"Hurry, Slave Girl," called the man at the foot of the stairs. I hesitated. About my neck I wore a light chain, locked; From it depended an oval disk. On this disk was a number, my lot number, or sales number. Sucha, who could read, told me it was 128. She had been 124. We were being sold in the auction house of Publius, on Ar's Street of Brands. It is a minor auction house, usually handling lesser, cheaper slaves, usually females, in greater volumes; it lacks the prestige of such houses as that of Claudius and the Curulean; nonetheless, it is not unfrequented and it has a reputation as a place in which, not unoften, bargains may be obtained.
I heard the step of the man on the stairs behind me. I turned about, stricken.
"I am naked," I said. Did he not understand I was of Earth? I had been sold before, but not like this. I was of Earth! Surely they could not truly be going to display me publicly and sell me at auction! I had been sold before, but privately. The thought of my beauty being exposed so publicly, so brazenly, to large numbers of men, buyers, nauseated me. I looked to the height of the block. I thought I might die.
The room was an amphitheater; it was lit by torchlight. I had earlier been exposed in the exhibition cages, that prospective buyers might scan the merchandise at close hand, forming their suppositions as to its value, that their bids later, if they cared to make them, might be shrewd and realistic. In the exhibition cages we were forced to obey the commands of the men outside the cages, moving in certain ways, and such, but they were not permitted to touch us. We were told to smile much in the cages, and be beautiful. I shared my cage with twenty girls, each of us with a chain and disk on our throats. Outside the cage, posted, were our lot numbers, or sales numbers, corresponding with the disk numbers, and a listing of certain of our features, primarily measurements.
I heard the man hurrying up the steps behind me.
I had spent eight days in the slave pens, waiting the night of the sale. I had been examined medically, in detail, and had had administered to me, while I lay bound, helplessly, a series of painful shots, the purpose of which I did not understand. They were called the stabilization serums. We were also kept under harsh discipline, close confinement and given slave training.
I well recalled the lesson which was constantly enforced upon us: "The master is all. Please him fully."
"What is the meaning of the stabilization serums?" I had asked Sucha.
She had kissed me. "They will keep you much as you are," she said, "young and beautiful."
I had looked at her, startled.
"The masters, and the free, of course, if there is need of it, you must understand, are also afforded the serums of stabilization," she said, adding, smiling, "though they are administered to them, I suppose, with somewhat more respect than they are to a slave."
"If there is need of it?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Do some not require the serums?" I asked.
"Some," said Sucha, "but these individuals are rare, and are the offspring of individuals who have had the serums."
"Why is this?" I asked.
"I do not know," said Sucha. "Men differ."
The matter, I supposed, was a function of genetic subtleties, and the nature of differing gametes. The serums of stabilization effected, it seemed, the genetic codes, perhaps altering or neutralizing certain messages of deterioration, providing, I supposed, processes in which an exchange of materials could take place while tissue and cell patterns remained relatively constant. Ageing was a physical process and, as such, was susceptible to alteration by physical means. All physical processes are theoretically reversible. Entropy itself is presumably a moment in a cosmic rhythm. The physicians of Gor, it seemed, had addressed themselves to the conquest of what had hitherto been a universal disease, called on Gor the drying and withering disease, called on Earth, ageing. Generations of intensive research and experimentation had taken place. At last a few physicians, drawing upon the accumulated data of hundreds of investigators, had achieved the breakthrough, devising the first primitive stabilization serums, later to be developed and exquisitely refined.
I had stood in the cage, startled, trembling. "Why are serums of such value given to slaves?" I asked.
"Are they of such value?" she asked. "Yes," she said, "I suppose so." She took them for granted, much as the humans of Earth might take for granted routine inoculations. She was unfamiliar with ageing. The alternative to the serums was not truly clear to her. "Why should slaves not be given the serums?" she asked. "Do the masters not want their slaves healthy and better able to serve them?"
"It is true," I said, "Sucha." On Earth animals were given inoculations by farmers to protect them from diseases; on Gor it would be a matter of course, provided the serums were readily available, to administer them to slaves.
I stood with Sucha, trembling. I had received a gift which on Earth could not be purchased by the riches of the wealthiest men, a gift which was beyond the reach of Earth's mightiest millionaires, which even the billionaires of my planet could not buy, for it did not exist there.
I was incredibly rich. I looked at the bars of the cage. "But I am caged!" I cried.
"Of course," said Sucha, "you are a slave. Now rest. Tonight you are to be sold."
I felt the hand of the man tight on my arm, beside me on the step.
"I am naked," I said.
"You are a slave," he said.
"Do not show me to the men!" I begged. "I am not as the other girls."
"Ascend the block," said he, "Slave." He thrust me upward. I fell on the stairs. My legs trembled.
I sensed him lift the whip.
"I will cut the flesh from your body with the whip," he said.
"No, Master!" I wept.
"Girl 128," called the auctioneer, from the height of the block. It was an announcement to the crowd.
I looked upward. The auctioneer came to the edge of the block. He smiled down, in a kindly fashion. He extended his hand to me. "Please," he said.
"I am naked," I said.
"Please," he said. He put his hand further toward me.
I lifted my hand to him, and he took me by the hand, helping me to the height of the block.
The block was circular, and some twenty feet in diameter. There was sawdust upon it.
By the hand he led me to the center of the block. "She is reluctant," he said to the crowd, in explanation.
I stood before the men.
"Are you comfortable now, dear lady?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "Thank you."
Suddenly, angrily, he threw me to the wood at his feet. I heard the hiss of his whip. Five times he lashed me and I screamed, covering my head with my hands. Then I lay trembling, lashed, at his feet.
"She is Girl 128," he said to the crowd. From an assistant he took a board, with rings and papers. He read from that paper which was now first upon the board, others being loose and thrown back.
"128," he said, reading irritably, "is brown haired and brown eyed. She is 51 horts in height. Her weight is 29 stones. Her block measurements, certified, are 22 horts, 16 horts, 22 horts. She will take a number-two wrist ring and a number-two ankle ring. Her collar size is ten horts. She is illiterate, and, for most practical purposes, untrained. She cannot dance. Her brand is the Dina, the slave flower. Her ears are pierced." He looked down at me, and kicked me, lightly, with the side of his foot. "Stand, Slave," he said. Swiftly I stood.
I looked about myself, miserably. In the torchlight, I could see, in the rings of the amphitheater, ascending before me and above me, on three sides, the crowd. There were aisles at the side, and two aisles in the tiers, with steps. The tiers were crowded, and, on them, men ate and drank. Here and there, too, robed and veiled, I saw women among them, watching me. One woman sipped wine through her veil, staining it. All were fully clothed, save I, who wore only a light chain, locked, with its attached disk of sale.
"Stand straight," said the auctioneer.
I stood straight. My back hurt terribly from the whi
pping which he had given me.
"So you see 128," he said. "Are there any bids?"
The crowd was silent.
The auctioneer took my hair in his hand and, cruelly, bent me back, standing. "22 horts," said he, indicating my breasts. "16 horts," said he, slapping me on the belly. "22 horts," said he, reaching across my body and placing his hand on my right hip, indicating the width of my body. These were my block measurements. I knew a master might keep me to such measurements, with the whip, if necessary. "Small," said he, "but sweet, a delicacy, noble sirs, with promise."
"Two tarsks," called a man from the crowd.
"I hear two tarsks," said the auctioneer.
It was true that I was not large, but I did not think I was unusually small. I was, in Earth measurements, some five feet four inches in height and weighed about one hundred and sixteen pounds. My figure though delicate, was in Earth measurements approximately 28-20-28. I had not known my collar size on Earth, for I had not purchased garments with such attention to the neck. On Gor, it was ten horts. Accordingly it must have been, in Earth measurements, in the neighborhood of twelve and one half inches. I have a slender, delicate neck. I do not know what my wrist and ankle measurements would be. I do know I take a number-two wrist ring and a number-two ankle ring. These run in separate series, the ankle rings being larger, of course, than the wrist rings. It is regarded as desirable in a slave that she takes the same number wrist and ankle ring, this suggesting a delicious symmetry. There are four numbers in the series; one is regarded as small, two and three as normal, and four as large. I could not slip four ankle ring, of course; I could slip a four wrist ring, if it were set at four; most such wrist and ankle rings, however, are adjustable to 1, 2, 3 or 4. Thus, they, like slave bracelets, lock to the perfect holding point on each girl.
The auctioneer stood very near me.
I did not know my wrist or ankle size in Earth measurements, for such measurements are not important for a girl on Earth as they are on Gor, but the interior circumference of the number-two wrist ring is 5 horts and the interior circumference of the number-two ankle ring is 7 horts; thus, my wrist size in Earth measurement must be about six inches and my ankle size must be about eight and one-half inches. In the slave pens, of course, a girl's measurements are taken on a tape measure marked in horts and entered on her sheet of sale.
"She wears the Dina," said the auctioneer, indicating to the crowd my brand, the slave flower. "Would you not like to own this pretty little Dina? Do you have a Dina among your girls?" He twisted my head, held by the hair, from side to side, "And her ears, noble sirs," said he, "are pierced!" This had been done in the pens of the house of Publius, four days earlier. The puncture in my left ear lobe, from the wire of Rask of Treve's silver leaf, his booty claim, was now matched perfectly by a similar penetration of my right ear lobe. I might now be put in earrings. I was now a lowly pierced-ear girl.
"Five tarsks," called a man, a gross, fat man, swathed in robes, sitting in a middle tier to my right. He sipped from a cup.
I shuddered. I could not well see the faces of most of the buyers. It was I, not they, who was well illuminated by the torches.
"Stand straight, suck in your belly, turn your hip out," said the auctioneer to me, under his breath. I complied. My back still burned from his whip. "Note," said the auctioneer, indicating me with his coiled whip, "the turn of her ankle, the sweetness of her thighs, the tightness of her belly, the pleasure of her figure, the delicacy of her throat, awaiting your collar, the delicacy, sensitivity and beauty of her features." He looked to the crowd. "Would you not like her in your compartments?" he inquired. "Would you not like her m a tunic and collar of your choice, on her knees before you? Would you not like the owning of every inch of her, she your slave, yours to command, hers to obey? Would you not like her serving you, responding swiftly and perfectly in all things to the least whim of your will?"
"Six tarsks," called a man.
"Six tarsks," repeated the auctioneer. "Walk, little Dina," said he to me. "And well."
Tears sprang into my eyes; my body burned red with shame.
But I walked, and well. I feared his whip. Men cried out with pleasure at the displayed girl upon the block.
"Note the fluidity and grace of her movements," said the auctioneer, "the sweetness of her figure, the straightness of her back, the proud carriage of her head. For a few copper tarsks you can own her!"
A tear ran down my face, over my left cheek.
"Walk well, little Dina," cautioned the auctioneer. "Yes, Master," I said. I walked, back and forth, turning, red with shame before the buyers.
"Stand proudly, little Dina," said the auctioneer. I stopped, and stood on the block, my head high.
"Buy her and put her to work for you," challenged the auctioneer. "Conceive of her naked in your collar, on her knees, shackled, scrubbing the tiles of your compartments. Consider her cleaning and washing and sewing for you. Consider her shopping for you and cooking! Consider her entertaining and waiting upon your guests! Consider her waiting in the furs for you!"
"Ten tarsks," said a man.
"Ten tarsks," said the auctioneer.
"Eleven," said another man, from the left.
"Eleven," said the auctioneer.
I looked out upon the crowd, the men and women. There must have been some four hundred in the amphitheater. Vendors moved about, among them, proffering light foods and beverages. I lightly fingered the chain and sales disk at my throat. I saw a man buy a roll of meat, wrapped about a sauce. He began to eat, looking at me. Our eyes met. I looked away. Some men conversed among themselves, not noticing me. I hated them! I did not wish to be looked upon, but they did not look upon me!
"Examine this beauty," said the auctioneer, indicating me with his whip. "Consider the perfection of her block mea-surements. 22 horts, 16 horts, 22 horts!" he cried, jabbing me with the whip.
"Fourteen copper tarsks," called a man.
"Fourteen!" cried the auctioneer. "But can the house let this little beauty slip its collar for a mere fourteen tarsks? Say, no, Noble Sirs!"
"Fifteen," said a man.
"Fifteen," said the auctioneer. I knew I had been sold by Rask of Treve to a slaver for fifteen copper tarsks. The slaver who had purchased me had sold me to the house of Publius for twenty copper tarsks. The auctioneer doubtless knew this; doubtless it was entered on my records.
The auctioneer looked at me. "Girl," said he to me, softly, menacingly, "you will, whether sold or not, spend this night in our pens. Is that clearly understood?"
"Yes, Master," I whispered.
He was not satisfied with the bids. If I did not go for a price which satisfied the house I would spend the night under Gorean slave discipline.
I would doubtless be richly whipped.
"On your belly, little Dina," he said. "Let us interest the buyers."
"Yes, Master," I said.
I fell upon my belly at his feet, awaiting his commands. I looked up, terrified, afraid that he might strike me with the whip. I lay there for a long moment. He did not strike me. The crowd was amused at my terror. "You will be prompt, obedient and beautiful, 128," said the auctioneer to me, softly. "Yes, Master," I said. Then, suddenly, snapping the whip, he said, harshly, "On your back, one knee lifted, the other leg extended, hands over your head, wrists close, as though confined in slave bracelets." I complied. Then he began to put me rapidly through the paces of the exhibited female slave; he held me in each position for the sweet instant that well revealed me, tantalizingly, in that attitude or posture, and then barked forth a new command, to a new position or attitude; the sequence of these moves was not an accident; each move followed easily, sometimes by a roll or turn, from the preceding position; shrewd rhythm and flow, calculated and sensual, physically melodious, characterized the performance humiliatingly inflicted upon me; I must submit to the choreography of slave display; I, who had been Judy Thornton, a girl of Earth, was put through Gorean slave paces; then I lay on my b
elly at his feet, as I had begun; I was trembling; I was covered with sweat; my hair was loose about my head and eyes; I felt the auctioneer's foot upon my body; I put my head to the block.
John Norman - Gor 11 Page 39