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Authors: John Norman

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy, #Adventure, #Erotica

Guardsman of Gor (30 page)

BOOK: Guardsman of Gor
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I regarded her. She was pretty, in my collar, and on all fours.

"May I explain my behavior further, Master?" she asked. "It may make you regard me less harshly."

"Do so," I said.

"I want to be a slave," she said. "I feared you would free me. It was thus that I challenged you. It was thus that I tried to incite you to my conquest. It was thus that I tried to make you angry, that you might make me your slave, and keep me as such, uncompromisingly."

"That was not necessary," I said.

"I am now well aware of that, Master," she said. "I did not know it at the time, however."

I said nothing.

"My behavior, however foolish it might have been, was motivated by a desire to be kept in bondage," she whispered. "Perhaps now you will think more understandingly, more pityingly, of your girl."

"So you desire to be a slave?" I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, "fervently."

"And you are a slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said, "completely."

"Do you think that you are free, or that you have any rights whatsoever?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "I know that such delusions are not permitted to a Gorean slave girl."

"Do you not fear your bondage?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, "and sometimes we fear it terribly, the uncertainty and the terrors of it, knowing that men can do with us what they please, but these things heighten our experience, adding zest and spice to it, making it more meaningful, and, too, without them, we know that we would not

truly be in bondage, which is the condition for which we yearn."

"So you accept the miseries and terrors of bondage?" I asked.

"Willingly, and gladly, Master," she said, "and did we not do so then unwillingly and tremblingly must we accept them, for we are slaves."

"Do you like being a slave?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"You are worthless, aren't you?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, "except in so far as I might have some small value as a man's slave. I do not know my current market value."

I, too, did not know her current market value. Such things can shift from day to day. They are subject to considerable variance, being functions of many factors, such as the girl herelf, her intelligence, and training and beauty, the money in the economy, the conditions of supply and demand, and even the market in which she is sold and the time of year that she is put upon the block. A girl who is sold in a prestige market and, in the afternoon before her sale, placed with other lovely inmates within the chromed, ornate bars of an exhibition cage, has moved and posed upon the instructions of prospective bidders, is almost certain to bring a higher price than another girl, who by the hair, is pulled from a crowded, wooden, bolted cage and thrown upon a sales platform, or who, say, is sold from one of the cement, public viewing shelves of a common street market. Too, generally girls bring higher prices in the spring. I have little doubt that there is some intensification of the slaving done on Earth at a certain time of year, that the captured girls may be brought to the spring markets. Many Earth-girl slaves, on Gor, comparing notes, discover that they were sold in the spring. The more intelligent among them realize that this is not likely to have been a coincidence. They then have a deeper and more active appreciation of the intelligence, methodicality and organization of the men who saw fit to bring them to Gor.

Suddenly, angrily, I lashed her with the whip. She shuddered, struck. "Do you like that?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said, "but I love it that you can do it to me, and will, if I am not pleasing to you."

I walked around, before her. "Worthless little trollop," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Are you conquered?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, "I am conquered."

'Totally?" I asked.

"Yes, Master," she said, "totally."

"Can a man respect such a conquered woman?" I asked.

"No, Master," she said. "But perhaps I might have the interest of the conquered slave for him."

I crouched down before her. She was still on all fours.

"You are a poor slave," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Yet," I said, lifting her chin with the whip, "you are pretty."

"In a trivial and servile way," she smiled.

"Yes," I said. "And, too," I said, "you have good slave reflexes."

"Which you have not seen fit to exploit, my Master," she whispered.

"I wonder if I should sell you," I said.

"Please do not sell me, Master," she said.

"I will if it pleases me," I said.

"Of course, my Master," she said.

I lowered the whip, and, crouching before her, continued to regard her.

"Is Master truly thinking of selling me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. She had displeased me this evening. Too, I thought I saw her this evening more objectively than ever before I had seen her. I saw her now as little more than a pretty triviality.

"I would bring so low a price," she whispered, "that perhaps Master might keep me."

I stood up, whip in hand. I looked down upon her, on all fours before me. There was something in what she said. She would probably not bring a high price. Perhaps she might as well be kept, at least for the time. There did not seem much point, at least at the moment, in sending her to a market. Too, she was pretty, if only in a trivial, servile way. Too, she had good slave reflexes. Surely I could find uses for her around the house.

"Master?" she asked.

I walked around, behind her.

"Master?" she asked, frightened. She knew she might now be unexpectedly lashed.

"I shall keep you, at least for the time," I said, "to see if you work out."

"I shall endeavor to work out, Master," she cried, joyfully.

"Am I to be kept in full slavery?" she asked, not daring to look around.

"Yes," I said.

"In what slavery, or slaveries, will Master place me?" she asked.

I looked at her position. "Perhaps in the slavery of the she-quadruped," I said.

"Master may do s4, if he wishes," she said, "if it pleases him, or amuses him."

In this form of slavery, which is commonly used for disciplinary purposes, or for the amusement of the master, the woman is not permitted to arise from all fours; similarly she is not permitted human speech, though she may signify needs and desires by such means as cringing, and moaning and whimpering. Not permitted the use of her hands, save as a means of locomotion, she must also eat and drink from pans set on the floor, or, sometimes, to satisfy her thirst, she must lap the water permitted to her from puddles or lick pillages from the tiles; too, it is not uncommon to chain her near her master's feet, while he dines, that he may, if he wishes, throw her scraps of food. She will also be taught tricks, through which paces she may be put for the entertainment of her master's guests, such things as begging, lying down, rolling over, and fetching his sandals in her teeth. And, needless to say, when her master wishes to use her sexually, it will be in a position common to the she-quadruped.

This form of slavery, incidentally, is often imposed on captured Ubaras. After a time, it is not unusual for the Ubara, on her belly before her master, given an Ehn its which to speak, to beg, in lieu of the slavery of the she-quadruped, that she be taught the salacious arts and lascivious dances of the female slave, that she may then be less a more amusement for her master than a feast of slave pleasure for him. Her plea is usually granted. Such women tend to become superb slaves. They know, of course, that they may be, at any

moment the master pleases, returned to the slavery of the she-quadruped.

I walked around, before the girl. "You may kneel," I said.

"Thank you, Master," she cried, joyfully. She was not then, at least, to be put into the slavery of the she-quadruped. She looked up at me. "I love you. I love you, my Master," she said.

"Kiss the whip," I told her.

"Yes, Master!" she said. She kissed it, fervently, again and again. The former Miss Henderson, of Earth, kneeling naked before me, now knowingly my collared slave, kissed my whip.

She looked up at me, happily.

"Do you think that you are much of a slave?" I asked.

"No. Master," she said.

"You need a bath," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Your body smells," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"It stinks," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master." To be sure, her pretty little body stank. This was little wonder, considering what her experiences had been, and the beatings I had put her through. Too, it was covered with dirt and sweat, much of the dirt in small, fine rolls on the fairly complexioned, exposed flesh.

There were tears in her eyes.

I heard then a sound at the door.

"On your belly," I told her.

Swiftly she fell to her belly on the tiles before me, her hands at the sides of her head.

"Master!" she said, then hearing someone at the door.

"Lie quietly, Slave," I said, "or you will be whipped."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Who is it?" I called.

"It is I, Lola," I heard. "I have brought your things." She had followed me, dallying according to my instructions, to give me time to introduce the new girl into my house.

I went to the door and, opening it, admitted Lola. She entered, carrying my gear, that which I had taken to the other house. She knelt deferentially before me. "I kneel before my Master," she said. "You may arise," I said. "Thank you, Master," she said. "Put my gear to the side," I said. "And lock

the door." "Yes, Master," she said. She did these things, and then walked to the center of the room. She looked down at the prone slave. "Well, what have we here," she asked, "a well-tamed, well-whipped slave?"

The prone slave was silent, trembling.

"Well?" asked Lola, suddenly, viciously, kicking the girl m the side.

"Yes, Mistress," cried the girl, "I am a well-tamed, well-whipped slave!"

"My Master knows well how to handle a woman," said Lola.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"Do you remember that, when you were free, you once took me to the docks and sold me?" asked Lola.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl, "but now, 1, too, am only a slave."

"Do you think you will make a good slave?" asked Lola.

"I will try, desperately, Mistress," said the girl.

"Who is first girl?" asked Lola.

"I do not know, Mistress," cried the slave.

"Lola is first girl," I informed her.

"You are first girl, Mistress," cried the slave, "you are first girl!"

"Have you ever seen your collar?" asked Lola.

"No, Mistress," said the girl. "When it was fastened on me, I was hooded."

"Would you like to see it?" asked Lola.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

Lola, from a chest near one wall, fetched forth a mirror, which she held close to the tiles, that the prone slave might for the first time see the collar in which she had been placed.

"It is beautiful," breathed the slave, touching it, "it is beautiful!" I smiled. It was only a common collar, of a sort which many girls on Gor wore. Yet, to be sure, it was attractive. It, like most slave collars for women, was designed for both beauty and security.

"You know the meaning of a slave collar, don't you?" asked Lola.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"You look well in one, don't you?" asked Lola.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"You belong in one, don't you?" asked Lola.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"There is writing here on the collar," said Lola. "It says, 'I am the property of Jason of Victoria."'

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"It will well serve to identify you, will it not?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl.

"Is what it says true?" asked Lola.

"Yes, Mistress," said the girl, "it is true!" I thought I saw her shudder with pleasure on the tiles.

In a moment Lola had replaced the mirror in the chest, and closed the chest. She then came to where I stood. Together we regarded the prone slave. "She is a pretty little thing," said Lola.

"I think she will prove satisfactory," I said, "for the purposes for which I require her, those of a common slave, a low slave, one to be set chores about the house, and one from whom full domestic services will be required."

Lola looked at me.

"'Domestic services' in the Gorean sense," I said.

Lola laughed. Certainly the former Miss Henderson, of Earth, should have her sensuous possibilities exploited. How absurd it would be to permit those conquered curves to languish.

"What are your commands, Master?" asked Lola.

"In two days, in the evening," I said, "I shall have a small supper here, nothing pretentious, just something for a few friends. Substantially the affair will be catered by the tavern of Tasdron, but there will be much shopping and cooking for you, too, to do."

"I understand, Master," said Lola.

"The house, of course, is to be spotless," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"And I shall also depend upon you for decorations, that the house may appear festive, lamps and ribbons, and flowers, and such."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Too, see to it that some small, tasteful entertainment is provided."

"Yes, Master," she said.

"If things are not perfect," I said, "I shall not be pleased."

"Master will be pleased," she said.

"It is late now," I said.

"What of her?" asked Lola, gesturing with her head toward the prone slave.

BOOK: Guardsman of Gor
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