Quarry of Gor, page 51
I do not well recall what ensued on the dancing floor of the tavern, the Golden Chain, in Port Kar. I supposed I danced, or posed, or manifested some mixture of the two. I know I moved, and moved as a slave. How utterly different is the movement of a slave from that of a free woman, how uninhibited, how free, how profound, how unapologetically, sinuously brazen, how radically and rawly female; the free woman dances her beauty, the slave, in all her beauty, dances her brand and collar. The free woman is lovely; the slave is lovely and patently needful. The free woman, in her freedom, must hold back, for she is free; the slave, in her slavery, need not do so and may not do so. The dance of the free woman states her dignity and worth; the dance of a slave is quite different; it exhibits an incredibly desirable domestic animal, one which may be bought and sold.
I was a few moments into the dance, or behavior, perhaps fifteen or twenty Ihn, when I realized I had not yet felt the lash. I continued, waiting for the stroke of the leather. I was aware of the nearby hanging tharlarion-oil lamp, dangling on its three small chains. It cast shadows behind me. When would the leather speak?
I continued.
The tables were silent. No one yet cried out in fury, demanding that I be driven from the floor. I heard no impatient cries nor sharp, angry strikings of goblets on tables.
I became aware that the music no longer seemed listless, tentative, perfunctory, or skeptical; rather it seemed awakened, participatory, challenging, even encouraging, watchful, and eager. How wild, sensuous, exciting, and provocative are the dancing melodies of Gor! How they swirl and flame!
The lash had not yet fallen.
Men leaned forward, intent. In the lamp light I could see moisture glistening on the foreheads of some. Lips were parted. Eyes were keenly alive.
I saw Addison Steele, his fists clenched.
Had he not done this to me, to shame me, and make me an object of derision and ridicule, wanting me whipped?
But the lash had not yet fallen.
I thrust my body at him, angrily, defiantly, and then, suddenly, fearfully, well aware of my foolishness and jeopardy, that I, a slave, might be found displeasing to a free man, I danced, or acknowledged, as well as I could, my helplessness, choicelessness, and vulnerability, that I was now in my collar, where I belonged, and wanted to be, and that I now knew myself nothing, only an object, and beast, a worthless slave, but yet, a needful, begging one. What woman can understand this, but one who in reality, or in her thoughts, has been chained at the feet of a master?
Then I not only danced my slavery, but I addressed myself to Addison Steele, as though I might be his slave, one who craved his collar, one who wished to feel the weight of his chains on her limbs.
The music began to swirl to its conclusion.
I sank to the floor, and writhed my need.
Then the music, abruptly, ended.
I went to my belly on the floor.
I could not move.
I heard shouts of approval, even acclaim. There was the sound of palms of hands striking left shoulders. There was the commendatory crack and pounding of goblets on tables.
Wonderingly, amazed, I realized I had not been beaten.
I felt my tunic being drawn away, over my head.
Then, by a hand in my hair, I was pulled to my feet.
“Lesha!” snapped Addison Steele, behind me.
Instantly I flung my head up, turning it to the left, and, at the same time straightened my body and flung my hands, together, behind my back. This response is automatic, immediate, and unthinking. I had assumed the position before I had fully realized I had done so. My hands, together, behind me, were snapped into slave bracelets. “Head higher, slave,” said Addison Steele. It was then uncomfortably high. Then I felt the leash snapped about my throat. “Kneel, slave,” said Addison Steele. I did so. “Back on your heels. Get those knees apart, more so!” he said. I obeyed. He then shortened the leash until his right hand was a few inches from my throat, and then, by the leash, pulled my head up, high, so that I must look at him. How helpless a woman feels, so positioned.
“Do you think you are a dancer?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
“You are not,” he said, “but your flanks are not without interest. On Earth I thought they might be of interest, and on Gor, I confirmed my conjecture.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“You are nicely curved,” he said. “Your body is clearly a slave’s body.”
“A slave is pleased, if she is found pleasing,” I said.
I could not understand what was going on.
How was it that I found myself as I was, kneeling, naked, my hands braceleted behind my back, my knees spread in the manner of a pleasure slave, leashed, my head held up high by the leash so that I had no choice but to look up, into the eyes of Addison Steele? Where was Ho-Tosk, the Vat Master, the taverner’s men?
“Now,” said Addison Steele, turning and calling toward the portal, “you may bring in the paga.”
Ho-Tosk clapped his hands with pleasure, as four men, in line, each wheeling a barrel of paga, entered the tavern, making their way to the paga vat. The Vat Master beamed. There were cries of pleasure from men, and cries of “Paga! Paga!” rang out, and slaves rushed to bring fresh, brimming goblets to the tables.
“I think I will see to Euphrosyne,” said Florian, rising.
“I do not think she will be much pleased,” said Addison Steele.
“If she shows the least sign of impatience, annoyance, recalcitrance, or displeasure, I will beat her,” said Florian.
“Good,” said Addison Steele.
At that moment, Miles, of the holding of Bosk of Port Kar, entered, thrusting a cloaked, trim figure before him. I heard a clinking of bangles and a rustle of bells. The cloak was cast aside and I saw belts of shimmering, threaded coins, ropes of necklaces, bright armlets and bracelets, and swirling flutterings and flashes of diaphanous silks.
“Sandra, Sandra!” cried men, delightedly.
“She is one of the possessions of Bosk of Port Kar,” said Miles.
“I think she is the finest dancer in Port Kar,” said Florian.
“She was undoubtedly expensive,” said Addison Steele.
“Doubtless,” said Florian.
I was then drawn to my feet by the leash of Addison Steele, and conducted from the dancing floor. In a moment we were approaching the portal of the tavern.
I was in great confusion, even consternation. I did not know what to do. Should I cry out, in alarm, to Ho-Tosk? Surely someone must see me being drawn toward the portal of the tavern. But I feared, too, if I called out to Ho-Tosk, that he might set his men upon Addison Steele. One cannot simply remove a paga girl from a tavern. It is not permitted. It could even be construed as an instance of slave theft. I tried to hold back against the leash and the collar jerked against the back of my neck. Addison Steele turned about, but did not drag me forward, or throw me from my feet and then kick or beat me.
“May I speak, Master!” I said.
“Very well,” said Addison Steele.
“You cannot take me from the tavern,” I said.
“You are mistaken,” he said.
“I am not an Ahn girl!” I said. An Ahn girl is one who may be taken from the tavern and used elsewhere, for an Ahn, or more, or even overnight, or longer. Such arrangements must be made, of course, with the master.
“I trust not,” said Addison Steele.
“You place yourself in jeopardy,” I said. “You risk much.”
“How so, at the moment?” he asked.
“I will scream,” I said.
“Why would you do that?” he asked.
“—if only to protect you, to keep you safe,” I said.
“I do not understand,” he said.
“To keep you from removing a slave from the tavern without authorization,” I said, “even to protect you from the possible charge of slave theft.”
“You would scream?” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do not do so,” he said.
He then drew me forward, and I, stumbling, was pulled from the tavern, into the night. I heard the sounds of music from behind me, as the slave, Sandra, danced, and men, jubilant, and content, well satisfied, too, with a free round of paga, failed to note our departure.
We walked a short time, he striding, I hastening to keep up on the leash. Then we stopped beside a canal. I feared for Addison Steele. He showed little concern for his own safety. Even now the taverner’s men, armed with clubs and ropes, might be searching for us. Now, certainly, I would not scream. I did not fear for myself, for Gorean men, and men such as Gorean men, are very fond of women. They enjoy, for example, buying and selling us, owning and mastering us. What true man does not want his slave and what true woman does not want her master? I did know that Addison Steele, despite his low opinion of me, his justifiable contempt of me and my worthlessness, who despised me, found me desirable. I did then expect that he, finding some quiet, convenient place, one perhaps he had in mind, would soon put me to his pleasure, would enjoy me, as is the wont of a master, imposing my shame and degradation upon me, reminding me of my mark and collar, subjecting me to imperious slave use, forcing me to endure rhythms, earthquakes, storms, tides and ecstatic abasements a free woman can never know. How in his arms I might leap, writhe, moan, weep, and beg!
When we stopped, I had knelt beside him, my head, lowered, at his thigh. I realized, moments later, I had done this without thought. I had done it naturally, fittingly. How far we were from Earth! I had assumed this posture of submission, appropriately, yes, without thought. It was right for me. I was where I belonged, and how I belonged.
A bit later, Addison Steele hailed a passing canal boat with its pilot.
“You cannot take me away without the permission of my master,” I said.
“Do not concern yourself,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“I bought you,” he said. “I am your master.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
I Am No Longer in the Golden Chain
I Rejoice that Talena is now Safe in Cos
We paused before a portal, under the light of a small tharlarion-oil lamp.
“There are stairs inside,” said Addison Steele. “They lead up to my apartment.”
“You are of Earth, are you not?” I asked.
I had wondered if this might not be the case. Certainly I had first encountered him on Earth, and he had seemed at ease on Earth, familiar with its habits and customs, and had spoken English with no trace of an accent. But I had not been sure. I had found him no different from Gorean men. For all I knew he might easily have been natively Gorean.
“Once,” he said. “I make no secret of it.”
“But I, too, as you know, am of Earth,” I said.
“Were of Earth,” he said. “You are now of Gor.”
“Surely you, once of Earth, are not going to keep me as a slave,” I said.
“Certainly,” he said, “unless I give you away or sell you.”
“How can you, from Earth, keep me as a slave?” I asked.
“Easily,” he said, “utterly and legally. You are a slave, by nature, and now by law.”
“But I am of, or from, Earth,” I said.
“That,” he said, “gives me a little fillip, an additional, delightful piquancy in your ownership.”
“Should you not free me instantly, console me, rescue me?” I asked.
“I gather you would not find it pleasant to feel the switch, the whip, on your naked body,” he said.
“No, I would not,” I said.
“Perhaps then,” he said, “you should give more thought as to how you might better please your master.”
“Surely you understand it is hard for one from Earth to understand many things,” I said.
“What things?” he asked.
“Such as this,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
“That you, once from Earth, can be with me as you are, standing beside me, unconcerned, giving the matter no thought, that I, a woman once of your world, am unclothed, completely so; that I am totally naked on an open street, in public, beneath a lamp; that I am branded; that my wrists are confined closely behind me, held in steel bracelets; that I am collared, that I am leashed.”
“I do not understand,” he said. “Animals need not be clothed; and they are often tethered, confined, or restrained, in one way or another, sometimes quite helplessly; brands are useful in keeping track of them; and collars and leashes are quite appropriate for them.”
“Then I am an animal?” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“Then you will treat me, and use me, as an animal,” I said.
“Of course,” he said. “What else?”
It was what I wished to hear. What slave would not wish to hear that? The slave is, and wishes to be, her master’s animal.
Let those who are slaves understand. Let others be mystified.
“I love you,” I said.
“Beware,” he said, “lest you be beaten.”
“Forgive me, Master,” I said. I did not wish to be beaten.
I was now well satisfied, my small tests done, having come home to myself.
The apartment of Addison Steele was on the Thieves’ Way South, not far from the book emporium, with its street stalls, where I had first seen him on this world, so long ago. It was a pleasant apartment, on a second floor, small but light, and bright with color. It had little furniture, as most Gorean domiciles; it contained, for example, a curule chair, for a master, a low table, about which men might sit cross-legged and slaves kneel, some chests, of various sorts, for storage along the walls, some low flat cushions, and a couch, equipped with chains. There were also slave rings here and there to which girls might be fastened. Whereas there was some provision in the apartment for light cooking and cleanliness, elsewhere in the building one might find a public kitchen and general lavatory facilities. Port Kar has nothing of the great baths of Ar, but most Goreans take personal hygiene seriously, and, in the basement, there were several large tubs in which slaves, standing or kneeling in the water, might bathe their masters.
It was now four days since I had been conducted from the Golden Chain.
“There are many things I wish to know, Master,” I said.
“I trust they are important,” he said.
“How much did you pay for me?” I said.
“That is not important,” he said.
“It is to me,” I said.
“You are a slave,” he said.
“Even so,” I said.
“Perhaps a tarsk-bit,” he said.
“I suspect it was more,” I said. “I was, after all, a Golden-Chain girl.”
“Do not concern yourself,” he said.
I was extremely pleased that he was annoyed. That meant that he had paid more for me than he wished, and perhaps more than I was worth. To be sure, what is a girl worth? Surely that is up to the buyer. In that sense, prices tend to be unpredictable, and elastic.
“Ho-Tosk,” I said, smiling, “has a reputation for shrewd bargaining.”
“That is about enough,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I was pleased that Addison Steele was annoyed, but I did not wish for him to become too annoyed. On the wall to my right, on its peg, suspended, was the five-stranded Gorean slave lash. I had already felt it, twice.
“When was I purchased?” I asked.
“After the Skerry of Lars,” he said, “and shortly before your collar was changed.”
“I did not know,” I said.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“I did not know what to think,” I said. “I was still at the Golden Chain. I thought it was a new tavern collar. Euphrosyne had been recollared, as well.”
“She had been purchased by Florian,” said Addison Steele.
“So I learned,” I said.
“Do you like her?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“What do you think of her?” he asked.
“She belongs in a collar, and, if she is true to it, she will live in joy,” I said.
“And you?” he said.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“Let us see how you writhe under the whip,” he said.
“Let us not,” I said.
“You belong in a collar,” he said.
“I know,” I said.
“That was clear,” he said, “even on Earth, long ago.”
“I held it as my secret,” I said.
“When I looked upon you,” he said, “I saw your throat, and envisioned it, precisely, as it would look in a collar, a slave collar.”
“It is now on me,” I said.
“I think I will sell you,” he said.
“It will be done with me as masters please,” I said.
“Perhaps I will not sell you,” he said.
“It will be done with me as you please,” I said, “for you are my master.”
“Crawl here,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Please, please, please, Master, permit me!” I begged.
“Are you a proud woman of Earth?” he asked.
“No, no,” I said. “Let me, let me, I beg it!”
“What are you?” he asked.
“A slave girl,” I cried, “a slave girl!”
