Kajira of Gor (42 page)

and decorously when free women are present. Except for the perfection of their

service, and their collars and the relative brevity, openness and looseness

of-their garments, one might not even know they were slaves, unless perhaps, of

course, one looked into their eyes, or touched them.

“Remember the many things I have told you,” said Teela.

“Yes, Mistress,” we said.

“Are we not too scantily clad, Mistress?” asked Emily.

“Not for pleasure slaves,” said Teela.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Emily. We addressed Teela as “Mistress” for she was, in

the house of Aemilianus, first girl.

“You are distressed to appear before the master so exposed?” asked Teela.

“Yes, Mistress,” she said.

“Because you like him?” she asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“And I think he likes you, too,” said Teela.

“Do you, Mistressr” begged Emily, eagerly.

“Yes,” said Teela, “but remember that you are to him only as a slave.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said.

“Surely he saw you naked when he bought you,” said Teela.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Emily, her head down. Men do not buy clothed women.

“Then you have nothing to hide,” said Teela. “Similarly, as a slave, your body

is public.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Emily.

“Put aside all concern with your own self-image,” said Teela. “Your only concern

now is the pleasing of your master.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Emily.

“Please him well,” smiled Teela.

“I shall try, Mistress,” said Emily.

“Tiffany,” said Teela.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“Do you enjoy the house?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress!” I said. Though I had been here only two days, some forty Ahn, I

reveled in its contrast with the mills.

It was clean, and spacious and quiet, and had lovely grounds, surrounded by a

high, white wall, in which was an ornate, barred gate. Here I was well rested

and well fed. My duties were light, usually those of a maid, dusting and

cleaning, making beds, tidying rooms, and such. Sometimes, too, I helped in the

kitchen. I did not have to wear the mill uniform, bearing the sign for the

enterprises of Mintar, but wore, instead, usually, a light, white house tunic,

similar to that often worn by tower slaves. I even had access to a bath.

Similarly my kennel was comfortable and, for a kennel, spacious. I could not

stand erect in it but there was more than enough room to stretch out and roll

about. The gate in the kennel was a small one. It was barred, and set in the

barred side of the kennel facing the corridor. It is common to have one side of

a kennel open, except for the bars. The girl is always, you see, to be available

to the eyes of the master.

He may look upon her whenever he chooses, day or night.

The small gate is also common in slave kennels. The girl, commonly, accordingly,

enters and leaves the kennel on all fours. She is, after all, an animal. Too, it

is useful in various leashing and chaining arrangements. In this house, as in

most, the girl is kept naked in the kennel. I did not mind the tiny gate of the

kennel, however, or my observability and nudity within it. I much preferred its

semi-privacy to the locked dormitory at the mill. Too, its comforter, blankets

and pillow were a welcome change from the flat, straw-filled mat and thin

blanket on the cement floor of the dormitory.

“Do you want to go back to the mill?” asked Teela.

“No, Mistress!” I said.

“It would be well for both of you, you, too, Emily,” said Teela, “to remember

that you are both on trial here. You have not been brought here to weave cloth

on a loom. And you have not been brought here simply to dust and make beds. Your

slavery in this house involves more extended services.”

“Yes, Mistress,” we said. We had no doubt as to what these more extended

services were. About our upper left arms were golden, snakelike armlets. About

our left ankles were tied slave bells. Our bodies could scarcely feel the

lightness of the slave silk on them.

“You must now decide,” said Teela, “whether you wish to serve the pleasures of

men, and fully, or you wish to return to the mill. In a sense, you must decide,

really, what you are, and how you wish to live. I commend to your attention the

noble alternative, to be chosen by all truly free women, of returning to the

mill, of returning to the back-breaking, repetitious labor of the loom. The

alternative, of course, is so dreadful I scarcely dare mention it. It is to

serve men, to belong to them, to be at their beck and call, to be their willing,

obedient, eager, shameless, helpless slave.”

Emily and I regarded one another.

“Sluts choose the collar and the helpless service of men,” she said. “Women who

are truly noble and free choose the mill.” She looked at me. “Tiffany?” she

asked.

“I choose the service of men,” I said.

“Then you are a slave and a slut,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, This admission seemed to me very liberating.

“Emily?” asked Teela.

“I, too, choose the service of men,” she said, “especially that of Aemilianus I”

“You, too, then, are a slave and a slut,” said Teela.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Emily.

“But that you would shamelessly choose to be pleasure slaves over noble mill

girls does not mean that masters must see fit to accord you such a slavery. It

is up to you to prove to them that you have the aptitude, the talent, the

dispositions, the desires and reflexes to be even considered for such a

slavery.”

“Yes, Mistress,” we said.

“I am going to send you forth now on the floor,” said Teela. I heard the slave

bells on my ankle jangle. The sound, sensuous and barbaric, startled me. “If you

are not both found sufficiently pleasing,” she said, “both of you, and certainly

you, Tiffany, will be back in the mill by tomorrow night.”

“Yes, Mistress,” we said. I found myself wishing that Aemilianus had found me as

fetching as he apparently had Emily. I thought my tulal was likely to be harder

than hers.

“Mistress!” said Emily.

“Yes?” asked Teela.

“Tiffany and I are self-confessed sluts and slaves. You have forced us to face

this truth about ourselves, and admit it.”

“Yes?” said Teela.

“what of you?” asked Emily. “You are lovely, and beautiful, and in a collar.

What are you?”

“A bold question,” said Teela.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” said Emily.

“I, too, of course, am only a slave and a slut,” said Teela.

“And I love it!” Then she kissed us both. Then she drew back from us. “You will

be slaves out there before free men,” she said “Too, there will be no free women

present. Revel in your womanhood and manifest it shamelessly!”

“Yes, Mistress!” we said.

“Go forth, Slaves,” she said

“Yes, Mistress!” we said and, with a jangle of slave bells, hurried to join the

other girls on the floor.

“Your knees,” I whispered to Emily, “open them.”

“Thank you, Tiffany,” said Emily, spreading her knees.

‘Tile knees of the pleasure slave, when she is in a kneeling position, are to be

kept open before the master, and, indeed, before all free men. Emily, in the

same room with Aemilianus, was still struggling with her modesty. In the mill,

of course, Aemilianus had had her open her knees before him.

We knelt side by side at one side of the room. What little serving was being

done was now being attended to by the other girls. How beautiful they were. And

how natural, and perfect, and right and fitting it seemed that they, in their

slightness and beauty, were serving men. I knelt there, with Emily, to one side,

my knees open, in pleasure silk, a collar locked on my neck, a barbaric, golden,

coiling ornament on my upper left arm, slave bells tied on my left ankle. I

knelt there, ready to serve. How strange it was, I thought. How far I had come!

How far away, now, seemed the perfume counter in the department store on Long

Island, the photographer’s studio, my apartment. I remembered that pretty,

mercenary, greedy little clerk at the perfume counter. She was no longer free.

She had now been made a collared slave girl. She had once been Miss Tiffany

Collins. She was now an animal, and nameless in her own right, but masters had

seen fit to put the name “Tiffany” on her.

“Tiffany,” whispered Emily.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Isn’t Aemilianus handsome?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I said.

“I want to crawl to him,” she whispered, “and beg to serve his pleasure.”

“Do not break position,” I warned her.

“No,” she whispered.

“Perhaps he will let you serve him later,” I said.

“I hope so,” she whispered. “I hope so!”

“You like him,” I observed.

“I think that I am his love slave,” she whispered.

“It is too early for you to know something like that,” I said. I did not know,

of course, whether it was or not. Sometimes these things can be told at a

glance.

“I want him to whip me,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I love him,” she said.

Then, at a glance from Teela, across the room, we were both quiet.

I was somewhat upset. The men had had, on the whole, a very decorous supper. I

had thought, given our garb and bells, that we might have been expected to serve

in more exacting and intimate fashions than we had been called upon to do. The

supper, on the other hand, had apparently been a rather normal one. To be sure,

the men, being men, and no free women being present, had had the supper, for

their pleasure, served to them by beautiful, revealingly clad women, collared

slaves.

I glanced over at Emily. She could not keep her eyes off Aemilianus.

Some women desire occasionally, or at least once, to be whipped by the man they

love. This has to do, it seems, with deep psychological feelings, feelings

probably connected with the woman’s desire to submit and fulfill her biological

destiny, ‘this perhaps being a manifestation, within the human species, of the

dominance/submission ratios endemic in nature. This involves, of course, an

intense sentient interaction with the lover. Intense emotions, sensations and

feelings are involved. In this situation the woman, who desires to surrender and

yield, understands that she is now at the mercy of the lover, and is helpless

under his will. It gives her an opportunity, too, of course, to show the lover

that she, in her love, and in the intensity of her feelings, offers herself up

to him.

I had once been Tiffany Collins, of Earth. I was now a collared slave girl on

Gor. I touched the collar. It was light, but, too, it was efficient and

inflexible. I supposed it would not do to tell anyone but I loved it on me. I

felt, somehow, it belonged on me. It was right, I felt, somehow, on me. But,

too, sometimes I was terrified to wear it. I knew that it meant that I was

owned, and at the mercy of men.

I knelt there. I was no longer free. I could now be bought and sold. I must

obey.

My major fear now was that I might be sent back the Mill. I, and, indeed, the

other girls, had been given little or no Opportunity to prove to the masters

that the slave bells tied on our ankles were not an inadvertence or a mistake.

At various times during the supper I had tried to be attentive to one man or

another, and as a slave, and as my belly had seemed to beg, but, each time, I

had been brushed away or dismissed.

I had been rejected. This stung my vanity, as well as increased the frustrations

of my scorned femininity. I feared, too, it betokened that I, perhaps found

insufficiently pleasing, might soon be returned to the mill.

I watched the men, talking, and finishing their liqueurs. I watched, too, the

one or two girls still in attendance on them.

They were beautiful, in their grace and serving. How perfect and natural it

seemed that they should be serving. I touched my collar. Women by nature belong

to men, I thought, and I am a woman. Why had men on Earth, I wondered, allowed

themselves to be tricked out of their sovereignty by man-hating and vicious

women, abetted by frustrated, weakling males? When will they take us again in

hand, I wondered, and own us? But the men, on Earth, with few exceptions, I

feared, were lost to manhood.

Teela came and knelt down beside us, only another slave girl.

“May I speak?” I whispered.

“Yes,” she said.

“I have tried to be attractive,” I said. “I have tried to be desirable. I have

tried to serve well. But no one has taken me. No one has used me.”

“No one has been taken. No one has been raped,” she said.

“The men talk politics and business.”

“May I inquire as to the nature of these discussions?” I asked.

“The usual rumors about a truce between ourselves and Cos,” she said. “In

business, the master is sounding out his colleagues about the plausibility of a

venture involving feast slaves.”

“What are they?” I asked.

“Girls, maids, entertainers, dancers, rented in groups to private individuals or

organizations for feasts, and such,” she said.

“Such enterprises exist now, do they not?” I asked.

“He is considering the desirability of investing in the area, and perhaps

forming his own company to enter the field.”