Slave Girl of Gor (44 page)

The other girls in the room came casually to where I knelt before Sucha. There were several of them. Most were naked. All wore Turian collars.

"A new silk girl," said one.

I straightened my body. It pleased me that they saw me as a silk girl.

"There are twenty-eight girls in Stones of Turmus," continued Sucha. "We come from nineteen cities. Six of us are bred slaves."

"She is a pretty one," said another girl.

I smiled.

"Teach her she is low girl," said Sucha.

One of the girls seized me from behind by the hair and threw me back to the tiles. I cried out. The other girls then, swiftly, kicked and struck at me. I screamed, twisting. "Enough," called Sucha. The beating had lasted no more than a brief handful of seconds, perhaps no more than five or six seconds. Its purpose was no more than to intimidate me. I looked up, horrified, my head still held down by the hair. My leg was bleeding where I had been bitten.

"Release her," said Sucha. "Kneel, Dina."

My hair released, I knelt.

"You are low girl," said Sucha.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. I was terrified. I did not even dare look into the eyes of the other girls. I could sense their readiness, their eagerness, on the least provocation, to put me under slave-girl discipline.

There was a pounding on bars, from several yards away. I heard a man's voice. It sounded authoritative, especially significant, in such a place. We listened, Sucha carefully, too.

"The girl, Sulda," he called, "is summoned to the couch of Hak Haran."

"Be swift, Sulda," whispered Sucha. "Hak Haran does not like to be kept waiting."

"Yes, Mistress," said a stunning brunet, her face suffused with pleasure, hurrying away from us.

"The girl hears and obeys," called Sucha.

"It is well," said the man.

"I," said another of the girls, "am never summoned except to the couch of Fulmius."

The other girls laughed at her.

"Leave us," said Sucha.

The other girls, some with last looks at me, drifted away.

"They do not like me," I said.

"You are very pretty," said Sucha. "It is natural for them to resent you."

"I thought they were tamed," I said.

"They are tamed to men, who are the masters," said Sucha. "But we are not tamed to one another."

"I do not want to be hurt," I said.

"Remember then," said Sucha, "that you are low girl. Please them. Conduct yourself with care among your sisters in bondage."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Get up. Follow me," said Sucha.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

I knew that slave girls were often left to impose their own order upon themselves, masters usually not interfering in such matters. The kennel rooms of slave girls could be jungles. Usually the strongest, largest girl, with her cohorts, dominated. Order tended to be imposed by physical means. The head girls, too, their dominance assured, often did not impose a further order among the lesser girls, leaving it to them to determine their own rankings. Squabbles among slave girls can be nasty. In them there is likely to be much screaming and rolling upon the tiles; vicious clawing, biting, kicking and hair pulling tend to figure in such feminine disputations; even more shameful perhaps is the fact that the other girls find such contests amusing and encourage the contestants. Sometimes a strong girl even orders two friends to fight, until one establishes a dominance over the other. "I have been beaten," is the whimpered submission phrase of the loser, clawed and frightened. "Command me, Mistress," she then whispers. She must then serve the victor. If she objects the matter is again subjected to physical adjudication. In a closed set of kennels the order among the girls is usually meticulous and extremely precise. I was low girl.

"Here is your kennel," said Sucha. "You will customarily be locked in here at night, if you are not serving the men."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

It was a cell alcove, off the large room, with a small, barred gate. It must be entered and left on the hands and knees. A girl, thus, cannot rush from it; too, in leaving it, she is simple to leash. Perhaps most importantly she can enter or leave her "place" only with her head down and on her knees, this involving a tacit, mnemonic psychology, reminding her and impressing upon her that she is a slave. The cell itself was some eight feet deep and four feet wide and four feet high. I could, thus, not stand in the cell. Its furnishings were only a thin, scarlet mattress and a crumpled slave blanket of rep-cloth.

"I trust you find the accommodations satisfactory," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I smiled. Indeed, it was the most luxurious cage I had seen. It was dry, and there was a mattress. Short of being chained on furs at the foot of a master's couch, what more could a girl desire?

"Follow me," said Sucha.

"Yes, Mistress," I said, following her.

She took me about the pool to another room. In walking about the pool she pointed out the gates of the kennels to me. "This is the rear gate," she said. "It is that through which we entered." It was small and iron. "There is no handle on this side," I said. "No," said Sucha, "it may be opened only from the outside. I recalled the other gate, down the corridor, which had been tended by a guard. "Why then," I asked, "was there a guard down the corridor?" Sucha looked at me. "Did you not see the side gates in the corridor?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "To guard them," said Sucha. "Not us?" I asked. She laughed. "We are the least valuable things in the fortress," she said. "Oh," I said. I continued to follow her, but looked behind me at the small gate. It was stout. It could not be opened from our side. Beyond it, in the corridor, lay storage rooms for truly valuable merchandise, worthy of having a guard posted in the passage. I had passed, earlier, in walking through the corridors, several storage rooms. They had been locked, but not individually guarded. They held less valuable, bulk goods. I was angry that Sucha had said we were the least valuable things in the fortress. But then I remembered I had cost only six copper tarsks.

Sucha walked past a small room, and came to a short corridor, leading from the lofty room. In it was a large, barred gate, with another visible beyond it. It had been on the bars of the innermost gates that the man had pounded when summoning Sulda, the slave, to the couch of the man Hak Haran. But there were now no soldiers, or guards, in sight. Both gates, however, were double locked, with square, heavy locks. Two keys would be required for each. The gates were separated by about twenty feet. An ornate corridor could be seen beyond, with vases and carpeting. I looked at the two heavy locks on the innermost gate.

"They cannot be picked," said Sucha. "They are sleeve locks. The sleeve prevents the direct entry of a wire or pick. Too, within the sleeve there is a plug, a rounded, metal cone, which must be unscrewed before the key can be inserted. A wire or pick could not turn the cone."

"Is there anything," I asked, "in the kennels which might serve as a stout wire or long pick, one of suitable length to even try?"

"No," said Sucha.

I held the bars, dismally.

"You are an imprisoned slave," said Sucha. "Come along."

With one last look at the heavy bars and locks I turned to follow her. She led me to the small room we had passed earlier. It was a preparation room for slave girls. In it were mirrors. In them I saw a lovely dark-haired girl, naked, in a Turian collar, myself, followed by a beautiful woman, dark-haired, in a wisp of yellow silk, carrying a whip.

Sucha indicated one of five small, sunken baths, and oils and towels.

She showed me the use of the oils and towels.

"You are an ignorant girl," she said. "You do not even know how to take a bath."

I blushed.

My hair then I washed, and dried, and combed and brushed, taking from it the dust of the road leading to Stones of Turmus, and the sweat of the afternoon and early evening.

"I am hungry," I said.

"Sit on the tiles," she said.

I did so. I sat naked on the tiles.

She threw a linkage of rings and bells to the tiles beside me. "Bell yourself," she said.

"They lock," I said.

"Bell yourself," she said.

I extended my left ankle and, carefully, aligned the four rings. The rings were linked vertically at five places by tiny metal fastenings; each ring, opened, hinged, terminated on one end with a bolt and on the other with a tiny lock; I slipped the small bolts into the four tiny locks; there were four tiny snaps; the rings, linked together, fitted snugly; each ring bore five slave bells.

I looked at the bells. They were locked upon me.

I dared not move my foot, for fear I might cry out for a man.

"Can you dance naked?" asked Sucha.

"I do not know the dances of a slave girl," I whispered. "I cannot dance."

"Do you know the arrangements of pleasure silks?" she asked.

"No, Mistress," I said, putting down my head.

"Do you know the cosmetics and perfumes of a slave girl, and their application?" she asked.

"No, Mistress," I said.

"The jewelries?" she asked.

"No, Mistress," I said.

"Do you know the giving of exquisite pleasures to a man?" she asked.

"I know very little, Mistress," I said. I was afraid to move my ankle, for the bells.

"Are you trained at all?" she asked.

"I know very little, Mistress," I said. "A slave, Eta," I said, "in her kindness, once taught me simple things, that I might not be completely displeasing and would not be too often whipped."

"Who was your last master?" asked Sucha.

"Tup Ladletender," I said, "a peddler."

"Before that?"

"Thurnus of Tabuk's Ford, of the Peasants," I said.

"Before that!" she said.

"Clitus Vitellius, of Ar, of the Warriors," I said.

"Good," said Sucha.

"But I was owned only briefly by him," I said.

"Before that?" she asked.

"Two warriors," I said. "I did not know who they were, only that I was theirs." Sucha did not question this. Often a girl does not find out who a master is. She might be caught in the afternoon, enslaved in the evening and sold in the morning.

"Before that?" asked Sucha.

"I was free," I said.

Sucha looked at me, and laughed. "You?" she queried.

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

Sucha laughed. I blushed, hotly. I gathered that the collar looked natural upon me.

"You know little or nothing of the arts of the female slave," said Sucha. "You seem to know nothing of the movements and glances, the positions, attitudes and postures, the expressions, of a slave girl, let alone the techniques, crafts and subtleties that may determine whether or not men permit you to live."

I looked at her, frightened.

"But you are pretty," she said. "Men are more lenient with a pretty girl. There is hope for you."

"Thank you, Mistress," I whispered.

"Why have you not moved your left ankle?" asked Sucha.

"The bells," I whispered.

"What of them?" asked Sucha.

"They shame me," I said. "They make me feel so much a slave."

"Excellent," said Sucha. Then she snapped, "Rise, Slave Girl!"

I leaped to my feet with a jangle of bells. I was a belled slave.

"Walk to one end of the room and back," said Sucha.

"Please, no Mistress!" I begged. She lifted the whip. I did as she commanded. When I again stood before her she, to my dismay, touched me.

I turned my head away, biting my lip in shame.

"Excellent," she said. "A mere jangle of slave bells and you are ready for the arms of a man."

"Please, Mistress," I begged.

"You are a hot little slut," she said. "Kneel before the mirror."

I did so.

"There are one hundred and eleven basic shades of slave lipstick," said Sucha. "Much depends on the mood of the master."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

Later many of the other girls joined us in the room of preparation, for they must serve, as I, in the repast of the evening. It is common in a Gorean fortress, if it is not under siege, for the evening to be a time of pleasure for the men.

"In five Ehn," cried a man from outside, "you must be in the hall of the feast."

The girls cried out nervously, making last minute additions or adjustments to their jewelries and silks. Some intently applied cosmetics. Two nearly fought over a small disk of eye shadow, but the whip of Sucha, lowered between them, divided them. Sulda seemed radiant, returned from the couch of Hak Haran. She applied lipstick. The girls smoothed their silks.

I looked at the incredibly lovely girl in the mirror, she bedecked in a rope of red silk, made-up, perfumed vulnerable, soft, with armlets and bracelets, golden beads intertwined in the Turian collar.