Authors: John Norman
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy, #Adventure, #Erotica, #Gor (Imaginary Place)
hooded and bound. There are a great many ways in which a girl may be carried
captive by a mounted warrior, and many saddles have been designed with the
accommodation of such a prisoner in mind. Some of these arrangements are quite
simple and others are complex. Perhaps the simplest is to have the girl mounted
before you with her hands tied to a ring before her body. Some of the more
complex involve saddle cages and nets. A reasonably common arrangement, and that
with which our saddles were equipped, involves paired rings, one on each side of
the saddle. With this arrangement the usual technique is as follows: The girl’s
hands are tied are tied before her and then tied, in turn to a ring on the left
side of the saddle. When she is thusly fastened, her hands up, tied together and
fastened to the left saddle ring, she is lifted up and put over the saddle, on
either her back or belly, as pleases the captor, after which her ankles are
fastened together on the other side, then, of course, also lashed to the ring
there, the second of the pair of rings, that on the right side of the saddle. In
this arrangement the girl is quite safe, protected against the danger of a fall.
She is also, of course, completely helpless.
“Would you not like to be carried off?” I asked.
“No!” she said.
“But surely you are not so enamored of the labors of the field slave,” I said.
“No,” she said.
“And you have already begun to sense in yourself the beginnings of slave fires”
I said.
She looked at me, and then put her head down, quickly. She clenched her small
fists.
“Speak,” I said. “Have they not already begun to burn in your belly?”
She looked up, agonized, her small fists clenched.
“Remember,” I said, “you have already incurred discipline.”
“Yes, Master!” she sobbed.
“Good,” I said.
She put down her head, sobbing. How helpless one must feel at times, I thought,
as a female slave. But such admissions are good for the development of their
character, and their discipline. Too, they are very helpful and beneficial for
the slave. (pg. 317) They help them to understand who and what they are, and who
is master.
“I would think you would be an excellent house slave,” I said, “silked,
pattering about, perhaps belled, serving, heated and excited by the nearness of
your master.”
She looked up.
“Perhaps you might even be chained to his slave ring at night, at the very foot
of his couch.”
“It is such things I want!” she said.
“It is easy to imagine you kneeling before him, begging for his touch.”
“Yes, Master!” she said.
“And will he consent to content you?” I asked.
“It is my hope that he would take pity on one who is only his slave.”
“Yes,” I said. “I think you would be hot, devoted and dutiful.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“I think you would make an excellent house slave,” I said, “indeed, an excellent
pleasure slave.”
“Oh, yes, Master!” she said.
“And perhaps in time,” I said, “even a love slave.”
“It is thusly that I want to live!” she said.
“Then surely you wish to be carried off,” I said.
“No,” she said. “No!”
“Why not?” I asked.
She sobbed.
“Ah,” I said. “It seems you do not wish to leave the vicinity of the house of
Appanius.”
“No, Master,” she said. “I do not wish to leave the vicinity of the house of
Appanius.”
“Apparently you are very devoted to your master,” I said.
“I do not even know him,” she said, “except as I, and others, are utilized for
such purposes as serving his table. Even when he passes us in a hall we kneel in
obeisance, our heads to the floor.”
“Still,” I said, “it seems you must be very devoted to him.”
She put her head down.
“But in any event,” I said, “your wishes are unimportant. You are a female
slave. It will be done with you as men, and masters, please.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“I wish certain details as to the techniques utilized by Appanius and Milo in
the capture of free women, thence to be enslaved.”
“Master?” she asked.
(pg. 318) “Surely from the conversation which you overheard, and from your own
experience, you have some ideas of what these must be.”
“Surely master can have no interest in such things,” she said.
“You have now twice incurred discipline,” I informed her.
“Forgive me, Master!” she said.
“How will you speak?” I asked.
“Fully, and perfectly, to the best of my knowledge!”
“As befits what you are?”
“Yes, Master!” she said.
“Which is?” I asked.
“A slave girl, Master,” she said, “only that!”
“Who initiates these relationships?” I asked.
“In one of two ways, I think, are they initiated,” she said. “In the first, the
free woman puts herself in Milo’s way, she compliments him, she calls herself to
his attention, perhaps she lowers her veil a little, perhaps she lowers her veil
a little, perhaps her tones to him are soft, and special, making clear to him
that there is an eager lover awaiting him beneath her veils and robes, perhaps
she even lets him lift and kiss the coverlets of her palanquin, near her feet,
such things. These advances, so calculatedly ambiguous, and yet so obvious and
meaningful, are reported to Appanius. He then makes a judgment as to whether
they are to be encouraged or not, and then, later, perhaps after she has lowered
her veil for Milo, and let him gaze upon the revelation of her beauty, and he
has seen her move in the palanquin, apparently inadvertently, but in such a way
that he can conjecture something of the fairness of her limbs beneath her robes,
and has perhaps even seen her ankles, a second judgment, this again from the
reports of Milo, is made by Appanius. If this judgment is favorable and it is
decided that the female, after having been perhaps subjected to a rigorous
regimen of dieting, exercise, training and discipline, might not preposterously
be put upon a slave block, the arrangements for her capture are completed. In
the second way the matter is initiated by Appanius himself, he himself selecting
a candidate for approach, scrutiny and cultivation.”
“On what grounds initially?” I asked.
“Usually from rumors of a certain free woman’s beauty,” she said.
“I see,” I said.
“Too,” she said, “it is my understanding that information is sometimes furnished
for a fee, by some of the female proprietors of women’s baths in Ar. Too, in
some cases, Appanius is permitted to observe the women from a secret coign of
vantage.”
(pg. 319) “In what way did you come to attention of Appanius?” I asked.
“In the first way, doubtless,” she smiled, “as I did not frequent the public
baths and I doubt very much that rumors of my beauty were abroad in the
streets.”
“They might have been,” I said.
“Master is kind,” she said.
“Continue,” I said.
“Although master might regard me as having been a spoiled, pampered free woman,
and although that was undoubtedly true,” she said, “I was nonetheless too shy in
the beginning even to approach one such as Milo. Certainly there must be free
women richer and more beautiful than I in Ar. Accordingly, in the beginning, I
only worshipped him from afar. I attended his performances. I dreamed of him.
But I did not dare call myself to his attention.”
“In the beginning,” I said, “your responses to Milo were more humble and
slavelike?”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “I even dreamed of crawling to him, putting my head
down and kissing his feet.”
“Continue,” I said.
“But soon, of course, the free woman in me became outraged at such things! They
were too feminine! I was not a slave!”
“And you became bolder?”
She laughed. “Well,” she said, “perhaps not so much bolder. But I would station
myself and my attendants where he might pass, if only to catch a glimpse of him
between the curtains of my palanquin.”
“In effect,” I said, “your responses were still shy, and slavelike.”
“Yes,” she said, angrily.
“You felt you belonged at the feet of such a man?”
“Perhaps,” she said.
“But you truly belonged at the feet of any man,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Continue,” I said.
“Certainly he must soon note my palanquin,” she said. “Surely it was often
enough in his way, outside the great theater, on streets which he frequented,
even in certain markets. At that (pg. 320) time, perhaps he had reported to
Appanius, and his agents had ascertained my identity, that of the owner of the
palanquin. To be sure, such thoughts did not occur to me then. Rather I
castigated myself for my timidity, and reminded myself, again and again, that it
was I who was the free person. I who was in control. I who was in command. I who
could have my way, as I pleased. Then I took to having the curtains of the
palanquin opened, that I might be seen within, in my most beautiful robes and
veils, as though I might wish fresher air and greater light, paused there
perhaps in the midst of some business, waiting for some acquaintance. I even let
him see me glance at him once and then turned my head away, quickly, too
quickly, as I now realize. Perhaps I should have behaved more like a free woman,
and had him ordered to the side of my palanquin, to kneel there and be
questioned as a slave. Doubtless some women did, arrogating to themselves, as
free women are free to do, the prerogative of males. I wonder how they felt when
the net descended on them. At least I was not a slave. I could be forward, I
could call myself to his attention, demanding it, as I wished.”
“Slaves,” said I, “as you must now know, have many ways of calling themselves to
the attention of a man, subtly, effectively, pleadingly, vulnerably, helplessly,
deferentially, humbly.”
She looked up at me.
“The palms of your hands are facing upward,” I said. “Oh!” she said, and quickly
turned them downward, and clutched her thighs. The rag she wore, given her knee
position, that of a pleasure slave, was high on her thighs. Her hands, her
fingers on her thighs, digging into them, as though they would anchor themselves
there, half covered it. He grip was partly through the cloth and partly on her
thighs. Midway in her grip came the garment’s frayed hem, pressed down on her
fair, sweet thighs. The contrast was attractive, like slave silk against flesh,
or a narrow cord sustaining such silk at the shoulder, perhaps an inch from a
disrobing loop, or the metal of slave bracelets locked on small, downy wrists, a
rope on a waist, snug above a sweetly, rounded belly, or a collar on the neck.
“Indeed,” I said, “slaves in their subtle, vulnerable, helpless ways, in their
beggingness, in their humbleness, in their deferentiality, in the very nature
and entirety of their condition, have many better ways of calling themselves to
the attention of a man than a free woman.”
“But I did not understand that at the time,” she said.
“I would suppose not,” I said.
“Free women,” she laughed,” are not likely to whimper and lick ankles.”
(pg. 321) “They do so quickly enough after they have become slaves,” I said,
“and have experienced slave arousal, and realize their need and helplessness,
and their dependence on the master.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “And I sense the beginning of such things in myself.”
“So what did you do?” I asked.
“Actually,” she smiled. “I had to do very little. I have little doubt now that I
had been discussed by Milo and Appanius. Milo approached my palanquin when I had
the curtains back, begging for forgiveness for approaching me, proposing even
that he be beaten by my bearers for his boldness, but that he could not help
himself, that for days he had struggled with himself, but now, regardless of
what sorry consequences might ensue, even though it might mean he be hurled to
sleen, that he had at last, against his sternest will, been drawn irresistibly
to my side, as though in chains by tharlarion. Then, tears in his eyes, he
begged liberty only to salute my beauty, and then hurry away, in joy.”
“You were fully veiled?” I asked.
“In my most beautiful robes and veils was I bedecked,” she said.
“You did not wear your street veil,” I said.
“No,” she said.
“Then,” I said, “I suspect that you were veiled in such a way that the
lineaments of your visage might, though perhaps with some difficulty, be
discerned.”
“Yes!” she said, tossing her head.
“What a slave you were!” laughed Marcus.
“And am!” she said.
“Yes, and are!” laughed he.
Now no longer need the lovely Lavinia concern herself with matters such as
veiling. She was slave. Would you veil a she-tarsk, a she-sleen?
“And so he saluted your beauty?”
“Yes,” she said, “with a beautiful gesture.”
“And did it not occur to you that he probably had numbers of sinuous little
sluts in the house of Appanius who would snake about his legs and feet, and lick
and kiss, and beg to serve him in any way he might desire, to his heart’s
content?”
“I did not think of such things,” she said.
“He then hurried away?”
“Yes,” she said. “Obviously he was in consternation, and in terror at the