by John Norman
To be sure, it is clearly not the case that every woman brought from Earth to the sawdust of the Gorean slave block is so innocent, guilty of no more, say, than her intelligence and beauty. Doubtless many women, both of Earth and of Gor, have been inserted on one acquisition list or another for no reason other than the fact that it has pleased some fellow that it should be so. Perhaps some behavior, or attitude, a rudeness, a glance, a hasty word, an insolence, or such, displeased a fellow, and it was decided then that the fair creature will pay for her indiscretion, the matter made clear to her while she is awaiting her first sale.
I had no doubt, for example, that it had pleased Thrasilicus to bring the former Miss Margaret Wentworth into a Gorean collar.
She had been, in my opinion, an excellent choice.
Given the number of Gorean mercenaries in the camp I had not doubted that Tassa powder would be available in the camp, and it had been. I had then had it introduced into the bota, where its presence could not be detected.
It was toward dark, and a fire burned nearby.
“How did you know the tarn would return?” asked Pertinax.
“When the rider lost consciousness, it was no longer controlled,” I said. “It would then, having no guidance, return to its cot, perhaps even hastening, that it might not miss the evening feeding.”
It had arrived, interestingly, some Ehn before the evening’s distribution of meat.
We had then recovered Licinius and the slave, both unconscious.
The effect of Tassa powder is not felt for a time, but when it takes effect, it does so swiftly. Presumably Licinius would not have a weapon at the ready swiftly enough to slash the girl’s throat. Even more likely, he would not think to do so. Goreans frown on gratuitous injury to a slave, as they would to any other animal. Too, if he had had time to think, which seemed unlikely, the last thing he would wish to risk would be falling into the hands of vengeful captors. He had lost. He would abide by the consequences.
“Licinius was kept in the saddle by the safety strap,” said Pertinax.
“Of course,” I said.
“And the slave was quite safe,” said Tajima.
“Yes,” I said, “secured in utter helplessness, as befits one such as she, merely a soft, smooth, shapely beast, nicely tethered, a bound kajira.”
“She, too, was unconscious,” said Tajima.
“I thought she would be,” I said. “It did not really matter, of course, but I supposed he would give her of the water. Why should he not? Would she not be thirsty, as well? Are animals not watered?”
“Yes,” said Tajima.
“Too,” I said, “there was plenty. Also, water rounds the belly of a slave nicely, and freshens her appearance.”
“True,” said Tajima.
It was common, of course, to water women before their sale.
“How you think of her, how you speak of her!” protested Pertinax.
“She is a slave,” I said. “And the sooner you learn to so think of her, and so speak of her, the better.”
“Never!” said Pertinax.
“Did you not note,” asked Tajima, “how she denied being cold, and addressed Licinius Lysias as ‘Master’?”
“She was frightened,” said Pertinax.
“Surely, even in fear, truth may be spoken,” I said. And, I thought, though I did not bring this to the attention of Pertinax, a slave who is frightened is often afraid not to speak the truth. The Master may know the truth, and be examining her. Too, whereas a free woman may lie as profoundly and frequently as she wishes, a slave girl is forbidden to lie. A free woman may lie with impunity; a slave girl does not have this privilege. The slave girl fears to lie. Lying is not acceptable in a kajira. Punishments are terrible. She is not a free woman.
“Would you prefer,” inquired Tajima, “that the slave was frigid?”
“Surely such things are a matter of private concern,” said Pertinax.
“Not in a slave,” I said. “In a slave they are quite public, like eye color and hair color. They affect her price.”
“You would wish her to be frigid?” asked Tajima, politely.
“She is not a free woman,” I reminded Pertinax.
“— I suppose it is better for her to be frigid,” said Pertinax, “in order that she may remain her own woman, retain her self-respect and self-esteem, her dignity.”
“The slave,” I said, “is not her own woman. She is her master’s woman. Too, whereas she may well think well of herself, rejoice in herself, celebrate herself, love herself, as well as the master, for how can one love another if one does not love oneself, and so on, she is not likely to have self-respect and self-esteem in the senses that I think you understand such things. She is, after all, an animal. And certainly she is not permitted dignity. She is a beautiful animal, and whereas she has far more attractions than, say, a she-tarsk, she has no more dignity than a she-tarsk.”
“I see,” said Pertinax.
“The slave is not a free woman,” said Tajima. “She is to be hot, helplessly so. She must juice upon command. A touch readies her. At a snapping of the fingers, she must hasten to assume whatever attitudes or positions you wish. Indeed, she may assume them hoping that her master will see fit to caress her. Usually she conveys her desires by kneeling and nuzzling, and making tiny noises and whimpering, and kissing the feet and legs of the master, looking to him, lips parted, hoping for attention, such things. There are many variations. Slaves are very inventive, and very clever. Too, I assure you, my dear Pertinax, it is pleasant to have one in one’s arms, squirming, and writhing, and gasping, and moaning, and crying out, and weeping, and begging, and yielding.”
“They are not free women,” I reiterated.
“Such things,” said Pertinax, “are for low women, not for such as Miss Wentworth.”
I smiled to myself. Pertinax did not know, as Cecily and I knew, that the stable grooms had well ignited, as it had amused them, and doubtless in accord with the instructions of Lord Nishida, slave fires in the belly of the former Miss Wentworth, at that time a stable slave at their disposal. Any woman in whose belly burn slave fires is a slave, and henceforth and thereafter can be but a slave. Ropes, straps, and chains were not the only bonds to which the former Miss Wentworth was now subject. A free woman might, of course, look upon the former Miss Wentworth and, in virtue of the brevity of a tunic, perhaps, or a brand, or a collar, easily see her as slave, but they might sense, too, to their jealous fury, that something less visible and far more profound was involved, that she now, supplicatingly and irremediably, belonged to men. In her belly, smoldering, ready to spring into flames, seldom far from the surface, was the heat of a slave, and of this, perhaps, a brand on her thigh, a collar on her neck, might be understood as little more than institutional tokens hinting at the possibility of a far deeper bondage.
No wonder they hated slaves with such vehemence.
How could they, free women, hope to compete in interest with a slave? A slave, of course, came with no companion dowry, no land, no wealth, no social or mercantile connections, but men, nonetheless, somehow, enjoyed having them at their feet.
“Perhaps,” said Tajima.
“Certainly,” said Pertinax, irritably.
“She is stirring,” I noted. The effect of Tassa powder, on a smaller body, given identities of quantities, and such, is more lasting than on a larger body. Licinius had regained consciousness, in his bonds, something like a half of an Ahn past. Too, of course, I did not know the size of the draught accorded to the slave. She would not have been freed to drink, of course, but, tethered, supine, would have had the spike of the bota thrust between her teeth.
Licinius again fought his bonds.
He was well swathed with straps.
“Lord Nishida will have him crucified,” said Tajima.
“For the sake of the Priest-Kings,” said Licinius, addressing me, “use the sword, swiftly.”
“I fear that is not practical,” said Tajima, “for you are
a spy, and traitor.”
“No traitor!” he said.
“You wear the cavalry’s gray, and betrayed it,” said Tajima.
“I am in another’s fee,” he said.
“Whose?” I asked.
“I do not know,” he said. “I was approached in Turmus.”
“You may be tortured before you are crucified,” said Tajima. “Perhaps that will to some extent refresh your memory.”
“He would either die, or lie, to stop the pain,” I said. “Too, I doubt he knows from what purse his gain was taken.”
“I do not know,” said Licinius.
“I believe him,” I said. “Those who bought his services would be discreet in such a matter. A spy, he might be apprehended, and tortured. He can not reveal what he does not know.”
“Use the sword, before they come for me,” begged Licinius. “We are not of the Pani. It is a small favor to ask. Did I not attempt to escape? Slay me, and then loosen and discard the straps. None will know.”
“I fear several would know,” I said.
Licinius groaned.
“One is tied on the cross, closely,” said Tajima. “It is hard to move. Thus, in even a short time there arises from within the constricted muscles a great deal of pain, even agony. Too, one languishes for two or three days, until one dies of the pain, or of dehydration. Sometimes one is given some fluid, that the agony may be prolonged.”
“The sword! The sword!” begged Licinius.
“Impalement would be a Gorean way,” I said to Tajima.
“That is barbarous,” said Tajima.
“True,” I said.
“Too, it would be too quick,” said Tajima.
“It can last a long time,” I said.
“Interesting,” said Tajima.
“Yes,” I said.
“The sword!” said Licinius.
“I have sent for Ashigaru,” said Tajima. “They will take the prisoner in charge, and, too, will conduct Saru to the central camp.”
The girl, freed of bonds, naked, in Lord Nishida’s collar, lying nearby, the stains of the stable still on her, turned to her side, uneasily, and whimpered.
She was recovering from the effects of the Tassa powder.
I had noted some activity on her part a few Ehn ago.
One normally recovers slowly from the effects of Tassa powder, at least for a few minutes, and then one might, after a time, suddenly comprehending, awaken suddenly, hysterically, struggling, screaming, if one is not gagged. It is not uncommon for them to awaken in a stout, canvas slave sack, in which they can barely squirm, or bound hand and foot, say, on a carpet in an empty tent, or chained to a ring in the darkness. Such awakenings, too, may characterize Earth girls brought to Gor for the markets, as they are commonly sedated in tiered slave capsules for the journey from Earth to Gor. Many are even unaware of their journey, having perhaps been sedated in their own beds and then transported to Gor unconscious, only to awaken later in the pens, sometimes to the stroke of a slaver’s lash.
Saru now had her hands under her, and lifted her body a little, and looked up at me.
“You are back now,” I said. “You are near the stable, in the camp.”
She looked at Licinius near her, bound. I do not know if she understood what, even in general, had happened. Presumably she would have thought Licinius had been intercepted, or overtaken. Then she went to her belly, her head turned toward us. I did not know if she were capable of kneeling now, as she might be unsteady from the effects of the drug.
“The water in the bota was drugged,” I said. “The tarn returned.”
“Are you all right?” asked Pertinax.
“Show no concern,” I snapped. “Do you not know what she is?”
Saru regarded me, frightened. She averted her eyes. I sensed she knew what she was, even if Pertinax, in his naivety, did not.
” Nadu!” said Tajima, sharply.
The girl struggled to nadu, kneeling back on her heels, her head up, her back straight, the palms of her hands down on her thighs. She did not make eye contact with any of the free men, but kept her gaze forward.
It is a beautiful position.
“Split your knees,” said Tajima.
“No!” said Pertinax.
“Now!” said Tajima.
The girl spread her knees.
“Wider!” said Tajima. She was, after all, a collar-girl.
The former Miss Wentworth complied, quickly, docilely, with Tajima’s command. She had learned obedience to men, slave obedience, in the stable, at the hands of the grooms.
“Please!” protested Pertinax.
“Stay as you are,” cautioned Tajima.
The slave remained in the adjusted nadu, as directed. It was a common form of nadu, one almost invariably expected of a particular sort of slave, the pleasure slave.
I had the sense she very much wanted to look to Pertinax, for whatever reason, perhaps to see how he might view her, as she was, as she had been positioned, but she did not dare to do so. In any event, she knew she was before him, in nadu.
“Whose prisoner am I?” asked Licinius.
“You are the prisoner of Lord Nishida,” said Tajima.
“No,” I said, “you are my prisoner.”
“Captain?” asked Tajima.
“My prisoner,” I said.
” Ashigaru will soon be here,” said Tajima.
“Saru, I understand,” I said, “is finished in the stable. Ashigaru will call for her, see that she is cleaned up, and conduct her to Lord Nishida.”
“Yes,” said Tajima.
“You have learned the lessons of the stable, I trust,” I said to the slave.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“Do you wish to be returned to the stable?”
“No, Master!” she said softly, quickly.
“You will learn to wear tunics, and silks, and bangles,” I said. “You will be taught to kneel and move. You may be perfumed and painted. You will be taught to please men. You will learn something of slave dance, and of the kisses of slaves. You will learn the use of your fingers, your hair, and tongue.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, shuddering.
“If you do poorly,” I said, “you will be slain.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“The wholeness of your life,” I said, “and your meaning, the fullness of it, all of it, and the very reason for your existence, and the only reason for your existence, is now to be a pleasure object for masters. You are an animal, and a property, only that, nothing more. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“You will now exist for, and only for, the service and pleasure of men. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do you understand why?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I am a slave, Master,” she said.
I turned to the prisoner. “Licinius Lysias,” said I.
“Please, the sword!” he begged.
“You did not slay the slave,” I said.
“I would have,” he said, “had you not supplied my needs.”
“Of course,” I said, “but you did not do so.”
“Is she so important?” asked Licinius.
“Not at all,” I said, “but she is pretty, is she not?”
“Yes,” he said.
“We are pleased to recover the goods,” I said, regarding the slave.
“Perhaps then,” said Licinius, hopefully, “the sword?”
“It must take great courage to spy here, in such a camp,” I said.
“I was well paid,” he said.
“I think you are very brave,” I said.
“I wagered, I lost,” he said.
“I think,” I said, “you are an excellent swordsman.” I recalled the fellows in the stable, his own cohorts, whom I had set to secure him, one struck by a quarrel, but three felled by steel. The skill
s involved in such a display are rare. It is difficult for even a fine swordsman to defend himself against even two assailants, for one need only engage, setting the target, so to speak, and the other strike. I would not, comfortably, have set Tajima against him, who was skilled, as I had determined in the dojo. And I certainly would not, at his present level of training, have allowed him to engage Pertinax, certainly not singly.
“I would not have cared to conduct the dialogue in steel with Bosk of Port Kar,” he said.
It seemed he knew me.
I did not acknowledge this.
Tajima looked at me, puzzled. He had heard me referred to as Bosk of Port Kar, in the pavilion of Lord Nishida, but he knew me, primarily, surely, as Tarl Cabot, a tarnsman. I gathered he knew little or nothing of Bosk of Port Kar, or of the port itself.
“I accorded you an opportunity,” I said, “to come forth from the stable, disarmed, and depart in peace.”
“Surely it was a ruse,” he said.
“But you did not come forth,” I said.
“It seems the slave has value, after all,” he smiled.
“Every pretty slave has value,” I said. “This one might be worth as much as a silver tarsk.”
A tremor coursed the body of the slave. A man was conjecturing what might be her sales price, what might bring her into the hands of anyone, anyone whomsoever, who possessed the requisite coin or coins.
“Two,” suggested Licinius.
There are few things which so convince a woman that she is a slave, as to hear her value candidly discussed, in terms of prices, markets, and such. She then has a better sense of what she is worth, as what she is, as a collar property, to masters. A free woman, of course, is priceless, and thus, in a sense, without value. A slave, on the other hand, is not priceless, and thus has an actual value, a particular value, usually what men will pay for her. Slave girls, in their vanity, for they, as other women, are vain creatures, often compete on the slave block, each trying to bring a price higher than the others. Also, of course, there is a supposition that the higher the price the wealthier the master, and thus, hopefully, the easier and more comfortable will be the girl’s bondage. On the other hand, it is not unoften the case that the girl so purchased will find herself expected to do the work of, and supply the pleasure of, several slaves. It is not unusual, too, when a slave is introduced into a house, no matter what her purchase price may have been, that she will be bound and whipped, this to let her know that in that house she is truly a slave, and no more than a slave. Often, interestingly, the plainer girls purchased by the less well-fixed masters enjoy a bondage which, though strict and absolutely uncompromising, as is the Gorean way, might be the envy of many slaves who went for higher prices. The slave is grateful for the master, and the master is grateful for the slave. The relationship of female slave and male master, though one established, sanctioned, and enforced by law, is founded obviously on one common in nature, that of, so to speak, the conquered, possessed female and the conquering, possessing male. Indeed, legal bondage is an institutionalization of, and an enhancement of, a natural relationship, the male who, in a very real sense, owns, and the female who, in a very real sense, is owned, as much as a bow or spear. The rightfulness and naturalness of the relationship, so sanctioned by nature, and a thousand generations of selection, often leads to love. It is not unknown, accordingly, for a master and slave to discover, one day, and often sooner than later, that they are in love, that they are now love master and love slave. Let him beware now that he does not become easy with his girl. Indeed, she does not wish that, for her love for him is that of a slave.