Guardsman of Gor

by John Norman

  "Yes," I said. "I do."

  "It is what I am," she said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "And it is what I want to be!"

  "It is what you are," I said, "whether you want it or not."

  "Yes, yes," she said, "but I do want it!"

  She rose up, as she could, on her elbows. I still held her ankles closely together. I felt through her legs her pathetic attempts to force them apart, before me. She could not do so.

  "Would you keep me as a slave, if I did not wish it?" she asked.

  "Certainly," I said.

  "Even if I served you unwillingly, in misery and sorrow?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Excellent," she said. "Excellent!"

  "Excellent?" I asked.

  "You want me that much?" she asked.

  "It is not a question of wanting you," I said. "It is a question of what I choose to do with you."

  "Of course," she said. "You may do with me what you wish. You are the master."

  "I can conceive of taking a female," I said, "and seeing to it that she drank the bitterest dregs of bondage."

  "If I did not like her," she said, "I think I would think of selling her off."

  "Eventually, probably, yes," I said, "but in the meantime let her learn her collar."

  "Master!"

  "And well," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said.

  "There are doubtless girls who so serve," I said.

  "I hope not," she said.

  "Bondage is bondage," I said.

  She looked at me, apprehensively.

  "It is doubtless amusing," I said, "to take a girl who hates you, and then see to it that she serves you with absolute perfection."

  "Not so nice for the girl, Master."

  "It does not matter," I said. "She is only a slave."

  "True," she said. "We may be treated as men wish."

  She tried again to free her ankles, and again failed.

  "I would think, however," she said, "that a girl over time might have difficulty sustaining her animosity. It would be hard, I think, to wear a man's collar, and be so fully in his power, so dominated, so helplessly so, and not begin to be curious about him, and begin to find him of interest, and desirable. How could a girl avoid that, when she kneels to him, ties his sandals, cooks for him, bathes him, launders for him, wears his chains, and so on. Masters and slaves are in such frequent and intimate proximity. Surely they must soon feel one another, in the closeness, indeed, in the very nature of the relationship, that of master and slave, whether it be admitted or not. Certainly a girl in time hopes to please her master, not simply to avoid punishment, but because she wants him to accept her, and approve of her. Is this not what a woman wants, to be approved of, and loved? Too, it is he who bracelets her. That is very meaningful to a woman, wearing a man's bracelets. It seems that in time the girl will be unable to help herself, and will inevitably succumb to her master. I heard frequently in the pens that the woman who begins by hating her master not unoften, and soon, finds herself hopelessly in love with him."

  "Interesting," I said.

  "And the tragedy of it, Master," she said, "seems to be that she is likely then to fear to express her feelings."

  "Oh?" I said.

  "She does not want to be beaten and sold."

  "I see," I said.

  Many Gorean males fear sentiment. That is perhaps because so many of them are so radically and unmitigatedly sentimental. A war between two cities was once temporarily suspended to rescue flocks of small birds, migrating hurlits, which had fallen frozen, stricken, on the plains between armies, the victims of sleet and wind. These small creatures were gathered up by mingling warriors and nursed, being warmed and fed. Later, once they had clearly recovered their strength, the flocks were released to continue their migration, and the armies reassumed their original positions. Not until the last of the tiny birds disappeared to the south did the shield signals flash and the drums beat, the tarns take wing, the tharlarion begin to tread, and infantrymen march.

  Too, Goreans tend to be much closer to nature than at least the common urbanite of Earth. Even the Gorean child is likely to know the names and natures of most of the flora and fauna found in his environment. It is not unknown, for example, for a Gorean warrior, even one of a bandit pride, to admire flowers, if only secretly. More than one such fellow has been caught scattering their seeds from tarnback, that they may grow in new fields.

  On the other hand, interestingly enough, the Gorean's fondness and tenderness for terrain, and for grass, and winds and clouds, and flowers and small animals, does not extend, or at least not obviously, or not professedly, to one particular form of animal—a particularly delicious form of animal—the female slave, the slave girl.

  It is culturally understood that she is to be treated quite differently. She is to be dominated, perfectly. She is to be mastered. She wears a collar. She is within the precincts of bondage. Not the least latitude is to be allowed her.

  Let us take a moment to put this matter in context, that it may be more clearly understood.

  Goreans are usually individuals of deep feelings. Their anger tends to be deep, and their jealousies are deep; and their friendships and loyalties; and they hate deeply, and they love profoundly. On the whole, Gorean emotion tends to be more open than it is on Earth. On Gor hypocrisy is regarded as a form of lying, unworthy of a man, not as a virtue on which it is prudent to rely.

  But, on the whole, I think it fair to say that the average Gorean male is often afraid to show tender feelings, regarding them as somehow inappropriate for a man. Is it not common to fear most deeply that danger which lies closest at hand?

  Consider then the matter of the slave.

  The slave is not a person. The slave is without caste. The slave has no Home Stone. He has no more status than a draft animal. He is permitted to live as a convenience to free persons. He hears, he does not question, he obeys.

  Gorean society is a status-conscious society.

  In it the slave is without status. He is no more than a beast, literally.

  Consider then the female slave. She, too, being a slave, is no more than a beast, too, an animal, literally, though perhaps an attractive one, one pleasant to observe, command and enjoy. It is no wonder, surely, given the usual beauty and sexual helplessness of such lovely beasts, and their affordability, that men enjoy buying and owning them. Who would not want one or more? How is she then, this readily available, branded, collared slut, this animal, so very different from a free woman, to be viewed? She, the Gorean male feels, and the Gorean free woman surely agrees, is appropriately to be regarded as substantially beneath contempt, essentially worthless, and to be despised. This is not so much, of course, because she commonly sells for much less than a sleen or kaiila. It is rather because of what she is, a slave. She is a property, an animal, and is thus to be managed strictly, and held in no regard. She is subject to the whip. She may be beaten, as it pleases him. At night she is often chained nude to his slave ring. How could a free person do other than to regard such a lowly creature with contempt? But, of course, she is often exciting and beautiful. Free women are unlikely to forgive her such grievous faults. The danger, of course, is that this animal, this mere marketable property, is likely to have the most profound and dramatic appeal a female can have to a man, that of the slave girl to the master. She is beautiful, obedient and submissive. She strives to please. It is easy to see how a man must fear weakness with such a creature. Do not yield! Do not weaken! See that she is never in doubt as to who it is who owns her! Keep her in perfect subjection! And so he fears coming to care for her, a mere slave. Many men thusly feel that to care for a slave is a sign of weakness, that such feelings are unworthy of them, are beneath them. How absurd to care for one such as she! She is, after all, a slave. Accordingly, many a master/slave relationship is such that the submitted slave, hopelessly in love with her master, dares not express her feelings, and the master, unwilling to live without hi
s slave, and who would die for her, is harsh with her, and treats her with great severity, as the lowest and most contemptible of collar sluts. To be sure, both realize, or sense, one supposes, the feelings of the other. The slave is timid, but radiant; the master is angry, and determined to resist his feelings. In the end, perhaps, the slave can resist no longer and bespeaks her love for the master. Perhaps he will then, in fury, whip her and sell her. Has she not broken their implicit pact, uttered that which is unspeakable, neither to acknowledge that love could exist between such disparate beings as they, a free man, a lordly fellow, one with a Home Stone, and a mere beast, an animal, collared, a degraded, meaningless slave. What audacity she had to express her love, that of a mere slave, for a free man! Surely he should bracelet her small wrists behind her back, and hood her, and leash her, and then lead her hastily, angrily, to the nearest market. Certainly she cannot think him foolish enough to reciprocate such feelings. She is only a slave! How insulting, to suggest that he, a free man, might care for a mere slave! He can buy a dozen like her in the market! But perhaps he accepts her as his love slave, and she, to her joy, realizes he is now her love master.

  * * * *

  Interestingly, at this point, and this may be of interest particularly to those of Earth, who may find it difficult to understand, if this manuscript should someday find its way there, there is no reduction in, nor diminishment of, the stringencies and rigors of her bondage. You see, she is still a slave, fully, and it is regarded by Goreans as important not to relax her discipline in the least, nor spare the whip if she shows the least laxity in her service. Lenience and indulgence are not to be shown to a slave, any slave, even a love slave. The temptation, thus, to be weak with her must be avoided at all costs. Indeed, many masters, perhaps distrusting their feelings, or overreacting to a perceived weakness on their part, or embarrassed by their feelings for one who is a mere slave, or feeling that much should be required of a love slave, or that this attention honors her, may increase their demands upon her. She accepts gladly, of course, whatever is done to her, for it is the will of her master. Many a slave will lick gratefully the boot that has kicked her. From my point of view, I would prefer, lest she become vain, or think that she is now somehow important, that her discipline should be simply maintained. But with perfection. Absolutely without changes. In one sense then everything has changed, but in another sense nothing has changed. Let her be under no misapprehension on that point. She is still a slave, only that, nothing more.

  In any event, the girl is grateful that there will be no relaxation in the strictures of her management. She wants him to remember always that she is still his slave, and is to be handled, controlled and treated as such. That is important to her. Woman's sexuality responds more favorably to strength than weakness; a slave girl juices more readily, more fearfully, for example, at the slave ring of a harsh master than in the bed of a weak one. She must expect, love slave or not, for example, to be lashed if she is not pleasing. She is not a free woman. She is a slave. She can always, of course, be sold later, if he wishes, for he is the master.

  She will not be freed, of course.

  That is unthinkable.

  She is too desirable to free. Who would free so desirable a slave? She will stay in his collar. That is where he wants her, and will keep her. After all, he has paid for her, and she is his slave. Too, that is where she wants to be. Indeed, has she not long dreamed of this, being held in a perfect bondage, as the love slave of a strong master? What she wants or does not want, of course, is immaterial, as she is a slave. Her feelings are irrelevant. It will be done to her, and she will be treated, simply, always, as the master pleases.

  Independent of considerations or questions pertaining to love slaves and love masters, it might be noted that, in general, in the bondage relationship both slave and master find fulfillment. She has the master she needs; he has the slave he desires.

  It is hard, of course, for the slave not to find the master attractive, and the master, of course, finds the slave desirable. Else he would not have bought her. And out of these facts, those of intimacy, domination, and ownership, it is natural for the master and slave to begin to have deep and troubling feelings for one another. The slave then must remember that she is only a slave, a property, an animal, and must not, so to speak, dare to lift her eyes to the master. It is hers, rather, submissively and humbly, instantly and unquestioningly, to obey, and serve, and please, in all ways. Too, she does not wish to be beaten. The master, of course, on the other hand, must beware of the slave, and her beauty and charms. He must be careful not to succumb to her allure. This can be difficult, for the allure of the female slave, in her helplessness, beauty and vulnerability, and in the fact that she is fully his, owned, is the most potent of all allures a female can have for a male. So the master must beware. They are cunning, too, those lovely, shapely beasts. See that they are kept well in line. The whip is useful in this regard.

  In its way, nature has designed the bondage relationship, in forming man and woman as they are, in selecting for a radical sexual dimorphism and its consequential psychophysical complementarities. The bondage relationship explicitly, in civil law, is perhaps best understood as the acknowledgment of nature's work and its elaboration and enhancement within a complex civilized framework.

  "You will subject me to slave rape, will you not, Master?" she asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "That is what I want, this first time," she said.

  "It is what you will receive whenever I wish," I said.

  "Yes, Master. Of course, Master."

  I looked down upon her, mine.

  "This will be the first time that you have truly had me, as my own Master," she said. "You took me in the Street of the Writhing Slave as a Coin Girl, a mere rent girl, a street girl, a gutter wench, and you have taken me, I a helpless slave, I not knowing you, in the guise of my unknown Gorean master, but this will be the first time that you have had me, so to speak, in your own name and right."

  "Yes," I said.

  "Please, Master," she said, "may I beg one thing! Let it be swift, efficient and uncaring. Put me under your lust, as a mere object!"

  I regarded her. Obviously at my least touch she would go into orgasm. I had never seen a slave more ready for exploitative penetration. She wanted her first having by me, in my own name and right, to be one which would make it clear to her that she, in my arms, was only a slave.

  "Please," she whispered, "at least this first time—slave rape, slave rape."

  "Earth is now far behind you," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "Slave rape—please, slave rape."

  "Have no fear," I said, "you cheap, meaningless, stinking, little slave slut."

  "Master?" she said, frightened.

  "You will be in no doubt as to your having been had, slave," I said, angrily.

  "Master?"

  She pulled a little, at the bonds on her wrists.

  "Oh!" she cried, as I flung apart her ankles. She looked at me, in sudden fear. Then I took her.

  "Oh, yes! Yes!" she cried.

  Then I withdrew from her.

  She lay at my feet, on her side, her hands bound behind her. "Oh, yes, yes," she whimpered.

  I had had her casually, swiftly, ruthlessly, without sensitivity or tenderness. I had had her as a meaningless piece of slave meat.

  "Yes," she moaned, softly, "yes, yes."

  I looked down at her. Sexuality in the human female is a marvelous, deep, complex and total thing. Consider the female at my feet. I had scorned to show her the least respect. I had treated her as trash, and a worthless slave. Yet she moaned, bound, on the tiles, in joy. She had been treated as she had wished, as one who was merely mine, and must submit, in the order of nature. I looked down at her. Her entire body, in all its curves and beauty, cried out her vulnerable sexuality. What scoundrel, I wondered, would refuse to satisfy the needs of the female of his species?

  I kicked the girl with the side of my foot. "Yo
u are now in your place, Slave," I said.

  "Yes, Master," she said. "You had me well."

  She went to her belly, her hands bound behind her back. She squirmed on the tiles, a little, to position herself. She lowered her head and kissed my foot. Her dark hair was spread about her, and over my foot. I could see the glint of her collar through the hair. Again she pressed her lips to my foot, kissing it softly, timidly. "Thank you for my rape, Master," she whispered. "It is my hope that you found me pleasing."

  I did not respond to her.

  With my foot I rolled her to her back on the tiles before me.

  She looked up at me, frightened.

  "Will Master keep me?" she asked. "Did I please Master?"

  Again I declined to respond to the slave.

  "Please do not give me away, or sell me," she said.

  "You were not entirely displeasing," I said. "At least for the time, you will be kept."

  "Thank you, Master," she said.

  She knew it could be done with her, as I might please. Despite the fact that we had known one another on Earth, and such, she was here, on Gor, only a slave. Our common background and antecedents did not preclude in any way that she might be discarded, returned to a "slaver's necklace," if I found her less than pleasing, or tired of her. She well understood the need to please her Master well. She could be disposed of in a market, and must expect such if she were less than fully pleasing, as easily as any other slave.

  "We will see if you work out," I said.

  "I will try to work out," she said.

  I looked down at her, on her back, her hands tied, on the tiles at my feet.

  "I will try desperately to work out," she said.

  "On your belly," I said. Then I went to her and untied her hands. Quickly she rose to her knees before me. She held my legs and, softly, kissed my left thigh.

  "Now that I have had you, and I have decided to keep you about, at least for the time," I said, "we must try to think of some name for you."