked the whip in the air. It made a report like a rifle shot. I could not help but move, and cry out with misery.

  "Think carefully," he said. "When I said that you were very beautiful, several weeks ago, the first time that I said it, you considered whether or not that might indicate an interest, or weakness, on my part, and whether or not you might be able to exploit it."

  "No, Master!" I cried, frightened. "No, Master!"

  Then I saw him approaching me suddenly, descending the steps, swiftly for so large a man, his arm drawn back.

  "Please, no, Master!" I wept. Then I felt the lash. I stumbled back in agony, turned about, and fell to the carpet. There the leather once more informed me of the displeasure of my master. I screamed, miserable. Then another blow like lightning was on my back and I sobbed at his feet, on my belly on the rug. "Yes, Master!" I wept. "Yes, Master, I thought such a thing, but I could not help it. I am only human. I am only a female! Do not punish me for what I could not help! I put the thought from me!"

  I lay there on my belly at his feet. I did not care for the whip. I did not want it. I feared it, terribly. It hurt so. It is a quite effective instrument of discipline for females. It is no wonder the masters use it on us. It, and numerous other disciplines and devices, we so helpless, serve to keep us well in line.

  "You have not been struck for that," he said.

  "I do not understand, Master," I sobbed.

  "I have not chosen to beat you for what you cannot help," he said. "It was clear to me that you had thought the better of your girlish vagary."

  "Why, then?" I asked.

  "Do I need a reason?" he asked.

  "No, Master!" I cried. "No, Master!" The girl belongs to the master. He can do what he wishes with her.

  "You do not know why you were struck?" he asked.

  "No, Master," I said.

  "Perhaps you are stupid," he mused.

  "Perhaps, Master," I said.

  "You were struck," he said, "because you lied."

  "Yes, Master," I said. I lay there, startled, terrified now. How perceptive was this man! Earlier, weeks ago, once, and only briefly, I had considered, swiftly in fear putting the thought from me, that I might be able to use his interest in my favor, perhaps manipulating him, or, in virtue of it, somehow improving my lot. He had, it seems, sensed, or understood, this transitory, swiftly rejected consideration, probably from some fleeting expression, or movement of my body, one I had scarcely been aware of. He had not chosen to punish me for that, a thing I could hardly help. For that I was grateful. To be sure, had I continued to consider such matters, I supposed he might have instructed me, sooner or later, with the whip or some other means, as to the unacceptability of such considerations. What he had whipped me for was something else, for now, just now, having lied to him.

  He then gave me another blow and I scratched at the carpet in agony.

  "Despicable slut!" he said.

  "Yes, Master!" I wept.

  He then struck me again, and tears burst from my eyes anew. I lay helpless before him, a punished slave.

  "Kneel," he said, "swiftly, facing away from me."

  I obeyed, in terror, almost frenziedly. I now faced the door.

  "To all fours," he commanded.

  I obeyed, trembling.

  Twice more then he struck me, and the second blow, as I cried out with misery, sobbing, flung me again to the carpet on my belly.

  "Kneel, as you were before," he said.

  I obeyed.

  "All fours," he said.

  I went again to all fours.

  He then, crouching near me, reaching about me, put the whip to my lips. I kissed it, frightened, again and again.

  "Kneel now, in the following fashion," he said. "Do not waste time."

  He then had me kneel with my head to the floor, my hands clasped tightly behind the back of my neck. I cried out, grasped, fixedly held, put to his fierce, disciplinary purposes.

  He then drew back from me.

  I was now on my belly on the rug, gasping in disbelief. I understood more of my slavery then than I had before.

  I think he may then have ascended the dais, and perhaps resumed his place in the curule chair. I did not really know. I did not dare look back.

  I lay there, disciplined, punished, half shattered. I had never doubted that he would be strong, but I had never expected such power. I had not understood that he was such a man. I could hardly believe what he had done to me, and the force and peremptoriness with which it had been done.

  "Report to the kitchen," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I sobbed.

  His voice, indeed, had come from above and behind me. He was on the dais then, certainly. I did not know if he were seated or not.

  I reached for the silk beside me.

  "No," he said.

  I drew back my hand.

  "You are denied clothing until further notice," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "And have the kitchen master put you at the tubs," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  I struggled to my feet. I think I understood, then, how it was that girls came back to the slave quarters scarcely able to move.

  "May I speak, Master?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Am I to be put in the iron belt?" I asked.

  "No," he said.

  Before, when at the tubs, kneeling there, working beside Ina, our arms immersed to the elbows in the hot water and suds, I had been protected by my virginity. Now
, however, I would be as exposed and helpless there as Ina.

  I made my way down the long rug, toward the door.

  I was under no delusion now that I might be in the favor of my master. I was under no delusion now that there might be something special about me, that I might even be a preferred slave or a high slave. I knew now, and knew it well, that I was only another girl, no different from any other in the house.

  "Slave," said he.

  "Yes, Master?" I said. I, addressed, knelt, but I did not turn about. I did not know whether it would please him or not. If he wanted me to turn about, I would doubtless be informed of that fact.

  "Do you recall one named Mirus?" he asked.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "He is no longer in my employ," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "You are dismissed," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master."

  I then rose to my feet, and withdrew from the presence of my master, Hendow, of Brundisium.

  15

  The Hood and Leash

  "Hist," I heard, "hist," a tiny, soft noise.

  "Who is there?" I asked, frightened. I pulled the blanket up, about me, inside my kennel, in the basement of the tavern of Hendow. It was dark.

  "It is I, first girl, Tupita," I heard, a whisper.

  "Mistress?" I asked. I quickly knelt in the small kennel, in the darkness. It was the voice of Tupita, of that I was certain. I clutched the blanket about me. She struck no light.

  I heard a key fitted into the two locks, one after the other, on the gate of the kennel, and the gate was opened.

  "Mistress?" I asked.

  "We are on secret business for our master," she said. "You are to come with me."

  "I do not understand," I whispered.

  "Do you question me?" she asked.

  "No, Mistress," I said.

  "Come out," she said. "Be silent. Few must know of this."

  I crawled from the kennel. The blanket remains behind. I was naked. I had been naked for several days, ever since I had been punished in the chamber of my master, for having lied to him. Beyond such things, however, it was not at all unusual that I should be naked. Girls are often kept naked in their kennels. Too, even if not caged or kenneled, they often sleep naked, that they may be the more accessible to the master. At the least they sleep scantily clad or in garments that may be swiftly drawn aside, revealing them. Some men, to be sure, enjoy having at least a bit of cloth or a slave rag on their girl, so that she will understand, even if she is awakened rudely, that there is some veil which is being removed from her.