Magicians of Gor (60 page)

Now, I, too, have received my master. Now, I, too, am cover to his spear. Now,

I, too, serve him as sheath and scabbard!”

“But such things in manners befitting the female slave,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, ecstatically.

“You may move as you wish,” I said.

“Yes, Master!” she said.

“Hold!” I said.

“Master?” she asked.

“Hold, a little,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she moaned.

“You squirm well,” I said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“It seems you are already on the brink,” I said.

“I was there even before you put me to my back,” she said.

“Even from such small things as keeping you in a certain position, checking your

ankle ring and collar, touching you a little now and then, here and there?”

“It is not just such things,” she said. “Even more, it is my entire condition!”

“Interesting,” I said.

“I have become hot, submissive, sexual and obedient,” she said.

“I see,” I said.

“I am a slave and needful,” she said.

“I see,” I said.

“You have done this to me!” she said.

“I?” I asked.

“You, and others,” she said. “Men, masters.”

“These things are within you,” I said. “They are born in you. Surely you have

sensed them in yourself, or hints of them, even when you were a free woman.”

“Then I have always been a slave,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “It was only that you were waiting for a master, or masters.”

She was silent.

“Too,” I said, “even though these things are within you, they (pg. 353) did not

have their beginning with you. They are very ancient things. They go back at

least to the cave and the stone knife.”

“Master?” she asked.

“Never mind,” I said.

“As master wishes,” she said.

How far we were from the cave and the stone knife, I thought, and yet. Again, in

a way, how close! Could one not see in the blade of steel, so much keener and

more dangerous, the knife of stone? Could one not recollect in the spacious

courts of the palace the dim recesses of limestone caves? And who moves barefoot

and graceful upon the tiles of the palace? Is it the hunter’s mate, clad in her

skins, kept, and cuffed and obedient, cowering lovingly at her master’s feet,

his in the sense of rain and stones? No, it is the curvaceous, perfumed, silked,

collared slave, owned in law, hurrying to do her master’s bidding.

“You may now again move,” I said.

“Oh, yes, Master!” she said, gratefully.

But in a short while I counseled her once again to desist, which she did,

reluctantly.

“Surely you did not learn to move and moan like that as a free women,” I said.

“No, Master,” she said.

“Speak,” I said.

“I am excited, and cannot help myself,” she said. “It is muchly reflexive,

involuntary.”

“I see,” I said.

“I beg my master’s pardon,” she said. “The sensations, the feelings, are

incredible! Then my movements become such that I cannot even control them. It is

not like it is I who move, but rather than it is I who am moved. It is like

hands jerking me about. I am wild inside and helpless and my body cries out

silently and moves as it wishes! Sometimes it is almost as though I were being

beaten, or struck!”

“They are simple slave reflexes,” I said. “I effect nothing critical.”

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“Have you even seen slave dance?” I asked.

“No, Master,” she said. “But I have heard of it.”

“You have no idea, then,” I said, “of its incredible sensuousness and beauty,

and of how a woman appears in it, how exciting, desirable and owned, and of how

men, seeing it, can cry out with need?”

“Only what I have heard,” she said.

“As you were in the house of Appanius, who is a rich man,” I said, “it is

surprising that you never observed such dancers.”

(pg. 354) She was silent.

“Surely he could have afforded to bring them in, or even to own his own.”

“I would think so, Master,” she said.

“Not even at the banquets?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Or at the small suppers, later to be chained to rings near the guests?”

“No,” she said.

“I see,” I said.

This information fitted in with certain surmises I had formed earlier. If my

surmises were correct, it would fit in well with my plans.

“Why does Master ask?” she asked.

“Curiosity is not becoming in a kajira,” I said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

“My question was suggested to me,” I said, “by the helplessness of your slave

responses.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“There are various movements in slave dance,” I said, “of the hips, the belly,

and such, indeed, of the entire body, which are clearly akin to, and reminiscent

of, the movements of love and need.”

“Yes, Master?” she said.

“To be sure, in the dance,” I said, “these movements tend to be under much

stricter control. The dance is, after all, an art form. Nonetheless it is clear

that the sexuality of the dancer is not uncommonly aroused. After all, it is

hard for a woman to be beautiful and sensuous without having her sexuality

ignited. Indeed, few are the dancers who have not upon occasion, even in the

dance itself, succumbed to orgasmic helplessness. This can occur to them while

they are on their feet, but more often it will occur during floor movements or

when they are on their knees.”

“Yes, Master,” whispered the girl.

“And your movement,” I said, “suggested to me that you might make a dancer.”

“I see,” she said.

“You also have an excellent body for a dancer,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“Would you like to trained for the dance?” I asked.

“I do not know, Master,” she said, frightened.

“Or would you dare to be so beautiful?”

(pg. 355) “I am a slave,” she whispered. “It will be done with me as masters

wish.”

“But would you like it?” I asked.

“Perhaps, Master,” she whispered, fearfully.

“It is something to keep in mind,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

Phoebe was moaning to one side, locked in the arms of Marcus.

I moved a little.

The girl in my arms gasped. “Oh,” she whispered. She looked at me, beggingly.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Please continue my subjugation,” she said.

“Are you certain you wish it?” I asked.

“Yes!” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“I am a slave,” she said. “It is appropriate that I be subjugated!”

“I see,” I said.

“I understand my sex, and its meaning,” she said.

“In bondage,” I said, “you have discovered these things?”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“I see,” I said.

“And I have been given little choice, Master,” she smiled.

“True,” I said.

“Please!” she suddenly wept.

“Incidentally,” I said, “when you kneel before the free woman, in your carefully

prepared modest garb, fit for a lowly slave, as you must soon do, to convey to

her the message which will be inserted in the message tube about your neck, be

certain to kneel with your knees closely together.”

“Certainly, Master,” she said. “She is a female, not a male.”

“But even more importantly,” I said, “insofar as you can, before her, and before

any other free woman who might be in attendance upon her, conceal your

sexuality. Do not let them suspect it. Let them think that you are as inert and

meaningless as they are.”

“That is common by slave girls before free women, Master,” she said. “It does

not take us long to learn that, once we are in the collar.”

“I see,” I said.

“But I do not think they are always fooled,” she said.

“Perhaps not,” I said.

“Even as long ago as in the house of Appanius,” she said, “I (pg. 356) was twice

switched by free women who had come to see him on business.”

“Do the best you can,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Seem to be merely a modest, deferential girl, demurely clad, awed perhaps,

discharging your errand.”

“Have no fear,” she said, “but what I shall be awed in such a presence.”

“She is only another woman,” I said, “and if she were stripped and in a collar,

she would be no different from you.”

“Master!” protested the slave.

“Indeed, you might be first girl over her,” I said.

“Please, Master!” she protested.

“It is true,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Another thing,” I said. “I do not think it would be in your best interest for

you to convey to her in any way, inadvertently or otherwise, even in feminine

vanity, the hint, to be sure, the false hint, that there might be anything

between you and the putative master of the note you bear.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You are to be only a humble messenger.”

“Yes, Maser,” she said.

“I would not wish for you to be cut to pieces, or boiled in oil,” I said.

“No, Master,” she said.

“What is wrong?” I asked.

It seemed to me that tears had sprung afresh in the eyes of the slave.

“No more need I fear, Master,” she said, “that I might be of interest to he who

is to be the supposed author of the note in question. Now I am only a lowly

slave. At best I could expect only to be spurned by his foot from his path.”

“I see,” I said.

“But I would be grateful to him,” she said, “for even so small a touch.”

“I see,” I said.

“I would kiss the unstrapped, discarded sandal that had kicked me.”

“You may move,” said I, “Lavinia,” for that was the name I had kept on her.

She then, released from the enforced, tense quiescence I had imposed upon her,

clutched me gratefully, sobbing with relief and joy. In a few moments she wept.

“I yield me, Master!” and I then held her like iron and cried out with joy and

she sobbed (pg. 357)

“I am helpless and taken!” and Phoebe, too, in the arms of Marcus, cried out,

herself as well taken, and he, too, uttered a wild cry and a then sudden, low,

satisfying growl, and the sounds of Phoebe and Marcus and of Lavinia and myself

mingled in the tiny room and it had been done to the slaves once more.

“I am yours,” said Phoebe to Marcus.

“I am subjugated, and am your slave, Master,” said Lavinia to me.

“Tomorrow,” I said, “our project begins.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You will obey,” I informed her.

“Yes, Master,” she said. “Your slave will obey.”

21
   
I Receive the Report of a Slave

“I am terrified, Master!” said Lavinia.

I thrust her into our small room, in the insula of Torbon, on Demetrios Street,

in the Metellan district, and closed the door behind us.

“How went it?” I asked.

“I am frightened!” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“How dare I be seen before him,” she asked, “As what I am now, a slave!”

“You will be in the modest livery of a state slave,” I said, “nor even belled.”

“I am frightened,” she said.

“Put off the cloak,” I said.

She put to one side the cloak which she had clutched about her, concealing her

garment of white wool and the collar on her neck. To be sure, her exposed calves

and bared feet had left no doubt in the streets as to her status.

“I would not even dare to lift my eyes to his, to look into his eyes,” she

moaned.

“You must do so, if he commands it,” I said.

“Yes, Maser,” she said, in a misery.

“But it may not be necessary,” I said.

“Yes, Master!” she said.

“Change your clothing,” I said, “quickly.”

She drew off the modest garment of white wool, and, then, (pg. 358) just for an

instant, perhaps hardly even aware of it, she stood before me, naked, and looked

at me.

“Vain slave!” I laughed.

She blushed, and quickly put down the garment of white wool, and fetched the

gray garment of the state slave.

I smiled.

Well had she displayed in that brief moment her master’s property.

In an instant she had drawn down the tunic of the state slave over her head and

was smoothing it down about her hips.

I regarded her.

She stood before me.

“Excellent,” I said.

She smiled.

I then fetched the collar, designed to resemble a state collar, from the flat

leather box. I went behind her and locked it on her neck, above the Appanius

collar. She now wore two collars. I then removed the Appanius collar from her

neck. In this way there was no moment in which she was not in at least one

collar.

“Do you know what time it is?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I hardly know what I am doing, or where I am.”

“Kneel,” I said.

Chronometers exist on Gor, but they are rare and valuable. Marcus and I did not

have any, of intent, at the time, among our belongings. They would not have

seemed to fit in well with our guise as auxiliary guardsmen. In many cities, of

course, including Ar, time tends to be kept publicly. Official clocks are

adjusted, of course, according to the announcements of scribes, in virtue of

various astronomical measurements, having to do with the movements of the sun

and stars. The calendar, and adjustments in it, are also the results of their

researches, promulgated by civil authorities. The average Gorean has a variety

of simple devices at his disposal for marking the passage of time. Typical among