Magicians of Gor coc-25, page 39
part #25 of Chronicles of Counter-Earth Series
"As befits what you are?"
"Yes, Master!" she said.
"Which is?" I asked.
"A slave girl, Master," she said, "only that!"
"Who initiates these relationships?" I asked.
"In one of two ways, I think, are they initiated," she said. "In the first, the free woman puts herself in Milo's way, she compliments him, she calls herself to his attention, perhaps she lowers her veil a little, perhaps she lowers her veil a little, perhaps her tones to him are soft, and special, making clear to him that there is an eager lover awaiting him beneath her veils and robes, perhaps she even lets him lift and kiss the coverlets of her palanquin, near her feet, such things. These advances, so calculatedly ambiguous, and yet so obvious and meaningful, are reported to Appanius. He then makes a judgment as to whether they are to be encouraged or not, and then, later, perhaps after she has lowered her veil for Milo, and let him gaze upon the revelation of her beauty, and he has seen her move in the palanquin, apparently inadvertently, but in such a way that he can conjecture something of the fairness of her limbs beneath her robes, and has perhaps even seen her ankles, a second judgment, this again from the reports of Milo, is made by Appanius. If this judgment is favorable and it is decided that the female, after having been perhaps subjected to a rigorous regimen of dieting, exercise, training and discipline, might not preposterously be put upon a slave block, the arrangements for her capture are completed. In the second way the matter is initiated by Appanius himself, he himself selecting a candidate for approach, scrutiny and cultivation."
"On what grounds initially?" I asked.
"Usually from rumors of a certain free woman's beauty," she said.
"I see," I said.
"Too," she said, "it is my understanding that information is sometimes furnished for a fee, by some of the female proprietors of women's baths in Ar. Too, in some cases, Appanius is permitted to observe the women from a secret coign of vantage."
"In what way did you come to attention of Appanius?" I asked.
"In the first way, doubtless," she smiled, "as I did not frequent the public baths and I doubt very much that rumors of my beauty were abroad in the streets."
"They might have been," I said.
"Master is kind," she said.
"Continue," I said.
"Although master might regard me as having been a spoiled, pampered free woman, and although that was undoubtedly true," she said, "I was nonetheless too shy in the beginning even to approach one such as Milo. Certainly there must be free women richer and more beautiful than I in Ar. Accordingly, in the beginning, I only worshipped him from afar. I attended his performances. I dreamed of him. But I did not dare call myself to his attention."
"In the beginning," I said, "your responses to Milo were more humble and slavelike?"
"Yes, Master," she said. "I even dreamed of crawling to him, putting my head down and kissing his feet."
"Continue," I said.
"But soon, of course, the free woman in me became outraged at such things! They were too feminine! I was not a slave!"
"And you became bolder?"
She laughed. "Well," she said, "perhaps not so much bolder. But I would station myself and my attendants where he might pass, if only to catch a glimpse of him between the curtains of my palanquin."
"In effect," I said, "your responses were still shy, and slavelike."
"Yes," she said, angrily.
"You felt you belonged at the feet of such a man?"
"Perhaps," she said.
"But you truly belonged at the feet of any man," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Continue," I said.
"Certainly he must soon note my palanquin," she said. "Surely it was often enough in his way, outside the great theater, on streets which he frequented, even in certain markets. At that time, perhaps he had reported to Appanius, and his agents had ascertained my identity, that of the owner of the palanquin. To be sure, such thoughts did not occur to me then. Rather I castigated myself for my timidity, and reminded myself, again and again, that it was I who was the free person. I who was in control. I who was in command. I who could have my way, as I pleased. Then I took to having the curtains of the palanquin opened, that I might be seen within, in my most beautiful robes and veils, as though I might wish fresher air and greater light, paused there perhaps in the midst of some business, waiting for some acquaintance. I even let him see me glance at him once and then turned my head away, quickly, too quickly, as I now realize. Perhaps I should have behaved more like a free woman, and had him ordered to the side of my palanquin, to kneel there and be questioned as a slave. Doubtless some women did, arrogating to themselves, as free women are free to do, the prerogative of males. I wonder how they felt when the net descended on them. At least I was not a slave. I could be forward, I could call myself to his attention, demanding it, as I wished."
"Slaves," said I, "as you must now know, have many ways of calling themselves to the attention of a man, subtly, effectively, pleadingly, vulnerably, helplessly, deferentially, humbly."
She looked up at me.
"The palms of your hands are facing upward," I said. "Oh!" she said, and quickly turned them downward, and clutched her thighs. The rag she wore, given her knee position, that of a pleasure slave, was high on her thighs. Her hands, her fingers on her thighs, digging into them, as though they would anchor themselves there, half covered it. He grip was partly through the cloth and partly on her thighs. Midway in her grip came the garment's frayed hem, pressed down on her fair, sweet thighs. The contrast was attractive, like slave silk against flesh, or a narrow cord sustaining such silk at the shoulder, perhaps an inch from a disrobing loop, or the metal of slave bracelets locked on small, downy wrists, a rope on a waist, snug above a sweetly, rounded belly, or a collar on the neck. "Indeed," I said, "slaves in their subtle, vulnerable, helpless ways, in their beggingness, in their humbleness, in their deferentiality, in the very nature and entirety of their condition, have many better ways of calling themselves to the attention of a man than a free woman."
"But I did not understand that at the time," she said.
"I would suppose not," I said.
"Free women," she laughed," are not likely to whimper and lick ankles."
"They do so quickly enough after they have become slaves," I said, "and have experienced slave arousal, and realize their need and helplessness, and their dependence on the master."
"Yes, Master," she said. "And I sense the beginning of such things in myself."
"So what did you do?" I asked.
"Actually," she smiled. "I had to do very little. I have little doubt now that I had been discussed by Milo and Appanius. Milo approached my palanquin when I had the curtains back, begging for forgiveness for approaching me, proposing even that he be beaten by my bearers for his boldness, but that he could not help himself, that for days he had struggled with himself, but now, regardless of what sorry consequences might ensue, even though it might mean he be hurled to sleen, that he had at last, against his sternest will, been drawn irresistibly to my side, as though in chains by tharlarion. Then, tears in his eyes, he begged liberty only to salute my beauty, and then hurry away, in joy."
"You were fully veiled?" I asked.
"In my most beautiful robes and veils was I bedecked," she said.
"You did not wear your street veil," I said.
"No," she said.
"Then," I said, "I suspect that you were veiled in such a way that the lineaments of your visage might, though perhaps with some difficulty, be discerned."
"Yes!" she said, tossing her head.
"What a slave you were!" laughed Marcus.
"And am!" she said.
"Yes, and are!" laughed he.
Now no longer need the lovely Lavinia concern herself with matters such as veiling. She was slave. Would you veil a she-tarsk, a she-sleen?
"And so he saluted your beauty?"
"Yes," she said, "with a beautiful gesture."
"And did it not occur to you that he probably had numbers of sinuous little sluts in the house of Appanius who would snake about his legs and feet, and lick and kiss, and beg to serve him in any way he might desire, to his heart's content?"
"I did not think of such things," she said.
"He then hurried away?"
"Yes," she said. "Obviously he was in consternation, and in terror at the affrontery he might have offered me, or so I thought."
"And what had you said?"
"Nothing," she said. "I was as tongue-tied as a new slave girl thrown for the first time before her master."
"I see," I said.
"Afterwards I was frantic that I must set him at his ease, that I must let him know that I was not offended. I must encourage him to return. I must see him again! I sent him a note, informing him that I would permit him to speak to me."
"And then?"
"He did not come for two days," she said, "and when he came he contritely confessed that he had lacked the courage, he so unworthy, to approach one such as I, so high born and free. Soon one thing led to another, he even claiming that he was my slave in right, and in his heart, and not that of Appanius, his legal master. I was overcome. What free woman has not coveted such adulatory attention, though in her heart she knows it is she who in nature belongs worshipfully at the male's feet? Oh, yes, I was a pretty little vulo, ripe for the snare. There is a special room in which we agreed to meet."
"I know the place," I said.
"Oh?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "It is in the Metellan district."
"Yes," she said. "Well, it was there that the net fell. Now I am in a collar."
"Yes," I said.
I looked down at her, she kneeling so far below us, in the hot, whitish dust. "Where I belong," she said.
"True," I said.
"May I be of further service to Masters?" she asked.
"I have obtained from you the information I wished," I said.
"Then a girl is pleased," she said.
I then slipped down from the saddle of the tharlarion.
"Master?" she asked. She had moved suddenly, almost involuntarily, as though she might have thought of leaping to her feet and fleeing, as I had dismounted, but she had had the good sense to think the better of it. Certainly she had not received permission to break position. She then knelt there, her back very straight, trembling.
"Lift your head," I said. "Look up."
She did so. Her lower lip trembled.
I regarded her short brush of hair, the brief, tattered rag, scarcely more than a ta-teera, which was her only garment, the simple collar, no more than a strap of black iron curved about her throat, its small, right-angled, pierced terminations flush to one another behind the back of her neck, held together by the rivet, her blistered, burned skin.
"Field slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You have lied to free men," I said.
She regarded me in terror.
"You told us that you had been brought in as a consequence of the levies, whereas it was in consequence of the couching laws."
"Forgive me, Master," she whispered.
"But I am not particularly angered," I said.
"Thank you, Master!" she said.
"You hastened to rectify your account."
"Yes, Master!" she said.
"And were on the whole exact, voluble and diligent in your subsequent responses."
"Yes, Master!" she said.
"Do you think you would have lied to me, if I owned you?" I asked.
She looked up at me. "No, Master!" she said.
"I do not think you would have either," I said.
She shuddered.
"But, of course, I do not own you."
"No, Master," she said.
"But as you know, an errant slave may be disciplined by an free man."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"For example, her master might not be present."
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
"Her slavery does not exist only in his presence," I said.
"No, Master."
"It is uncompromised, categorical and absolute, at any moment, wherever she is," I said.
"Yes, Master."
"And thus it is fitting, is it not, that she be subject to the discipline of any free man?"
"Of course, Master."
"And Marcus, my friend, and I are free men."
"Yes, Master."
"And you are thus subject to our discipline."
"Yes, Master."
"And you lied to us."
"Forgive me, Master!" she begged.
"If I were your master," I said, "I do not know what I would have done with you. It is an interesting question. Surely, at the least you would have been stripped and tied, and given a lashing."
She swallowed, hard.
"And I do not think you would soon forget it," I said.
"No, Master," she said.
"Do you think you would then lie to me again?"
"No, Master!" she said.
"You would attempt to improve your behavior, in all ways?"
"Yes, Master."
I regarded her.
"Master?" she asked.
"I am thinking that since we do not own you that perhaps it might be fitting if your discipline were decided by your master, the noble Appanius."
"Please, no, Master!" she said.
"It would be easy enough," I said, "to strip you and tie your hands behind your back, and then write upon your body some brief but suitable message."
She seemed to pale beneath her burns.
"The left breast, as you know," I said, "it the usual place for such messages." This is, one supposes, because most masters are right-handed.
"Please do not inform my master, Appanius!" she wept.
"You seem to fear him," I said.
"Yes!" she wept.
"It is good for a girl to fear her master," I said.
"You do not understand!" she said. "I have already it seems muchly displeased him. Already I have been shorn and put in the fields! If I gave him further cause for discipline I do not know what he would do with me!"
"You might be whipped?" I said.
"He might have me thrown to the eels in his pool!" she said.
"Have no fear," I said, "you have been helpful and cooperative, and I have obtained much of value from our conversation, more doubtless than you understand. Similarly, as this is the first time we have met, at least formally, I am inclined, somewhat against my better judgment, to be initially lenient. It might be pointed out, for example, that you did not know the sort of men we were. Perhaps some men ignore lies in a slave, pretending not to notice them, or, mistakenly, graciously accept them as trivial, as merely a girl's peccadilloes. But we are not such men. We are not patient with such things. Even had you lied about something as small as a candy or pastry we would not have accepted it. We approve of, and expect, truth from a slave. In short, had you known the sort of men we are, it is my speculation that you would not have lied to us."
"No, Master," she said.
"But, as I have suggested, I am inclined to be lenient, in this first offense."
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"Also, of course," I said, "we are not your master, and it seems that serious or grievous discipline should be the prerogative of the master. These prerogatives we do not desire to usurp."
"No, Master!" she said.
"Accordingly," I said, "your discipline is to be light."
"Thank you Master," she said.
I then lashed her head back and forth, first with the palm of my right hand, and then its back. Then, with the last backhand stroke, I struck her from her knees, to her side, and she was lying on her side, twisted, her palms down in the white dust. She looked back at me, disbelievingly, startled, tears in her eyes, over her right shoulder.
"Position," I said.
She crawled back to where she had knelt, and resumed her former position, her head bowed.
I walked about her and then crouched before her.
I put my hand under her chin and lifted it. Her face was red from the cuffing. There were tears on her cheeks. Her lip was swollen. There was some blood at the side of her face. I removed my hand, and let her once again lower her head. "Oh!" she said.
"You have a good belly," I said.
"Ai," she said, softly.
"And an excellent figure," I said.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, softly, helplessly.
I removed my left hand from the small of her back, where I had held it, that she might not draw back more than I would permit. "And you have at least the glimmerings of slave vitality," I said.
She moaned.
"You are not going to lie to us again, are you?" I asked.
"No, Master!" she sobbed.
I then rose to my feet and stepped back a little.
She squirmed a little. "May I speak?" she begged.
"Yes," I said.
"That was a light discipline?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "naught but a mere cuffing."
Normally, of course, one cuffs with a single blow. She had, however, lied. Even so, I had, of course, pulled the strokes. One does not wish to injure the slave, only punish her. Had I struck her heavily, with the force easily summonable by a strong man, I might have broken her neck.
"I am sorry, if I have displeased Masters," she said.
I did not speak.
"But Masters are wrong in one thing," she said. "What is that?" I asked.
"I have in me more than the glimmering of slave vitality," she said.
"It seems so to you now," I said, "but in some months, when you are truly helpless under the lash of your needs, and you understand the prison in which they have placed you, you will better understand my words."
"Even so!" she wept.
Her eyes pleaded with me.
"You may break position," I said.
She flung herself to her belly before me, and pressed her lips to my feet. "Please," she said. "Please!"
"You grovel as a slave," I said.
"I am no longer a free women," she said. "I no longer have to pretend. I no longer have to lie."
I looked down at her, pondering her needs. Her lips were soft on my feet, timid, petitioning.
