Magicians of Gor coc-25, page 54
part #25 of Chronicles of Counter-Earth Series
"Must I remove my own wrap?" she inquired.
"No, no, Mistress!" said the male slave.
"Mistress?" she said. "It seems you have learned deference."
"Yes, Mistress," he said. He knelt quickly, trembling, his head down.
"It is not like you," she said.
"Forgive me, Mistress," he said.
"But I find it charming," she said. "And you look well, my dear Milo, on your knees."
"Thank you, Mistress," he said.
"But I do not understand this new deference," she said.
"What but deference," said he, "could be in order, before one such as you?"
"I think we shall get along very well," she said.
He was silent, kneeling before her, bent at the waist. He kept his head down. He trembled. I did not really blame him.
"It is as though, suddenly, it had been recalled to you, that you are a slave," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
I was pleased that his back had not been opened by the staff of Appanius. It would not have done, at all, if stripes of blood had appeared on the back of his tunic, soaked through.
"Interesting," she said.
"Before you," he said, "what man could not be a slave?"
"Flatterer!" she chided.
I smiled to myself. He had a nimble, flattering tongue. He was able in his work. Doubtless he had been of great value to Appanius, in many ways. Then I smiled grimly to myself. How susceptible was the chit to his blandishments. How little she understood of herself. Before what man, I wondered, should she not be a slave? Indeed, before any man, she, and other women, should be slaves."
"My wrap!" she said, irritably.
He leaped to his feet and delicately, courteously, removed her outer cloak, with its hood. She had been well covered in it, from head to toe. He put this on a peg to one side.
"Your guards are without?" he asked.
"I have come alone," she said. "Surely you do not think me a fool?"
"No," he said.
She brushed back the light inner hood and unhooked the collar of her robe. "You will never believe the difficulty I had in escaping from the Central Cylinder!" she said. "It is almost as though I were a prisoner there. Seremides is so careful! His spies are everywhere. Who knows who they are, or which of them is watching you at any given time? Whom can I trust? It is hard to leave without an escort of a company of guardsmen. What do they fear, I wonder. The people love me."
"You are too glorious and marvelous to risk," said Milo.
"Alas," she said, "sometimes I myself grow weary of the preciousness and dignity of my person. It seems it has always been thus. Long ago when I was a girl it was the same, and then, in my time of troubles, after the misunderstanding with my dear father, Marlenus, I was sequestered, and then, later, now that the war has been concluded to the mutual benefit of Ar and Cos, with victory for us both, thanks to the mercies of Cos, and the noble Lurius of Jad, and we have become allies with our former enemies, now our dearest of friends, the Cosians, it seems the same again."
"Mistress is Ubara," said he. "Simply order them to desist from their attentions."
"Of course," she smiled.
The handsome slave regarded her, puzzled.
"But I eluded the guards," she said. "It was not really too difficult. They are men, and stupid."
"How did Mistress outwit them?" asked the slave.
"As you will note," she said, "I wore a common street cloak and hood, secured for the occasion. A departure was arranged for a putative maid, supposedly one of my retinue, on personal business, and it was as such a one that I was passed through the guards."
"Mistress is to be praised for her discretion and cleverness," he said.
"Who will remove the veil of a free woman?" she laughed.
"Who, indeed?" inquired the slave, awed.
"And few," she laughed, "are even aware of the features of the Ubara!"
"True, wonderous Mistress," he said.
She laughed.
"How grateful and humbled I am," said he, "that I, only a slave, at three suppers, was permitted to look upon them."
"You dared to look upon me?" she asked.
"Forgive me, Mistress," he cried. "I had thought that perhaps it was for that reason that Mistress had lowered her veil."
"It was warm, those evenings," she said.
"Of course, Mistress!" he said.
"But, to be sure," she said, "I did fear that looking upon me, you might fall under my spell."
She then, gracefully, reached to the pins at the left side of the veil and unpinned it. A moment later she had lowered it, gracefully.
"Aii!" said he, softly. "What man could not fall under the spell of such a beauty?"
"Think you so?" she laughed, delighted.
"Yes!" he said. "Surely Mistress is the most beautiful woman on all Gor!" I glanced down at Lavinia. She was kneeling on the floor, to my left. I thought her lip trembled, and a tear formed in her eye.
"I feel like a slave girl," said the free woman, "running about, sneaking here and there, to keep a rendezvous."
Milo gasped. I conjecture he had just considered how exciting the female might be, if she were truly a slave, slave clad, slave collared, and such.
The Ubara looked at herself, in the mirror at the far end of the room.
"Sometimes I envy the meaningless property tarts," she said, "running about much as they please, here and there, in all their freedom, in their short skirts and collars. Sometimes I think that they have more freedom than I, that I, a free woman, indeed, one who is Ubara of Ar, am more slave than slave."
"Do not even think so!" said Milo.
"It is true," she said, dismally.
The male slave was silent.
The Ubara continued to regard herself in the mirror. I wondered how she saw herself, really, in that reflection. Did she see herself in the mirror as she now seemed, moody, and attired as befitted a woman of high caste, or did she see herself there otherwise, perhaps in a ta-teera or tunic, as men might choose to keep her.
"If I were a slave," she said, "and I were here, what do you think would be done with me?"
"Mistress is not a slave!" cried Milo, aghast.
"But, if I were?" she asked.
"And you were caught?" he asked.
"Of course," she said.
"Mistress would be severely punished," he said.
"Even though I am so beautiful?" she asked, skeptically.
"Especially so!" said he.
"Oh?" she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he assured her.
"Interesting," she said.
"But Mistress is not a slave!" he said.
"Lashed?" she asked.
"The least that might be done to Mistress," he said, "would surely be that she would be stripped, and tied, and lashed. Too, she might be bound, and subjected to the bastinado."
The free woman shuddered.
"And I do not think that Mistress would err in such a fashion again," he said. "Perhaps not," she said.
I glanced over at Tolnar, at the other observation portal. He looked over at me, and I returned my attention to the portal.
The Ubara, moving very little, was still regarding herself in the mirror. She seemed moody.
"Mistress?" asked the male slave.
"You do find me attractive, do you not?" she asked.
"Of course, Mistress!" he said.
"And do you not think other men might do so likewise?" she asked.
"Certainly, Mistress!" he said.
"Some think me the most beautiful woman in all Ar," she said.
"You are surely," said he, "the most beautiful woman on all Gor!"
Near me Lavinia put down her head. A tear fell to the floor.
"And I am Ubara!" said the free woman.
"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.
"A Ubara, too," she said, "is a woman, and I have a woman's needs."
"Yes, Mistress," said the slave.
The Ubara then, bit by bit, piece by piece, looking at herself from time to time in the mirror, the slave standing back, removed her outer garments. When she had stepped forth from her slippers, she stood before the mirror, barefoot, in a one-piece white, silken wraparound sliplike garment. It came slightly above her knees. She then unpinned the dark wealth of her hair, and shook her head, and then, with both hands, lifted it, and then swept it back, behind her shoulders. She regarded herself in the mirror. It was all I could do not to rush forth into the other room and seize her. About her neck, on a leather thong, there was a small, capped leather cylinder. I was confident I knew what it contained. Milo, on the other hand, would not. Milo had not had with him, I had determined, the note which had putatively come to him from the Ubara, that which had been written by Lavinia. I supposed he had destroyed it, as it might prove dangerously compromising. Neither the Ubara nor Milo, of course, knew of the notes which they themselves had supposedly written. All communications between then other than these had been effected by Lavinia, to the Ubara in the guise of a slave of the house of Appanius, to Milo in the guise of a state slave, with the exception of their rendezvous this morning. With Lavinia as go-between, under my instructions, matters had proceeded expeditiously, culminating apace, save for some delays on the part of the Ubara, presumably, to increase the anxieties of, and torment, the poor slave, in the arrangements for this assignation.
"I wonder if I am truly the most beautiful woman on all Gor," said the Ubara, looking into the mirror.
"Certainly," said Milo.
Near me, Lavinia had her head down, and in her hands.
"How could one doubt it?" asked Milo.
Near me Lavinia wept, silently. Tears had trickled down her wrists, and to the floor. I noted that her knees were in proper position, spread, given the sort of slave she was.
"And you, Milo," said the Ubara, "are a handsome brute."
"I am pleased if Mistress should find me not displeasing," he said.
"And surely," she said, "you are the most handsome man in all Ar."
"Mistress," he said, softly, coming close to her.
"Serve me wine!" she snapped.
"Mistress?" he asked.
"It that not wine, and assorted dainties," she asked, "on the table by the couch, that which I see behind me, in the mirror?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"And certainly female slaves humbly and beautifully serve their masters in such a way," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
"Must a command be repeated?" she inquired.
"I am a male slave," he said. "I am not a female slave."
Surely you are aware that male silk slaves are trained in such things as the serving of wine to their mistresses," she said.
"I am not a silk slave," he said.
"I see that a command must be repeated," she said.
"No, Mistress!" he said. He hurried to the small table and put a tiny bit of wine into one of the small glasses. He then returned, and knelt before her. He then, holding the tiny glass in both hands, his head down between his extended arms, proffered her the beverage. But she did not receive it as yet at his hands. "Look up," she said. He did so. She fingered the small, capped cylinder at her neck. "Surely you know what is contained in this capsule," she said. He did not respond.
She uncapped it, and moved the tiny rolled paper a hort from the capsule, that he might see it. Then she thrust it back in, triumphantly, and recapped the cylinder.
"You are a better actor than I gave you credit for," she said.
He had remained impassive.
"You will obey me in all things, and not merely because you are a slave," she said, "but because of this." She tapped the tiny cylinder twice. "I now hold all power over you, my dear Milo, even though I do not own you. It is given to me by this note. Should it come to the attention of Seremides, or Myron, or the high council, or an archon of slaves, or perhaps even a guardsmen, you may well conjecture what might be your fate."
He looked up at her.
"How foolish you were, to write such a note," she laughed. "But then you are a man, and men are stupid."
He put down his head, and again, lifted the wine to her.
He would not recognize the note, of course, but he could immediately realize it must have had some role in my business, in which he was now so deeply involved. Too, almost simultaneously, he would doubtless suspect that the note which he himself had originally received might very well not have come from the Ubara herself. Surely it would now seem to him unlikely that she, so obviously aware of the danger of such notes, would have sent one herself. Surely it would have been at the least politically compromising, if it fell into the wrong hands. He did not glance toward the back room. I myself, incidentally, did not think it impossible that the Ubara herself, in certain circumstances, might be so indiscreet as to write such notes. She was, after all, a woman with feelings, desires and needs. She was quite capable, I was sure, in their cause, of throwing caution to the winds. On the other hand, in this case there had been no need for her to do so.
She let him hold the wine for a time, and then, reaching out, she took the glass.
He kept his head down, and put his hands, palms down, on his thighs.
She lifted the glass to her lips. She took no more, it seemed, then the tiniest of sips.
"Replace the glass," she said. "Then return and kneel as you are now.
She was standing before the couch.
She watched him, in the mirror, replace the glass on the tiny table.
In a moment then he had returned to kneel before her.
"You are the idol of thousands of women of Ar," she said, "but it is my beauty which has conquered you."
He was silent.
Lavinia looked up at me, red-eyed.
"It is my beauty to which you have succumbed," she said.
He was silent.
"It is I before whom you kneel," said the Ubara.
He did not respond.
"You look well there," she said, "on your knees, before me."
He was silent.
"That is where men belong," she said, "on their knees, before women."
He kept his head down, and did not respond.
"You may look up," she said.
She turned about then and went to the couch. She stood there for a moment, beside it, regarding him.
Then, with a graceful movement, she removed the white, silken, sliplike garment, letting it fall about her ankles.
"Ai!" said the male slave, softly.
She then, swiftly, with a smooth, silken movement, ascended the couch and lay curled upon it, near its foot, watching him.
"Mistress!" he said.
"Do not dare to rise to your feet without permission, slave," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
She laughed, softly.
He looked away.
"Do you have the needs of a male?" she asked.
"Yes!" he said.
"Sometimes female slaves," she said, "after their slave fires have been ignited, after hey have become sexually helpless, are deprived of sexual experience," she said. "Did you know that?"
"I have heard so," he said. "Perhaps as a cruelty, to teach them the master's power or that they are slaves, or as a punishment, or to ready them for a successful performance on the block, such things."
"Are such things done with male slaves?" she asked.
"Perhaps," he said.
She laughed.
He did not look at her.
"Look at me," she commanded.
"At least upon occasion," he said.
She laughed again, merrily.
This was true, incidentally. Tauntings, it might be mentioned, are usually involved in such denials. On the other hand, male slaves have much the better of it, in my opinion, in these matters. Sexual gratification is seldom denied to them for long periods. They, like male sleen, tend to become not only restless and aggressive, but dangerous. Accordingly, it is common to see that they are permitted to periodically access a female, almost invariably a slave. No such provision, on the other hand, is prescribed for the female slave. She, as her needfulness increases within her, as she becomes more lonely and miserable, more desperate, is left much on her own, to wheedle and beg, and such. To be sure, most female slaves enjoy an enormous amount of sexual experience. This is largely because they are beautiful and exciting, and slaves.
"You may rise, handsome slave," said she, amused.
"Yes, Mistress," he said.
She lay on her side, watching him. "You are indeed a handsome brute," she said. "Thank you, Mistress," he said.
She then lay on her back, toward the foot of the couch, and stretched, luxuriantly, indolently, before him, savoring the feeling of the fur, the delight of her own movement. She looked upward, lazily. She did not detect the net, of course, as she was not looking for it, and it was recessed in the structure of the ceiling, the ceiling having been designed for its concealment. She had the palms of her hands facing upward, at her sides. Her left knee was lifted.
I thought she would look well in a collar.
She moaned, softly.
She turned her head to the side, toward him. "Sometimes I feel," she said, "as I think a slave must feel."
The net, concealed, was above her.
"Do not approach!" she warned him.
He stood still.
She laughed, and rose, facing him, to her hands and knees, on the couch. She then backed away from him, toward the center of the couch. In this way, unwittingly, she positioned herself under the center of the net. To be sure, it had been designed to cover the entire couch.
"You may approach," she said. "No nearer!" she said.
He then stood near the foot of the couch.
"It seems, Mistress, has come to this room to torture a poor slave," he said. She then slipped to her left side, propping herself up with her left elbow, and, her knees drawn up, regarded him.
"Poor Milo," she said, sympathetically.
He was silent.
"There are slave rings on the couch," she said. "Perhaps I shall chain you to one of them."
"As Mistress pleases," he said.
