Prize of Gor (98 page)

He then lay under the blanket, supine, it folded over the two of them. She lay on her side, at his side, back-braceleted, covered completely by the blanket, her head at his thigh. In this way, her head covered, she could not see what might transpire in the camp. She would be kept, suitably, in “slave ignorance.”

“Master,” she said.

“Yes?” he said.

“May I speak?”

“Yes.”

“I am collared, Master,” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“I am an animal, Master,” she whispered.

“I am well aware of that,” he said.

“I am a collared animal, who cannot remove her collar,” she said.

“Certainly,” he said. “You are a slave.”

“Are not masters concerned for their animals? Are not masters kind to their animals?”

“To some, perhaps,” he said, “but you are a special sort of animal, a human female animal, a slave. One need not be concerned for such animals, nor need one be kind to them.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Perhaps you remember the tarsk pen, the railing, and the whip?”

“Yes, Master,” she said, frightened.

“You are a transparent, manipulative little slut,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master!”

Again she pressed her lips, softly, to his thigh.

“Master.”

“Yes?”

“Might the blanket not be turned a little, put aside a bit, so that I might the more easily speak to my master?”

“I can hear you,” he said.

“Master!”

“No,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

She lay at his thigh, covered. Sometimes she could hear the small noises of the nearby fire. A breeze ruffled the leaves of a nearby tree. Occasional insect noises might be heard.

“Master.”

“Yes?”

“I am back-braceleted,” she said, “and am beside you, at your thigh, utterly helpless, a woman, and a slave.”

He was silent.

“Perhaps Master might make use of me,” she said.

“Why?” he said.

“I am pretty,” she said. “How is it that I do not please Master?”

“You are worthless,” he said.

“Master paid much for me,” she said.

“I cannot deny that it is pleasant to own you,” he said.

“I do not know what to do,” she wept. She pulled a bit at the bracelets, in frustration. How well aware she was of her helplessness, of her wrists’ captivity, they fastened so effectively, so closely, behind her, imprisoned so securely within their light, close-linked circlets.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“I am Master’s,” she said. “If I am not now pleasing, I beg to be informed as to how I may become pleasing.”

“You wish to be pleasing?”

“Yes, Master!”

“Liar,” he said.

“No, Master,” she said. “I do want to please you!”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“I want you to want me,” she whispered. “I want to be attractive to Master. What can I do? I do not know what to do! Perhaps I might be adorned? Perhaps Master might bedeck me, according to his fancy or wont? Would that help? I do not know. I want to be attractive to him.”

“Perhaps some cheap bangles,” he said.

She recalled, from Earth, the two, small, golden loops she had once worn on her left wrist, in class.

“As Master pleases,” she said.

“Perhaps,” said he, “bells on an ankle.”

“Whatever pleases Master,” she said.

“Locked, in place,” he said.

“Certainly, Master.”

On Gor it is not unusual to bell a slave, and the erotic clash of such bells, slave bells, on an ankle, in the markets and parks, in the plazas and bazaars, is a frequently heard sound. And the same bells which serve so well to draw attention to a lovely, demurely tunicked slave in the sul market, her shopping basket balanced with one hand on her head, serve as well, doubtless, to record in their jangling her leapings and squirmings in the arms of her master.

“Perhaps I will buy you earrings,” he said.

“As Master wishes,” she said.

“You would be a pierced-ear girl?” he asked, surprised.

“I have no fear of such things,” she said.

“You are indeed a worthless slave,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

Earrings, on Gor, interestingly, are placed on only the lowest of slaves. Nose rings, incidentally, for whatever reason, do not carry the same connotation of degradation, and such. Indeed, Ellen has been informed that in the southern hemisphere such rings are worn by even free women amongst certain nomadic tribes. Complex veiling and the Robes of Concealment are most common, of course, in urban areas, and particularly so amongst women of the higher castes. To be sure, even peasant women may veil themselves before strangers, and, one supposes, wisely.

Many Gorean slave girls live in terror of having their ears pierced. To be sure, this not unoften improves their price. Woe to the Earth girl brought to Gor whose ears are pierced. She will be sold publicly, as a “pierced-ear girl.”

Ellen, of course, had no objection to various adornments and enhancements. On Earth she would have deplored such things as politically scandalous, but, on the other hand, had often dreamed of herself so adorned. As in many facets of dress and ornamentation the effect of such things is stimulating to the woman as well as to he under whose gaze she finds herself.

“In my training,” she said, “the guards often bound me in pretty cords. This seemed to please them. I gather I looked well in them.” To be sure, Ellen knew she was remarkably fetching in such constraints, particularly when nude. Had she not seen herself in the mirrors, when ordered to struggle in them, and had she not noted the reactions of the guards? “You will tie me in pretty cords, will you not, sometimes, Master?” she wheedled. The sight of her helplessly bound in such cords, she hoped, might please him. Too, she, their helpless prisoner, had found them astonishingly arousing, as well.

“Coarse ropes will do for you, slut,” he said. “Squirm in them, by yourself, cold and miserable, alone in the woods, tied by your neck to a tree.”

“A slave wants to please her master,” she wept.

“Are your slave needs much upon you?” he inquired.

“Yes, Master!” she whispered, intensely.

“I find that amusing,” he said.

She jerked futilely, in fierce frustration, at the constraints on her wrists. The tiny sound of the links further excited her. The sides of her wrists hurt.

How helpless, and how needful, she was!

“Master!” she begged.

“It is pleasant to have a woman so beside one,” he remarked, dryly.

A wave of hatred for the brute, Selius Arconious, swept over her.

“We are far from the tarnloft, are we not, pretty slut?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said, angrily.

“How you tormented me there,” he recalled.

She bit her lip, under the blanket, in frustration.

“Doubtless it was your worst nightmare,” he said, “that you might one day belong to me.”

“Yes, Master!” she said, angrily.

“And now you do,” he said, with obvious satisfaction.

“Yes, Master!” she wept. “Please, Master! Content a slave! She begs it!”

“Very well,” said he. “Beg, slut. It will please me to hear it.”

“Please, Master!” she protested.

“You are a needful slave?”

“Yes, Master!”

“You may then beg, if you wish,” he said.

Ellen thrashed in misery, but then turned again, to his thigh.

“Master’s girl begs to be taught her collar. Master’s girl petitions for her ravishing. Master’s girl begs for her subjugation. Master’s girl begs use. She wishes to be conquered. She begs to be mastered. She is Master’s property. She would learn, then, what this entails. She is Master’s possession. Apprise her then of the treatment to which she is subject. She is Master’s animal, his beast. Let her be trained then, leash-and whip-trained if he wishes, to his pleasure. She is Master’s collar slut, his shackle girl, his chain bitch. Teach her then what it is to be such. She begs to be put to his use, uncompromisingly, ruthlessly, that she may know herself no more than what she is, a worthless, meaningless slave.”

“You beg the use appropriate for you, as a slave?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“You beg slave rape?” he asked.

“Fervently, humbly, Master.”

“No,” he said, quietly.

“Master?” she whispered.

“Others,” said he, “are not experiencing pleasure. The paga does not flow. Meat is not roasted. There are no hot, collared slaves, naked and aroused, seized in their arms, writhing, moaning, yielding. Danger is imminent.”

“Yes, Master,” whispered Ellen. “Forgive me, Master.”

A little later a thought came to Ellen. “Would Master like to send me to others, to give them pleasure,” she asked, as though innocently. He could do such, she knew, as he had done before.

“No,” he said, angrily.

“Yes, Master,” said Ellen, smiling to herself.

“She-sleen,” he growled.

“Perhaps Master is unduly possessive,” she speculated. “Perhaps he is jealous. Perhaps Master now regrets having sent his slave to please Cosians. Perhaps she did well. Perhaps she did very well. She is, after all, a slave. Perhaps Master now thinks that he may have made a mistake in that matter. Perhaps Master now wishes that it had been he himself who had received such pleasures. Perhaps Master now wishes to keep his slave to himself.”

“Beware,” said he, “lest I send you to give pleasure to the entire camp.”

“There are thousands of men in the camp, Master,” she said.

“Are you being troublesome?” he inquired.

“No, Master,” said Ellen. “Forgive me, Master.”

“You should be beaten, and beaten,” he said.

“As Master wishes,” said Ellen, and pressed her lips closely, again, to his thigh, beneath the blanket.

Later Ellen whispered, “Perhaps Master cares for his slave, a little.”

“No,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You may speak,” he said, after a time.

“Master’s slave loves him,” she whispered.

“Master’s slave,” he said, “is a liar.”

“No, Master,” she whispered.

“Do you contradict me?” he asked.

“A slave must speak the truth to her master,” she said.

“You cannot love,” he said. “You are an Earth woman.”

“What do you know of Earth women, or of the feelings of Earth women?” she asked.

“They are nasty and small, petty and vain,” he said.

“But we do make excellent slaves, do we not?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “You obtain some value, some small value, once you are in collars.”

“Then an Earth woman might have some value to you?”

“Perhaps as an abject slave,” he said.

“I do not think we are so different from your women, Master,” she said.

“Beware, slave,” said he. “Do not become presumptuous.”

“We are all women,” she said.

“The collar levels all sluts,” he said. “It makes them all the same.”

“Even before the collar we are the same,” she said.

“I suppose so,” he said.

“We are all women.”

“Yes.”

“And then you enslave us.”

“Some,” he said.

“Slaves have feelings,” she said.

“They are unimportant,” he said.

“Do you know how she feels, being a slave?”

“Her feelings are not important,” he said.

“Are you not curious, as to why we make such excellent slaves?”

“Such things are not important,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

She then again pressed her lips softly to his thigh.

“I wonder if any man understands the meaning to a woman of her brand and collar, the particular meaning to her, not to him, of being owned, how exciting and glorious it is, how it debases and dignifies us, how it reduces and exalts us, how it makes us meaningless and gives us meaning, how in denying us all it bestows upon us everything, how it enflames us. What, indeed, Master, do you, or any man, know of slaves, truly, and the feelings of slaves?”

“I know that they are to be owned, and mastered, totally,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, again kissing his thigh. “That is true, Master. It is that which makes us women. It is that which fulfills us.”

“And I wonder,” said he, “if any woman, or any slave, understands the glory of the mastery, truly, the rapture, the splendor, the joy of owning and commanding a woman.”

“Sometimes I think I have some sense of it, Master,” she said. “And it is you who own me, and is it I who am subject to your commands. It excites me, and exalts me. Doubtless it has similar effects on the man. Do we not fit together? Are we not two parts to a single whole? Are we not meaningless alone, but whole together? Are we not the lock to your key, and you the key to our lock? Only you can open us to ourselves, and only we can reveal to you the full meaning of your key.”

“It is not long until dawn,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Let us rest,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

She did not think that Selius Arconious slept then. She surely did not. Perhaps an Ahn later, shortly before the first rays of Tor-tu-Gor, Light-Upon-the-Home-Stone, the common star of Earth and Gor, began to glimmer in the east, rising there as it does on Earth, they rose together, he suddenly to his feet, casting the blanket aside, she quickly to her knees, at his thigh, not daring to rise, as they heard the alarms, these sounding from within the camp.

“It has begun,” he said.

Chapter 27

WHAT OCCURRED IN THE FIELDS

This was now the second day, following the morning departure from the camp outside Brundisium. Portus Canio, Fel Doron, and their small company, including he known as Bosk of Port Kar, and Marcus of Ar’s Station, were moving eastward, away from the camp which had been outside Brundisium, not southeastward, toward Ar. Presumably, on the likely Cosian assumption that their enemies might be of Ar, then those enemies might naturally be expected to move toward that city, and, consequently, one supposed that Cosian searches, and attempts to apprehend fugitives, might be largely directed to the southeastern routes, say, eventually to the Viktel Aria and such. Altogether, matters had proceeded rather as the conspirators had planned. Initially there had been a tarn pursuit of the trussed, gagged Tersius Major, he tied upright in a tarn saddle, clad as had been Selius Arconious. Accordingly the Cosian search for Selius Arconious had been at least temporarily abandoned. Some Ahn later, somewhat before morning, several tarns had been released from holding cots and sped from the camp, this being taken in the darkness as the unexpected departure of enemies of Cos and Tyros. A large pursuit had been soon mounted. Whereas the fate of Tersius Major was at this time unknown, one supposed that, in an Ahn or so, the pursuit of the riderless tarns would be resolved, the tarns taken in hand, or, at least, that it would have been determined that most of them, for they would have scattered, had been riderless. By the time, several pasangs away, the nature of the diversion was understood, the flighted tarns being regained, or it being understood that most, if not all, had been riderless, it had become morning and the vast camp, bit by bit, shortly after dawn, had been broken, the thousands of men, their goods, their wagons, and animals, including slaves, then wending their many ways toward their countless destinations. With them, of course, as unhurried, as unnoticed, as others, had gone Portus Canio, Fel Doron and those accompanying them.