Witness of Gor (36 page)

"His sword could have won him many women, women whose attractions he would presumably have had little difficulty in detecting," he said.

I assumed he meant women such as I-slaves, suitably clad, lightly and revealingly, women of whose charms there could be little doubt.

"Could he have known that you were as beautiful as you are?" he asked.

"Thank you, Master," she said.

"It would not seem so," he said.

"But doubtless he was pleased to see that you were beautiful," he said.

"Perhaps, Master," she said.

"But he must originally have had you in mind for some other purpose,”

he said. "He must have had some use in mind for you.”

"Master?" she asked.

"But the first use was doubtless merely that you would follow him naked, and collared, bearing his shield.”

"That was the second use," she said.

"Of course," he said.

"I would think," he said, "that you would have enjoyed belonging to him.”

"No!" she said, in terror.

I was frightened to think of such a master, one who inspired such terror. I shuddered, What manner of man might he be? As slaves, of course, it is appropriate, and not at all unusual, for us to retain a healthy fear of our masters, particularly if we suspect we may have been in some detail remiss or may have been in some respect less than perfectly pleasing, for we are, after all, their slaves. We are totally dependent on them in all things, and they have absolute power over us. More simply put, they are master.

"For you two would seem to have much in common," he said.

"Do not return me to him," she wept.

"But you would seem much the same as he.”

"No, no!" she said.

"No?" he said.

"No," she said. "I am a female.”

"You now understand that?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"It seems he knows how to keep a slave," said the man.

She shuddered.

"What did he want you for, other than the usual purposes of a slave?”

he asked.

"I do not know," she said.

"Perhaps we are too lenient with you here," he mused.

"No, no," she whispered.

To be sure, it did not seem likely to me that this was a place in which men might be criticized for being too lenient with their slaves.

"I wonder what we should do with you," he said.

"Do not return me to him, I beg it!" she wept.

I saw she was terrified. I thought of the master she feared. From her reactions even I, who did not even know him, began to tremble. From her fear I was afraid. I was afraid even to think of such a man. Then I thought that perhaps I now better understood the men in this place, that they might steal from such a man. To be sure, I did not know the whole story. Perhaps her former owner, he under discussion, was ignorant of the identity of her thief. Or perhaps the men here had merely purchased her, or captured her later, from another.

Between the man she feared and this place she might have changed hands a dozen times, as any property.

"I wonder what I should do with you," he said.

"Keep me!" she begged.

She did not request her freedom, of course. How insulting and absurd would have been such a request of men such as these. We wore our collars and would continue to wear them. They liked us in our collars, and found us precious in them. It would be as absurd and meaningless for us to be freed on this world as it would be for a dog or horse to be freed on my former world.

It is said that only a fool frees a slave girl. It is true.

"Keep me, Master," she begged. "Keep me, Master.”

She then, lowering her head again, began again, beggingly, pleadingly, submissively with tears, desperately zealous to placate and please him, to lick and kiss his feet. She did this quite well, I thought. My fear did not prevent me from observing her carefully. I was only a collared Earth-girl kajira. One might even have said, as one had, as the saying has it, that my brand was still smoking. Surely it was fresh. I had much to learn. Knowing suitable placatory behaviors, sometimes necessary to pacify and appease these impatient men, these demanding and powerful masters, is something very much in a girl's best interest.

Indeed, being able to please and placate a male can sometimes mean the difference between life and death, between being ordered to the furs, there to be incontestably ravished and subjugated, there, gratefully, to be totally conquered-and being hurled to ravening sleen.

She lifted her head to him, timidly, after a time, doubtless anxious to examine his visage for some clue, however faint, as to his mood, seeking there some trace, however tiny, which might hint at what was to be done with her.

I myself could not determine what he might be thinking.

"Have my ears pierced, Master!" suddenly said Dorna.

"What?" he asked.

She rose to her knees, begging, before him. "I beg to have my ears pierced, Master!" she said.

"I beg it!" She turned her head before him, to one side and then to the other. She displayed herself, desperately, pleadingly. She indicated her ear lobes. "Let my beauty, if beauty it be," said she, "be enhanced with earrings!”

There was laughter behind her, but Dorna paid no attention to it.

"Are you not curious to know what I might look like in earrings, Master?" she asked.

"Do you not fear that such might enflame your belly?" he asked.

"Let it then be enflamed!" she said.

"You do not care how much of a slave you become?" he asked.

"No, Master!" she said.

"Perhaps I could have your ears pierced, and have you put in earrings, and then have you returned to your former master," he mused.

"Oh, please, no!" she wept.

She sank down, again, to her belly.

"It is interesting to ponder what might be done with you," he said.

"I am Master's slave," she said. "It will be done with me as Master pleases.”

Dorna then, clearly, was not a state slave. He in the chair was clearly her master. I did not even know his name. He was an officer in this city, it seemed, a captain, or perhaps even a high captain.

"Do you think you have been pleasing?" he asked.

She lifted her head, tears in her eyes. "I have not been pleasing," she said. "Forgive me, Master. Let me begin again. I beg to be permitted to begin again. Let me prove to Master how good a slave I can be.”

"Kneel," he said.

She rose to her knees before him.

"Speak," said he.

"I beg to have my ears pierced," she said.

He regarded her.

"Dorna begs to have her ears pierced." she said. "Dorna, who is Master's humble and abject slave, begs to have her ears pierced.”

"But it has already been decided," said he, "that Dorna will have her ears pierced.”

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Dorna does not wish," said he, "to be returned to her former master?”

"No, Master!" she said.

"What does Dorna wish?" asked he.

"To be kept by Master!" she said.

"I see," he said.

"Let me prove to you that I am a new slave," she begged. "Let me prove to you that I am not totally worthless in your collar!”

"Perhaps I shall make the decision tonight," he said, "after your ears have been pierced.”

"Yes, Master!" she exclaimed.

"I am curious," he said, "to see what you will look like in earrings.”

"Yes, Master," she said.

"See Dorna on her knees," said a man.

"See her beg," said another.

"I would like to see her in earrings," said another.

"She belongs in them," said another.

"A bared face and earrings," laughed one, "is a far cry from a mask of silver or gold.”

"She might make an interesting slave," speculated another, "a common slave, I mean.”

"Yes," said another.

"I beg to be pleasing to Master," said Dorna.

"Hear Dorna begging to be pleasing to a man," said a man.

"Doubtless she did not foresee this when she fled Tharna," said a man.

"No," laughed another.

Doubtless Dorna could not have helped, on one level or another, to have been aware of the comments of the men. But if she was aware of them, she gave little, if any, indication of it. Her primary attention was clearly on he in whose power she lay totally, as a helpless slave.

"Do you think you are capable of being pleasing?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"And you wish to be kept?”

"Yes, Master!”

"At least for a time?”

"Yes, Master!" she said.

"Tonight," said he, "I will give you an opportunity to please me.”

"Thank you, Master," she said.

"Your performance tonight will help me decide," he said, "as to whether or not there is any point in keeping you among my women.”

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You understand?”

"Yes, Master.”

"Do you think you will do well?" he asked.

"I shall do my best to be pleasing in all ways," she said.

"You will endeavor to prove acceptable?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"But I require more than mere acceptability in the performances of my women," he said.

"That is well known amongst us, Master," she said.

"It will be a test, will it not be?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"What level do you think you must attain to pass this test?" he inquired.

"I know that I must be superb!" she sobbed.

"And do you think you can attain such a level?" he asked.

"I will do my best, Master," she said.

He then spoke to one of the fellows near the great chair, the same to whom he had given the keys to my collar. "Take this slave away," he said, indicating Dorna.

"Send her to me tonight, bathed and perfumed, in earrings, with but a single veil.”

"Yes, Captain," said the man. "Slave," said he to Dorna, indicating a location near the wall, where a flat trap had now been thrown back, revealing a stairwell, "Yes, Master," said Dorna to the man. Then she put her head down and, quickly, kissed each of the feet of the man in the chair. "Thank you, Master!" she said. Then she leaped up, and hurried to the stairwell, preceding the man down. She would not daily, nor make him wait. She was a slave.

Attention was then returned to me, and, instantly, frightened, I adjusted my position, so that I knelt with perfection. Under the gaze of he in the chair I subtly, frightened, widened my knees, slightly. One feels terribly vulnerable kneeling before men in the common position. It makes it so clear that one is a slave, and, too, so clear, the sort of slave one is.

I did not know where I was. I did not know my name. I did not know why I had been purchased. I did recall that he in the chair had speculated to Dorna, before his displeasure had been incurred, that she would not be displeased with my disposition.

That did not reassure me.

To be sure perhaps it meant only that I was not to be entered into his household. I was, I had learned, a property of the state in this place, whatever place it might be. Dorna was now no longer on the terrace. She would thus, not immediately, at least, learn my disposition. To be sure, sometime or another it might well come within her purview.

Perhaps then, I thought, swallowing hard, she might not be displeased to learn it. I had thought of her immediately as a rival, and doubtless she had thought of me in this fashion, as well, even though I might be a new slave. Indeed, even in the pens I had looked upon the others, and doubtless they upon me, or most of them, as rivals. But I suppose this is natural enough for women, even on my world.

Even those who seem most hostile to men also seem, perhaps paradoxically, to desire to be pleasing to them. Perhaps this is an implicit recognition, even in such unlikely quarters, that men are the masters. But the matter is clear on this world, at least with women such as I, and she, Dorna. Here it is obvious that we are the slaves and men the masters, and that we are to please the masters. In this fashion it is not only the case that kajirae within the same house are likely to find themselves in rivalry, but that in the culture as a whole, wherever we are, on whatever chain, fastened to whatever wall, running whatever errand, heeling whatever masters, we tend to have a sense of such things. For example, we commonly strive on the sales block to bring the highest prices. I do not think this is merely because we wish to be purchased by more affluent masters, which suggests that our life may be easier, but because of the personal vanities involved, Each wishes to be the most precious, the most costly. This is perhaps not so different from my old world, except that here women do not vend themselves, and take their own profit, but are rather vended by others, who take the profit on them. How many women, I wonder, marry truly for love, and only love? Do we not consider many other matters-the finances of our potential spouse, his education, his family connections, his position in society, the likely location of his domicile, the presumed trajectory of his career, the prestige of the match, and such? But here, as I have suggested, we do not sell ourselves, reaping our own profits. No, here we are sold by others, and it is these others who will reap the profits. It is they who will make the money. It is ours, rather, to be fully pleasing, and see that we obey with perfection.