by John Norman
“He looked upon me as though I might be a slave,” she said, “and he treated me, thoughtlessly and casually, as though I might be a slave. He even called me ‘Slave’!”
“Gorean men are expert in such matters,” I said. “Perhaps he knows something about you that I do not know.”
“Look!” she said. “He tied me as a slave!”
“You look well,” I told her, “tied as a slave.”
She squirmed in the binding fiber angrily, helplessly. “Please, unbind me,” she said.
I looked at her.
“The topaz is gone,” she said.
“Speak softly,” I said. “Lola is a slave. She need know nothing of the topaz.”
“It is gone,” she said, softly.
“Oh?” I said.
“I was terrified,” she said, “and so I told him, immediately, where it was.” She looked at me, angrily. “And then, in spite of my cooperation, he called me ‘Slave’ and, in amusement, subjected me to his will.”
“Where did you tell him it was?” I asked.
“In your pouch, downstairs,” she said, “where you keep it.”
“It has not been in the pouch for days,” I said.
“Where is it?” she asked.
“Elsewhere,” I said.
She looked up at me.
“It is fortunate,” I said, “that he, rightly or wrongly, took you as a slave. Else he might have returned to cut your throat. Thinking you a slave he would presume you ignorant of the location of an item of such value.” I smiled. “You could then be left alive, perhaps to please him again as an interesting and compliant pleasure object, should you fall again into his clutches.”
“He then, finishing with me, regagged me,” she said.
“And effectively,” I said.
“Yes,” she said, angrily.
“If he had found the topaz immediately,” I said, “why did you think he would continue to search the house?”
“For valuables,” she said. “But I did not understand his anger, his frustration.”
“He had not, actually, found the topaz,” I said.
“I did not understand,” she said. “It had not occurred to me that you would have removed it from your pouch without telling me.”
I shrugged.
“In that,” she said, “not taking me into your confidence, you treated me as a slave, did you not, Jason?”
“I may have saved your life,” I said. “Slave girls have value as articles of property.”
“I see,” she said, angrily.
“Besides,” I said, “obviously you were willing to reveal the location of the topaz with alacrity, as I had feared. It is important that it not reach Policrates. If it does, the major forces of the pirates of the eastern Vosk would achieve unification, at least for a time, with those of the western Vosk. This is to be prevented, if at all possible. If you did not know the location of the topaz it seemed obvious to me that you could not reveal its location, unless by some chance inadvertence. Doubtless the fewer that know of its location, the better.”
“Do you think I am a slave, Jason?” she asked.
“I assumed that any who might search for the topaz would be likely to regard you in such terms,” I said. “You are the type of woman, sexually stimulating and curvaceous, desirable, whom Gorean men, rightly or wrongly, look upon in terms of the parameters of bondage, in terms of such things as their potential for yielding incredible gratification and service. Too, do not forget that your left thigh bears a certain lovely brand, that of many Gorean Kajirae.”
“Do you think I am a slave, Jason?” she asked.
“Why do you ask?” I asked.
“You have not untied me,” she said “You have left me bound as a slave.”
I did not speak.
“I lie before you, bound as a slave,” she said. “Use me, if you wish. I am tied, helplessly. I cannot resist you. Take me, and as a slave, if you wish!”
I did not speak.
“Untie me,” she begged.
“No,” I said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“You look well, tied as a slave,” I told her.
“Perhaps that is because I am a slave,” she said.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“You are punishing me, aren’t you?” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“And as a slave,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“You do regard me as a slave,” she said.
“You are a woman of Earth,” I said. “How can you be a slave?”
“I am a woman of Earth,” she said. “How can I not be a slave?”
I rose from the couch and went to the door.
“Where is the topaz, Jason?” she inquired.
“I choose not to inform you of its location,” I said.
“Excellent,” she said. “You keep your slaves in ignorance.”
“Do not confuse yourself with a slave, Miss Henderson,” I said. “If you were my slave, you would be in no doubt about the fact.”
“I wonder,” she said.
I considered her throat. I did not think it would look bad in a close-fitting steel collar, properly inscribed, identifying her as mine. Then I forced such thoughts from my mind. She was Miss Beverly Henderson, of Earth.
“May I inquire as to the duration of my punishment?” she asked.
“An Ahn or two, I expect,” I said. “I will have Lola restore the house to order. When she is finished you will be freed and sent to your room. You may emerge in the morning.”
“And little Lola will come in here to lick your feet,” she said, bitterly.
“She will do what she is commanded,” I said. “I may have her do that. I may not. It will depend totally upon my will.”
“What manner of man are you?” she asked, horrified.
“One who does not mind having a beautiful woman, naked, collared, a slave at his total mercy, licking his feet,” I said.
“How pathetic to be a slave!” she cried.
“Rejoice in your freedom,” I told her. I then opened the door and prepared to exit.
“Jason,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“I yielded to my rapist,” she said.
“As a slave?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Am I not then a slave?”
“Perhaps,” I said.
“I will never yield to you,” she said “You cannot make me yield to you!”
I smiled to myself, for was she not female? Then I put such thoughts from my mind. She was Miss Beverly Henderson, of Earth.
I exited and closed the door, quietly. “I hate you!” she cried out, from within.
Chapter 16 - LOLA HAS NOT GREETED ME AS I RETURN HOME; I HURRY TO THE WHARVES
“Lola!” I called. “Lola!”
The day’s work had been long on the docks, I was looking forward to receiving the attentions of the lovely little slut.
“Lola!” I called.
Where was she? By now she should have run to me and knelt before me, happily, waiting to be commanded.
“Lola!” I called. “Lola!” I began to grow slightly irritated. Was the girl lax? Perhaps it would be necessary to put her under some unpleasant discipline.
“She is not here,” said Miss Henderson, lightly.
“You have sent her shopping?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Where is she?” I asked. “You, know I like her at my feet when I come home.”
“She is not here,” said Miss Henderson, somewhat evasively I thought.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“She was a poor slave,” said Miss Henderson. “She was lazy. Her work was not adequate.”
“Where is she?” I asked.
“I grew displeased with her,” said Miss Henderson.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“I sold her,” said Miss Henderson.
I looked at her, disbelievingly.
“Her work was not satisfactory,” she said. “I ordered her to submit to binding, as a slave must. I then, with a switch, conducted her to the wharves, where I sold her.”
“To what merchant?” I said, angrily.
“I did not inquire his name,” she said.
“The market was on what wharf?” I asked.
“I received two copper tarsks for her,” she said.
“The market was on what wharf?” I asked.
“I will give you the two copper tarsks, if you wish,” she said.
“The market was on what wharf?” I asked.
“I did not pay any attention,” she said. “Doubtless, by now, she has been sold off anyway. Jason! Take your hands off me!”
I held her rudely by the arms, almost lifting her from the floor.
“She was not yours to sell!” I said.
“Her work was not satisfactory,” she said. “I share this household.”
“She was not yours to sell,” I said.
“I will give you the two copper tarsks, if you wish,” she said. “We can buy another work slave, if you wish, a better worker, one mutually agreeable to us.”
“Lola was a splendid worker,” I said.
“I did not care for her,” said Miss Henderson. “Jason!”
I had flung her halfway across the room, in fury. “Beware!” she said. “I am free!”
“You had no right to sell her,” I said.
“I am free,” she said. “I do what I please!”
I glared at her, in fury. Then I turned about.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To the wharves,” I said.
“She will have been sold by now!” she cried. “You will never find her!”
“When did you take her to the market?” I asked.
“Early this morning,” she said, “as soon as you had left.”
“You planned well,” I said.
“You will never find her!” she cried.
I left the house, in fury, slamming the door.
“You will never find her!” she cried, from within.
I began to run toward the wharves.
Chapter 17 - I PONDER THE CONTENTMENT OF A SLAVE
“You take me with bitterness, Master,” she said. “Has Peggy displeased you?”
“No,” I said. “I am angry.”
“Ah,” she said, “then ventilate your emotions upon me, for I am only a slave.” She kissed me. “I must submit to whatever men choose to do to me. Do you wish to whip me?”
“No,” I said. “It is not you whom I should make suffer.”
“Some free woman has displeased you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then take your vengeance upon her,” she said. “Collar her. Make her your slave.”
“She is from Earth,” I said.
“We are not different from other women,” she said, “unless it might be, perhaps, that we make better slaves.” She leaned back on the furs of the alcove. “Is this the same female concerning whom we once spoke, she who was with you in the restaurant?”
“Yes,” I said.
“The pretty little beast,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“And you have not yet enslaved her? Master is dilatory.”
“Do you think so?” I asked.
“A Gorean man would soon have her lovely little throat locked in his steel collar,” she said.
“But she is from Earth,” I said.
“Master is quaint,” she laughed. “Forgive me, Master,” she smiled.
“Very well,” I said.
“What did she do?” asked Peggy.
I then grew again bitter. “She sold a slave of mine,” I said, “unknown to me, and without right.”
“For a man,” said Peggy, “such an offense is punishable by exile. For a woman, remanded to a praetor, the penalty is commonly that she herself will then wear the collar.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Enslave her.”
“I cannot,” I said. “She is from Earth.”
“The women of Earth,” she smiled, “are never to be punished, no matter what they do?”
“No,” I said.
“Gorean men,” she laughed, “are not so tolerant of our flaws. We may be severely punished even for displeasing them in the slightest.”
“You may be severely punished even at their whim,” I said.
“Yes,” she said.
“But you are slaves,” I reminded her.
“That is true,” she said. “We were brought to Gor to be collared, and made slaves.”
“She is free,” I reminded her.
“Enslave her,” said Peggy.
“But then she would be only another Gorean slave girl,” I said, “no different from others.”
“True,” said Peggy.
“And she would be mine, to do with exactly as I pleased,” I said, “totally.”
“Precisely,” said Peggy. “Oh,” she said, suddenly, “you are so strong.”
“I must put such thoughts from my head,” I said.
“Why?” she asked, clutching me, pressing closely against me.
“Men must not think such thoughts,” I said.
“Why?” she asked. “Because they so considerably increase their virility?”
She held to me, tightly. “I would rather they put thoughts from their heads,” she said, “which made them miserable and weak. How can thoughts be good which make men miserable and weak? How can thoughts be wrong which make men great and strong? I am a slave in your arms. Does your blood not call you to your destiny, my Master? My blood, racing in my weakened body, opened like a flower to you, yielding, calls me to mine. I submit to you, my Master. I beg you to be strong with me, to own me. Peggy begs Master to take her!”
I then took her, and she screamed with pleasure, a taken slave.
Later I held her closely. “Are you a contented slave?” I asked her.
“I am a slave,” she whispered, “whether I am contented or not.”
“Speak,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered, softly, “I am a contented slave.”
Chapter 18 - I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF GUARDSMEN FROM PORT COS; I DO NOT TAKE ACTION AGAINST MISS HENDERSON; SHE IS A FREE WOMAN
I hung in the ropes. My back was still sore from the whipping.
“As far as we can determine,” said the guardsman from Port Cos, “he is ignorant as to the whereabouts of the topaz.”
“I vouch for him,” said Tasdron. “He is an honest worker, well known on the wharves. He has been in Victoria for weeks.”
When I had emerged from the tavern of Tasdron I had been suddenly surrounded by guardsmen in the livery of Port Cos. Several crossbows were trained on me.
“Do not draw your weapon,” I had been told. “Do not resist.”
“Is this he?” had asked the leader of the guardsmen.
“It is he,” had said Miss Henderson.
“You are under arrest,” had said the leader of the guardsmen.
“On what charge?” I asked.
“Vagrancy,” said the leader of the guardsmen.
“That is absurd,” I said.
“Your innocence, if you are innocent, may always be established later,” said the man.
“This is Victoria,” I said.
“The power of Port Cos marches with the men of Port Cos,” said the man. “Bind him.”
My hands had been tied behind my back.
“I am finished with you, Jason,” said Miss Henderson, facing me. Then she had turned to the leader of the guardsmen of Port Cos. “Pay me,” she said.
“Bind her, as well,” he had said. To her consternation her small wrists were tied behind her back. “Bring them both to our headquarters,” had said the leader of the guardsmen.
“I vouch for him,” said Tasdron. “He is an honest worker, well known on the wharves. He has been in Victoria for weeks.”
“Di
d he come from east on the river, or west?” asked the guardsman.
“From the east, from Lara as I understand it,” said Tasdron.
“That is much what he, too, claims,” said the guardsman.
“In my own tavern,” said Tasdron, “he had difficulty with Kliomenes, the pirate. He could have been killed. That scarcely seems what one would expect from the courier of Ragnar Voskjard. Too, he does not seem skilled with the sword.”
“It is not claimed he is the courier,” said the guardsman. “It is claimed only that he knows the whereabouts of the topaz.”
“Is there any reason to suppose that that is true?” inquired Tasdron.
“Only the word and story of a free woman, whom he keeps,” said the guardsman.
“I see,” said Tasdron. “And have you had similar situations before?”
“Four times,” said the guardsman, disgustedly.
“Doubtless you have searched his compartments,” said Tasdron.
“He has a small house,” said the guardsman. “We have searched the house and the garden.”
“What did you find?” asked Tasdron.
“Nothing,” said the guardsman.
“Does the woman seem well disposed towards him?” asked Tasdron.
“She hates him,” said the guardsman.
“And does she seem interested in the reward for information leading to the acquisition of the topaz?” asked Tasdron.
“Yes,” said the guardsman. “The money seems quite important to her.”
“Ten silver tarsks is a considerable sum,” said Tasdron. “The guardsmen from Ar’s Station, also in Victoria searching for the topaz, are offering only six silver tarsks.”
“Cut him down,” said the leader of the guardsmen to one of his men.
When the ropes were cut from my wrists I fell to the floor but did not lose my footing.
“He is strong,” said the leader of the guardsmen.
My tunic was torn down about my waist. “My thanks, Tasdron,” I said to him, “for your helpful words.”
“It is nothing,” he said, and left.
“You may go,” said the leader of the guardsmen to me. “You may pick up your things at the door.”
“Had you found the topaz,” I asked, “what would have been done with me?”
“You might have looked forward,” said he, “if fortunate, to a lifetime chained at the bench of a state galley.”