Captive of Gor (19 page)

across the belly. With a cry of rage the girl who held my leash expertly, with a

twist of her wrist, threw me choking from my feet. Then her foot was on the

leash a few inches from my neck, pinning me, choking, to the ground. With the

free end of the leash she struck me five times across my back.

“Silence, Kajira!” she hissed.

Then I was pulled again to my feet, and we continued our journey. Again branches

struck me, but I did not cry out. My feet and legs were bleeding; my body was

lashed, and scratched.

I was nothing with these proud, free, dangerous, brave women, these independent,

superb, unfearing, resourceful, fierce felines, panther girls of the northern

forests of Gor. They were swift, and beautiful and arrogant, like Verna. They

were armed, and could protect themselves, and did not need men. They could make

men slaves, if they wished, and sell them later, if they were displeased with

them or wearied of them. And they could fight with knives and knew the trails

and trees of the vast forests. They feared nothing, and needed nothing.

They were so different from myself.

They were strong, and unfearing. I was weak, and frightened.

It seemed they were of a sex, or breed, other than, and superior to my own.

Among such women I could be but the object of their scorn, what they despised

most, only Kajira.

And among them I felt myself to be only Kajira, one fit to be tethered and led,

scorned as an insult to the beauty and magnificence of their sex.

I was other than, and less than, they.

(pg. 129) “Hurry, Kajira!” snapped the girl who dragged in my leash.

“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered.

She laughed.

I was being taken at night through the forest, a bound slave. Verna had told me

that there was a man. I had been told that I had been bought. I was being

delivered by women, another woman, but a weakling, one who was only a piece of

merchandise, one who, on this harsh world, could be only merchandise, to my

master.

I wept.

* * *

Then, after perhaps another hour, we came, almost abruptly, suddenly, to a stand

of the high trees, the Tur trees, of the northern forests.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

The girls stopped.

I looked about myself. The forests of the northern temperate latitudes of Gor

are countries in themselves, covering hundreds of thousands of square pasangs of

area. They contain great numbers of various species of trees, and different

portions of the forests may differ considerably among themselves. The most

typical and famous tree of these forests is the lofty, reddish Tur tree, some

varieties of which grow more than two hundred feet high. It is not known how far

these forests extend. It is not impossible that they belt the land surfaces of

the planet. They begin near the shores of Thassa, the Sea, in the west. How far

they extend to the east is not known. They do extend beyond the most northern

ridges of the Thentis Mountains.

We found ourselves now in a stand of the lofty Tur trees. I could see broadly

spreading branches some two hundred feet or more above my head. The trunks of

the trees were almost bare of branches until, so far above, branches seemed to

explode in an interlacing blanket of foliage, almost obliterating the sky. I

could see glimpses of the three moons high above. The floor of the forest was

almost bare. Between the lofty, widely spaced trees there was little but a

carpeting of leaves.

(pg. 130) I saw two of the girls looking up at the moons. Their lips were

parted, their fists clenched. There seemed to be pain in their eyes.

“Verna,” said one of them.

“Silence,” said their leader.

It was no accident that we had stopped at this place.

One of the girls whimpered.

“All right,” said Verna, “go to the circle.”

The girl turned and sped across the carpeting of leaves.

“Me, Verna!” cried another.

“To the circle,” said Verna, irritably.

The girl turned and sped after the first.

One by one, with her eyes, Verna released the girls, and each ran lightly,

eagerly, through the trees.

Then Verna came to me and took my leash from the hand of the girl who had held

it. “Go to the circle,” she told the girl.

Swiftly, not speaking, the girl ran after the others.

Verna looked after them.

We stood alone, she in her skins, I unclothed, she free, I bound, my leash in

her grasp.

Verna regarded me, for some time, in the moonlight.

I could not meet her eyes. I dropped my head.

“Yes,” said Verna. “You would be pleasing to men. You are a pretty little

Kajira.”

I could not lift my head.

“I despise you,” she said.

I said nothing.

“Are you a docile slave?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered. “I am docile.”

Then, to my amazement, Verna unsnapped the choke leash from my throat and then

unbound my wrists.

She looked at me, and still I could not meet her eyes.

“Follow the others,” she said. “You will come to a clearing. At the edge of the

clearing, you will find a post. Wait there to be bound.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

Verna laughed, and stood behind me. I could imagine her, (pg. 131) straight in

her skins and golden ornaments, with her spear and weapons, watching me.

Each step was torture.

“Posture!” snapped Verna, from yards behind me.

I straightened my body and, tears in my eyes, walked between the trees, in the

moonlight.

After some hundred yards I came to the edge of a clearing. It was some

twenty-five to thirty yards in diameter, ringed by the lofty trunks of Tur

trees. The floor of the clearing was lovely grass, thick and some inches in

height, soft and beautiful. I looked up. Bright in the dark, star strewn Gorean

sky, large, dominating, seemingly close enough to touch, loomed the three moons

of Gor.

The girls of Verna’s band stood about the edge of the circle. They did not

speak. They were breathing deeply. They seemed restless. Several had their eyes

closed, their fists clenched. Their weapons had been discarded.

I saw, at one side of the clearing, the post.

It was about five feet high, and seven inches thick, sturdy, sunk deep in the

ground. In its back, there were two heavy metal rings, one about two feet from

the ground, the other about three and a half feet from the ground. It was a

rough post, barked. On its front, near the top, carved, cut into the bark with

the point of a sleen knife, was a crude representation of opened slave

bracelets. It was a slave post.

I went and stood before it, Elinor Brinton, the slave.

Briefly, through my mind flashed the memory of my former riches, of the

penthouse, the Maserati, my luxuries, and education and travels, my former

status and power, and then of my capture and my transportation to this rude

world.

“Kneel,” snapped Verna.

I did so.

Verna resnapped the leather and metal choke collar on my throat. She then

threaded the leash through the ring, about three and half feet high, behind the

post, brought the leash about and looped it, from the left to the right, about

my neck and then rethreaded it through the ring, pulling it tight. I was bound

by the neck to the post. Then she threaded (pg. 132) the free end of the leash

through the lower of the two rings, passes it about my belly, and rethreaded it

tight, fastening me at the waist to the post. With the free end of the leash,

keeping it taut, she then lashed my ankles together behind the post. I was

bound, save that my hands were free.

Verna took the length of binding fiber from her skins, that which had formerly

bound my wrist.

“Place you hands above your head,” she said.

I did so.

She tied the binding fiber securely about my left wrist, took the fiber behind

the post, threaded it through the highest of the two metal rings, and then,

jerking my right wrist back, bound it, too, fastening me to the post.

I knelt, secured.

“Docile slave,” sneered Verna.

“Verna!” spoke one of the girls.

“Very well!” said Verna, irritably. “Very well!”

The first girl to leap to the center of the circle was she who had first held my

leash.

She had blond hair. Her head was don, and shaking. Then she threw back her head,

moaning, and reached up, clawing for the moons of Gor. The other girls too,

responded to her, whimpering and moaning, clenching and unclenching their fists.

The first girl began to writhe, crying out, stamping in the circle.

Then another girl joined her, and another, and another. And then another!

Stamping, turning, crying out, moaning, clawing at the moons, they danced.

Then there were none who had not entered that savage circle, save Verna, the

band’s leader, proud and superb, armed and disdainful, and Elinor Brinton, a

bound slave.

The first girl, throwing back her head to the moons, screamed and tore her skins

to the waist, writhing.

Then, for the first time I noticed, in the center of the circle, there were four

heavy stakes, about six inches in height, dark in the grass. They formed a

small, but ample, (pg. 133) square. I shuddered. They were notched, that binding

fiber might not slip from them.

The first girl began to dance before the square.

I looked up into the sky. In the dark sky the moons were vast and bright.

Another girl, crying out, tore her own skins to the waist and clawing, moaning,

writhing, approached the square. Then another, and another!

I did not even look upon Verna, so horrified I was at the barbaric spectacle. I

had not believed that women could be like this.

And then the first girl tore away her skins and danced in her golden ornaments

beneath the huge, wild moons, on the grass of the circle, before the square.

I could not believe my eyes. I shuddered, fearing such women.

Then suddenly, to my amazement, Verna cried out in anguish, a wild, moaning,

anguished cry, and threw from herself her weapons and tore away her own skins

and leaped into the circle, turning and clawing and crying out like the others.

She was not other than they, but first among them! She danced savagely, clad

only in her gold and beauty, beneath the moons. She cried out and clawed.

Sometimes she bit at another girl or struck at her, if she dared approach the

square more closely than she, writhing, enraged, but fearful, eyes blazing,

dancing, they fell back from her.

She danced first among them, their leader.

Then, throwing her head back, she screamed, shaking her clenched fists at the

moons.

And then, helplessly, she threw herself to the grass within the square, striking

at it, biting and tearing at it, and then she threw herself on her back and,

fists clenched, writhed beneath the moons.

One by one the other girls, too, violently, threw themselves to the grass,

rolling upon it, and moaning, some even within the precincts of the square, then

throwing themselves upon their backs, some with their eyes closed, crying out,

others with their eyes open, fixed helplessly on the wild moons, some with hands

tearing at the grass, others pounding (pg. 134) the earth piteously with their

small fists, sobbing and whimpering, their bodies uncontrolled, helpless,

writhing, under the moons of Gor.

I found myself pulling at my bonds, suddenly aching with an inexplicable

loneliness and desire. I pulled at the fiber that bound my wrists, so cruelly

back; my throat pressed against the straps on my throat, almost choking me; my

belly writhed under its strap; my ankles moved again one another, helpless in

the leather confinement of the knotted strap. I looked up at the moons. I cried

out in anguish. I wanted to be free, to dance, to cry out, to claw the moons, to

throw myself on the living, fibrous, flowing grass, to writhe with these women,

my sisters, to writhe with them in the frenzy of their need.

No, I cried out to myself, no, no! I am Elinor Brinton! I am of Earth! No, no!

“Kajirae!” I screamed at them. “Kajirae!” “Slaves! Slaves!”

There was no fear in my voice, but almost hysterical triumph! “Slaves!” I

screamed at them. “Slaves!” I then knew myself better that they! I was superior!

I was above them! Though I was bound and branded I was a thousand times greater

and finer than they. I was Elinor Brinton! Though I might be stripped, though I

might be tied to a slave post, I was greater and finer, and of nobler stock,

than they. They were naught but slaves.

“Kajirae!” I screamed at them. “Kajirae!” Slaves! Slaves!”

They paid me no attention.

I cried out at them hysterically, and then was quiet. My limbs ached,

particularly my arms, tied so cruelly back, but I was not displeased. The moons

fled across the black sky, burning with its bright stars. The girls lay now

quietly on the grass, some still whimpering slightly, many with their eyes

closed, some lying on their stomachs, their face pressed against the grass, the

stain of tears on their cheek, mingling into the grass. It was colder now, and I

felt chilly, but I did not mind. I was now, though bound and stripped, well

pleased with myself. I had regained my self-respect. I now knew myself superior