Witness of Gor (32 page)

"May I rise, Master?" she asked.

Though a high slave it seemed she thought it wise, under the circumstances, to request this permission.

"Yes," he said.

She leaped to her feet.

I remained on all fours, before the chair.

Dorna was regarding me with fury. She was not pleased to have been knelt beside me, and fed as I was, nor to have to have pursued a bit of meat thrown to the floor, just as I had, as one might expect of a low girl. And there were others about. It was not as though she were naked, and alone with him.

I saw that she was very angry with me. Surely she must blame me for her humiliation. Too, I suspected she might, for some reason, be jealous of me. Was it my fault if I might be more beautiful or desirable than she? Did she resent the interest of the men in me? Did she fear that I might turn the head of the fellow in the chair? Might that be it? Did she fear that she might cease to be his preferred slave, if, indeed, she was that? I did not think that she was likely to have been a bred slave, except insofar as every woman. being a woman, is a bred slave. Perhaps she had once been a high free woman. But now, of course, somehow, it seemed that she had come into the collar. Perhaps her life now was quite different from what it had once been.

Perhaps once she had even possessed some sort of authority, perhaps even over certain men.

But now, it seemed, she must obey men, strive to please them and hope to be fed. Perhaps she hated me because I was from Earth. It was not that uncommon for women of this world to hate us, I had gathered. Perhaps they regarded us rivals, or something? Perhaps we were resented because many men of this world seemed to prize us, though, to be sure, they kept us under strict discipline, as perfect slaves.

They wanted us that way, and saw to it that that would be the way we would be kept.

Little on Earth prepares a woman for Gor.

"Return to the foot of the dais, and stand," said the man in the chair.

I backed down the steps of the dais, on all fours, and then, at its foot, rose to my feet.

"Bring slave wine," he said.

My heart leaped.

Dorna, angrily, descended the steps of the dais behind the thronelike chair and went again to the table beneath the roofed defense work.

I was pleased.

I looked down, shyly.

I had been given slave wine in the pens, of course, but it was not mine to call that to their attention. Indeed, the matter was undoubtedly noted on my papers.

Perhaps these men merely wished to make sure of the matter. Or perhaps they merely wished to have me drink slave wine before them, either for their amusement, or because of the effects of this act, which were not only practical but symbolic. The effect of slave wines, at least those now in general use, seems to be indefinite, but they are commonly renewed annually, perhaps largely for symbolic purposes. One removes the effects of such wine by drinking a "releaser." The wines themselves could be sweetened, but are normally served bitter, which taste, as I understand it, is closer to that of the original root, the sip root, from which they are ultimately derived. The "releaser" or, at least, the wine in which it is mixed, the "breeding wine" or "second wine," is sweet. The breeding of slaves, like that of most domestic animals, is carefully supervised. Slave breeding usually takes place in silence, at least as far as speech is concerned.

Similarly the slaves are normally hooded. They are not to know one another. This is thought useful in reducing, or precluding, certain possible emotional complications. The breeding takes place under the supervision of masters, or their agents, with endorsements being recorded on proper papers I was pleased, of course, because, just as I took my feeding to be an indication that I was to be kept, if only for a time, so, too, I would interpret my being given slave wine as constituting something of a reassurance of my desirability, something in the nature of an indication that I might have been found, these men looking upon me, not without promise as a kajira, even though I was a woman of Earth.

Dorna handed me the goblet.

I could be every bit as good as a woman of this world, I was sure!

I did not even look at Dorna.

Who needed to look upon her? I stood naked before the dais, and looked up at he who sat in the thronelike chair.

What could a woman of my world be before such men but their slave? And they would have it so! Choiceless we would serve, docile, obedient, fearful, overwhelmed.

They were our masters. Did they care what was in our secret hearts? Did they know we wished to be taken in hand, commanded, prized? Did they know we wished to be objects of such desire, that we wanted to be sought, tenaciously and powerfully, and relished? Did they know they had appeared in a thousand secret dreams, as our masters? Did they know that we were born for them, that we would be forever incomplete without them? I asked only, choicelessly, to love and serve such men.

"Drink the wine, slut!" hissed Dorna.

I did not look at her, but at the man in the chair. I felt suddenly very strong, and very powerful, though I was so small and weak. I had aroused the interest of these men as a kajira. I was sure of that. Let Dorna fear then for her place on a chain! I would happily, eagerly, compete with her for the privilege of kneeling before such men!

I lifted the wine a little upward and toward the man in the chair. I then looked at him over the rim of the goblet. My eyes spoke to him, I think eloquently, over the rim of the goblet, telling him doubtless what he knew, that before him there stood a slave.

I then drank. It was terribly bitter. I shook with the bitterness. I clutched the goblet with both hands.

"Do not spill any," warned Dorna.

Tears came to my eyes.

"Hurry, slave," said Dorna. "More quickly!”

I lifted the goblet again.

It seemed more bitter than that I had had in the pens.

"Hurry," said Dorna.

I could hardly take a sip.

"Hurry," she insisted.

I looked to her for mercy, but in her eyes there was none.

"Drink, slut," she said.

Then I tried to rush the fluid, that I might be finished before I could fully taste it.

It was mostly gone then and I held to the goblet, and shuddered, and coughed.

There was laughter.

In the cup there now remained only a tiny bit. I could even see the bottom of the goblet through what remained.

I looked again to Dorna, but she was merciless.

"Finish it," said she. "Drain the cup. Drink it to the last drop.”

I finished the liquid, to the last drop. Dorna swept the goblet from my hand and took it away.

I stood before the men, half bent over. I could still taste the bitterness, palpably, like tiny, foul damp grains in my mouth, on my tongue, my lips. I put my hands over my face, as much to wipe away my tears as anything. I trembled. Then I took down my hands and straightened up I looked about a little. I sensed now that the men looked upon me somewhat differently. Now doubtless I was more what they wanted, or, perhaps, actually, merely more assuredly so. Was I not now, even more obviously than before, a plaything or a possession, something that might figure in the most casual of gratifications, something which now might be utilized even in amusement or sport, with no fear whatsoever of any inconvenient consequences? I looked up at the man in the chair.

I now felt no more than a cringing, vulnerable slave.

"Let her be collared," he said.

I gasped, and put my hand to my throat.

"There are various collars," said Dorna.

"A common collar will do," said he.

I would not have expected to have worn other than a common collar, of course. There are many sorts of collars. The most familiar are the "common collar,”

which, in its varieties, tends to be flat and closely fitting, and the "Turian collar," which, in its varieties, is more rounded, and barlike, and fits more loosely. Both lock behind the back of the neck. Dorna wore a "common collar." Some other types of collars are decorative collars, holding collars, training collars and punishment collars.

"A used collar?" said Dorna.

"Certainly," said he.

I now realized that I was not as special or important as I had thought I might be, or had hoped I might be.

"We have them with a variety of names," she said.

I had expected, naturally, to be named. It is useful, after all, for a slave to have a name. It makes it easier to refer to her, to summon her, and so on. But I would have expected a master to have considered me with some care, as he might another form of animal, and to have then selected a name for me which, at least to his fancy, seemed to him fitting or suitable, a name which might then, sooner or later, be inscribed on a collar. To be sure, not all collars have the slave's name on them. Some apparently say things as simple as "I am the slave of so-and-so," "I belong to so-and-so," "I am the property of so-and-so," or "Return me to so-and-so," such things.

An advantage of having the girl's name on the collar is in tracing her.

After all, a rich man might own a hundred or more women. A typical collar might read, "My name is Tula. I am the slave of so-and-so." But it seemed now that I would not be considered, and named, with a collar, a new collar, a personal collar, eventually following the naming, as one might hope, being suitably inscribed, but that my name, whatever it was to be, would be the result of what already appeared on a collar. The collar would not be a function of the name, so to speak, but the name, it seemed, would be a function of the collar, of some name already on a collar!

"What do you suggest?" he asked. He seemed amused.

"She is from Earth," said she.

"So?" said he.

"I then suggest," said she, "one with an Earth-slut name on it.”

"Would you do that to her?" he asked.

"Surely no harm could come of it," she said.

A man laughed. I felt uneasy.

"Still," said the fellow in the thronelike chair, "she seems to have learned at least a little about our world, and, for her time here, seems unusually adept at our language. Indeed she seems, subject to what she is, and her antecedents, quite intelligent.

That is clear even from her papers. Perhaps then we should be kinder to her. Perhaps we should not do that to her.”

"Oh, no, Master," said Dorna, quickly. "She is from that place and so that should be made clear in her name. Let her wear a name that makes clear her origin, so that men will know the treatment she deserves, and how to deal with her.”

"Do you so hate those from that place?" inquired the man in the chair.

"Were it not for one such," she cried, "I would not be here in diaphanous silk with a collar on my neck!”

"One from such a place enslaved you?" asked he.

"No," she said, "but were it not for him I might now be tatrix in my city!”

"Your schemes failed," said a man.

"One from Earth brought your plans to naught," said another.

"Your city is now quite different from what it once was," said the man in the chair.

"You are quite fortunate to be here, and in a collar," said another man.

"Rejoice that you live," said another.

I understood nothing of this.

"But we are now considering this little kajira," said the man in the chair, returning his attention to me.

Dorna looked down at me, in fury.

I was frightened, and, unbidden, I knelt.

"She kneels well," said a man.

I knelt in position, of course.

I looked up at the man in the chair. I wondered if he would send for me this evening.

I trembled, even thinking of it.

Dorna, I think, was not unaware of the fact that I fell well within the regard of him in the great chair.

"You think that a collar with an Earth-girl name would be suitable?" he asked Dorna.

"Suitable, and appropriate, Master," she said, in honeyed tones.

This made me apprehensive, particularly when I recalled her remarks to the effect that this would let men know how I was to be treated, and such.

"Shall we give her an Earth-girl name?" asked he in the chair of the men standing about.

"Do so, Captain," said one of them, smacking his lips.

"Yes, Captain!" approved another.

Many Earth-girl names I would discover, understandably enough, I suppose, have an exotic flavor to the men of this world. They tend to find them sexually stimulating. They are also, like certain names of this world, regarded as slave names. I am not fully certain why that is. It may be because they tend to be unfamiliar names to the men of this world.

It may be because they are found on women brought to this world to be slaves. It may be because we are often sold under such names, we then wearing them as slave names, put on us for the convenience of masters. To be sure, it may be for another reason, a simpler reason, the simple reason that we make excellent slaves. There are some names, of course, which are common to both this world and my old world, which suggests interesting questions of etiology.